The Quality of Mercy--Luke 10:25-37

Took my family to see the new "Karate Kid" last week. Most of us thought it was a decent enough remake of the original, but I kept getting distracted by my obsession with comparing the new one to the original, which I venerate as one of those movies of my youth that changed my life (okay, it didn't exactly change my life, but I still liked it a lot).

Much was changed in the new movie--the setting for one, which is in China. I liked that change. One of the things that remained the same is the motto of the "evil" martial arts instructor for the bullies. I can't remember the entire motto, but part of it is "no mercy." He teaches his class to have no mercy on their opponents and to "finish" them when they are down. This vicious attitude is reprehensible to Mr. Miyagi in the original and to Jackie Chan's character in the remake. Fairness, respect and mercy are central to their understanding of martial arts. I know this first hand now that my son, Jack, is taking Tae Kwon Do. At the end of each session, the kids gather around the instructor and shout out their motto, and one of the themes is mercy.

As Jack learns to live into a life called to mercy through his martial arts instruction, I hope he is also learning something about mercy from his family and faith community. The gospel reading in worship on Sunday is the very familiar story from Luke 10 of the good Samaritan. A lawyer asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus gives him the basic Jewish teaching of loving God and neighbor. The lawyer wants more specificity (I'll refrain from any lawyer jokes): "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus tells a story in response, rather than give the lawyer the specificity he was seeking. The story of the good Samaritan ends with Jesus now asking the lawyer a question: "Who was neighbor to the man who fell into the robber's hands?" Jesus has lobbed one to the lawyer and the lawyer hits it out of the park by answering, "The one who showed him mercy."

Reread this story today. You've read and heard this story so many times before. Try to read it with fresh eyes. What startles you about it? What pisses you off about it? What if you were a priest and heard Jesus tell this story? Would you think it fair to him? Are you the priest in the story or the Samaritan? Not an easy question, I should think.

Make a Joyful Noise--Psalm 100

This Sunday is Music Appreciation Sunday at WPPC. The choir will sing more than the usual one anthem, the congregation will have the opportunity to select the hymns and Christopher, of course, will be magnificent on the organ. I will diverge from my custom of reading from the Revised Common Lectionary readings for Sunday and read Psalm 100: "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord... Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing."

The Psalms have been called the hymnal of the second temple. These poems were put to music and sung during worship. Psalm 100 is one of the most beautiful of the songs of praise we find in the Psalms. Music was an important part of ancient Jewish worship, just as it is a vital part of our worship.

Sure, in the Christian churches, we can't agree on what kind of music God likes best. You can find churches that worship with loud, screeching guitars and drum solos. You can find churches that worship with quiet, meditative Taize music. You can find everything in between. And wherever you are on this spectrum, you wonder with dumbfounded amazement how those other people can worship, can connect with God, using that kind of music. But worship they do. Thanks be to God.

In the 1970s, hymn writer Fred Pratt Green wrote the following final stanza to his hymn "When in Our Music God is Glorified:"

Let every instrument be tuned for praise!
Let all rejoice who have a voice to raise!
And may God give us faith to sing always!
Alleluia!

Go make some noise...

The Road to Hope--Romans 5:1-5

Paul writes that "... suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope..." (Romans 5:3-4)

Suffering can lead you down one of two roads. You can go spiraling down that steep, curvy road that passes through anger, self-pity, bitterness and ends up in despair--that is, hopelessness. This, if truth be told, is the path of least resistance when suffering is encountered. It feels like the natural progression. In the classic old story, Job's wife advises him to curse God and die. Given Job's troubles, that seems reasonable. Who would blame him?

The other road, of course, is the one Paul describes. It is a narrow, uphill, rocky road that passes through endurance and character on the way to hope. Even on this road, getting sidetracked for a time on the road that leads to hopelessness is common. Paul knew this personally. But still, the road to hope is the road to life, and it is offered to all of us as a possibility, even in the darkest of circumstances, because of all the benefits God has showered upon us. Paul mentions some of them in these opening verses of Romans 5: Justified by faith, having peace with God, having obtained access to grace, standing in grace, and God's love has been poured into our hearts.

These are the reasons that the gate to the road to hope is open and the road is passable and why hope can be experienced even amid suffering. Granted, sometimes it is a bit of a journey to get there. And the traveling is arduous, without a doubt. But God's presence never leaves us and God's benefits are never exhausted. We can move forward. As a Benedictine nun once advised the writer Kathleen Norris during a dark time: "When you come to a place where you have to go left or right, go straight ahead."

Jesus' Bizarre Prayer Request, John 17:20-26

How do you feel when someone prays for you outloud and you didn't even request prayer? Are you comforted or do you feel intruded upon? Maybe it depends somewhat on what the pray-er asks for on your behalf.

I wonder how the disciples felt when Jesus interceded for them in the 17th chapter of John's gospel. This is the part of the gospel we refer to as Jesus' farewell discourse. Here, Jesus prays for his disciples just before his death. I bet the disciples felt strange though during this prayer. After all, it was not like our intercessory prayers. Now if the Son of God was going to pray for me, I'd really like him to petition God for my health, financial security, joyful family life, health and happiness for those I love, and my happiness and safety. Throw in a request for open parking spaces close to the front door of the church each time I head down there in the evenings, and I'd be ecstatic. Now that would be a prayer!

Jesus doesn't pray like that for his disciples. Rather, he offers a bizarre petition: "As you, Father, are in me and I in you, may they also be in us, so the world may believe that you have sent me" (vs. 21). Jesus prays that his followers would be drawn into the life of the Holy Trinity. This, of course, is not your usual petition. The reality being referred to is deeply mystical. It's hard to wrap your head around. The Johannine theology is wondrous: The Father sends the Son to humanity precisely so that the Son may draw all humanity into the relationship that exists between Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Whatever the status of your life is right now. Whether the glass is half empty or half full or pretty close to downright empty, you reside in God. Even all your seeking, doubts and uncertanties are experienced while in the security of the Trinity's joyful dance of relationship.

Think about that for awhile.

Leviathan--God's Pet Dragon

As an epilogue to our Blessing of the Animals, I offered a reflection on Psalm 104 today. It is a psalm extolling God's wonderful creation, especially animal life. The reading was especially poignant today, hearing the psalmist stand amazed at the "deep wide sea, brimming with fish past counting" as we all with heavy hearts consider the damage to marine life occuring now in the Gulf of Mexico. Humans continue to use and destroy rather than bless and nurture the creation.

This psalm is powerfully beautiful yet very odd. Consider the mention of Leviathan in verse 26. In other Old Testament books, Leviathan is the monster that inhabits the chaotic, unordered watery depths. In Job, it represents the power and mystery of God's creation, unconquered and uncontrolled by human beings. In Isaiah, it is the enemy of God that God had to conquer to bring order to the earth and overcome chaos. Yet in this psalm, Leviathan is God's pet dragon who romps in the waters (The Message). It is not scary at all. It is playful. It is God's playmate.

In verse 31, the psalmist calls God to rejoice in or enjoy God's creation. This is very strange language. No where else in the Psalms is God encouraged or called upon to rejoice or enjoy creation, God's own work. Humans are usually called upon to rejoice in God or enjoy God. The implication is that all of creation is upheld by God's joy. God delights in what God has made, and that delight is the very energy and vibrancy of the universe. This is very different than God as understood in the Noah story, for instance, where God regrets creation because of human wickedness and vows, after the flood, to restrain God's self from ever destroying the world again. It seems to be a commitment made with a sigh of resignation. Whereas Genesis paints a picture of God who sustains creation through an act of self-constraint, this psalm says that creation is sustained by divine revelry.

I like this playful, joyful God proclaimed by the psalmist. What about you?

An Awkward Reunion--John 21:1-19

In this post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to his disciples, Jesus is calling them once again, as he did at the beginning of his ministry, to follow him. They are doing the same they were doing when Jesus first called them--fishing. Isn't it funny how God calls us, not while we're in church or immersed in a blissful, prayerful meditation, but when we are carrying out the mundane activities of our seemingly mundane lives. Better yet, Christ calls in the midst of our failure.

The disciples are fishing and haven't caught anything, and then a figure from shore suggests they try on the other side of the boat. They do and bring in a hugh catch. It's then that they recognize it is Jesus.

Peter, always the first one out of the boat, can't wait to row back to shore with all this fish, so he jumps in and swims to shore, leaving his buddies to wrestle with the fish. Jesus has prepared a fish breakfast for them (Eucharist?). Over breakfast, Peter and Jesus have the necessary conversation. You know the meetings you have with people who you've disappointed or had a disagreement with or an out-and-out fight with. This was one of those awkward conversations. Made more awkward by Jesus and Peter's inability, at least a first, to get on the same page.

Jesus asks Peter three times if Peter loves him. The first two times he uses the Greek word agape for love--you know, that divine, sacrificial kind of love. Peter responds, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Peter uses the Greek word phile for love--brotherly, friendship kind of love. Finally, the last time, Jesus also uses phile when he asks Peter if Peter loves him. And Peter responds that he does, using phile.

Maybe in the moment of reconciliation with the one who has denied him, Jesus was expecting too much. Maybe Peter was offering all the love he good give, though it wasn't perfect. I think Jesus finally was saying, Ok, whatever, Peter. That's good enough. Just follow me.

It doesn't take some miraculous, intense faith or love to follow Jesus and to feed his sheep. Whatever faith you can muster at the moment will do the trick. Thankfully.

The Breath of God--John 20:19-31

In this post-resurrection appearance of Jesus conveyed by John, Jesus enters a locked house (quite ghostly, non-physical) and stands among the disciples, saying, "Peace be with you" (twice). He then commissions them to go forth and serve him and breathes on them (quite physical) saying, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

And so John presents this Jesus who moves about miraculously--very different from his pre-resurrection movements--yet is clearly a physical body, as he breathes on them, speaks to them, invites them to put their hands in his wounds and ultimately eats with them. It is clear that John wants us to understand that Jesus' post-resurrection appearances were mysterious. The disciples were a bit bewildered by this new Jesus--was he a ghost or a man? They did not understand this Jesus and their role in proclaiming this Jesus until Pentecost.

I like the prayerful meditation where you imagine the breath of God breathing in you and through you as you breath. This is a useful scripture to introduce this contemplative practice. An good Old Testament text to use is from the Genesis creation story where God forms Adam from the dust of the ground and breathes the breath (Hebrew word ruach or spirit) of life into him and he became a living being (Gen. 2:7).

You are breathing God's breath. Breath deeply, joyously.