Today's readings: Ps 98,148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Yesterday we considered Apocalyptic literature, a product of a people who did not define the world in strictly linear time. Scripture challenges us because it comes from a different perspective on reality. Surprisingly, modern physics tends to reinforce a non-linear understanding of time more than our own. In what other ways does scripture challenge us to change our perspective on reality?
In John and 2 Corinthians, Jesus and Paul tell us we need to stop seeing the world “according to the flesh” and start looking at it according to the spirit. Many people have taken this use of “flesh” to mean our bodies are evil, and somehow separate from our spirits—a sort of dualism that pits us against ourselves. Rather, Jesus and Paul use “flesh” as a metaphor for those things in the world that separate us from God. Scriptures similarly use the word “world”—but God created and loved the world, just as he created and loves our bodies.
When Jesus tells us to see things according to the Spirit, what might that mean? It means we aren’t to judge anyone. Even Jesus—who is able to judge—has chosen to judge no one (John 8:15). This is a paradox of our faith: those who should not judge do, and those who could do not. Any time we judge someone, we are seeing with the flesh, and not the spirit.
Paul tells the Corinthians that when we abandon the human point of view, we will see Christians as new creations (2 Cor 5:17). The lack of judgment of others, from others, and of ourselves frees us to be entirely new. Ironically, it is this lack of need to conform to or impose worldly righteousness that transforms us into Christ’s righteous ambassadors.
In Christ we find not a religion—defined by those who measure up and those who do not—but relationships. Truly immersing ourselves in Christianity takes courage, the courage of pioneers entering the wilderness of humankind and blazing trails to true relationship with others. Our true north is love. Our path is not the same as anyone else’s. Our adventure begins and ends in mystery.
Comfort: Your faith does not have to look like anyone else's.
Challenge: When you judge people, forgive them and yourself.
Prayer: God of Mystery, lead me through the wilderness of faith.
Evening reading: Ps 45, 96
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 149; Gen 17:1-12a, 15-16; Col 2:6-12; John 16:23b-30
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery, Pt. 4
Today's readings: Ps 93, 147:12-20; Isa 25:1-9; Rev 1:9-20; John 7:53-8:11
Isaiah 25:8 looks toward the day when “God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth.” Today’s reading from Revelation begins to introduce John’s vision of Christ’s victory over all the evils in the world. Both are standard readings for the Christmas season, as we celebrate Christ’s arrival in the world. To which victory of the Lord do these readings really refer?
On Tuesday we touched on the idea that ancient people read scripture with a different understanding of time and meaning than we might. While Isaiah’s vision was about the eventual restoration of a Jewish people exiled in Babylon, early Christians co-opted it to tell of the coming of the Messiah. This approach might seem odd to modern sensibilities, but for people of the time it was part and parcel of an understanding that God’s plan of salvation unfolds in the past, present and future.
Isaiah 25 belongs to a genre known as apocalyptic literature (Isaiah—an early form—is more properly classified as proto-apocalyptic). Revelation is also apocalyptic literature. Typical of the genre, both blur the lines between the past and the future. Apocalyptic literature is not so concerned with historicity or specific prophecy as with the idea of the cosmic story of salvation. Time is fluid in these writings because God is always revealed anew to us, and the world is always being remade.
Apocalyptic literature invites us to dwell in the mystery of God’s unfolding plan, better expressed through visions and dreams than facts. The events have already happened, yet are still to happen. This paradox offers confidence that change will come, because it has come. During the Civil War and Civil Rights eras, African-Americans and their allies found inspiration in apocalyptic themes, which assured God’s eventual deliverance. Though mysterious, these themes were comforting.
If we read Isaiah only for the past, or Revelation only for the future, we miss the message of what God is doing today.
Comfort: God’s plan is unfolding—and we are part of it.
Challenge: Watch the news for modern stories of God’s deliverance.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for your people’s dreams and visions.
Evening reading: Ps 89
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Isaiah 25:8 looks toward the day when “God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth.” Today’s reading from Revelation begins to introduce John’s vision of Christ’s victory over all the evils in the world. Both are standard readings for the Christmas season, as we celebrate Christ’s arrival in the world. To which victory of the Lord do these readings really refer?
On Tuesday we touched on the idea that ancient people read scripture with a different understanding of time and meaning than we might. While Isaiah’s vision was about the eventual restoration of a Jewish people exiled in Babylon, early Christians co-opted it to tell of the coming of the Messiah. This approach might seem odd to modern sensibilities, but for people of the time it was part and parcel of an understanding that God’s plan of salvation unfolds in the past, present and future.
Isaiah 25 belongs to a genre known as apocalyptic literature (Isaiah—an early form—is more properly classified as proto-apocalyptic). Revelation is also apocalyptic literature. Typical of the genre, both blur the lines between the past and the future. Apocalyptic literature is not so concerned with historicity or specific prophecy as with the idea of the cosmic story of salvation. Time is fluid in these writings because God is always revealed anew to us, and the world is always being remade.
Apocalyptic literature invites us to dwell in the mystery of God’s unfolding plan, better expressed through visions and dreams than facts. The events have already happened, yet are still to happen. This paradox offers confidence that change will come, because it has come. During the Civil War and Civil Rights eras, African-Americans and their allies found inspiration in apocalyptic themes, which assured God’s eventual deliverance. Though mysterious, these themes were comforting.
If we read Isaiah only for the past, or Revelation only for the future, we miss the message of what God is doing today.
Comfort: God’s plan is unfolding—and we are part of it.
Challenge: Watch the news for modern stories of God’s deliverance.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for your people’s dreams and visions.
Evening reading: Ps 89
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery, Pt. 2
Today's readings: Ps 2, 146; Isa 49:13-23, 54:1-13; Matt 18:1-14
In its original Aramaic, the Lord’s Prayer contains verb tenses that don’t exist in English. Where we speak of this day’s daily bread, the Aramaic speaks of today’s needs and simultaneously of needs yet to be. A people with this language can comprehend multiple levels of meaning for the same words and texts. Torah scholars today juggle its many levels. This concept is difficult for most of us, but it can help us understand how yesterday in Psalm 145 the Lord was slow to anger, and today in Psalm 2 this same Lord is one whose wrath is quickly kindled. Where we see contradiction, the original authors saw complexity.
If we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, such highly nuanced reading may be difficult for us, because firm answers will elude us. Yet, if we are to read scripture well, should we at least try to understand the mindset of its authors? These attempts may pit literal readings against a more contextual understanding. Take for example the practice of reparative therapy—that is, the attempt to “change” gay and lesbian people into heterosexuals. Providers of such therapy may believe they are saving people’s souls, but evidence shows this therapy to be unsuccessful. To the contrary, it is more likely to cause frustration or despair when people “fail” the process. Its young victims, when forced to choose between an immutable identity and rigid dogma often leave the church . How does this outcome relate to Jesus’ words that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matt 18:6)? If, in the interest of curing an immediate sin, we drive someone away from God entirely, what does that say about our relationship to God and creation?
Our relationship to the sins—real or perceived—of others is a deeply complex one. We are called simultaneously to accountability (Matt 18:15-20) and to unlimited forgiveness (Matt 18:21-22). Only by opening ourselves to the mystery of God’s complexity can we be led.
Comfort: You are not the only one who doesn’t understand it all.
Challenge: The next time someone sins against you, try juggling the ideas of holding someone accountable while forgiving them..
Prayer: God of Mystery, help me balance righteousness and mercy.
Evening reading: Ps 110, 111
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 96, 147:1-11; Isa 12:1-6; Rev 1:1-8; John 7:37-52
In its original Aramaic, the Lord’s Prayer contains verb tenses that don’t exist in English. Where we speak of this day’s daily bread, the Aramaic speaks of today’s needs and simultaneously of needs yet to be. A people with this language can comprehend multiple levels of meaning for the same words and texts. Torah scholars today juggle its many levels. This concept is difficult for most of us, but it can help us understand how yesterday in Psalm 145 the Lord was slow to anger, and today in Psalm 2 this same Lord is one whose wrath is quickly kindled. Where we see contradiction, the original authors saw complexity.
If we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, such highly nuanced reading may be difficult for us, because firm answers will elude us. Yet, if we are to read scripture well, should we at least try to understand the mindset of its authors? These attempts may pit literal readings against a more contextual understanding. Take for example the practice of reparative therapy—that is, the attempt to “change” gay and lesbian people into heterosexuals. Providers of such therapy may believe they are saving people’s souls, but evidence shows this therapy to be unsuccessful. To the contrary, it is more likely to cause frustration or despair when people “fail” the process. Its young victims, when forced to choose between an immutable identity and rigid dogma often leave the church . How does this outcome relate to Jesus’ words that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matt 18:6)? If, in the interest of curing an immediate sin, we drive someone away from God entirely, what does that say about our relationship to God and creation?
Our relationship to the sins—real or perceived—of others is a deeply complex one. We are called simultaneously to accountability (Matt 18:15-20) and to unlimited forgiveness (Matt 18:21-22). Only by opening ourselves to the mystery of God’s complexity can we be led.
Comfort: You are not the only one who doesn’t understand it all.
Challenge: The next time someone sins against you, try juggling the ideas of holding someone accountable while forgiving them..
Prayer: God of Mystery, help me balance righteousness and mercy.
Evening reading: Ps 110, 111
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 96, 147:1-11; Isa 12:1-6; Rev 1:1-8; John 7:37-52
Monday, December 27, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery
Today's readings: Ps 34, 145; Prov 8:22-30; 1 John 5:1-12; John 13:20-35
When we’re young (or young to our faith) we most easily understand Christianity as a religion—a list of rules and ideas defining our relationship with God. This fledgling Christianity can provide comfort, often in the form of answers. In the long run, however, we must admit we face far more questions than we have answers. In the midst of these questions, we have three basic options: 1) to abandon our faith as inadequate or false; 2) to cling to religiosity despite our experiences; or 3) to mature from Christianity as religion to Christianity as relationship.
Experiencing our faith as a relationship—to God and others—takes us away from the feelings of comfort and control provided by rules. Like all steps into the unknown, this one can be frightening. Some people stay in miserable situations—soul-sucking jobs, abusive relationships, etc.—because fear of the unknown paralyzes them. Should this be the story of our faith life? It doesn’t have to be, if we can think of the mystery of faith as an adventure rather than a trial. This week we will not seek answers. Instead we will explore the mystery and paradox of faith.
Let’s begin by considering the odd exchange between Judas and Jesus at the Last Supper. When the disciples wanted Jesus to tell them who would betray him, he didn’t name names but dipped some bread, handed it to Judas, and said: “Do quickly what you are going to do.” At that moment, John tells us, “Satan entered into him” and he left (John 13:21-30). Earlier in the Gospel, Jesus successfully evaded the authorities a number of times, yet he allows (encourages?) a close companion to betray him. Why bring it up at all if he doesn’t intend to stop it, or let the disciples stop it? We don’t have to go so far as the Gnostics who paint Judas as a hero of the salvation story to realize this revelation of betrayal and the relationships it portrays are not black and white. What does it say about God’s transformational grace that even betrayal can serve a higher purpose?
Comfort: Mystery welcomes and frees us.
Challenge: Create a ”family tree” that doesn’t focus on biological relationships, but spiritual ones. Allow it to grow as complex as it will.
Prayer: God of Mystery, I trust you to lead me through the unknown.
Evening reading: Ps 29, 121
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 54, 146; Isa 48:12-21; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Mark 6:1-13
When we’re young (or young to our faith) we most easily understand Christianity as a religion—a list of rules and ideas defining our relationship with God. This fledgling Christianity can provide comfort, often in the form of answers. In the long run, however, we must admit we face far more questions than we have answers. In the midst of these questions, we have three basic options: 1) to abandon our faith as inadequate or false; 2) to cling to religiosity despite our experiences; or 3) to mature from Christianity as religion to Christianity as relationship.
Experiencing our faith as a relationship—to God and others—takes us away from the feelings of comfort and control provided by rules. Like all steps into the unknown, this one can be frightening. Some people stay in miserable situations—soul-sucking jobs, abusive relationships, etc.—because fear of the unknown paralyzes them. Should this be the story of our faith life? It doesn’t have to be, if we can think of the mystery of faith as an adventure rather than a trial. This week we will not seek answers. Instead we will explore the mystery and paradox of faith.
Let’s begin by considering the odd exchange between Judas and Jesus at the Last Supper. When the disciples wanted Jesus to tell them who would betray him, he didn’t name names but dipped some bread, handed it to Judas, and said: “Do quickly what you are going to do.” At that moment, John tells us, “Satan entered into him” and he left (John 13:21-30). Earlier in the Gospel, Jesus successfully evaded the authorities a number of times, yet he allows (encourages?) a close companion to betray him. Why bring it up at all if he doesn’t intend to stop it, or let the disciples stop it? We don’t have to go so far as the Gnostics who paint Judas as a hero of the salvation story to realize this revelation of betrayal and the relationships it portrays are not black and white. What does it say about God’s transformational grace that even betrayal can serve a higher purpose?
Comfort: Mystery welcomes and frees us.
Challenge: Create a ”family tree” that doesn’t focus on biological relationships, but spiritual ones. Allow it to grow as complex as it will.
Prayer: God of Mystery, I trust you to lead me through the unknown.
Evening reading: Ps 29, 121
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 54, 146; Isa 48:12-21; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Mark 6:1-13
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