What Is Needed

 

Luke 10:38-42   

I served a church that had a board of deacons made up entirely of women. And so the first year I worked with the nominating committee I strongly encouraged them to consider some men who might be called to serve as a deacon.

Not too long after that I got a visit to my office from Doreen, the moderator of the Deacons. She was in a fit. She said, “I heard you all nominated Ty for deacon. Just tell me: what am I supposed to do with him? He can’t bake!”

I tried to argue that there was really much more to the ministry of the deacons than baking cookies, but Doreen was still doubtful. “Well, besides,” I said, “How do you know he can’t bake?”

I had no idea at all if Ty could bake a batch of cookies, but mostly I wanted to get beyond the ideas everyone had about women’s work and men’s work. There are some pretty resistant ideas about gender roles in the church, and when people step out of bounds, you never know what might happen.

You might be surprised that this little story about Mary and Marth and Jesus arouses as much passion as it does. In its own little domestic way, it is about as provocative as Jesus’ most shocking parables. Everybody has something to say about it.

Most people, based on my informal assessment, seem to disagree with Jesus. People feel very strongly that Mary really should have been in the kitchen with Martha. But not necessarily because they believe a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Most people seem to feel this way because they are sympathetic to Martha and the burden she is carrying.

When good church people look at Mary – let’s admit it – we think she is lazy. She should be helping her sister.

But that is not to say that Martha doesn’t have every right to sit at Jesus’ feet, too. Sitting at Jesus’ feet to learn is a very good thing, right? It’s not just for men, right?

It’s pretty easy to get tied up in knots with this story. Most of the women’s voices I have heard speaking about this – you can tell they’re tied up in knots – they will say, yes it would have been fabulous for Martha to go sit beside her sister at Jesus’ feet. But we just have one question: is anyone going to eat? Who will prepare the food?

I don’t know if anyone here needs to hear this, but here it is: food doesn’t just cook itself.

No one in the story seems at all concerned about what any of the male disciples were doing. Where were they? Hanging out in the yard smoking, telling stories, waiting for someone to call them in for dinner?

Not to say the men were useless. If Martha needed a jar opened, or if she needed something from the top shelf, they would have been right there. But they’re not going to be much help stuffing the little mushroom caps or putting the toothpicks in the bacon-wrapped water chestnuts.  For that she’s going to need Mary.

A story like this pushes our buttons. Because as much as things have changed, and they really have – I always thought my father would have starved to death if there wasn’t a woman around to put a plate of food in front of him – it is still true that women do the majority of the domestic work.

But, as Jesus said to Martha, let’s not get worried and distracted by these things. Because I don’t believe this story really has anything to do with gender roles or housework. It’s about figuring out what the one thing is that’s needed. At any particular time and place, what is needed?

Churches, maybe Presbyterian churches in particular, are full of Marthas. Both male and female Marthas. Because we know, what would happen otherwise? If it weren’t for Martha, how would the coffee get made, the candles get filled, the paraments get changed to the proper color for the season? How would we have music or sound or flowers? Would we just let the light bulbs all burn out until eventually we were sitting in darkness? On communion Sunday, would we just have to imagine we are eating the bread and drinking the cup because no one bothered to prepare the elements? Would we let the bulletins sit in the office and figure that if people want one, they can just go to the office and get one?

There are so many things that need to be done. What is this “one thing” Jesus speaks of?

I once took it upon myself to teach a small group of Presbyterians how to practice contemplative prayer. I told them this is what it is: a simple practice of sitting in a comfortable position, closing your eyes, and clearing your mind of all distracting thoughts. For about 20 minutes.

Go ahead and clear all that stuff out of the way and wait for God to speak to you. And if, while you’re waiting, your mind starts to run off chasing some thought, gently pull it back. Okay? So we gave it a try.

After about five minutes, one of the men in the group, Steve, let out an exasperated sigh. “O man, my mind was everywhere,” he said. “I was thinking about everything I have going on at work, at home, all the things I need to do.”

His wife Connie, sitting next to him, smiled. She said, “I just imagined myself sitting at Jesus’ feet. And whenever a thought or a worry came in my mind, I imagined taking it in my hands and laying it down at his feet. And it was easy to let it go.”

Such a showoff that Mary can be. But, really, answer me this: How is the church going to show love to our neighbors if all we ever do is sit at Jesus’ feet?

Who is going to collect the groceries and take them over to the food pantry for the poor? Who is going to pack up the backpacks and take them to the school so kids will have food in their homes over the weekend? Who is going to greet newcomers and let them know they are welcome here? Who is going to teach the children and let them know that God loves them, and we love them?

There are so many things that need to be done. What is this “one thing?”

I don’t think anyone seriously questions the idea that there are many things the church should be doing. There are many things Jesus told us we should be doing: feeding the hungry, healing the sick, clothing the naked and housing the homeless, comforting the afflicted and freeing the oppressed.

Jesus wants us to work for justice as well as for peace, to do God’s will on earth as it is in heaven. You know, not much.

I once participated in a program that was intended to revitalize congregations. The focus was on figuring out what the congregation’s particular gifts are, then figuring out what the community’s particular needs are, and then making a plan to do something. Just do something.

The consultants who led this program were so energetic and creative and just great at coming up with heaping handfuls of ideas that would help a congregation get moving, get working. But at a certain point I had to admit to myself that I felt something lacking. There was one thing, one thing needed, that was missing for me. To sit at the feet of Jesus.

And without that I felt empty. And tired. Anxious. And maybe a little cranky.

Connie, who was in that contemplative prayer group I led – you know Connie, who bears a very strong resemblance to Mary? It wasn’t surprising that she felt at ease with contemplative prayer. Connie was a powerful pray-er, everyone knew it. She walked around with something almost like an aura, she radiated spirituality.

But do you know what else Connie did? Connie ran a soup kitchen in the church every Saturday. This kitchen fed hundreds of people every week. There were dozens of volunteers. Every church in the community, and other organizations, too, contributed to the soup kitchen in some way.

The people came to this soup kitchen to have their bodies fed with good food, and their souls fed with love and joy. There was no one, no matter how difficult, who did not get loved and fed. Connie was the heart and the energy behind this. And Connie could not have done it if she did not, regularly, spend time at Jesus’ feet.

You know, I have been to other soup kitchens that aren’t like that. Places where you see people bustling around the kitchen, tired and short-tempered, resentful. Maybe a little bit like Martha was that day when she came storming out of the kitchen complaining. The people I see at those places, I think maybe they have forgotten why they are doing it.

Because it turns out there really is just one thing that is needed. To stay close to Jesus, to listen to Jesus.

All good things will flow from that.

Photo:  Yes, I can bake.

A Plumb Line

 

Amos7:1-17     

Luke 10:25-37   

Kim told me recently that I am about due for a lighthearted sermon. I told him I would certainly keep that in mind. Honestly, I would like nothing more than to make you smile and even laugh. Even though the world keeps lobbing grenades at us.

There is a film I love called Four Weddings and a Funeral. It is a comedy that follows a group of friends as they attend weddings together. Hilarious things happen – disastrous best man speech, lost wedding rings, a very nervous and stuttering priest, and so on. Then at one of the weddings they attend, someone dies, which is not funny at all. The funeral follows, a very tender scene. Then the comedy resumes, but now they are all, somehow, changed. Life does that to a person. We wear the hardships in our bodies. All of us do.

You don’t forget the traumas you have been through; they live somewhere within you. You don’t slough off the weight of grief. These things simply become a part of who you are, they change the way you see and how you live.

And so I spent some time this past week thinking about how changed the people of Highland Park are now from one week ago. Last Sunday they were enjoying a holiday weekend, like we all were. And the next day their world changed.

This one is personal for me because I have family in Highland Park. I have spent many beautiful summer days on the very same streets that were covered in blood last Monday. My cousin and her family were planning to be at the parade – her son was supposed to be in the parade – until her husband came down with COVID. The realization that COVID might have saved their lives gave me a feeling I can’t describe.

No one who was there on that day will be the same again. But even the people who did not attend the parade will be changed by this. Because random acts of mass gun violence have come to their hometown.

And we who are watching this from a distance, once again, are sad and angry and bewildered, because it’s just not the way it is supposed to be. We would all like to shout out in protest: This is not the way it is supposed to be!

Every third year in our Common Lectionary we have the summer of the prophets, and this is that summer. And every time it comes up I think, really? Does that feel appropriate to you? These guys, they lack a summery vibe – they’re so heavy, no lightheartedness in them at all. Over the years, I have become pretty good at ignoring the prophets. 

But this may be the time to listen to them. Because the prophets come bearing the message that things are not the way they are supposed to be.

And here we have Amos, the man who rejects the title altogether but still bears the prophetic message: Things are not the way they are supposed to be.

Amos was, in his own description, a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees. He had plenty at home to keep him busy, but apparently out of the clear blue sky, like a random bolt of lightning, God called him to deliver a message to the kingdom of Israel. A message that put in the strongest terms possible: This is not the way it is supposed to be.

He shared it using the image of the plumb line. The Lord would set a plumb line in the midst of Israel to show how far the people had strayed from God’s way.

And truly they had strayed far off course. Things were not the way they were supposed to be in Israel. The rich were unspeakably rich; the poor were devastatingly poor. And the rich and powerful were more than willing to sacrifice the lives of the poor for the sake of increasing their riches.

They paid lip service to God’s law, but their actions betrayed what was in their hearts. They observed the sabbath, but anxiously waited for the day to be over so they could get back to cheating and exploiting their neighbors. You don't have to take my word for it. It’s all there, written in Amos’s book.

Amos said, “They trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth and push the afflicted out of the way.” (See what I mean about heavy?) They would abuse their brothers and sisters to the max, even to death. No, this is not the way it is supposed to be in the world God created.

See how the plumb line reveals the truth: Amos, the herdsman, the reluctant prophet, the plumb line who shows us how things are supposed to be.

Don’t we need a plumb line in this world of ours! We have the scriptures, and we have the ability to read them. But the truth is we are tempted to read them in a way that lends justification to our desires, righteousness to our actions. It’s not hard to delude ourselves.

We need a plumb line, because the naked eye is prone to distorting things. We think we have that picture hung straight. But later we stand back and look at it, we see our mistakes from a different vantage point. 

We think we were fully justified in our action, but later when we are telling a friend about it, we see the look in their eyes that tells us, no, we were not justified.

A plumb line might save us from ourselves sometimes. If we could just check ourselves against it we might see the right way before we go off and do something stupid, possibly even dangerous. A plumb line might make us pause, think. And, a plumb line might stir us to action when action is needed.

We have always struggled with the conflict of wanting to do right and wanting what we want. As much as the young lawyer who approached Jesus on that day, struggling with his desires. He wanted to inherit eternal life. Which was something he felt deserving of, it went without saying. In his own estimation he had lived a life without blemish. He had crossed all the T’s and dotted all the I’s. He was just taking this opportunity to do a final check, to have the rabbi confirm for him what he already knew.

Then Jesus dropped a plumb line.

There was a man who fell into the hands of bandits, who robbed him and left him half-dead on the road. A good priest came upon him – but he quickly crossed over to the other side. A good Levite came upon him, and he too quickly crossed over to the other side. Then a lousy Samaritan came along. This worthless soul picked the man up, dressed his wounds, and took him to a place where he could receive medical attention – and he paid for the man’s medical care. That miserable, good-for-nothing villain did this.

The clever young lawyer saw what Jesus did there, and this was a life-changing opportunity for him. He could become a new man, even better than he was before! Less self-satisfied. More compassionate. He could even become a man who carries the word out to the world: this is not the way it is supposed to be. But let me show you the way it should be.

Like Amos.

A person can be changed when the plumb line drops. When you see just how off-course things are, you can’t go back to seeing things the way you did before.

I called my aunt last week to see how she was doing after the July 4 shootings. And she said to me, “This is a life-changing experience for us. But you know what? Just as many people died of gun violence that day in the city of Chicago and no one seems to care. How horrible is that?”

My prayer today is that we will see the plumb lines around us clearly and recognize what they show us about the way things are, and the way things should be. That we will no longer shrug our shoulders in the face of tragedies, saying that’s just the way it is, nothing you can do. And that we all might be plumb lines for others in the world, showing others the way things might, and should, be.

Picture: ChurchArt.Com

Overwhelmed

 Luke 10:1-11,16-20    

It was about 25 years ago and I was working as a Director of Christian Education in a Presbyterian congregation. I was in my late thirties. And I was in conversation with another member, Marilyn, who was interested in teaching an adult class in the church. She had never taught in the church before. She was a clinical psychologist. She had been a member of the church for years, although not much involved. But now she was interested in becoming more involved and teaching seemed like a good avenue to her. Her reason, she told me, was that she was getting older – in her seventies, I think. And, she said, the closer she came to the end of life, the more interested she became in matters of faith.

I don’t know offhand what the average age is in our congregation, or any congregation for that matter. But I do know that I hear often about the “graying” of the church. We have more retired than working people here. We know this is largely because older folks are members of generations in which churchgoing was the norm, while younger folks are part of generations that are less likely to see the value in church attendance. But there’s more to it than that. It is also true that even older folks who have not been life-long active church members have a tendency to find their way to a church as the years go by. Maybe we all, like Marilyn, find our priorities shifting as we see heaven drawing nearer.

In the gospel of Luke, we are in a section in which, as Luke tells us, Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem. We know what this meant for him – in Jerusalem was his death, so this means he was beginning to look beyond this world. This seemed to be a bit off-putting for some people, but for Jesus it was essential.

To prepare his disciples, he began sending them out on their own, to try their hand at ministry. First, he sent out the 12, the inner circle. Their mission was to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal. Later, in this passage, he sends out a much larger group to go in pairs to all the places he, himself, intends to visit. He sends them with instructions to bring peace with them and virtually nothing else – no purse, no bag, no sandals. Just peace. And healing. And the message that the kingdom of God has come near.

The kingdom of God is near. And just as it was a bit off-putting for some of the people Jesus approached, it probably had the same effect on some towns and villages the disciples entered. Jesus gave them instructions about what to do when their message is rejected. I suppose that some people didn’t understand what the kingdom of God had to do with the world in which they lived.

I don’t blame them. Sometimes, it can seem like the peace of Christ is just a temporary escape from the world in which we live.

I heard a sermon this past week that was just posted online. The preacher described hiking in the redwoods of California with his wife. It was such a peaceful experience; it felt like nothing else mattered but just being there in that moment. But then it was time to leave, and they got in their car to drive home. They turned on the radio and heard the news of the day: a mass murder. The war in Ukraine. Leaked reports from the Supreme Court. Toxic politics in primaries of one state after another. And just like that, their peace was gone.

When they went back into the world, their peace evaporated, and they wondered if what they felt was really peace at all. Or maybe just an illusion.

I know that there have always been hard times, but it does seem as though we have had more than our share of bad news in recent years. The COVID-19 pandemic, a once in a lifetime experience (I hope), has been very hard. But if it were only COVID it would be so much easier.

Instead, we raise the temperature by politicizing everything – masks, vaccines, providing help to those in need. And, instead of supporting one another as we go through a hardship together, we attack one another. Our distrust of one another grows. Our distrust of our institutions grows. Conspiracy theories, accusations, and attacks are constantly in the air. It feels like our whole system is broken. And there is no peace.

The preacher went on to say that he was growing to understand that true peace is a whole lot more than just the nice feeling you get when you’re not fighting with anyone; true peace is the presence of real justice. And it seems like justice is in short supply in our world.

There are so many kinds of injustice, which are all interconnected. Martin Luther King said that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere; that we are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. That is to say, we are all in this together. If we try to separate ourselves from the needs of the world, we do harm to ourselves as much as to the needy. Justice is complicated. The need is overwhelming.

And so, the preacher I was listening to said, when we feel overwhelmed we might just decide to pull back. We feel inadequate to the task. Let someone else, someone better equipped, try. And when we pull back, we leave a vacuum that might be filled by more injustice, more hate, more violence. The answer, this preacher said, is for each of us to take back our moral autonomy and be a force for what is right, for justice. And in this work, we may find that ever-elusive peace.

He said a lot more, which I won’t go into, but I will tell you it was inspiring. This was not a Presbyterian preacher, though. This was not a preacher from any church, actually, or even any other religion. This was a sermon delivered at a gathering called Civic Saturday, where you find people who may not have an affinity for religion have a hunger for meaning. They come together for community, for healing, and then they go out into the world to make a difference.

They are a lot like church – without Jesus. But there may be another important difference: They are not looking for heaven somewhere down the road, pie in the sky in the sweet by and by. They are looking for that kind of peace and love right here in this world.

I’m not going to join Civic Saturday, as appealing as certain aspects are, because I would miss Jesus too much. I need church. But I also need the church to say loud and clear, “The kingdom of God is near.” And to do our very best to bridge the gap between this world and God’s kingdom, to bring the kingdom to more of this world.

I cannot think of a time when our nation has been more needful of Christians who will do this: bring healing, bring justice, bring peace.

I once asked a group of church people how they felt about the notion of being sent out into the world as Jesus sent out the 70 disciples. They all said they felt inadequate. And it’s true, we are inadequate. We are easily overwhelmed with the needs as we see them – the fighting, the toxic politics, the gross inequality, the ways we see our civic norms breaking down and raw power taking their place. It’s enough to make you withdraw into your prayer closet.

But let us remember that Jesus sent his disciples out. He sent them with instructions to heal. He sent them with peace to share. He sent them with a little bit of the kingdom of heaven, which was more than adequate.

In these days of fear and distrust and polarization, may we know that the kingdom of heaven is not for some time later. It is not for our escape. The kingdom of heaven is for here and now, and it is given to us. When you are overwhelmed, remember this: the kingdom of heaven is here. May we share it.

Photo by أخٌ‌في‌الله on Unsplash

Those Who Pick Up the Mantle

2 Kings 2:1-2,6-14      

Last week we were with Elijah on Mount Horeb listening to the Lord in the silence…when Elijah came to know that he was not actually alone as he had thought. There were thousands more doing the same work he was doing.

He heard from the Lord that he should find a man called Elisha, son of Shaphat of Abel-mehola, and anoint him prophet. Elisha would be the one to take Elijah’s place.

So Elijah went off in search of Elisha. He found him out plowing a field. Elijah walked by the other man and threw his mantle over him. Elisha stepped away from the plow and followed him. And from that point on they were a pair – teacher and disciple.

Until the day when Elijah’s time was up. It seems they both knew it. In fact, it seems like everyone knew; the company of prophets followed them to bear witness to this particular ending and what new beginning there might then be.

They journeyed on together. As they approached the Jordan River, Elijah rolled up his mantle and used it to strike the water. The waters parted for them to cross – a demonstration of the power of God at work in him.

After they crossed, Elijah paused and asked Elisha, “what parting gift may I give to you?” Elisha didn’t hesitate; he knew what he wanted: a double share of his teacher’s spirit. A double share is the inheritance given to the first-born son. Elisha was claiming this relationship with Elijah and wanted nothing more than to carry on his legacy.

When the time came, he watched Elijah being taken up to heaven – a chariot of fire ascending into a whirlwind, very dramatic. Then, when he could no longer see him, Elisha looked down at the ground and saw Elijah’s mantle –

The mantle he had laid over Elisha’s shoulders the first time he saw him. The mantle he had used to part the Jordan. Elisha picked up Elijah’s mantle. He struck the mantle against the river and watched the waters part.

The time of Elisha had begun. He would serve as a prophet of Israel for the rest of his years. He would remain close to the word of God and the work of this world. Elisha, like Elijah before him, would do the hard work of his ministry, the work of bearing the word of God into the world. This is our work as well, those of us who claim the name of Christ Jesus.

Just as Elijah sought out a disciple, Jesus sought out his disciples, who would stay close to him and learn from him by watching, listening, and doing. And when the time came for him to be taken from them, they too picked up his mantle. They carried on in his name, the work they had learned at his side, bearing the word of God into the world.

In every age the work continues, thanks be to God. There are the teachers and the disciples. Eventually the disciples take up the mantle and lead. They become the teachers to more disciples. Each one of us here has been the disciple, and most of us have, in some way large or small, been asked to lead.

Today we celebrate this beautiful rhythm of life: the passing of the mantle from one to another, down through the ages.

It begins with the children. We provide for them, giving them what they need: to learn the stories of Jesus, to participate in worship with us and service to others. and then, when the time comes, we hand over the mantle to them. We let them see what the power of God can do.

It begins with baptism, where we all find our beginning.

Today is Lena May’s turn. She will be baptized at this font that has baptized countless children of God over many, many years. If the day ever comes when this church falls, I think the font will still be here, standing among the ruins, because it is solid. Immovable. A fitting sign of the steadfast and immovable love of God.

Baptism is a simple thing. Nothing more than walking into the river of life, getting dunked in the water of community and love and forgiveness, and being given a new name: Beloved. That’s it.

And confirmation is a simple thing as well. It is the moment when those who have been baptized stand up and say in the congregation, “Here I am. Send me.”

What beautiful things will God do through them? What gifts is God providing to Kate and Jenna that will enable them to bring more love, more grace, more peace to this world?

O what delight we have ahead of us, to wait and see.

 Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

The One Who Fills Us

 

1 Kings19:1-15a

If you only knew this particular episode in the prophet’s life, then you would imagine Elijah must have had a pretty lousy run to get so far down in the dumps. But it is really just the opposite.

Before this chapter, Elijah had just come off the greatest success imaginable. It’s one of the highlights of the Old Testament, in fact. Israel has been in a drought for three years. King Ahab would, of course, love to see the drought end because it’s eating away at his approval ratings. But Ahab has another problem too, which involves his wife – Queen Jezebel. She is not an Israelite. When she married Ahab and came to Israel she brought her gods with her – the Baals, as they are called. Baal is not a proper name, but a title, like lord. The Baals are idols of other cultures, and we know from the scriptures that the people of Israel were prone to dabbling in Baal worship. You know how it is; sometimes when you need a little extra boost of luck you look at what other people are doing and you say, “What the heck. It might help. And it can’t hurt, right?

But the scriptures suggest again and again that, yes, it can actually hurt. When it involves turning away from God. Ahab was drawn into Baal worship. He led the people of Israel into Baal worship. It got really out of hand.

Ahab, the scriptures say, did evil in the sight of the Lord, more than all the kings who came before him, and that was a lot of evil. As if it wasn’t enough for them to overpower the nation with the worship of false idols, Jezebel and Ahab began a process of killing off the prophets of the Lord God. Much like an attempted genocide. These were the problems that Elijah faced. But, without question, Elijah was up to the challenge.

During the third year of the drought, Elijah went to Ahab to tell him that God would send the long-awaited rains to Israel. On his way he encountered one of Ahab’s head servants, who literally fell on his face at the sight of Elijah, in fear and trembling. He knew he was on the wrong side.

When Elijah arrived, Ahab came out to meet him, saying, “Is that you, you old troubler of Israel?” Elijah, though, was not troubling Israel so much as troubling Ahab and Jezebel. He told the king, prepare for a showdown. Get the prophets of Baal and Asherah, the gods and goddesses that Jezebel adores; get all 850 of them out to Mount Carmel and we will see how they measure up against the God of Israel.

So Ahab said, alright, here we go, and he sent the full complement of Baal and Asherah prophets to Mount Carmel. All the people of Israel came out to watch the show. Elijah stood alone against all the king’s prophets. He directed that two bulls be provided. Let the prophets of Baal choose one and prepare it for sacrifice, but light no fire. Let them call on Baal to produce the fire to burn the sacrifice. So the prophets selected a bull, cut it up and laid it on their altar. Then they called on the name of Baal to answer them, to bring fire to the sacrifice. They limped around the altar all day long, crying out until their voices were hoarse. Nothing happened. They even slashed their own flesh with their swords, drawing their own blood, as was apparently the custom in Baal worship. Still nothing.

Then Elijah took the stage. He repaired the altar of the Lord that had been torn apart by the Baal worshipers. He set the bull upon the altar, thoroughly drenched it with water. Then Elijah began to pray. “O Lord, I am your servant; I have done all these things at your bidding. Now answer me, Lord, that all these people may know that you are God.” And suddenly the soaking wet offering was in flames, and the fire consumed all the water surrounding the altar as well. The people fell down and said, “The Lord is God; the Lord is indeed God.” They rounded up the false prophets who were then executed.

After that, the rains came.

It was a powerful show for Elijah. But now he had kindled the wrath of Jezebel, which was nothing to shake a stick at. She sent word to Elijah that he was a dead man, and Elijah took her at her word. He was afraid, and he fled for his life.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so afraid, though. The Lord had seen him through so much already. The Lord had shown great power in many ways. Before the showdown on Mount Carmel, there was the time he stayed with the widow of Zarephath, when a handful of meal and a little oil managed to feed her household for many days; when her son fell ill and died, but Elijah was able to revive him; all this by the power of God.  

I wonder why Elijah did not have faith that the Lord would see him through this episode with Jezebel, just as God has carried him through so many other times. And maybe when he looked back on it later, Elijah saw it that way too; that he should have known that the Lord who had overwhelmed all the prophets of Baal, who had used the birds of the air and a poor widow of Zarephath to feed him, would protect him against Jezebel. But at this particular moment, Elijah was just too exhausted to think that through.

What Elijah needed was some down time and a little TLC.

I think because he knew that Jezebel had been going after the prophets of the Lord, Elijah really thought he was the only one left. He thought he was utterly alone against a fierce and vicious enemy. And even though he had triumphed in the battle that day, he feared he was losing the war.

It has been said that the words of Psalm 42 could have been written by Elijah, because they so well articulate the way he probably felt at this point in his life. Forgotten. Alone. Without hope.

And I wonder if some of us feel like Elijah at times. We look at the world around us, and we see too much violence. Too much hatred. We see evil seeming to hold the upper hand. I have heard too many people lately using the word hopeless to describe how they feel – particularly in the context of gun violence in our nation.

We see the efforts of men and women to make some constructive changes lead to nothing, again and again. And so we lose hope in our institutions and in our leaders. But it is when we have reached our human limits that we know, once again, that our hope does not reside in institutions, our hope is in God.

Elijah fell down in despair and lamented that he was all alone and without hope. But as it turned out there was hope for Elijah. Once again, God fed him and gave him rest. Take and eat, the angel said to Elijah, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.

Strengthened with food, water, and rest, Elijah journeyed on to the place where God had sent him – the Mount of Horeb. This is the place where God had spoken with Moses centuries earlier. Here Elijah tucked himself into a cave in the side of the mountain and waited there for the Lord.

 A great wind came along, but the Lord was not in the wind. Then an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. At this point there was the sound of silence. And Elijah came out of the cave to greet the silence.

And in the silence, there was the voice of the Lord.

Now Elijah was ready to carry on with the work of his ministry for the Lord. And, as the Lord would tell him, he was not alone as he thought. There were thousands working on the Lord’s side with him.

In the work of ministry, of which we all are a part, there are intense highs and there are utterly abysmal lows. The Lord will carry us through it all.

The Lord will give us rest. We know from the gospels that Jesus stole away to a quiet place to pray when he needed it. And he told his disciples, “Come to me all you who are weary…”

The Lord will give us nourishment. We have only to remember the many times Jesus broke bread with others, and with us every time we gather at the table; feeding us in body and in spirit.

The Lord will give us hope. In truth, it is only in the Lord that we will find hope. So when we feel hopeless, in despair, fearing that nothing will ever change, let us turn to the Lord and receive rest…

And nourishment…

And hope to live and fight another day.

Photo by Hillie Chan on Unsplash 

 

Blessed Trinity

 

Romans 5:1-5    

John 16:12-15    

Today is Trinity Sunday, which is a thing that is hard to get excited about, I have to admit. It just feels very abstract. The doctrine of the trinity is hard. In fact, the first thing you need to say about it is that it is not a thing we can really comprehend, so we shouldn’t even try.

But we do try. We are continually making all kinds of creative analogies in order to make sense of it. The Trinity is like water, we say, which can take three forms: ice, liquid, and steam. Or the Trinity is like a man, who can be at the same time father, son, and uncle. St. Patrick said the Trinity is like a shamrock, one object with three distinct leaves. And none of these analogies work. Because there is nothing that is like the Trinity.

But we continue to try. And so we pull apart the three persons and analyze them each individually, hoping this approach will work. We try to assign them roles, saying this is the Father’s job and this is the Son’s job, and so on. We seem to want to line them up like a 3-person team, standing on the field of life, ready to play the positions they’ve been assigned. The Father tosses the ball to the Son, the Spirit runs interference for the Son – each one plays their part. But the persons of the Trinity don’t want to be lined up in that way. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit all resist this effort to keep them in their unique places.

In part this is because the most important quality of the Trinity is the relational quality. The Trinity is a relationship between the three persons – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And it is from this relationship that all the energy comes. The relationship is so crucial that we cannot really separate the persons from one another. They are three, and still they are one.

Perhaps for today a helpful way to approach the Holy Trinity is to look at how this blessed relationship can bless our relationships; our sometimes fraught, often frail, human relationships. And so I want to share with you a story about a young woman, whose story may in some ways be similar to yours.

She was going through a very difficult time in her life. Karen was about to graduate college. She was faced with some hard choices, particularly about marriage. And she felt very alone. She had lost her father, with whom she was close, just a few years earlier. Her mother did not have the strength to give her much support. Karen had always leaned on her sister, someone who had always been there for her. But now, for the first time ever, she and her sister were going through a very hard patch.

She felt alone and knew that she would have to make some very important decisions all by herself. It all felt very unfair to her.

But then something happened that changed everything. She was lying on her bed thinking about all the uncertainties and dilemmas of her life, and she was overcome by a mysterious sense of peace. And a message like, “It will all be well. Everything will be well.” From this point on she was able to move forward and make the decisions she needed to make. And, most importantly, she was able to heal the broken relationships.

What was this? It felt like divine guidance to Karen. Somehow, God had spoken to her, filled her with what she needed at that moment, and continued to help her navigate the relationships of her life.

Was it the Holy Spirit who helped her? Yes. Was it Jesus? Yes. Was it God the Father? Again, yes. They work together and they are never at odds with one another, which raises another important point about the Trinity.

You cannot pit God the Father against the Son, although we sometimes do. We act as though Jesus had to come down to correct God’s mistakes; we assume that the God of the Old Testament has been superseded by some newer, nicer God wearing the face of Jesus. But that gets it all wrong.

As the Apostle Paul wrote, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have been justified. Forgiven. This is the same God that always was. But the relationship between the Father and the Son makes it possible for us to enjoy this relationship, too. We become adopted into this very large and always growing family.

With God the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit – the Spirit who intercedes just when we need her. As Jesus says to his disciples: I know that you have as much as you can take on your plate right now. But the time will come when you are ready and then I will send the Spirit who will guide you into all truth.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – they are all in this work together, this work of drawing us into the relationship they enjoy, and into relationship with each other.

More than anything, the Trinity should help us see the importance, the sacredness, of relationship. When we meditate on the Trinity we see glimpses of a bond made of perfect love, love that enjoys, love that serves, love that is willing to sacrifice for the other; love that recognizes how much we need one another.

We say that God is love, and can we really know love in any way other than in relationship? There is abundant love that flows between the persons of the Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and this love pours out over us as the Holy, Blessed Trinity draws us into themselves.

I know the language is weird. I know this is all confusing. But, as someone once said to me after the funeral for her father, “I got lost while you were talking about Paul, but I got unlost when you talked about my dad.”

When we look at the Trinity, maybe we should simply look at how much they love one another, and us, and just let that love be a blessing to us. Let the love of the Trinity be a model for us to follow.

The mystery of the Trinity is one we will not ever comprehend fully. But, thankfully, the blessings of the Trinity may be known completely.

All thanks be to God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/adult-art-ballerina-ballet-209948/