It would probably be safe to say that the typical Christian in today’s world doesn’t read an entire book of the Bible in a day. And even safer to say this usually doesn’t happen before lunch But, on this Sunday, that exactly what our congregations will be treated to – or just about anyway. Our epistle lesson is from the Paul’s Letter to Philemon – or should I say that It’s the entire epistle, save […]
Old Testament law dictates what can be eaten, and what cannot be eaten: lamb but no lobster, steak but no shrimp, summer vegetables but no swine. Of course, these rules seem odd and foreign to a Christian audience that happily and readily eats broiled lobster and bacon-wrapped shrimp. The odd-nature of these rules, and the fact that they seemingly have absolutely nothing to do with our lives and faith, contributes to the shunning of the […]
But, about an hour later I was in an ambulance taking me to the emergency room, not far from where Washington wintered with his troops. I was fine. I had strained my back, and I just had to take it east for a few days. That wasn't going to be so hard to do with the narcotic pain killers and the muscle relaxers that I was prescribed. I could barely talk and gesture at the same time. I was fine, sure, but I couldn't move. Everything was difficult. I had trouble feeding myself, going to the bathroom, and walking up and down the stairs. I had trouble laying down in bed, and I had trouble getting out of bed.
“What stress I am under.” Jesus felt stress. Jesus was, in the modern vernacular, stressed out. Of course he was, he was on his way to his death. His death bore the sins and weight of the whole world. You’d be stressed too. But, it’s not a common subject, to talk about Jesus’ stress. As I write this, I’m sitting in the Cuxa Cloister, in The Cloisters – the branch of the Metropolitan Museum of […]
And so, here I sit, in a chic New York City restaurant, overlooking the Hudson River (ok, I had a salad...), and ready to go back into the safe and beautiful confines of The Cloisters... and here I sit typing on my iPad, and periodically checking my email and Facebook on my iPhone... And what I have to ruminate on is "sell your possessions..." Oh man.
But, this isn't a simple parable meant to ward us off of greed. It's a story to demonstrate two different interior predispositions. Do we live with a predisposition towards God, or to anything else? That's what this passage is about. And Jesus' point is the point of the Old Testament, according to Dr. Freedman: living a life predisposed to coveting anything is the road that leads to sin. And it's a well worn path. And it's a path that leads no where good.
Yes, this has been a rambling post, written by one who is still a little off-kilter from international travel, and who pines after the verdant hills of the Mother Country. But, here's what I want to say about prayer: it's important. It effects not only people, but places. It soaks into stone and wood, and grafts itself into the landscape. It's becoming rarer and rarer, apparently even in churches. And, it needs to be neither long nor impressive to be a holy experience.
A basket of summer fruit. Our lesson begins with a beautiful image, so appropriate to the season. A basket of summer fruit that God sets before His people. Ah, isn't all right in the universe? "The end has come upon my people Israel;I will never again pass them by.The songs of the temple shall become wailings in that day,"says the Lord GOD;"the dead bodies shall be many,cast out in every place. Be silent!" Oh. Oh dear.
(I’ve been traveling to holy sites in the north of England and Scotland for the last week, and while I imagined that I’d have lots of time on the bus to bang out some thoughts on upcoming lections… well that didn’t happen. Sorry this was posted later than usual. Cuthbert, Aidan, and Columba were calling my name too much.) Jesus is asked the question by the lawyer, and then he turns the question right back […]
But, then the Image of God that they bore wouldn't have had the time to work it's wonders. Those disciples, two by two, wouldn't have gotten their hands dirty, or witnessed suffering, or held the mourning, or seen health and life wash over illness and death like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.