Map Quest

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Matthew 4: 1-11 (Lent 1A)

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. 3The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” 4But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” 5Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 7Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; 9and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 11Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

The wilderness story…we read some version of this in the first week of every Lenten season.  It makes sense.  It is the beginning of our journey.  It is the beginning of Jesus’ journey to the cross.  And it leaves a lot of really good fodder for discussion.  Oh, we could talk about the usual subjects.  We could talk about the way Jesus did not fall prey to the temptation to be powerful or protected or relevant.  Instead, Jesus let all that go.  He just was. And he started walking.

But where was he?  He had been led into the wilderness.  There was no map.  There is a faint remnant of a road that moves and flows and ebbs like waves as the winds blow over the sands.  The way is dim, sometimes non-existent.  You might be able to navigate if you knew the mountains well, if you knew which ones rise first and tower higher over the others.  You might be able to navigate when you think about where the beating sun is sitting, where it rises, where it falls.  But the way is not dependable.  The way is the way.  There is no map.

That is hard for us.  We want to know where we’re going. Oh, we’ve moved beyond maps for the most part.  There is instead a voice in the car or a voice on our phone that tells us where to go, that takes all the guesswork and most of the journeying out of the trip.  And with that, we have become dependent upon the voice, dependent upon being told the way and we soon find that we have somehow ceded our navigation to something that limits us, to something that controls us, to something that doesn’t allow us to deviate from the path.

I grew up with a dad that, I swear, knew every back road that was to be known.  He always had a “shortcut”.  And we always had maps.  I loved maps.  I was fascinated by them as far back as I can remember.  I remember navigating from the back seat with the tattered map that I never knew how to fold back the way it was meant to be.

Soon after I lost my dad, a friend and I drove to Taos, NM so that she could officiate at a wedding.  I just went along for the ride (and, apparently, navigation support).  It dawned on me that there were probably places in rural West Texas that might not respond to my GPS.  There was an excitement in me when I realized I needed a map!  Oh, I had a map!  It was the map my dad gave me when I went to college in 1980.  OK, maybe I needed a new map.  So, I went to Amazon and ordered maps for Texas and New Mexico.

Fast forward to rural West Texas.  Yep, there it was…that gray slice of nothingness in the middle of my iPhone straining to form a map.  So I pulled out the paper version.  And I began navigating.  One of those jaunts included a missed turn.  Not a problem…I have a map.  So, we drove down a barely-paved county road toward the road we meant to turn onto.  There were delightful farmhouses and beautiful vistas and the most wonderful 19th century Spanish church and cemetery.  And we would have missed it all if we had had the GPS.  I remember commenting, “oh my goodness, Billy Don Williams is SO proud of us right now!”

The journey is not about the way; the way IS the Way.  So what do we breathe out?  We breathe out needing to follow a plan.  We breathe out needing to always know where we’re going.  We breathe out anything that gets in the way of the Way.  The journey is not mapped.  It’s a faint pathway and the winds may blow the sands so that sometimes it is concealed.  Keep walking.  What is the way?  It IS the way. Just listen. You’ll know where to go.

There is a journey you must take.  It is a journey without destination.  There is no map.  Your soul will lead you.  And you can take nothing with you. (Meister Eckhart)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

This Thing About Sin

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Man walking towards storm

Romans 5: 12-19 (Lent 1A)

12Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned— 13sin was indeed in the world before the law, but sin is not reckoned when there is no law. 14Yet death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sins were not like the transgression of Adam, who is a type of the one who was to come. 15But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died through the one man’s trespass, much more surely have the grace of God and the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abounded for the many. 16And the free gift is not like the effect of the one man’s sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brings justification. 17If, because of the one man’s trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. 18Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. 19For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.

Well, I really, really thought about changing the passage but, alas, it’s the lectionary for this week.  SO…I guess we have to talk about sin.  In this passage, Paul mentions sin or some form of it (sinner, transgression, disobedience, etc.) sixteen times by my count.  In fact, five of the mentions are in the first sentence!  Do you think he was trying to make a point?  Sin, I’m afraid, is a fact of life.  It is part of all us.  We claim that perhaps our own sins are not that bad.  You’ve heard all the claims and the questions:  So, if I don’t KNOW I’m sinning, is it really sin?  So which sins are the “unforgiveable” ones? I mean, really, it was only a little sin, just a little “white lie”.  Yes, in the big scheme of things, it was probably nothing more than a veritable sigh of a sin.  And then there’s the ultimate from our friend the Pharisee:  “Well, thank God I’m not like that tax collector!”

But in our interconnectedness, sin affects us all.  And even the smallest of sins can release such a force that none of us can control it.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I do not in any way believe that “sin” is something outside of us.  It is not a “force to be reckoned with”, so to speak.  I’m pretty clear that when I sin, it is me.  It is my bad choice.  It is me that has messed up, that has not honored myself or my place in the beauty of this interconnected Creation, rather than it being caused by some sort of little red man with horns or something.  I have to own it.  It is mine.  It is mine, that is, until it is done.  And then it spills into Creation and begins cutting a path with a force more powerful than anything we’ve ever imagined.

So, you’re expecting me to exhort us to “breathe out” sin in this posting, to just quit doing it.  Yeah, I don’t think that’s the way it works.  Sin is a part of our existence.  Now, even though Paul dances around this, I don’t really believe in “inherited sin”, the “sins of the father”, so to speak.  And yet, it’s bigger than me.  Sin was part our existence before we came to be and will continue after we are gone because part of our human condition is that we mess up.  We try, but we mess up.  Sadly, it just is.  Maybe it’s not so much whether or not we do it but, rather, what we do after it.

Barbara Brown Taylor wrote what I think is the quintessential book on sin called Speaking of Sin.  In it, she speaks of sin as our only hope. (WHAT?!?)  She describes it as our only hope because realizing our sin, realizing our shortcomings, empowers us to set things right again.  It makes sense.  If we ignore our sin or if we somehow excuse it away, even dismissing it as the act of our “mere humanity”, we have failed to acknowledge the very hope that sets us right again, the springboard that leads to redemption, to righteousness, to getting back on the pathway that we’re trying so hard to traverse.

In forgiveness, we do not find innocence.  We do not find a way to put things back like they were before (remember that innocent garden thing has sailed!).  What we find is a pathway to a better way.  So, breathe out…breathe out ignoring your sins, breathe out not wanting to change, breathe out not accepting the grace of forgiveness and the gift of beginning again.   

In the Name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven!

In Christian language, to be truly human is to shape our lives into an offering to God. But we are lost children who have wandered away from home, forgotten what a truly human life might be. When Jesus, our older brother, presented himself in the sanctuary of God, his humanity fully intact, he did not cower as though he were in a place of “blazing fire and darkness and gloom.” Instead he called out, “I’m home, and I have the children with me.” (Thomas Long)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Don’t Listen to the Talking Snake

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Genesis 2: 15-17; 3: 1-7 (Lent 1A)

15The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.  16And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; 17but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

3Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” 2The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; 3but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’” 4But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die; 5for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

6So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. 7Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.

This is always such an odd little story.  What do we do with it?  Yes, it’s known as the “Second Creation Account”.  It’s actually probably the first one.  This one is out of the Yahwist tradition and the “first one” (the one organized into “days”) is probably more from the Priestly tradition, which would have come a little later.  I guess the canon-compilers were going for drama.  I don’t know.  So, what do we do with it?  Well, it’s obvious no one has ever known what to do with it because over the centuries, the tradition slowly morphed into “Eve-blaming”.  Oh, yes, let’s blame the girl!  Because the guy had nothing to do with it.  Are you kidding me?  Personally, I think the most obvious lesson is don’t listen to talking snakes.  I mean, that seems pretty straightforward, right?

So, first of all, let’s all admit that it’s a story (a good one with lots of special effects but a story nevertheless).  I don’t think there was an Adam and Eve.  I don’t think there was some sort of secret utopian garden to which we’re trying to return.  And, for me, the jury is still out on the talking snake.  But the lessons?  The lessons are real.  The Truth is real.  Adam (Adamah) means “man” or “human” (or man of the earth).  So, this a wonderful parable or fable not about the birth of one man but rather an attempt to explain how we humans came to be.  Adamah is formed from dust (resembling that dust that was smeared on your forehead yesterday).  And Eve?  The name Eve (Chavah) means “living one” or “source of life”, perhaps even “breath of life”.  OK, that’s beginning to make sense.  Those are things we’ve seen before.

And then there’s this garden.  There they were in the garden, innocent, yes, but also unknowing, unthinking, not quite yet human.  See, it was the beginning.  It was not the place where we were meant to be.  God created us to go beyond where we are, to go beyond that “safe” place, rather than to live in some sort of controlled environment where nothing can touch us.  But the mistake that these “first humans” made was assuming there was a different way to do that.  According to the story, they jumped the gun a bit.  We all do it.  We think we know best.  We think we can figure it out on our own.  We think the rules are not for us because, obviously, we know better.  (Or maybe we’ve mistakenly listened to a talking snake!)

We are not called to be innocent.  That’s just dumb.  We’re human.  We’re complicated.  God made us that way, filled with dust and new life, darkness and light, regret and grace.  Again, we’re not called to be innocent.  We’re called to be redeemed, renewed, and recreated.  That story of that garden was only the beginning.  Several modern theologians and writings have referred to it as the “kindergarden of eden”.  It was how we began to understand ourselves.  And I think the point of it was not the creation of the human creature, the innocent and obedient one, but rather the realization by that creature that he or she was indeed human, that we are both flawed and glorious, that we are made of dust and the very breath of God.  The key is that we have to let go, breathe out, if you will, of the need to be in control, the need to go our own way.  Because, life is full of talking snakes.

I claim credit for nothing.  Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control…We all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper. (Albert Einstein)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Breathing Out

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-21 (Ash Wednesday)

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. 2“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

5“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. 

16“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

19“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

This is always such an odd day in our church calendar. In fact, if we were to back away from the notion of it a bit, far enough to watch ourselves getting the remnants of burned leaves smeared on our foreheads while at the same time told that we are no better than the very ashes that are dripping down into our eyes and settling on our shirt, we, too, would think that was a very, very weird practice.  Because in terms of where we stand in this society, in this culture, this is indeed very, very bizarre.

And I think that may be the point.  Just like the passage from the Gospel account by the writer known as Matthew that we read every Ash Wednesday, we are being reminded that the “normal” way we do things, the things that are accepted by our society are not the things that bring us closer to God, that bring us closer to the vision that God has for us.  We cannot align with the ways of this world and at the same time become the one that God envisions.  The two ways are incompatible.  Where the world wants to build walls and borders to control who is in and who is out, Jesus called us to welcome the stranger, release the prisoner, feed the hungry,…you know, all those Sermon on the Mounty-type things.  We cannot hold both ways within us.  We will metaphorically, spiritually, and certainly explode.  You cannot breathe everything in at once.

That is often the problem for many of us.  We breathe in when we should be breathing out.  It is, on some level, a sort of “spiritual asthma”.  When a person suffers from asthma, it is not, as many people think, that they cannot get air into their lungs; it is that they can’t get air out.  And, as a result, their lungs are too full to receive life-giving oxygen.  The breathing cycle is disrupted and the person, swelling with over-inflation, begins gasping for breath. 

This spiritual asthma is a similar dilemma.  If we hold onto those things with which we fill our lives, to our habits and our fears and our misconceptions of what our life should be, to those plans and those preparations that we’ve so carefully laid, there is no room left for the life-giving breath of God.  And we are left with dust and ashes.

But there is more.  This is not just a day of morose belittling of ourselves.  A rabbi once told his disciples, “Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that he or she can reach into one or the other, depending on their needs.  When feeling high and mighty, sort of overinflated, if you will,one should reach into the left pocket, and find the words: “Ani eifer v’afar; I am dust and ashes.  But when feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or without hope, one should reach into the right pocket, and, there, find the words: “Bishvili nivra ha’olam…For my sake was the world created.”  That is the breathing in and the breathing out.  And they are both necessary for the journey.

On this Ash Wednesday, breath out…breathe out the ways of this world. Breathe out the norms to which you are accustomed.  Do this so that there is room to breathe in…to breathe in who you are supposed to be, to breathe in life.  Lent is not just about giving things up; it is about emptying your life that you may be filled.  Lent is not just about going without; it is about making room for what God has to offer.  And today is not about clothing yourself in the morbidness of your humanity; it is about embracing who you are before God.

So…remember…you are dust and ashes…breathe out…..

For you the world was created…breathe in….

BIG BREATH…Amen.

Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void. (Simone Weil)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Cloud of Knowing

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Matthew 17:1-9 (Transfiguration A)

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 5While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” 6When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” 8And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. 9As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Seeing things differently is not a new theme for us.  I mean, think about it.  Here we have the story of a child born into anonymous poverty and raised by no-name peasants.  He grows up, becomes a teacher, probably a rabbi, a healer, and sort of a community organizer.  He asks a handful of people to become his followers, to help him in his mission.  They leave everything they have, give up their possessions and their way of making a living, they sacrifice any shred of life security that they might have had, and begin to follow this person around, probably often wondering what in the world they were doing. And then one day, Jesus takes them mountain climbing, away from the interruptions of the world, away from what was brewing below.  Don’t you think they were sort of wondering where they were going?  I mean, MOUNTAIN CLIMBING?  Don’t we have more important things to accomplish?  Shouldn’t we stay here where the action is?

We don’t really know what mountain this was.  There is speculation that perhaps it occurred on Mount Tabor or Mount Hermon, both of which are some of the tallest mountains in the Galilean area and both of which are prime spots in the Jezreel valley.  The Franciscans built their Church of the Transfiguration on Mt. Tabor, so perhaps you can now use the familiar words that “tradition holds” that that is where the mountain is.  But no one really knows.  Some even surmise that there IS no geographic location, presenting it as if it just rose up, uninterrupted, from the rough-hewed terrain.  Either way, the mountain is part of the topography of God.  Even for people, such as myself, who cannot claim a single, stand alone, so-called “mountain-top experience” that brought them to Christ but rather came year by year and grew into the relationship…even for us…this IS the mountain-top experience.  And there, on that mountain, veiled in a cloud, everything changes.

Now remember that for this likely Jewish audience, mountains were typically not only a source of grandeur, but also divine revelation.  And also remember that in their understanding, God was never seen.  I like that—allowing God to be awesome, allowing the mystery of God to always be. God was the great I AM, one whose name could not be said, one whose power could not be beheld.  And so, this cloud, a sort of veiled presence of the holiness of God, was something that they would have understood much better than we do.  In fact, they would have assumed that if Moses or anyone else actually saw God, they would die.

And there on the mountain, they see Jesus change, his clothes taking on a hue of dazzling, blinding white, whiter than anything they had ever seen before.  It wasn’t that light was suddenly shining on him, illuminating him.  Jesus WAS the light.  And on the mountain appears Moses and Elijah, standing there with Jesus—the law, the prophets, all of those things that came before, no longer separate, but suddenly swept into everything that Christ is, swept into the whole presence of God right there on that mountain.

So, Peter offers to build three dwellings to house them.  I used to think that he had somehow missed the point, that he was in some way trying to manipulate or control or make sense of this wild and uncontrollable mystery that is God.  I probably thought that because that’s what I may tend to do.  But, again, Peter was speaking out of his Jewish understanding.  He was offering lodging—a booth, a tent, a tabernacle—for the holy.  For him, it was a way not of controlling the sacred but rather of honoring the awe and wonder that he sensed.

And then the voice…”This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” OK…what would you have done?  First the mountain, then the cloud, then these spirits from the past, and now this voice…”We are going to die.  We are surely going to die,” they must have thought.   And then Jesus touches them and in that calm, collected manner, he says, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

And then, just as suddenly as they appeared, Moses and Elijah drop out of sight.  In Old Testament Hebrew understanding, the tabernacle was the place where God was.  Here, this changes.  Jesus stays with them alone.  Jesus IS the tabernacle, the Light of the world, the reality of God’s presence with us.  And all that was and all that is has become part of that, swept into this Holy Presence of God.

And so the disciples start down the mountain.  Jesus remains with them but he tells them not to say anything.  The truth was that Jesus knew that this account would only make sense in light of what was to come.  The disciples would know when to tell the story.  They saw more than Jesus on the mountain.  They also saw who and what he was.  And long after Jesus is gone from this earth, they will continue to tell this strange story of what they saw.  For now, he would just walk with them.  God’s presence remains. 

Jesus walked down the mountain with the disciples in the silence.  The air became thicker and heavier as they approached the bottom.  As they descended the mountain, they knew they were walking toward Jerusalem.  The veil that had been there all those centuries upon centuries was beginning to lift.  The Transfiguration is only understood in light of what comes next.  Yes, the way down is a whole lot harder.  We have to go back down, to the real world, to Jerusalem.  We have to walk through what will come. Jesus has started the journey to the cross.  We must do the same. The journey to Jerusalem awaits.

He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside…He speaks to us the same word:  ‘Follow thou me!” and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time…And to those who obey, whether they be wise or simple, [God] will reveal {Godself] in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in this fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who [God] is. (Albert Schweitzer)

And a little promotion…yes, I’ll be writing daily during Lent (which, yes, begins Wednesday, February 18). Join me for a series entitled “Breathing Out”…SW

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Being Salt, Being Light

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Matthew 5: 13-20 (Epiphany 5A)

13“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. 14“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

17“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

So, you apply for a new job.  You get the job and you are then handed a job description, a very detailed list of what your role is and what responsibilities you have.  At the top, it has your title.  Basically, it tells you who you are, right?  And then you have a list of responsibilities.  So, the job description answers two very basic questions that are probably pretty fundamental questions of life: “Who are we?” and “What are we to do?”  It sounds so easy, so straightforward.  All you have to do is follow the list of responsibilities and you will be what it says at the top of the page (or at least some semblance of it).

But what if you didn’t really apply for that job?  What if you didn’t mean at all to be given that job?  What if, without any real warning, you are handed a shiny new nametag and a job description that describes what you should do when you weren’t even sure that that’s what you wanted to be.  That’s a little bit like what it may feel like when you first read today’s Gospel passage.

I mean, straight out of the blue.  “You are the salt of the earth.”  “You are the light of the world.”  I’m sorry, you said I’m what?  But, Jesus, really, we just wanted to be followers.  We just wanted to follow you to eternity, to stand here and bask in your goodness and your mercy and begin to feel like it was all going to turn out alright.  We wanted to you to lead us, show us where to go.  You know, sort of like that shepherd and sheep metaphor that you kept using.  THAT’S what we signed up to do.  So, what does it mean to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world, exactly?  I think we may be getting this wrong.

So, what does it mean to be called to be salt, to be called the salt of the earth, as the Scripture says?   I mean, salt has many uses.  It purifies; it seasons; it preserves.  It is a nutrient that we need.  It is an antiseptic.  It adds support and buoyance (remember that ships float higher on salt water than fresh water).  So maybe we are called to be multi-faceted, to not just walk one road toward that Presence of God that we think we have identified and nailed down in our lives, but to rather open ourselves to the notion that God appears when we least expect it.  And we are called to be ready, to be open, to do whatever it is that God calls us to do in that moment. 

But, interestingly, salt is of no use to salt.  We cannot serve ourselves.  We are part of a community.  “Being salt” means that we are called to become that embodied Presence of God in the world and for the world and, rather than making everyone and everything into what reflects our own personal image of God, we are rather called to season what we touch so that the flavor that is God comes through.

Then there’s light.  We’re called to be light too?  Good grief!  That’s a lot!  You know, light is something that cannot be hidden or it is no longer light.  So, if we are light, it means that we, too, are seen.  We are meant to be seen, meant to be the ones that illumine the way of Christ, that clarify it for others, that reveal it in the darkness.  We are the ones that light the way for others.

That’s a pretty tall order.  It’s also rather overwhelming, when you think of the magnitude of it.  I mean, it’s not like light puts itself out for a while and then comes back when it’s ready.  Being light is pretty much a full time job.  It’s also an uncomfortable job sometime.  Light doesn’t just illumine the goodness and those things that are worthy of such revelation; light has a habit of shining into the darkest corners of the world and revealing those things that are in need of change, those things that God calls us to change.  And light, true all-encompassing light, does not pick and choose where its rays will shine.  It illumines all in its path taking it unto itself. 

So, “you are the salt of the earth”.  “You are the light of the world.”  Notice that Jesus is not saying that you “should be” salt or light or that you should “try to be” salt and light or that you will become salt and light someday.  No, Jesus says you ARE salt and light.  You just are.  You don’t debate it.  You don’t second-guess it.  You don’t wonder about it.  You just go and be it.  You are salt and light.  Period.

The problem is that you are salt. The problem is that you are light.  It doesn’t mean that you ignore or shun the ways of the world; it means you change them.  The very reason that the Gospel is so powerful is that it actually thrusts us into reality and allows us to move forward in a way that restores everything around us, not only spiritually, but also materially and emotionally.  So why do we often fail at that?  It’s probably because more times than we’d like to admit we allow the culture to shape our faith, rather than being the salt that our world so desperately needs.  We have allowed our light to be hidden because sometimes it’s uncomfortable to be the one that speaks the Truth.

We can no longer stand by and let the Truth be usurped.  We can no longer hide afraid of what others may think.  We cannot excuse ourselves from speaking out because it might shake up our comfortable existence or change how others look at us.  We have to stand up for the Gospel—because we are salt and we are light.  We are the shapers and the illuminators.  We must speak for those who cannot.  We must stand up for those that the world says are not worthy or are not one of us.  We must tear down walls that others try to build and invite the Gospel in. The Gospel is not a viewpoint.  It is not an opinion.  It is not an alternative fact, to coin a new word in our society.  The Gospel is a truth-teller.  See, the problem is that the Gospel is our own call to action.  We can no longer stand on the sidelines.  We have to preach the message that Jesus preached even in the face of a world who would it seems rather not hear it.  Will you accept the position? The choice is yours.  We’re called to be salt.  We’re called to be light.  Most of all, we’re called to be who God calls us to be. 

I want to pay the highest compliment anyone could ever pay: You are the light of the world. You are the salt of the earth. You are the leven in the loaf. So, go and be light.  Go and be salt.  Go and be leven. (Marcus Borg…who admitted he stole it from William Sloan Coffin)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

To Be Blessed

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Matthew 5: 1-12 (Epiphany 4A)

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

3“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 8“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

In these words, a part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, arguably the greatest sermon ever given, Jesus was laying before us an alternate way of being, a way that God calls us to be.  It was a reversal of the usual value system.  He was calling us to expect something different than what we see around us.  It can’t have been accepted all that well.  I mean, he was telling them that the way the world was was not really working, that the society that they had built was not the way it should be.  You and I both know–people don’t like that.

Each beatitude begins in the present and moves to the future.  So, start now but expect it to result in something different.  Expect that when God finishes this new creation, justice and righteousness and peace will finally and always prevail.  And in our seemingly small way, by living in this life now, by living a life of gentleness in this time of violence, a life of pure devotion to God in this time of competing allegiances, and a life in which we truly hunger and thirst for that day of expected justice and righteousness for all, we will become the future. 

No longer can Christianity be seen as a philosophy of life that would make us healthy, wealthy, and wise.  That whole prosperity gospel thing that is so prevalent right now, where if you pray and do right and say the right things and vote the right way, God will somehow reward you with a life of ease and plenty and you will come out on top is totally and completely debunked with this Scripture.  It instead shows us a way of walking that is different from what we know.  And we are expected to do something to make that happen. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said this:  Humanly speaking, we could understand and interpret the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways.  Jesus knows only one possibility:  simple surrender and obedience, not interpreting it or applying it, but doing and obeying it.  That is the only way to hear his word.  He does not mean that it is to be discussed as an ideal; he really means us to get on with it.

The promise is not that being blessed means that our lives will become easier.  It doesn’t have anything to do with having a nice house or a good job or living a life of ease and plenty.  Being blessed means having a bless-ed relationship with God and with God’s people who share this planet with you. It means seeing yourself not as better or nicer than others, but as one who is a part of God’s bless-ed Creation. And from that standpoint, the beatitudes are meant to be not instructive but descriptive of that relationship.   They are not meant to be a checklist of what makes us a better person.  They are a vision of a community—an alternative community than the one in which we live.  Truth be told, being “blessed” has more to do with being used by God than it does getting stuff or having your life be easier.

Christ’s coming into this world as our Messiah brought about for us the conception of what Shalom is, the vision of what God’s full and final Kingdom looks like.  And even as the world groans with pain, we get a sense that perhaps some of it are the pains of birthing God’s Reign into being.  We are in the midst of a holy labor, a holy gestation as God’s vision comes to be.  And in our expectation of what will come to be, we find our faith.  And in the meantime, what part do we play?  What is expected of us?  How are we supposed to live as people of faith in this sort of chaotic world in which we find ourselves now?

We live in a time when people tell us to live well and do well.  But Jesus says, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.

We live learning ways to make our life the best we can. But Jesus says, Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 

We live in a society that tells us to stand up for ourselves, to put ourselves first.  But Jesus says, Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

We live trying to satisfy ourselves in every way. But Jesus says, Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

We live in a place that teaches us to hold onto what we have and protect it. But Jesus says, Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

We live in a place that calls us to fill our minds and live within the morals we know and the rules we have designed.  But Jesus says, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

And we live in a country that is trying so desperately to protect itself and its wa of life, so desperately to put itself first.  But Jesus says, Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

It’s hard because it’s not what our world looks like.  We live by expecting to be blessed not in this world but in the way that God envisions we will be.  We are blessed not because we draw close to God but because God draws close to us and because of where we are, we notice.

I won’t take no for an answer,” God began to say to me when God opened his arms each night wanting us to dance.  (St. Catherine of Sienna)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli