I have a pair of earrings that I cherish. Each is a small disc of old dull gold, with decorative engraving around a tiny pearl. Some years ago I dropped one of them and stepped on it, breaking the disc off the ear wire. I was quite sad when I realized what I’d done.
In today’s reading from the Gospel of John we see Jesus struggle with the reality of what is to come. In this Gospel he goes knowingly to his death, yet he has struggled with the truth that approaches and accepted his fate.
“The Bible’s Moses cuts himself shaving. He is afraid, he is a liar. He does many a thing under the table before being Up There with the other Tables.”[1] So says Hélène Cixous, French literary critic and feminist. True, and we could also add murderer, stutterer, unsure of himself, hot headed, unpredictable, and often a big disappointment.
But the Bible’s Moses is also one who sees God face to face and lives, whose face shines with the blinding Shekinah glory, which must be veiled before other mere mortals.
How many times have we seen an adult trying to comfort a screaming baby? Have you ever been mystified and at the same time frustrated when regardless of what you tried, you had no success? For a new parent it is a relief when one can finally begin to understand what a baby needs by the sound of their cry.
Think a minute of the fanciest invitation you ever received. Was it for a wedding, birthday, graduation or engagement party? A Bar or Bat Mitzvah? An Anniversary?
When you received the envelope in the mail, did you know it was something special? Did the envelope have a certain size? A certain weight? An unusual color? Was your name written in careful script? What did you think when you opened it up?
I wonder if you’ve seen the clip on YouTube of Jimmy Kimmel on his late night television show noting that we’re hearing a lot about Jesus in the race for the Presidency, we might listen to Jesus saying some of what we’re hearing in the campaign. He shows Jesus standing behind a podium with the American and other flags behind him, repeating comments about walls, and refugees, and use of guns that we have heard. As we listen, the contrast is profound between the figure and the sentences he repeats.
A.J. Jacobs wrote a book called A Year of Living Biblically. Now A. J. identifies as non-practicing Jew. In his own words, he is “Jewish in the same way that Olive Garden is Italian.” But he did this experiment to test the idea of “taking the Bible literally,” as so many in American claim. He read through the Bible and wrote down every command, something like 750, and spent an entire year living according to those commands. At the end of the experiment, he concludes you simply cannot take the whole Bible literally. It’s just not something we can do. It’s impossible and anyone who says they take the Bible literally is lying or at least kidding themselves.
The Gospel of Matthew was written for people who were Jewish, yet followers of Jesus Christ. They were a minority among the Jews of that time and there was growing tension between the two groups. Thus the story of Jesus’ birth and flight to Egypt in Matthew reflects the Hebrew ethos of the time.
What’s in a name? I was surprised some years ago when a friend asked me what my second name was. I wondered what she meant for a second and then realized that she had two names she used as a first name, Nancy Mack, and she wondered what my name really was. I had to disappoint her, my parents named me Ann. Very simple, no middle name, just Ann.
How appropriate that we read this lesson that begins the Gospel of John on the first Sunday after Christmas. This quieter time gives us a chance to reflect on the meaning of the prophecy fulfilled in Jesus’ birth. To hear these words leads us into that time of reflection.
What child is this? is a question for all of us. Our answers change as we grow older—as we see the world through eyes of wisdom and experience.
G. K. Chesterton, the famous British poet and theologian, was a brilliant man who could think deep thoughts and express them well. He was also extremely absent-minded throughout his life, so much so that he became known for getting lost. Once he even sent a telegram to his wife that said: “Honey, seems I’m lost again. Presently, I am at Market Harborough. Where ought I to be?” In a clear and precise answer, she telegraphed back a one-word reply “HOME!”
I remember a cartoon, probably from The New Yorker, that showed three men. One, rather small in stature, was standing against a wall. He had disheveled hair, a long beard, and wore a tunic with patches all over it. He was holding a sign that read: The end is at hand.
Today we hear readings that offer confronting pictures of God’s demands on those who have every reason to think that they have done what is right. Amos’ criticism of ancient injustice (5:6-7, 10-15) and Jesus more poignant encounter with the rich young man (Mark 10:17-31) both pose questions of us about what God might require of us today.
My first trip to the Holy Land came within months of my becoming a Cathedral Dean as the North American Deans traveled to the Holy Land for their annual meeting. I was excited to be going, to be meeting people who served in the type of ministry I had just joined, and to see the places I’d read about for so long.
Today we celebrate the feast of St. Matthew. Hi, I’m Matthew.
As a fledgling New Testament scholar, I do research on the Gospel according to Mark. I argue that we should think of Mark, in its original 1st century historical context, not so much as a book with an author but as textual raw material or notes. For instance, the word used to describe Mark by several of its earliest readers is the same word that you might elsewhere translate as rough draft. This also fits with Mark’s less than stellar grammar and lack of clarity and conciseness (even though Mark is the shortest Gospel, his versions of stories are often the most longwinded of the Synoptic Gospels). It also supports that idea that Mark doesn’t have the unified authorial vision holding the whole narrative together, like we might expect of a modern novel. Or, as one prominent scholar on the Gospel of Mark put it to me once, “Out of all the Gospels, I like Mark the best because he doesn’t tell me what to do.”
The first time I ever gave out the consecrated bread during a Communion service came only a short while after I came to the Episcopal Church. I had Baptist minister for a couple years, had lots of preaching experience, and was in the ordination discernment process. It was an Anglo-Catholic parish but they also had a contemporary worship style service in the chapel each week that blended Anglo-Catholic commitments and spirituality with guitar and drums music.
Consider, for a moment, that you are the owner of a large home, one with many rooms to which God could come and knock on our door, seeking a home for Christ, as a Father might look for a home for his Son. Rent is cheap, I say. But God says, I don’t want to rent. I want to buy. So, I reply, I’m not sure I want to sell, but you might come in and look around.
On this All Soul’s Day we might consider heaven--what is heaven like? I would say that it is here now, and after we die. We find heaven now—in our interactions with others. In a sense we create our heaven or hell on earth through our actions, an interpersonal heaven or hell. Jesus’ life was difficult—sometimes our lives are beyond our control. We know deep in our heart that, with rare exceptions, our responses are not.
