Two Journeys

Do you ever wonder which animals got to go where on the ark? Maybe it’s just me.

The story of the flood in Genesis has some interesting detail and some great opportunities to wonder about things that are missing. So I wonder about some of those and what we might learn from expanding the story a bit. It’s a little bit of midrash, I suppose, the Jewish tradition of telling stories about the scriptural texts that illuminate what the text is about or might explore the text from a different perspective. 

For example, God tells Noah how to build the ark with some detail about size and construction, including that it have a roof, a door in the side and “a lower, second and third decks.” So how’d they decide who went where? (I also wonder about how they all got along while they were on the ark, but lets focus on ones thing at a time.)

Traditionally, steerage is the lowest part of the ship. And the cheapest. I don’t think it’s called that anymore, but the cheapest “state rooms” on a cruise ship are still lower deck and in the interior. Not that any of Noah’s cabins had a view. 

But there’s a hierarchy. Worst cabins in the bottom, better ones in the top. So who went where. Did the lions get the penthouse because they’re king and queen of the beasts? What about tigers? Or bears, they’re pretty strong. Monkeys can climb, so maybe they should be up top, too. Dung beetles could definitely go in the basement.

If I were telling the story, I might have the animals all talking to each other and working it out. It wouldn’t be based on any artificial hierarchy or who was the strongest. It would be more about where they felt they belonged, practicality and comfort, and the animals would be concerned for each other. The elephants and the hippos might say, hey we’re pretty heavy, it’d be good to have that weight in the bottom for ballast. The more nocturnal animals would probably want to be further down, too. I’d have the lions, very dignified, offering their spot to the sheep and taking a more cramped space for themselves. The quieter animals who sleep a lot would have their own section and the busy, noisy ones would be somewhere else, probably another deck, even. The birds would be everywhere, controlling the traffic and keeping things running smoothly, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who needed help or even just a little attention. The dogs and cats would end up being with Noah and the family because that’s just where they belong. And none of the other animals would be envious at all.

I think there’d be a good lesson it that story. A lesson Jesus’ disciples might have learned.

Mark tells the story of James and John one day asking Jesus if they could sit either side of him in his “glory,” you know, in heaven. Jesus, of course, says that’s not for him to say. The other disciples hear about this and are instantly envious. I don’t think that James and John thought that they were better than anyone else, they were just asking because they wanted to be with Jesus. But the other disciples see it differently. Maybe they already thought there was a hierarchy among them. Who was called first or came from the better background, who did the best miracles or preached the best, who was the smartest or who had money, who knew the right people or was physically the strongest. That’s the kind of criteria we’d use today, isn’t it?

But Jesus has another way of looking at it. The greatest, says Jesus, are those who serve others with love, respect and equity. Jesus came to serve, he says, not to be served. Jesus is about serving the world around him.

That’s what the animals on the ark do in my little story. There’s no envy, there’s no hierarchy, there’s only love and care for each other. How else would you make it through a forty day journey at sea? Or a lifetime on earth?

What Are You Thankful For?

There’s a lot going on in the world right now. I don’t suppose that’s anything new. Even for people who remember “simpler times” or “better days,” there were moments even then that weren’t so simple and certainly weren’t better for everyone.

Things sure seem bigger now and harder to get away from. We’re more global, there’s more news being reported. That news isn’t always reliable or factual, either, and it’s easier to manipulate the truth today with social media. The more we can connect with technology, the more disconnected we seem to be. 

Anxiety, worry, a lack of confidence in ourselves or the world around us, many - and real - are our fears.

So. Happy Thanksgiving.  

I don’t mean that to be sarcastic or cynical. A holiday to remind us to be thankful when we can feel overwhelmed with reasons to not be is a great thing. Tie that to harvest time and the beautiful change in season, throw in some great traditions around family and friends, add a turkey or some festive feast on the table and we really got something.

Still, there's lots of people who struggle to find something to be thankful for. And some who won't succeed. Their table might not be full. And for those whose table is, they may find that things to be thankful for come more readily to mind. If they really try.

And, sure, there may be some people who find it easy to be thankful because gratitude comes easily to them. They aren't as anxious and fearful, but readily embrace the world as it comes, looking for the goodness they know is in all life. I know these people exist because I live with one. It's a gift that not many have. It’s the gift of seeing good. Thank goodness they share it.

Jesus knows that so many of us are afraid. He says “don't be afraid" more than anything else in his ministry. He says don’t be anxious, too. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus has some words during the famous Sermon on the Mount for those who struggle with fear and anxiety, worry and confidence. He says, "don't worry about your life … look at the birds of the air … consider the lilies, how they grow" (Matt. 6:25-29).  If God takes care of  these, then you must know that God will take care of you, too. Life is about so much more than just stuff, he says.

Those are very comforting words. Just don’t think that means you don’t have to do anything and you’ll be taken care of. See, the birds are doing what birds do, the lilies, the grass, all the creation around us is doing what it does: it’s engaged in just living, living without the worry of stuff.

All of this "don't worry" business comes after Jesus reminds us that we can't have two masters. Choose what will govern your life, God or stuff (Matt. 6:24). Wealth, riches, money - the King James bible calls it a wonderful word: mammon, the desire for material things.

I don't think that Jesus is saying that having wealth, money or things is inherently bad. But when material things rule our lives, we value all things in that context and our lives become an endless quest to meet a need for more stuff that we can never achieve. We begin to see life in the context of what we don't have, rather than what we do, what we want, rather than need, and what we fear losing, rather than what we're willing to share. The fear of scarcity overwhelms the joy of abundance and we seek to acquire more and protect what we have.

When we choose God, we choose love. We value our selves more than our stuff, and love our neighbour as we love ourselves. We choose compassion and care and we share that with others. And when we all share love, we create a world in which all that we need is shared. We feed and care for each other, we nurture confidence and we encourage and inspire creativity and, most important of all, we’re not afraid to engage others in a relationship based in that love.

I know that might feel impossible in today’s world, but I bet Jesus would say "don't worry. That love is already in you. Stuff is not. Don’t be afraid to share that love that's in you." Be thankful for that.

What is Love?

There was a time when 1 Corinthians 13 was the “go to” scripture reading to hear at weddings. That’s Paul’s beautiful description of love that begins “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” You’ve probably heard it. “The greatest of these is love,” it concludes.

I’m not sure if it’s still as common. There are so many non-biblical things read now, and weddings are far less likely to be “churchy” these days.

Still, give it a read - reading all of Paul’s first letter to the people at Corinth is a good idea, too - and you can easily see why this would be appropriate, and popular, for a wedding. In that beautiful moment of affirming your love and committing to each other surrounded by loved ones, what more could you ask for than an eloquent description of the love that you celebrate together?

Except … Paul didn’t write these words to people who were happy and doing well and celebrating a loving relationship. He wrote them to people who were struggling, and finding that being in relationship as a community was a challenge, full of differences and disagreements. It seems Jesus’ commandment to ”love one another” wasn’t as easy as they thought and they weren’t being too successful at it.

Paul’s just finished telling the Corinthians that being in community is like being a body. We’re each different and unique parts, but we need all the parts, working together, for the body to be whole. At the end of that discourse about being in relationship, Paul writes “I will show you a still more excellent way.” His next words are this practical description of  love, what it means to love and how, unlike all these other things, love is eternal.

Long before the Gospel of John told how Jesus commanded the disciples (and us) that they should love one another as Jesus had shown them to do (John 13), here’s Paul distilling the stories and teaching what he knows of Jesus into his own words. And, just like Jesus, he’s speaking to the troubled, the broken and hurting. First of all, love is at the heart of all things. Have all the gifts of language, prophecy, wisdom and faith, and everything else, but they are meaningless without being grounded in love.

And what is love? Well, it’s an action word: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4-7).

Keep love at the heart of things and put it into action like this, says Paul, and it never fails. All of the other things in life have an ending when this life ends. Even faith and hope will be fulfilled when we return home to God. But love doesn’t end because God is love and the love that gives us life here is the love that fulfills us when this life is done.

These aren’t just words for those who’ve found love, who are prepared to commit to a relationship. It’s for those who struggle to love, who find it difficult, who are challenged by the world around them. Love one another the way I showed you, says Jesus. Here’s a practical description, says Paul.

Imagine that kind of love in action. Don’t just make noise. Make a difference. Go and love.

What Do You Think?

There’s lots of really good commandments and laws in the bible that can help us live better lives. There’s also some okay, but useful ones and plenty that really, well, they just don’t make much sense in the 21st century. There’s also some, lots probably, that definitely fall into the category of “really? That’s how you interpret that?” But there’s only one Great Commandment in Christian scripture. 

That’s the name we give to the story that appears in each of the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, when Jesus answers the question “what’s the greatest commandment?” It’s this, Jesus says: love God and love your neighbour as you love yourself. I’ve talked about this before, suggesting that the relationship revealed in that statement is kind of a trinity of love. Because God is in all things - including you and your neighbour - you can’t have one without the other.

Wait, hang on a minute. That’s not exactly accurate, though. I think the love part is, but I mean the bit before that: I said “Jesus says,” but he doesn’t in Luke’s version of the story. In Mark and Matthew, a lawyer (surprise) tries to trick Jesus with a question, the question being what’s the greatest commandment. We’ve come to know the answer well, but it wasn’t so obvious in those days. In any case, Jesus answers love God, love your neighbour as yourself.  But in Luke’s account, Jesus turns the question back on the lawyer.

In Luke, Jesus answers by asking a question in return: you’re a lawyer, what does it say in the law? It’s the lawyer, quoting Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18 together, that says love God and love your neighbour as yourself. Right on, says Jesus, congratulating him. But it seems like the lawyer’s a little miffed at being tricked, so he asks a follow up question, the question we should all be asking ourselves: okay, but who’s my “neighbour?” (I picture him adding air quotes.)

Now, it seems pretty clear that the author of Luke tells the story this way in order to raise that question, one that’s not addressed by Mark and Matthew. And you know Jesus has an answer because it’s one of the most famous and oft quoted of the parables. Jesus answers with the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story that seems to simultaneously show us both who is a neighbour and how to be a good neighbour. And, since Jesus gave us the answer, with a really cool story even, now we know. Do we?

Sometimes I wish Jesus hadn’t told the parable, but simply turned it back on the lawyer again. “Who do you think is your neighbour?” And when he hears a comfortable answer, he might follow up with “well, what about this person or that person?” each being somebody poor or marginalized or someone of another ethnicity or faith tradition or culture or age or gender, someone different or someone we disagree with, someone we have something against. And with each person the lawyer might want to exclude, Jesus might ask “well, are you being a good neighbour then?”

The two things go together. To recognize your neighbour in everyone we meet is to be a good neighbour ourselves. 

A Whole Story

There are a lot of healing miracle stories in the gospels. There could be anywhere from twenty-seven to, well, lots. It depends on how you count them.

There are the stories of Jesus healing individuals, then the stories of Jesus empowering the disciples to go out and be Jesus to people, including healing them and casting out demons and all that. Do you count those? What about the stories, in Mark for example, where it just says that Jesus healed “many” that day or that “many people” came to him to be healed? What about the exorcisms and the people he raised from the dead? Do they count as “healings?” And what about calming the storm at sea, does that count as a healing of nature?

That’s not the point, is it? It’s not the number of people healed, it’s the how. And there’s where we can learn things.

For many christians, the point of the healing miracles, like all the miracles, is to point to Jesus the Son of God, the Word Made Flesh, wielding the power of God to do miraculous things far beyond the powers of this world. That’s why the stories are so short. Jesus meets someone in need, heals them, they move on. The miracle itself is the heart of the story, just as the story telling intended.

I wonder if we got the whole story. I’ve offered this thought before about the stories of Jesus, that they’re told a certain way to illustrate a particular point. Focusing on the miracle itself certainly empowers a particular understanding about Jesus.

But what do we learn about us? I think Jesus didn’t intend to be worshipped, I don’t think he intended to be set apart the way we do. I think Jesus meant to be one of us, just like us, and through that, teach us about ourselves. At the very least, we should be able to see both those sides of the biblical Jesus. Both are part of the whole Jesus.

For that side that’s just like us, I bet the stories would be much, much longer and go something like this. Jesus would encounter someone and the first thing he’d do is ask them how they are. I think he’d say tell me your story. I think he’d listen, honour their story and make sure they knew they were loved, acknowledged and heard. He’d make sure they felt seen and known. However the healing part happened, he wouldn’t just send them on their way, he’d take the time until they were ready. He’d wait until they felt ready to be part of the world again. And, I can’t imagine just how he’d do it, but I bet he’d check back in with them later to see how they’re doing. Maybe he’d send a disciple or two back to them or something like that. Maybe that sounds like too much, but it just sounds like Jesus to me, and that’s the point.

I think an engagement with Jesus would begin and end with compassion. There would be grace, time for the person to be who they are and be affirmed in that. There would be time to care about more than just fixing the obvious and moving on. There would be a connection that affirms both the person in need and the person offering care. There would be wholeness.

That, we can do. That would be Jesus showing us what we’re capable of, no special power needed. That would be one of the ways Jesus is alive in each of us.

At the Heart of What We Are

I know someone who’s the salt of the earth. Someone who shines in all they do. You do, too. You’ve probably used those expressions at some point, or at least heard them. Maybe you’ve heard someone say it about you.

Jesus did. Salt and light. These are the images Jesus uses near the beginning of the collection of sayings we know as The Sermon On The Mount.  "You are salt of the earth" and "the light of the world" (Matt. 5:13 and 14) are the familiar phrases we know so well.

He begins this “sermon” by telling everyone they’re blessed. Not in the usual way, though, and we know those sayings as the Beatitudes. If you’re not familiar, you should look them up because you are blessed. (Matt. 5:1-12)

Yes, you are. You re blessed. And he goes on to say you are salt and light. Yes, you are. So what will you do with that?

There's lots one could explore about salt and light. The scientist and/or historian could tell you how important salt and light are. They're valuable and necessary to life.

But they're not much by themselves, are they? Each needs to act on something to express its value.

Salt flavours. It creates a variety of chemical reactions. It's necessary for good health, it preserves, around here it melts a lot of ice. It's used in water conditioning and manufacturing. It was so valuable in the past that it was used as currency and wars were fought over it.

But you can overdo it and too much isn't good. It can overpower other flavours rather than enhance them, it's damaging and destructive.

Light is "seen" in what it reveals. Without anything to act on, refract through or reflect from, it, by itself, is unseen. In the right proportion, it overcomes darkness and shadow to show visually what is around us.

Too much light, though, overwhelms our sight and distorts images. It can even be blinding.

That's all pretty obvious, the kind of obvious that we don’t spend a lot of time thinking about. But it’s a powerful image when we apply it to ourselves. We can flavour the world and bring zest to life, we can influence the world around us and create "chemical reactions" that produce amazing things. We can also enlighten others, help to illuminate their path and inspire their journey. We can also smother and overwhelm. We can also distort and blind. How will we find the right measure?

We are salt and light. Jesus doesn't suggest that we could be, he points out that we are.  The real question is what will you do with the power you have? What Jesus begins to teach in the words of his "sermon," and teach as a living example, is how we find the right measure in our lives and build wholeness, in ourselves and our relationships. That’s in us, too.

See, it’s not just the practice or the behaviour that’s needed, it’s about what’s in our hearts. How often does Jesus remind us that it’s not the letter of the law or the literal word that’s important, it’s the purpose that’s at its heart. Season with love and enlighten with grace. Preserve with compassion and shine with hope. These are the most fundamental gifts of our being.

Simon Says

Peter wasn’t his given name. The disciple that Jesus named Peter was named Simon by his parents. The story (found in Matthew, chapter 16) goes something like this.

Jesus and his closest friends were travelling one day, walking and talking as they do. Jesus had been preaching, healing and teaching for a while, so he asked them what people were saying about him. There was no social media in those days, so Jesus couldn’t check for likes/dislikes, how many stars he got or what the reviews were. He had to rely on what others heard. They said they’d heard people thought he was Elijah or John the Baptist come back to life or one of the prophets. A holy man, in other words. That all sounds not too shabby, but then he asks them who they think he is. It doesn’t say this in the Bible, but I think this was a little trickier and I imagine there was the sound of crickets for a minute, and several of the disciples might have looked at their feet or just generally avoided eye contact. They’d been with Jesus for some time now and they might well have been a little embarrassed that they had to think about it. I’m not sure, though, I wasn’t there.

But then, Simon says “you’re the messiah” and they’re all relieved because this is clearly the right answer. Jesus blesses him and says God has revealed it to him. Then he says he’s going to call him Peter from now on and says “on this rock I will build my church.” That sounds pretty conclusive. Peter means rock so,  obviously, he’s the rock, the foundation on which this thing we call the church is built.

Hang on a minute. There’s a couple things there, a couple of pretty important things that might be helpful to remember when we wonder about the contemporary institution we call church.

In the oldest versions of this text in Greek, the word we translate as church is “ekklesia” which simply means a gathering or an assembly. Fair enough, there’s no qualification of size on that so it could be anything from two or three to “all my relations.” For me, it’s reminder of inclusivity, but one could see where one might be more defining, especially in the context of an institutional structure. Except Jesus doesn’t qualify it in any way, which gives me pause to wonder if Jesus had any idea at all of the institution we’d make and what it would do. For someone who was such a vocal critic of the divisive, restrictive and exclusive structures of his day, I wonder what a Jesus of today would say about the structure we built on the rock.

And about that rock. I don’t think Simon’s the rock. I think Jesus gave him that nickname because he seemed to be the first one to realize what the rock really is. It’s what he said, Jesus is the messiah, the christ. That’s what we should build on.

Likewise, I think Jesus would also point out that it’s not Jesus the person, it’s everything that Jesus is, everything Jesus lived, everything the christ should be, everything that makes up The Way. Everything that Jesus shows us that we’re capable of, too. Love, grace, compassion, care, everything that connects us, whether it’s two or three or all my relations. That’s a pretty solid rock to build on.