Now that the Episcopal Church has officially accepted the Revised Common Lectionary, occasional surprises pop up in formerly familiar readings. This week, for instance, we no longer have just the happy tale of a deaf man who is healed, but the story before it: the foreign woman who swallows Jesus’ calling her a dog in order to get her daughter healed. Well, it’s not quite that blatant. When she begs Jesus to heal her daughter, he says to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Rather than leave in a huff, she replies with a twist of her own: “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” At that, Jesus heals her daughter.
What are we to make of this? One of my seminary professors insisted that Jesus was just testing her, that he intended all along to heal her daughter. Perhaps. But does that make it any better? Does testing by insult sound like something Jesus would do? Those who are more focused on Jesus’ humanity (and doubtful of his divinity) cite this passage as one that shows Jesus learning and growing in his vocation. The encounter with this Syrophoenician woman, they say, showed Jesus that his message wasn’t just limited to the Jews. She taught him that he was supposed to speak to the Gentiles as well.
Support for that view comes from the next story, in which Jesus takes a very roundabout route home and ends up healing a deaf man in Gentile territory. But this isn’t the first time Jesus was in the region of the Decapolis. He had made a memorable visit there earlier, sending a pile of demons from a crazed man into a herd of pigs that promptly rushed into the sea and drowned. It’s a wonder they let him back in town.
I have an old leather-bound Oxford Annotated Bible I bought when I was fifteen that still helps me out when I end up in a theological corner. Under the parallel passage in Matthew’s Gospel, I find this note: “Jesus consistently said that his primary mission was to call Jews back to God. The Gentile woman’s claim must be based on her own personal acceptance of his message. The distinction is between his mission and his willingness to respond to faith wherever found.” In other words, if she’s second string, she better really want to play if she’s going to get any time in the field. Well, I can buy that, but it still doesn’t explain how Jesus treated her. Yes, I know he was a Jewish male and she was a Gentile woman, lower than low, but this is Jesus Christ we’re talking about here.
So do I long for the good-ol’-days of the prayer book lectionary? No. At least not for that reason. I appreciate Bible passages that continually challenge me. When I think I know who Jesus or God is, or who I am for that matter, a Syrophoenician woman pops up and turns my certainty upside down. Maybe that’s what happened to Jesus. Maybe not. But I’ll bet he did know all along that he was going to heal her daughter.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Slow to Anger
I don’t often weigh in on political controversies with Bible verses. Part of it is my own disinclination to controversy, but I also think that there has been too much bashing with the Bible in our history. In a way that’s too bad. Jesus certainly had no qualms about quoting Scripture to critique the social and political situation of his time.
This week, however, the letter from James fits right in with what has been happening in many town hall meetings on health care reform, and generally with how anger has become so prevalent in the U.S. (as in this Hawk Eye story. “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger,” James writes, “for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness...If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless.” (Jas 1:19,26) Strong stuff!
But what about righteous anger? Didn’t Jesus have that when he tossed the moneychangers out of the temple? Yes, he did, but then he was Jesus Christ. As I reflect on the times I have called my anger righteous, I see that mostly I was deceiving my heart. I was more eager to speak than listen, more anxious to be right than to admit I might be wrong. It was really self-righteous anger. In many cases this is the kind of anger I see expressed in the health care debates. If it is indeed orchestrated anger coming from those who wish to see reform or even the President fail, then it is even farther from God’s righteousness.
It is not surprising that the old desert monks of Egypt regarded anger as something to be overcome. They knew how hard it is to discern the source of one’s anger, and so viewed it as a sign of turning away from God. We should be more attentive to that lesson. Health care in this country is complex. Some aspects relate to James’s “pure and undefiled religion” providing for those who are in distress. Others simply derive from greed. We will not know which is which unless we are slower to anger, slower to speak, and quicker to listen.
This week, however, the letter from James fits right in with what has been happening in many town hall meetings on health care reform, and generally with how anger has become so prevalent in the U.S. (as in this Hawk Eye story. “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger,” James writes, “for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness...If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless.” (Jas 1:19,26) Strong stuff!
But what about righteous anger? Didn’t Jesus have that when he tossed the moneychangers out of the temple? Yes, he did, but then he was Jesus Christ. As I reflect on the times I have called my anger righteous, I see that mostly I was deceiving my heart. I was more eager to speak than listen, more anxious to be right than to admit I might be wrong. It was really self-righteous anger. In many cases this is the kind of anger I see expressed in the health care debates. If it is indeed orchestrated anger coming from those who wish to see reform or even the President fail, then it is even farther from God’s righteousness.
It is not surprising that the old desert monks of Egypt regarded anger as something to be overcome. They knew how hard it is to discern the source of one’s anger, and so viewed it as a sign of turning away from God. We should be more attentive to that lesson. Health care in this country is complex. Some aspects relate to James’s “pure and undefiled religion” providing for those who are in distress. Others simply derive from greed. We will not know which is which unless we are slower to anger, slower to speak, and quicker to listen.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Back in the Saddle Again
There have been a lot of changes in my life since my last post (which, I see, was on my mother's birthday -- it would have been her 98th!). Yesterday was the fourth Sunday in my new position as rector, and a few days ago R and I finally moved to our new house in a nearby college town of 8,000. Now I'm hoping I can finally get into a routine once again and feel that there's something besides shifting sand under my feet. I'm already enjoying walking out the back door of our new house and onto a bike path that leads to fields of wildflowers and an expansive town park in the distance. That will help make up for having an office without a window.
That office was most recently occupied by a retired priest who was full-time supply during the interim. When I talked to him today, he referred to the space as his horse-stall. It fits his farming background. I suppose that means that I'm back in the saddle again, leading people to a different destination than the first fifty years of my life. Not bad for a city boy!
That office was most recently occupied by a retired priest who was full-time supply during the interim. When I talked to him today, he referred to the space as his horse-stall. It fits his farming background. I suppose that means that I'm back in the saddle again, leading people to a different destination than the first fifty years of my life. Not bad for a city boy!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Pulling Carpet
We’re getting our house ready to sell. Our realtor told us to pull the carpet in a bedroom because it covers a beautiful hardwood floor. So I did that yesterday. Obviously I have never pulled carpet before, because I thought it would take a couple of hours. Wrong! It took six.
Once I got over the shock of seeing that it wouldn’t be quick, I started to realize how monastic the work was. The padding was stapled to the floor, and each staple had to be individually coaxed up with a screwdriver, then pulled out with pliers. Often the staple broke, which meant that the remaining piece had to be pulled as well. Then on to the next staple. The carpet tacking was taken up in a similar way, nail by nail.
It reminded me of one of the times I was at New Melleray Abbey, when I was assigned to clean the shower stalls of the professed monks, which had not been cleaned in forty years. I was given a piece of steel wool to scrub the tiles, one by one. At the end of about two hours I had cleaned one or two walls and was told to go off to prayers. As I left, the monk picked up the steel wool and started going over the area I had just finished. Apparently it wasn’t good enough.
The realtor came by again today and didn’t tell me to re-pull the carpet. At the threshold I still have to install a carpet gripper (sujetador de alfombra – we didn’t learn that in Spanish class). But that was it. So I guess I did a good enough job. Good enough, I hope, that the house will sell.
Once I got over the shock of seeing that it wouldn’t be quick, I started to realize how monastic the work was. The padding was stapled to the floor, and each staple had to be individually coaxed up with a screwdriver, then pulled out with pliers. Often the staple broke, which meant that the remaining piece had to be pulled as well. Then on to the next staple. The carpet tacking was taken up in a similar way, nail by nail.
It reminded me of one of the times I was at New Melleray Abbey, when I was assigned to clean the shower stalls of the professed monks, which had not been cleaned in forty years. I was given a piece of steel wool to scrub the tiles, one by one. At the end of about two hours I had cleaned one or two walls and was told to go off to prayers. As I left, the monk picked up the steel wool and started going over the area I had just finished. Apparently it wasn’t good enough.
The realtor came by again today and didn’t tell me to re-pull the carpet. At the threshold I still have to install a carpet gripper (sujetador de alfombra – we didn’t learn that in Spanish class). But that was it. So I guess I did a good enough job. Good enough, I hope, that the house will sell.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Last Sunday
Today was my last Sunday at St. Peter’s. It is bittersweet for R and me to leave the place that discerned our calls to the priesthood, supported us through the process, and then gathered in joy as we were ordained side by side two years ago this week.
One of the fun parts for me came today at the point where I invited forward those who will have birthdays in the coming week so that we can all pray over them. One was a retired Iowa Supreme Court Justice, who epitomizes the positive, accepting community of St. Peter’s with its strong lay leadership. The other was born when I was doing CPE after my first year of seminary; I met her when she was just a few hours old. It seemed fitting that we would pray over these two faithful servants on my last day.
Now it is on to the next stages in our lives. R is already well ensconced in her church; I will begin moving books and belongings to mine this week. We still don’t have a new home, but that will come. In the meantime we give thanks for what has been, rejoice in the present, and wait with eager longing for what God will bring to us in the future.
One of the fun parts for me came today at the point where I invited forward those who will have birthdays in the coming week so that we can all pray over them. One was a retired Iowa Supreme Court Justice, who epitomizes the positive, accepting community of St. Peter’s with its strong lay leadership. The other was born when I was doing CPE after my first year of seminary; I met her when she was just a few hours old. It seemed fitting that we would pray over these two faithful servants on my last day.
Now it is on to the next stages in our lives. R is already well ensconced in her church; I will begin moving books and belongings to mine this week. We still don’t have a new home, but that will come. In the meantime we give thanks for what has been, rejoice in the present, and wait with eager longing for what God will bring to us in the future.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
May the Lord Rejoice in All His Works
In an earlier post I indicated that the quotation at the right of this blog was the epigraph for my doctoral dissertation in botany. A portion of Psalm 104 appointed for this Sunday had the same function for the only book I've written. Given that the book was about the natural history of eastern Iowa and western Illinois, it seemed appropriate to use: "You send forth your Spirit, and they are created; and so you renew the face of the earth./May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in all his works."
This Pentecost I am struck by the natural imagery of the readings: a sound like the rush of a violent wind; divided tongues, as of fire; and Paul's statement that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now. All of these are attempts to put into words things that are essentially nonverbal, or better, preverbal. We can give Latin names to plants and animals and Greek-derived names to their parts and imagine that we know something fundamental about them, when, in fact, we do not. Luke calls up as many far-flung languages as he can to describe what happened to those disciples at nine-o'clock Pentecost morning, when in fact all he knows is that suddenly people who had been hiding for fear of being arrested are now boldly proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ.
Something happened that Pentecost morning. What it was we shall never know with certainty. We do know that it had something to do with the falling of the Holy Spirit upon people who previously had other things to do. It was different from the natural order yet somehow intimately a part of it. It had the promise of renewing the whole of creation that was groaning in travail. And it most certainly revealed the glory of the Lord that endures forever. May the Lord continue to rejoice in all his works, as he did on that Pentecost.
This Pentecost I am struck by the natural imagery of the readings: a sound like the rush of a violent wind; divided tongues, as of fire; and Paul's statement that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now. All of these are attempts to put into words things that are essentially nonverbal, or better, preverbal. We can give Latin names to plants and animals and Greek-derived names to their parts and imagine that we know something fundamental about them, when, in fact, we do not. Luke calls up as many far-flung languages as he can to describe what happened to those disciples at nine-o'clock Pentecost morning, when in fact all he knows is that suddenly people who had been hiding for fear of being arrested are now boldly proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ.
Something happened that Pentecost morning. What it was we shall never know with certainty. We do know that it had something to do with the falling of the Holy Spirit upon people who previously had other things to do. It was different from the natural order yet somehow intimately a part of it. It had the promise of renewing the whole of creation that was groaning in travail. And it most certainly revealed the glory of the Lord that endures forever. May the Lord continue to rejoice in all his works, as he did on that Pentecost.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Cleaning Out
R and I have been spending the week cleaning out stuff, mostly in the basement. We've lived in our house for 21 years, and anticipate moving soon to be closer to a new position I'm starting at the end of July. I got the call at a reception honoring biology graduates at the institution from which I just retired, and accepted the call on the day of my last commencement. If I have any doubt about God being behind this, I think about that timing! This past Monday I put twenty-seven years of teaching into eight boxes, moved out of my office, and turned in my keys. As the old gospel song says, "no turnin' back!" I'm excited about what lies ahead, and committed to making this blog a greater part of that journey. May you few faithful readers be joined by more!
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