New Story

Let's be clear: Lazarus is not a zombie.  At least, I don't think Lazarus is a zombie.

Now hang on a minute.  If you already know the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, you might find that thought silly, if not downright offensive.  But if you haven't read John 11:1-45, or you're hearing it for the first time, and you're a child of this era of Night of the Living Dead, Zombieland, The Walking Dead or even Shaun of the Dead, you might be tempted to hear it that way.

Or even Jesus.  Yes, I know.  But not that long ago I had a conversation with a young man who insisted that the story of Jesus' resurrection reads pretty much like he was a zombie: body was gone from the tomb, he's seen walking around and he still has the wounds of his death.  I'm pretty sure he was kidding.  Though, I'm a little concerned that he thinks zombies may be real…

Still, the story of Lazarus challenges us a bit.  He was dead, now he isn't.  Even his sister Martha wondered about what condition he was in, saying - in a way that only the King James version can - "Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days."  But Jesus calls him out and tells them to unwrap him from his burial clothes and let him go.  

There was a crowd that saw what happened and this is the point, according to John, that the pharisees decided Jesus must die.  Not just Jesus, Lazarus too, because people want to see this guy who was brought back from the dead.  And that's attracting attention to Jesus.

And how could he not?  He was dead and buried.  He even "stinketh."  And yet, here he is reanimated, having dinner with Jesus, John says.  What is it that zombies eat, I wonder?

Okay, let's stop the silliness.  Or, rather, foolishness.  Jesus didn't just reanimate Lazarus.  We're not talking about "not dead," we're talking about life.  Jesus gives life.

Yes, yes, yes, you say, I know, I've heard all this before.  And yes, you have.  Perhaps.  But that's precisely the point of this moment in the story of Jesus: no one had heard this before.

Think about that for a moment.  Sure, everyone knew the idea of the resurrection of the dead, eventually.  It's one of the things that divided the hebrew leaders as pharisees (yes, there was) and sadducees (no, there wasn't).  But this isn't that. "Jesus said to her, 'Your brother will rise again.'  Martha said to him, 'I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.'"  Yes, of course, that's precisely what she knows.  But then Jesus says "I am the resurrection and the life.  Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." (John 11:23-26)

Here's Jesus again saying "I am."  This isn't something for the future, it's something for now.  Jesus brings life - now.  That's new.

We've heard it all before.  The Good News is old news.  But to Martha and Mary and all those who witnessed Jesus give Lazarus life, this is something new.  For all those who heard and were attracted to Jesus by this miracle of new life, this is something new.

Is it still new for us?  And if it isn't, how will we tell this story that we might understand how "new" it always is?

Maybe thinking about zombies for a minute isn't so silly after all.  Think of how many people might better understand that simply being "un-dead" is not the same as living.  The life Jesus brings is full of love and grace and compassion.  It embraces everyone for who they are and everything with the respect every created thing deserves.  It's a life of wholeness and fullness.  It's alive!

Journey of believing

I'm going to begin with a declaration.  Come with me and I'll tell you one of the ways I got there.  Here it is: I don't want to be part of a church that claims to have all the answers.  I want to be part of a church that claims answers may be found there.

There's a difference.  Here's why.

The story of Jesus giving sight to a man born blind is found in John's gospel, chapter 9.  It's long.  It's really long for a single story in the gospels.  That's also what makes it so important.

The story opens with the healing miracle.  Jesus and the disciples encounter a man blind from birth, prompting a disciple to ask why the man was blind, was it some sin of his or his parents?  (The belief that a physical disability is a punishment from God is ancient.  It would be nice to think that we don't hold to that belief anymore, but that understanding isn't universal.  Even the language we use - dis-abled rather than differently abled - reflects that.)  But Jesus says that it's neither, it's "so that God’s works might be revealed in him."  And he proceeds to give him sight.  There's way more to it than that - read the story in John 9.

Jesus then disappears, leaving the man to be questioned by others, especially the pharisees.  They question his parents, too, and eventually determine to cast him out from the synagogue.  That's right, Jesus gives him the thing that he was marginalized without and he's cast out again, for that, this time.  Hearing what happened, Jesus seeks him out, identifies himself and asks him if he believes in "the Son of Man."  Finally, in verse 38 of 41, he says "I believe."  Did I mention it's a long story?

And it's a complex story which raises lots of questions, about sin, insight and outward sight, healing and belief amongst other things.  It's not just about the metaphor of seeing, do you see?  It's about a journey.  When Jesus says that "God's works might be revealed in him," he doesn't mean the miracle of physical sight, he means the journey the man will travel to believe in "the Son of Man."  And it's a challenging journey.

The healing miracle that begins the journey is different than other such stories in the gospels.  The man doesn't seek Jesus out and request it, nor does Jesus ask the man's permission, nor is the man's healing a result of his own faith.  The man doesn't seem to know Jesus or anything about him.  And he is given the gift of sight.

When asked, he doesn't know where Jesus is, he doesn't know who Jesus is.  Before long, he believes Jesus to be a prophet because of what he can do but still, he does not know how, only that he was blind and now he can see.  And when Jesus asks him if he believes, he still does not recognize Jesus as "the Son of Man" until Jesus tells him it is he.

His "I believe" is still just the beginning of his journey.  As it is ours.

Transformation is messy, complex and convoluted sometimes.  It can mean gaining friends and losing them, gaining new life and losing it, it can mean understanding and confusion, it can mean questions with answers and questions with just more questions.

This man's life is transformed by meeting Jesus that day, as ours can be, too.  And our journey to believing in God may also mean that there are times when we wonder where Jesus is and times when we see Jesus clearly, times when we think we have an answer and times when we have only wonder, times when we have doubt and times when we know.

Maybe.  At the conclusion of this story, Jesus reminds us that there are those who's certainty blinds them to understanding - they think they see clearly and yet don't understand.  It's the pharisees, of course.  Or is it us?

That's why I would like to travel the journey with others, to be in a community relationship where we can all benefit from our questions and doubts, answers and understanding.  That's why I don't want to be part of a church that claims to have all the answers.  I want to be part of a church that claims answers may be found there.

Come Closer

Isn't it funny sometimes how the very images and metaphors we think are helping us to understand something can help to distance us from it, too.

I'm wondering about the story of Jesus meeting a woman at a well.  He's been travelling with the disciples and, as they've headed off in search of food from the nearest town, Jesus sits down by a well.  A woman comes to draw water and he asks her for a drink.  There's a long list of reasons why, in those days, he shouldn't have been doing that.  And that's part of the point, he speaks to someone he shouldn't and she shouldn't be speaking with him.  But they do.  And, as he had asked her for water because he was thirsty, he offers her "water," the water of life.  “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.  The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life" (John 4:13-14).  Jesus is the water of life, life-giving to the spirit and quenching the thirst of the soul.  As he seems to know who she truly is, she comes to know that he is the messiah.  So she leaves the well and goes to tell others in her town about this "water of life" and they come also to see Jesus.

Here's two important images: Jesus talks to someone he shouldn't and they talk about the water of life.  How shall we think about them?

Why shouldn't Jesus speak to this woman?  Well, she was a Samaritan and, historically, Jews didn't associate with Samaritans.  Period.  And she was a woman and, historically, hebrew men did not speak to women alone.  Period.  And, as Jesus reveals, she's had five husbands and currently lives with a man who's not her husband.  That's been interpreted a lot of ways, but, historically, he shouldn't be talking to her about it.  Period.  And she's at the well at noon by herself which is usually interpreted as she's been ostracized by her community, so, again, he shouldn't be approaching her.  Period.

Great, so it's pretty clear after all those periods that he shouldn't be talking to her.  But what does all that mean to us?  If we put this story in our contemporary context, how would we describe this person?  More to the point, instead of a stereotype, think for a minute of who we would set apart or ostracize.  Why?  What would make them so unapproachable, so set apart?  And so broken.

Yes, broken.  Because that's what this woman is.  We don't really know her back story, but we do know it seems to be full of broken relationships, both with individuals and community.  We know that when Jesus offers her the refreshment he offers, she embraces it and shares it with others - she evangelizes and brings others to see Jesus.

And she brings them to him for this special "water of life."  Isn't water a powerful image?  We need water to live.  We're made of water (between 45 and 75% based on age, gender and body type).  The things we eat need water.  The world needs water.

But how do we, where we live, perceive that need?  Our water comes from a tap.  We're surrounded by oceans, lakes and rivers and all the water in creation.  We bottle water to make it more easily transportable and because it "tastes better."  Few of us know the struggle of having to travel to a well daily, carrying what we need, and many are more likely to consume water as an ingredient in a carbonated beverage, coffee or tea than by itself.  Do we know a real thirst?

How will this story speak to us?  Who do we make outcast and how shall we offer them what they need?  And in doing so, how will we recognize our own brokenness and find what we need?

Perhaps wholeness may be found in understanding how we share with each other: we who are broken know what it means to be thirsty, just as we who know the love and grace of God through Jesus know what it means to offer life-giving water.

From the dark

Study for Nicodemus Visiting Jesus - Henry Ossawa Tanner

The story of Nicodemus visiting Jesus, told in the Gospel of John, is one of those Bible stories that can easily be lost to our need for a soundbite or two.

There are two in this story: the expression “born again” (more accurately, “born from above” or “born anew”) and the famous John 3:16, probably the most memorized verse in the Bible.  We’ve used both of these expressions of our faith as true soundbites, a phrase or two that’s been taken out of its original context and been imbued with all the meaning of its context, at best, and a whole lot more, at worst.

“You must be born again” has acquired the connotation of a certain set of beliefs, a certain way of believing and, most importantly, the exclusivity of access to a new life after we die.  John 3:16 has come to be seen as a summation of the Christian faith, all that we believe in a single Bible verse: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Though it makes me sad that “born again” is yet another one of those words or phrases that we’ve lost to a particular interpretation, I don’t want to tackle that here, other than to say that I believe that we are all “born anew.”  And John 3:16?  One of my favourite verses, and one which I like to talk about at great length, but I don’t for a moment believe that one can reduce the vast wonder and mystery which is expressed in the Bible to a single sentence.  I’d also like to add that if you like 3:16, read 3:17, too.  That’s the one that says Jesus didn’t come to judge, but to redeem.

But for now, my interest is in the bigger picture.

The story goes that Nicodemus, a leader in the Jewish community, comes to Jesus at night and acknowledges that Jesus must be from God because of all the great things (miracles) he’s been doing.  Jesus replies that no one comes to the kingdom of God without they are born “from above” (or anew).  Nicodemus assumes a human birth and doesn’t understand.  Jesus explains his meaning as being born again in spirit.  Still Nicodemus doesn’t understand.  Jesus continues to explain that God sent his Son to show us the way to live, to lead us back to God.

I wonder if Nicodemus ever really understood.  The gospel doesn’t say.  Maybe there’s a reason why.

I think the author of the Gospel of John was all about big metaphors.  You can’t get much bigger than Jesus is “the light of the world,” the light that leads us back to God, the light that shows us how to live well.  What if Nicodemus wasn’t an actual person?  Or, at least, if he was, what if Nicodemus represented all who were, literally, still in the dark about what Jesus really meant to the world.  There is something there that draws them from the darkness, something they are seeking.  

Like Nicodemus, we are seeking.  Perhaps the truth or a better understanding of each other or creation or God.  We think we’re seeking boldly.  But we fearfully cling to the structures we’ve created to organize our understanding.  The rituals and rules and order that keep us comfortable.

But the Spirit blows where it will.

Jesus doesn’t offer organization and structure, he challenges them.  He offers instead a new life with the Spirit, he offers truth and love and compassion.  And those can be messy.  And they can be freeing.  And they can be enlightening.

A case of mistaken identity

The season of Lent has begun.  Many people see these forty days before Easter as an opportunity to explore themselves a bit, to spend a little time "in the wilderness," as it were.  If you're doing that, I hope it's revealing and rewarding for you.

Some people like to help that self-examination along with a time of fasting or giving something up for Lent.  Some like to take something on.  There's even suggestions of an act-a-day that you could do.  Again, if you're doing that, good for you.

What have you found about yourself?

That's the important question, isn't it?  It's about identity and living true to who we are.

www.thebricktestament.com

The story that inspires our Lenten practice is the time Jesus spends in the wilderness being tempted by satan or the devil.  Three of the four gospels tell the story (it's absent from John): after being baptized by John, Jesus spends forty days fasting in the wilderness where he's tempted.  When his wilderness experience is done, he begins his ministry. 

Last year, the History Channel produced a popular miniseries, "The Bible."  While there were questions about the telling of some of the stories, their version of the wilderness story was criticized for the appearance of the one doing the tempting, the devil.  Critics pointed out that Moroccan actor Mohamen Mehdi Ouazanni resembled President Barack Obama.  Others suggested a Sith lord from Star Wars, while others also pointed out that he, like most of the villains in the series, looked very middle eastern while Jesus was very white and western looking.

Interesting critiques.  Personally, I would have liked to have seen the devil portrayed by Diogo Morgado.  That's the actor portraying Jesus.

No, I'm not suggesting another actor for Jesus or that I didn't like his portrayal of Jesus.  I'm suggesting the same person for both.

We tell the story as if temptation is an outside force that somehow attacks us.  Or seduces us.  As if it's something foreign or beyond us that we just have to stand up to and all will be fine.  But it wouldn't be a temptation if it weren't something inextricably linked to who we are.  That's the thing about temptation: it's familiar, it looks attractive, it draws us to it, it looks like it belongs to us.  If we knew it was evil, if we knew it was "the devil," wouldn't it be easier to resist?  Wait, maybe not easier.  But we would certainly know if it were right or wrong.

In his dialogue with the devil, each temptation begins "if you are the son of God…" and calls on Jesus to use his power.  But it's precisely because Jesus understands the true meaning of his identity that he knows how to respond.  He came for the hungry, the vulnerable and the powerless, that's what his ministry will be about.  As Jesus, Jesus is valuable, Jesus is enough.

Perhaps that's something the story tells us to work on.  It isn't just about knowing who we are, it's about knowing that's enough: we are valuable for who we are.

So much of the world tempts us with ways to "be a better you" and to "improve yourself."  We need this product or that product because it will somehow make us better or give us a better life.  We are tempted to act this way or that way that gives us a perception of power.

But God has already given us the power to be who we are, created in the image of God.  And that's all we need.

Get up and don't be afraid

The United Church of Canada, like all churches, is worried about it's future.  So they decided to survey all the congregations of the church.  The report's pretty much what you'd expect, concern about dwindling numbers in the pews and in ministry, financial concerns, unhappiness with unwieldy structures (institutions love their paperwork).  The report even has the very practical and entirely unimaginative title of "Comprehensive Review."  You can find it on the United Church of Canada website.  It's a little dry, but practical assessments have to be, don't they?

A few days after that report, the Comprehensive Review Committee produced something else: a document recommending possible directions the church could go, a remarkably creative discussion document they called "Fishing on the other side."

That seems right to me, somehow: the rather dry practical and factual document gets a suitably direct title and the creative one gets something kind of funky.

"Fishing on the other side" is a reference to John 21:4-6.  In the days following Jesus' death and resurrection, some of the disciples had gone back to fishing.  "Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus.  Jesus said to them, 'Children, you have no fish, have you?' They answered him, 'No.'  He said to them, 'Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.' So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish."

Like any metaphor, it's fraught with complications, but the point is to suggest that bold and profound transformation is required of the institution we call "The Church."  Some change or adjustment isn't enough, we need to let go of how things have been done and recognize that living out God's mission means something "new."  Just like life.

This document's now being discussed by the local regions of the church and ours worked on it this week.  Locally, we're also working on a regional event called "Unstoppable Church," an opportunity for individual churches to work on their own particular issues and dream together.

There is no shortage of enthusiasm for these discussions and no shortage of desire for change.  But it also strikes me that there is a desire to know - now - what the future will be, to know where we are going and to have the expectation that comes with the knowledge of what that destination looks like.  And that's not surprising because that's often how we live.  We have that constant struggle between knowing where we're going and taking the time to enjoy the journey.

And what happens when it's not what we expected?  Disappointment?  Do we keep trying to make it what we thought it would be?  Or do we engage the people and places on our journey, looking to embrace where that takes us?

I don't have an answer for that.  I think we're all unique in our perspective and our personal interaction with life around us.  But I'm wondering about two bible stories that speak to me about it this week.

Near the beginning of John's gospel is another story of "invitation."  The first disciples come to Jesus because John tells them to: this is the one I told you about, he says.  They go and ask Jesus what he's doing and Jesus simply says "come and see."  No explanation, no promise of what's coming, no agenda, no pamphlet or informational brochure, no map.  Just the invitation to come and see: to experience the journey.  Maybe, as followers of Jesus, we're called to be life explorers.  Maybe as people, we're called to be life explorers.

That can be a pretty scary proposition, can't it?  But that's where another story seems appropriate.  It's a pretty universal moment in Jesus' ministry that happens frequently, in a variety of settings, but this week we hear it as part of the Transfiguration story (Matthew 17:1-9).  In one of those "magical" moments, two of the disciples witness Jesus being "transfigured" - illuminated in a bright light.  And they hear the voice of God say "this is my son, listen to him."  They don't know what's happening, they can't explain it, but it's something amazing and they're scared and they fall to the ground and Jesus says - wait for it, this is the moment - Jesus says "get up and don't be afraid."

Perhaps, as the season of Epiphany comes to a close, that's an "a-ha" moment.  How willing are we, really, to get up and step out into the world, living as Jesus taught, without fear because Jesus walks beside us?

That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard

That Jesus.  He says the darndest things.

Oh, he heals people and shows compassion to the marginalized and care for the poor and hungry, he loves everyone, he tells us that God loves us.  That's all pretty cool.  But did you hear what he said in that sermon on the mount?

Love your enemy.

He can't really mean that, can he?  Enemies must be defeated, overpowered and punished.  That's why we have "an eye for an eye," so that equitable justice will be meted out on those who break the law.  "Let the punishment fit the crime," says the Mikado in the famous Gilbert & Sullivan operetta.  Yes, that's how we maintain a well ordered society: retributive justice.  If only the law was always just.

But Jesus isn't talking about punishment at all, nor is he concerned with a well ordered society (that retributive justice idea has really worked well for us, after all, hasn't it?).  Remember, Jesus came to turn society upside down, to challenge the ideas that have brought us structure, but little else.  He's concerned with relationships, with creating community around love.  He's taking us back to the beginning, before we discovered the power of power, the ability to enforce and the desire to control.

No matter how much power we wield, an enemy is still an enemy, even in defeat.  Punishment, even as retribution, does not defeat evil.  Hatred, fear and ignorance are not ended by force.  Retribution changes nothing.  Centuries later, Gandhi was credited with the observation that a policy of "an eye for an eye" simply results in making everyone blind.  Furthermore, he said, "you cannot inject new ideas into a man’s head by chopping it off; neither will you infuse a new spirit into his heart by piercing it with a dagger."

Jesus isn't talking about management, he's talking about change.  And to make change, we need love.  Martin Luther King Jr., much influenced by Gandhi, would write "darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

Moments later in the gospel story, Jesus calls for something seemingly even more impossible than loving an enemy: "be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matt. 5:48).

Well, that's the most ridiculous thing, isn't it?   Jesus asks the impossible.  Jesus calls us to perfection, not just the perfection our earthly minds can imagine, but the perfection of God. 

But that's precisely the point: Jesus doesn't mean that earthly kind of perfection.  In the ancient Greek of the text, it says "telos," which means the wholeness and completeness that comes with the fulfillment of purpose, the fulfillment of who we are.

If we believe that we are created in God's image, then Jesus is surely calling us to fulfillment.  He's not pointing out what we're incapable of, he's challenging us to be more fully who we are.  We do not come from sin, we come from love.  We do not come from evil, we come from love.  We do not come from hate, we come from love.  We do not come from fear, we come from love.  Our true power is love.

As long as we rely on the power of force, the idea of retribution, the need for punishment for us to be satisfied, we will only "manage" our world.  And how effectively?  Change comes with love.  Transformation comes with love.  Wholeness comes with love.