Viva Variety

Today's readings: Psalms 22; 148, Deuteronomy 7:12-16, Titus 2:1-15, John 1:35-42

According to John’s gospel, the first two disciples to follow Jesus were originally disciples of John the Baptist. One day the three of them were standing around when Jesus walked by and John declared him the Lamb of God. The two disciples began to literally follow him, until he turned around and asked what they were looking for. Then they followed him home. One of them (Andrew) found his brother Simon and told him they’d found the Messiah. Upon meeting Simon, Jesus told him his new name was Cephas (Aramaic for Rock, the same meaning as Peter).

But don’t Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell a much more interesting version of this story? In that one, Jesus goes down to the docks, starts recruiting, and promises to make any who follow him “fishers of men.” The sales pitch is so good people drop their nets and follow him immediately. This tale was surely known to the author of John, so why not use it?

In both versions, whether guided by a teacher or invited directly, Jesus’s disciples feel immediately compelled to follow him. In a way, these two paths are representative of the ways we can come to know Christ: we can be born into a faith passed on to us, or Jesus can come bursting into our lives from seemingly nowhere. Neither way is more correct than the other, but one makes a more exciting story. While this was not the point the author of John was trying to make, maybe we can consider it when hearing people’s varying faith journeys.

If we have been born into a faith, some people’s conversion stories may seem more dynamic and exciting than our own lifelong belief. We should let their enthusiasm reinvigorate our own faith and challenge us to look at it as if it were new to us. If we are converts, we have recently given much thought to what we believe and why, like immigrants who’ve studied to become citizens. Though it may seem others haven’t worked quite as hard for the privilege, we can rely on the grounded experience of lifelong citizens of faith to inform us of the rich traditions we share. No matter how we’ve come to know Christ, we have gifts to share.

Evening readings: Psalms 105; 130

Ash Wednesday: Turn Around, Jonah

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 147:1-11; Jonah 3:1-4:11; Hebrews 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

When most people think of the story of Jonah, they think of "Jonah and the Whale" or the great fish that carried him in its belly to dry land. While that may be the most spectacular element of the story, it is not the most important. Today's reading comes from the end of the story, when Jonah has preached to the Ninevites as the Lord commanded him to do. He is despondent because the Ninevites - enemies who oppressed his people - have taken his warning to heart and repented, and worse yet the Lord has forgiven and spared them from destruction. Jonah is so upset he retreats to the edge of town, where the hot sun beats down on him, and tells the Lord he would rather die than be party to the Ninevite's salvation. The Lord, of course, sees it differently.

Lent is a time to meditate on our own need to repent, to turn away from our sins and towards our God. Jonah's story reminds us repentance comes in many forms. Are we Ninevites, blatantly disregarding God? If so, we can decide right now to accept God's eternally open invitation to reconciliation. When we truly repent we won't need to wear sackcloth like the real Ninevites for the change to be obvious. Jonah, it turns out, is a tougher nut to crack. He clings so tightly to his hatred of the Ninevites that he resents God's mercy and willingness to forgive them. If we are religious people who think we've got it right, self-reflection might reveal we're Jonahs. We might not be able to accept deep down that those who aren't quite getting it right, or who have done us wrong, or who aren't repenting in the ways we think they should, are equally beloved by God. Being "in the right" can blind us to just how wrong our hearts are.

This Lent, let's reflect on how we might repent and forgive those who challenge us. Not only does God forgive them, but He invites us to be part of the whole process. That means we can't sit on our cushion of resentment watching them from afar, but that we must learn to live in the thick of them, loving them even when we can't like them. We will know we have repented when, no matter which way we turn, we face God.

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 51

God Will Wait

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146, Deuteronomy 6:16-25, Hebrews 2:1-10,  John 1:19-28

In church we learn to praise and worship and express our gratitude to God. We thank God for the good things in our lives, and ask for his strength during the bad times. We admire people whose faith is rock-solid even during times of crisis, and usually aspire to have that kind of faith ourselves. In fact, there may be a little cultural pressure from other Christians not to express negative emotions toward God.

So let’s thank him for one more thing: the psalmists! They were not afraid to rail at God when things got tough. The author of Psalm 42 declares: “My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, ‘Where is your God?’” (v 3) This psalmist is not afraid to ask: “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?” (v 9) And these were not private episodes behind a locked door where the other faithful could not see and judge: they were public declarations recorded for the ages. If psalms of lamentation made it into the Bible, just maybe it’s all right for us to express such feelings ourselves, even in public.

God is not so fragile that he will turn away from us like a fair weather friend because we’ve hurt his feelings. During Rosh Hashanah faithful Jews make atonement for their failings, but part of the tradition also involves calling God to account for the state of the world. The very name of the nation of Israel means “wrestling with God.” We are not required to be always happy or even satisfied with God. It might even be impossible, since we are built to be in a relationship with God, and all deep relationships at some point experience conflict.

An argument does not end a real relationship. Handled properly, it is a chance for learning and growth – though when we argue with God it is almost certainly we are the ones who need to grow. At the close of the psalm, the psalmist tells his soul: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God” (v 11b). If at this or any moment you are angry with God, it’s not the end of the relationship. God will wait.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Who Built It?

Today's readings: Psalms 5; 145, Deuteronomy 6:1-15, Hebrews 1:1-14, John 1:1-18

Shortly before the Israelites ended their forty years of wandering in the desert, Moses spoke to them about how they were to live in the promised land. These sermons, which make up most of the book of Deuternomy, were good news for the Israelites, but not for the Canaanites – who were already living in the promised land of Cana. The authors of Deuteronomy, through the words of Moses, warn the people of Israel:

“When the LORD your God has brought you into the land that he swore to your ancestors […] — a land with fine, large cities that you did not build, houses filled with all sorts of goods that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — […] take care that you do not forget the LORD.” (Deut 6:10-12)

How easy it is to believe we have received all the good things in our lives through our own merit, and to forget how much of it is due to the people who came before us. These people are not only direct ancestors, but those who shaped our lives and societies through victories – and sometimes more poignantly through losses. Financial inheritance, good genes, a strong work ethic, economies stable enough to support business, roads, an education, natural resources beyond measure, civil rights: all these things which contribute to our success and survival were provided by others who either gave them or had them taken away. No matter how hard we’ve worked for what we have, we didn’t do it alone.

Our sense of gratitude is tied to our sense of history. Each person’s life is built on the bones of those who voluntarily and involuntarily contributed to it. Our sense of justice is also tied to our willingness to remember history. All societies, past and present, are a mix of what we’ve built, what we’ve been given, and what we’ve taken. When the Israelites remembered how God had delivered them to their homes, they also had to remember the people of Cana. When we give thanks for what we have, let’s also remember where it came from.

Evening readings: Psalms 82; 29