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.

From The Heart

Jesus had a lot of interesting interactions with the religious authorities of his day. Needless to say, he wasn’t popular with them, generally, and it sure seems like they looked for any opportunity to challenge and discredit him. To be fair, he certainly challenged them, questioned their authority and credibility and, to them at least, seemed to be undermining the laws and practices they were responsible for upholding.

The gospels don’t portray the pharisees in a very favourable light. It’s important to remember, though, that they had a difficult position, especially in an occupied country and not all of them would have been as bad as we interpret them. There are a few key stories where a religious leader is portrayed sympathetically.

Maybe not this one, though. There’s a story in Mark where some pharisees, as they so often do, question the behaviour of Jesus' disciples for not following the required rituals of the law. That is part of their job, after all. In this case, they noticed that some of Jesus’ disciples hadn’t washed their hands before touching food. According to “the tradition of the elders,” they were defiling themselves by their actions and they challenged Jesus on it.

That might sound like a minor cleanliness issue your parents taught you about when you were little - that suddenly became a much bigger deal in 2020 - but to the pharisees, the keepers of the law, it was a huge deal. And an opportunity to challenge Jesus.

But Jesus replies that the action itself, the tradition, is more important to them than what’s at the heart of it. And that's a common occurrence with the pharisees. They honour the action of the law, but their hearts are far from God. Jesus calls them hypocrites and quotes Isaiah’s saying that they honour God with their lips, but their hearts are far from God.

Jesus goes on to point out that it's not what goes in our mouths that defiles, it's what comes out of our mouths: hurtful words, harmful intentions and unkind, untruthful behaviour. Well, Jesus' list (according to Mark) was a little bit more specific: "fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly" (Mk. 7:21-22).

Jesus was likely addressing Jewish law and tradition, something we should definitely extend to the traditions and practices of the modern church and temple. Are we living the truth at the heart of what we do? Are living what’s at the heart of the Word we share? 

It’s just as important, though, to point out that, everyday, the news is full of everyone from politicians to celebrities, leaders to ordinary folks on the street, spouting all sorts of words and intentions that defile. You might also encounter it more personally. Take a moment, please, and remember that it’s important to be patient, listen, be discerning and ask thoughtful questions in order to best understand what is true and from the heart. We also want to remember to apply all of that to our own words.

I often refer to something Stephen Covey said: we don't listen to learn, we listen to respond. Likewise, I think we speak simply to be heard rather than share wisdom or a kind and supportive word.

Words of wisdom, kindness, compassion and, most of all, love, are a place to start.  Being doers of those words - being doers of The Word - builds up, strengthens and honours ourselves and our relationships.

Yes We Can

Back in the day, my grandchildren loved Bob The Builder. Bob, originally, was a stop-action cartoon character from Britain who lived with his friends in a nice little town along with a gang of friendly work vehicles like front-end loaders, diggers and dump trucks with very human characteristics. More recently he’s been CGI-ed and american-ized, he has several shows, a movie, a line of action figures and, of course, Lego.

Bob always seemed to have the right tools handy for any job. And if they're not already on his tool belt, they're either handy or he can make them. His catch phrase was "Can we fix it?" and then everyone would shout "Yes we can!" and off they would go and do just that.

You have to love his cheery, positive disposition. I always liked that, and his way of getting things done: he always seems to include everyone in doing things.  Good thing, since, according to Wikipedia at least, the show is meant to "emphasize conflict resolution, co-operation, socialization and various learning skills.” 

Maybe we should all watch it.

Or we could read the Letter to the Ephesians in the Bible. That's the one with the "Armour of God" passage: "be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.; put on the whole armour of God … Stand, therefore, and belt your waist with truth and put on the breastplate of righteousness and lace up your sandals in preparation for the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Ephesians 6:10-11, 14-17).

While some will stick with it, many might find the militaristic imagery makes the armour of God a confusing way to describe how we live God’s love into the world. Fair enough, although it’s worth exploring what it really means to be "embattled," perhaps even finding a little redemption for the language of conflict that so often leads to breaking down relationships. One could also explore the idea that armour is inherently protective and defensive, and the sword doesn’t have to be used for offence. We might prefer the rod and staff of the shepherd, but maybe that’s just not the author’s perspective. We can see where they’re going, nonetheless. 

To me, it's less about the militaristic baggage of armour and more important to know that we go with God, with truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation and the Word of God. That's the only protection our spirit needs. And that’s not just something you wear, it’s something in you, however you see “the image of God.” It’s not just something to be worn, but to be lived and used.

That's why I like Bob the Builder. He has all the tools he needs to get the job done, he knows how to use them and he's ready to use them, and he’s ready to show others and work with them, too. Equally as much as armour, God's like the tool belt, overalls and hard hat that Bob's always wearing, ready to get to work.

“I am what I am, and that’s all that I am”

There are seven times in the Gospel of John when Jesus describes himself to people with a statement that begins “I am” … something.

The bread of life (John 6:35), the light of the world (8:12), the gate for the sheepfold (10:7), the good shepherd (10:11, 14), the resurrection and the life (11:25), the way the truth and the life (14:6) and the true vine (15:1).

I just want to be absolutely clear that I know there’s seven because I may have recently said six by mistake in a sermon, ironically leaving out “the resurrection and the life.” For some reason I blanked on that one. Just not an image that stuck in my head for some reason, perhaps because it’s so all encompassing of the story of Jesus that I didn’t set it apart. Whatever the reason, I confess it. Sorry.

Still, it does raise an important point about those “I am” statements. Do they all connect with you? Wouldn’t that be the point? Connection, I mean.

Biblical scholars, generally, place the Gospel of John much later than Matthew, Mark and Luke. It’s certainly different. While the other gospels each have themes unique to their narratives, they are still narratives, and it feels like the narrative is less important to the author of John than the meaning of who Jesus is. It seems to me that the author of John had time to experience those early days of the followers of Jesus, see their struggles and hear their questions and come up with a way of describing Jesus that they could connect with. I’m not saying they just made up stuff willy nilly, but rather they extrapolated from the narratives that they already knew and had Jesus express that. It would certainly explain why many biblical scholars - especially the Jesus Seminar - question whether Jesus actually said the things that are in John in those words (unless they’re corroborated in the other gospels as well).

So, John’s Jesus says these “I am” things. The very first connection point is going to be those very words, I am, reminding early listeners of how God answers Moses in Exodus 3:14. When Moses says to God that the Israelites will want to know what God is called, God answers ““I am who I am.” God said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’ ”

Then, there are these ways that Jesus describes himself, all ways that seek to make a connection, visceral, earthy things that his audience would know and embrace. And yet, right from the start, John’s account reveals that they don’t get it right away.

Not only does Jesus say he’s the Bread of Life, but he doubles down and says you must eat my flesh and drink my blood. For real, it seems. His listeners freak out a bit at that, they’re not cannibals, after all. (Although, that was an accusation levelled at them by early non-Christians.) They just don’t seem to get it.

I wonder if that isn’t precisely why the author of John tells the story that way. They know that their listeners won’t get it either. It’s not enough to tell the stories. The beginning of living into the divine spirit in us is knowing the divine spirit in Jesus is nourishment for that divine spirit in us. It nourishes, then enlightens, encourages, comforts, inspires, leads and connects. I think that’s all seven.