Hope

Today's readings: Psalms 90, 149; Isaiah 4:2-6; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Luke 21:5-19

Now that it’s almost over, let’s consider the traditional theme of this first week of Advent: Hope. Does that seem inconsistent with the earlier posts of the week? We’ve spent a good chunk of time considering how not to be a Christian, and that doesn’t seem especially hopeful. But what is hope? It is the desire for, and possibly even the faith in, a better future. By definition, it implies at least some dissatisfaction with the present. There’s nothing wrong with being dissatisfied with our faith lives, with feeling that somehow they fall short of what they could be. Such feelings may even be essential to prodding us into deepening our relationship with God. It doesn’t mean our faith lives are not good and rich. Such dissatisfaction today, this week, this season, is an indicator that we hope they will be even better in days to come.

For hope to be more than a sentimental notion, we must face the things that we hope will change. Some of those things will be external, such as injustice, poverty and discrimination. Others like resentment, fear and hypocrisy will be internal. But being brutally honest about these things doesn’t mean we hand them power over our lives. Being able to name them takes that power away. The beauty of hope – a hope that is backed by the promises of Christ – is that it tells us we and the world are not defined by how we have failed, but by who God has created us to be. Many people – far too many, Christian and non-Christian – let mistakes and failures define how they see themselves and get trapped in those definitions. Hope is what we have when we can believe if only for an instant that God sees us as better than we see ourselves.

Isaiah had to show the Israelites their many failings and the inevitable consequences before he could show them the hope that lay beyond. Paul admitted the Thessalonians would have to confront danger head-on before finding the glory of God. Jesus told his listeners: “By your endurance you will gain your souls” ( Luke 21:19). Hope exists not because we are in denial about how bad things are today, but because God helps us see tomorrow.

Evening readings: Psalms 80, 72

Look at me!

Today's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 3:1-4:1;1 Thess 4:1-12; Luke 0:41-21:4

Beware the religious. At least (according to today's reading from Luke) those people who wear religion on their sleeves - or in the case of the case of the scribes, the sleeves of their excessively long robes. And those who make a public display of long prayers (v 20:46-47). Jesus is quick to point out the hypocrisy when outer forms of religion are counter to a person's inner state. Not everyone with a Jesus fish (ichthus) bumper sticker is devouring widows' houses (v 20:47), but if they do the disparity is all the more egregious for their display. The flip side is the martyr who just won't die - the person who abases him or herself unnecessarily (but quite obviously) in an insincere humility.

The bottom line: religious and pious efforts should be inwardly directed. Incidentally, the irony of that last statement coming from the creator of a devotional blog is not lost... There's nothing wrong with outward symbols of our faith as long as we're not using them to impress others with how holy we are. Having the fanciest Bible cover in Sunday school or sporting an "In God We Trust" license plate only invites scrutiny, and does little if anything to spread the Gospel. Neither does telling anyone who will listen the story of how we got stuck in the kitchen during the potluck because no one else would lift a finger to do all those dishes.

About the worst message we can send to non-believers is that Christians are somehow perfected by our faith. First it obviously isn't true (compare divorce rates between Christians and non-Christians for a start), and more importantly it's exactly counter to the message of the Gospel. We are not nor do we need to be (or appear to be) perfect: even better, we are forgiven! One way we can respond to God's forgiveness is to readily forgive ourselves and others. When we falter, any resulting distance between us and God is entirely of our own making. It takes more time than putting on a "Jesus Saves" t-shirt in the morning, but showing people that we remain in God's love despite our imperfections is about the best testimony we can give!

Evening Readings: Ps 130, 16

Puzzling It Out

Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20; Isaiah 2:5-22; 1 Thessalonians 3:1-13; Luke 20:27-40

Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.
- Luke 20:38

When Jesus describes the Lord as a "God of the living" what are the implications? On one level he is specifically addressing the Sadducees who do not believe in resurrection and are trying to trip him up. On another (and when is the meaning of anything Jesus says not multi-layered?) he - or at least the author of Luke - is pointing out the futility of trying to cram God and God's kingdom into the countless tiny human-made fragments that describe and limit our faith. If we treat them like they are pieces of a coherent puzzle and try to force them into a single picture, we soon learn that not only are we missing countless pieces, but the ones we have didn't come out of the same box. The only way we can make them fit inside the frame is to tear off the inconvenient bits and pound them flat.

No wonder the picture of Christianity can often make so little sense, especially to outsiders. Because not knowing can be uncomfortable or even scary, we can waste a lot of time playing with those pieces; dollars to donuts the Sadducees had wrestled with the "which husband in heaven" question before. Spending our time this way does not engage us with the "God of the living" - instead it pulls away from life and all its messiness.

An insistence on theological tidiness, especially about unknowable things like the afterlife, doesn't make us better believers. Mystics of any faith, to a person, describe the moment of divine revelation as a moment of surrender to mystery. The wisest people admit to knowing nothing.

Getting stuck in "head" religion ultimately leads to frustration. Thinking you lack spiritual wisdom because you don't know the right terms or scripture quotes is just not true. God is in living hearts, not dead pages. Christ is called the Living Word because he informs and moves through the world, not because we can read about him.

Rather than "bow down to the work of [our] own hands" (Isa 2:8) by trying to stuff God into the ideas we've created, let's trust that God is present with us in the glorious chaos of life.

Evening readings: Psalms 126, 62

No apologies. Sort of.

Today's readings: Psalms 50, 147:1-11; Isaiah 2:1-4; 1 Thessalonians 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26

When someone criticizes your faith or religious beliefs, what is your first reaction? What about other beliefs, such as politics or favorite band or best shortstop of all time? If you're like most of us, your first instinct is to defend your position. This isn't by default a bad response, but it should never be our only response. Eager as we might be to "enlighten" the person who disagreees with us by exposing them to a torrent of facts and ideas, such a defensive reaction does not send the the message that we are confident. To the contrary, it often comes acoss as desperate, or even self-delusional.

This need to convince others (or is it really ourselves?) that we are right keeps Christian bookstores in business. Their shelves are stocked with volume after volume of apologetics, or defenses of and arguments for the Christian faith supposedly meant to intellectually arm the well-meaning Christian against non-believers, especially smart ones. Careful study of these books on creationism, biblical inerrancy and gospel reliability instead reveals they are mostly meant to help Christians convince ourselves we haven't backed the wrong horse. Being knowledgeable about our faith and its history is a good thing, but too much "head" religion tears our focus away from the real fruits of the spirit. And if our faith balances on an intricate and delicate house of Bible flash cards, its eventual fall is only ever one firmly slammed door away.

When our faith is challenged, the best thing we can do is listen to that challenge with an open mind. Listening doesn't mean admitting we are wrong; it means the foundation of our faith is firm enough to withstand a little rough weather. If the scribes and priests in today's passage from Luke 20 had been willing to hear the criticisms Jesus gave in his parables, they might have appeared less foolish and actually learned something. When God speaks to us through others, it's rarely to say "Keep on doing what you're doing." Rather, it's to show us something new. Trusting God enough to risk being wrong will help us learn what's right.

Evening readings: Psalms 53, 17

But why ...?

Today's readings: Palms 122, 145; Isaiah 1:10-20; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Luke 20:1-8

Sometimes the biggest barrier between us and God is religion itself. Hardly an original thought, but we need to hear it periodically. The problem is most "religious" activity at one time had a spirit-filled purpose behind it that slowly faded from memory until the ritual became a substitute for the underlying purpose. Take the animal sacrifices mentioned today in Isaiah. We consider animal sacrifice barbaric, but among the Israelites the practice was a step away from barbarism: the surrounding cultures were sacrificing humans. The author of Isaiah tells us the sacrifices themselves have become offensive to God, reeking of the hypocrisy of their practitioners. Instead of continuing on a path toward God's ever expanding justice and compassion, the Israelites settled for ritual over the mercy God would have them act upon the poor, the orphaned and the widowed. When ritual is stripped of relationship, it is no longer of God.

If we think we only need to learn this lesson once, Luke disabuses of that notion pretty quickly. When the Jewish authorities are faced with the question of whether John's baptism (and by implication the nature of Jesus) was heavenly or earthly, their concerns are misplaced. These people would have been familiar with Isaiah. Still their focus is on which answer might make them look foolish or rile the people. The status quo is more important to them than truth itself!

Like it or not, we all have some tendency to let unexamined preferences calcify into dogma. Things like language choices and personal causes can slant our thinking and actions in ways we don't notice. The familiar tempts us even when it no longer serves us. The Israelites - in Isaiah's or Jesus' time - surely did not set out to create traditions and habits that separated them from God, and neither do we. Let's be cautious not to let imperceptible drift over long periods of time move us away from the intentions behind our actions. "What Would Jesus Do" may seem trite ... but pairing it with "Why Would Jesus Do It?" might just sweeten the scent of our sacrifices.

Evening readings: Psalms 40, 67

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year? Not so fast...

Readings: Ps 63, 149; Zechariah 14:12-21; Philipians 2:1-11; Luke 19:41-48

Happy New Year! "What?" you might say, "Aren't Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving bad enough? Do we have to get an early jump on this holiday too? Am I already behind for Valentine's Day?" While the answer to that last question depends on your loved one, New Year's greetings are in order because today is the first day of Advent, the beginning of the Christian liturgical year. That must be why we start celebrating Christmas so early, right?

Wrong. Today's scriptures are anything but celebratory. In Zechariah 14 we read about "panic from the Lord" (v 13) and plagues on camels, donkeys and other innocent creatures (v 15). In Luke 19 Jesus weeps over the city and drives the merchants from the temple. How do plagues and weeping jibe with tinsel, wrapping paper and a baby in a manger? Well... they don't. And that's the point of Advent.

Thinking as a Christian almost always means upending cultural expectations. While the world twinkles and parties, we are called to deeper considerations. Advent is a season of reflection on why we need Christ to enter the world in the first place. Jumping right to the tidy manger on the mantel is tempting, but it's the preceding journey that gives it meaning. Not just the difficult journey of Mary and Joseph. Not just the tumultuous history of the Jewish people. The journey that led to the plagues of poverty, conflict and injustice Christ weeps over today. Taking time to mourn the world puts Christmas into context and transforms it from a secular holiday to a true holy day. If, as greeting card companies suggest, we keep Christmas in our hearts every day, we may not have room for Advent, which helps us discover where Christmas needs to happen next.

We don't have to eschew trees and parties as some sign of external piety. But maybe for this short season we can let excess remind us there is poverty, feasting remind us there is hunger, and festivity remind us there is suffering. Christmas truly begins when we invite Christ to enter the world through us so all these things may be transformed.

Evening readings: Ps 125, 90