Wednesday, August 1, 2012 -- Week of Proper 12, Year Two
Joseph of Arimathea

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 977)
Psalms 72 (morning) 119:73-96
Judges 3:12-30
Acts 1:1-14
Matthew 27:45-54

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

As I thought about these four readings today and about Joseph of Arimathea whom we commemorate, it seems we have a series of snapshots with both spiritual and political significance.

Jesus speaks his last words of abandonment from the cross and then breathes his last. The centurion, the soldier who has maintained the order of the state during this political execution declares, "Truly this man was God's Son!" The Empire's puppet governor has rid Rome of an enemy, and Matthew says the earth shakes in response. Another execution. A day's headline. What can the meek do in the face of raw power?

One gentleman will simply do the right thing. Joseph of Arimathea will use some of his power to provide for a proper burial for the condemned criminal. He will use some of his wealth to provide for a tomb. It is the humane and decent thing to do, though one wonders at what cost to Joseph's dignity and his standing in the community. It takes courage and character for a highly placed man like Joseph to exercise his power on behalf of one such as Jesus, a religious blasphemer and political pariah. Joseph's is a noble act.

Our reading from Judges glorifies an assassin. To the Moabites, Ehud is a terrorist and murderer. To Israel he is a hero and liberator. It is dirty business sneaking a short sword completely into the obese belly of King Eglon and locking him in the toilet as "the dirt came out." Then the region is ethnically cleansed, as all of the Moabites are killed, and the land has rest for eighty years. A great nationalist story for Israel. The story doesn't read quite the same way in the history books of Moab.

The Acts of the Apostles opens with the disciples' experience of Jesus' resurrection. Their first question is a political one: "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" They might have been hoping for another great triumph like they remembered from the days of Ehud and King Eglon. Yet, it is not for them to know. They will be given power. Power from on high. Spiritual power. Different from the power of a sword or a cross.

Executions, assassinations, dreams of power, a noble act. These are all things we hear about today. We hope for resurrection; for noble acts in awful situations. Will an assassination bring rest or revenge? Will we exercise spiritual power as we yearn for restoration?

But let's look at today's psalm. Psalm 72 expects justice and righteousness from a ruler. "He shall defend the needy among the people; he shall rescue the poor and crush the oppressor."

The biblical dream for the ideal leader repeatedly calls for a government that will care for and protect the poor and needy. Historically it seems that the interests of the wealthy and powerful usually get taken care of first by the authorities, and the needs of the poor are often a reluctant secondary priority.

As I was reading the psalm, my imagination wondered what our nation might be like if our government fulfilled the dream of the psalmist. At first the psalm reads like this ideal ruler would be another "kick butt and take names" leader, dealing with foreign enemies -- "His foes shall bow down before him, and his enemies lick the dust." The psalm expects tribute and gifts from foreign rulers. "All kings shall bow down before him, and all the nations do him service." But here is where the psalm surprises. All of these foreigners shall offer their respects to this ideal king, "For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress, and the oppressed who has no helper. He shall have pity on the lowly and poor; he shall preserve the lives of the needy. He shall redeem their lives from oppression and violence, and dear shall their blood be in his sight. Long may he live! and may there be given to him gold from Arabia; may prayer be made for him always; and may they bless him all the day long."

That's a different kind of ruler. The nations honor this ruler because of his generosity and justice, not just his military prowess. These foreign lands are praying for him and blessing him, and even Arabia is generously cooperating with his agenda. Why? Because of his goodness and commitment to the poor.

I wonder. What if our leaders were like this? What if the needs of the poor and needy were at the top of our national interest? What if our leaders had pity on the lowly and poor and redeemed those living under oppression and violence? That's a different kind of political agenda. That's a different kind of ruler. That's the kind of ruler who would be remembered with honor by all nations. Somebody a little like Joseph of Arimathaea. Somebody a little like Jesus. "May his Name remain for ever and be established as long as the sun endures; may all the nations bless themselves in him and call him blessed."

The psalmist prays longingly for such a leader. Me too.

John 6.24-35
(thanks to Ps Luke Bouman for some of these thoughts)

There’s something about a freebie that’s attractive. If it’s big enough and plentiful enough, that’s even better. Whether it’s a BBQ with free champers and OJ in King George Square or a ride on a bus, I have a hard time keeping away.

Sometimes the freebie is genuinely gracious and fulfilling but mostly it’s not. “Something for nothing” ain’t all what it’s cracked up to be. I wonder why my avarice takes over and accepts so easily?

The crowds on that Galilean seaside were prepared to cross the water just to get whatever was on offer, for there was something about Jesus that kept drawing people to him.

It wasn’t just that the offer of free bread was attracting them, like we might get from the Day-Old counter at Brumbies. The bread he was giving out wasn’t simply free. This bread actually came out of nowhere and it came right in the middle of nowhere.

The people had been in the wilderness, they had been the people of God on the move again and, like once before, they received this bread.

Now they wanted more: “Give us this bread always.” Like sceptics all over the world, they’re not any different from us: they wanted a repeat performance because they just couldn’t grasp what they saw the first time. Miracles don’t always lead people to faith. People just say ‘do it again, only slower this time.’

This scenario, captured in today’s Gospel reading, is exactly that and, yes, it’s slower. What’s disconcerting is something I’ve already alluded to: that we’re not much better than those seaside wanderers. We’re still on the search for more – more bread, more something that will satisfy us. And we’re in a wilderness too, most of us, a wilderness more of our own making than not.

The world in which we live is made up of two whacking great bits. One part contains people who eat as much as they like and still bring leftovers for lunch. Yet these are curiously unfilled, unsatisfied.

The other part contains those who are desperate for any morsel that falls, any crust that remains. Here they wait, with protruding ribs and painful stomachs.

The one says to the others: “How can you still be like this? There’s more than enough to go around.” The others say “How can you be hungry? You have so much already.”

There’s something about this Gospel that has a challenge for us. It’s found in the middle of the Reading, in a part that often slips us by: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.“

Even in the midst of global financial anxieties and failures, we in the west have a hard time with those words because they fly in the face of the things we most treasure. My financial advisor would agree: shouldn’t we be building wealth?

However, the lessons from the wilderness about food were as important for the people of Israel as they are for us. They learned that Yahweh would give them the things they needed. They also learned not to hoard their bread but to share it with those who could not get it for themselves, otherwise it went bad.

In his helping them to understand, Jesus identifies himself with Yahweh, The Big Fellah. “I AM the bread of Life …” he says. Here is the One who satisfies; here is the Bread of Life – and this in stark contrast to the kind of bread that feeds but doesn’t fill.

This kind of Life-bread opens up a Pandora’s Box of other needs, of other hungers that Jesus satisfies; peace or justice or loving kindness or simply a humble walk. These hungers will never leave us no matter how many times we come for sustenance at his Table.

We become the bread we eat, reshaped into His Body, not by putting up our hand and letting avarice take over but by giving as he gave. We come hungry for life and leave hungry to give it. That’s the Jesus way.

The Rev. Ian McAlister is the Ministry Development Officer in the Diocese of Queensland and blogs at Reflections from the HIll

Friday, August 3, 2012 -- Week of Proper 12, Year Two
George Freeman Bragg, Jr., Priest, 1940
William Edward Burghardt DuBois, Sociologist, 1963

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 977)
Psalms 69:1-23(24-3-)31-38 (morning) 73 (evening)
Judges 5:1-18
Acts 2:1-21
Matthew 28:1-10

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Reading today's account of the fire of Pentecost and recalling some of the General Convention conversation about the structure of the church, I'm reminded of the late John V. Taylor's fine book "The Go-Between God: The Holy Spirit & the Christian Mission." Here's how he opens his chapter titled "Growing: The Evangelical Spirit and the Structures of Mission":

'The church exists by mission as fire exists by burning.' It is not by chance that Emil Brunner chose that great biblical metaphor of the Spirit and his mission. Jewish teachers had taken the burning bush to be a symbol of the ideal Israel on fire with God's purpose and action in the world, yet unconsumed. The true church also exists by being the inexaustible fuel of the Holy Spirit's mission in the world... While they burn together the branches and twigs are fire, yet they do not in themselves constitute the fire. The fire, rather, contains them, living around them in the interstices, and if a twig drops to the ground the fire that seemed to be in it soon vanishes. Only in their togetherness can Christians remain alight with the fire of the Spirit. That is the sole purpose of our visible fellowship -- to be the fuel upon which the fire is kindled in the earth. The church must be shaped to carry out that purpose or it will be as frustrating as a badly laid fire. The question we have continually to put to the organization and structure of the church is this: does it bring Christian face to face with Christian in that communion which is the sphere of the Holy Spirit's presence?

Our theology would improve if we thought more of the church being given to the Spirit than of the Spirit being given to the church. For if we phrase it in the second way, although it is the New Testament's way, we are in danger of perpetuating the irreverence of picturing God's Spirit as a giant superhuman power or guidance, like a fairy sword or magic mirror to equip us for our adventures. Unless all I have said so far is utterly mistaken, the promised power from on high is not that kind at all. ...The primary effect of the pentecostal experience was to fuse the individuals of that company into a fellowship which in the same moment was caught up into the life of the risen Lord. In a new awareness of him and of one another they burst into praise, and the world came running for an explanation. In other words, the gift of the Holy Spirit in the fellowship of the church first enables Christians to be, and only as a consequence of that sends them to do and to speak. It is enormously important to get this straight. Being, doing and speaking cannot in practice be disentangled, but if we put our primary emphasis on preaching or on serving we erect a functional barrier between ourselves and our fellow humans, casting ourselves in a different role from the rest... Hence the professional jealousy of Christians, so often disconcerted when other humanitarians undertake the same service and other faiths propound the same truths.

The Holy Spirit is given to enable 'the two or three gathered together' to embody Jesus Christ in the world...

The mission of the church, therefore, is to live the ordinary life ...in that extraordinary awareness of the other and self-sacrifice for the other which the Spirit gives. Christian activity will be very largely the same as the world's activity -- earning a living, bringing up a family, making friends, having fun, celebrating occasions, farming, manufacturing, trading, building cities, healing sickness, alleviating distress, mourning, studying, exploring, making music and so on. Christians will try to do these things to the glory of God, which is to say that they will try to perceive what God is up to in each of these manifold activities and will seek to do it with [God] by bearing responsibility for the selves of others... Christ-like evangelism consists in the passionate serving of the personhood of [humanity] in protest against all the depersonalizing pressures of the world... To point to the cross is to point to one for whom people mattered supremely and whose very presence in silent suffering brought a hard-bitten non-commissioned officer to look twice at what seemed commonplace and to rise to a more truly human personal response.

John V. Taylor, "The Go-Between God," Oxford, 1972, p. 133f

While they were going, some of the guard went into the city and told the chief priests everything that had happened. After the priests had assembled with the elders, they devised a plan to give a large sum of money to the soldiers, telling them, ‘You must say, “His disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.” If this comes to the governor’s ears, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble.’ So they took the money and did as they were directed. And this story is still told among the Jews to this day.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ ~Matthew 28.11-20

The tomb has been opened and the angel has pronounced it empty. The witnesses have scattered, the guards to report the incident to the priests and the women to tell the male disciples hiding in the city. The priests gave the guards bribe money to tell a fabricated story that implicated them of sleeping on the job (never a really good explanation for why something did or didn't happen on their watch) while the disciples listened to the women and actually went where they were told to meet him. What a meeting that must have been!

There's an old saying, "Seeing is believing," that pretty much says something isn't really true unless someone witnesses it for themselves. Even the word of someone else, no matter how trusted a someone else, is always open to a bit of skepticism and sometimes outright denial. Eleven men, followers of Jesus who had been with him for years, gathered on a mountain in Galilee and there met Jesus, the Jesus who had been crucified and pronounced dead just a few days before. Now you would think that seeing should be enough (unless you're Thomas in the upper room -- but that's another story), but evidently somebody (or several somebodies) weren't sure their eyes weren't playing tricks on them.

It reminds me of the story of the three children from Fatima, Portugal, who saw the apparition of the Virgin Mary a number of times. The word got around about the visions and many followed the two girls and the boy as they went to the designated spot to meet Mary. For those who did so, all they saw were three small human beings, kneeling with faces and eyes uplifted to heaven. Many in those crowds believed Mary did appear, even if they didn't see her themselves, but then, there were probably some who just couldn't make the leap of faith without visual proof. There are always doubters, whether or not they trust their eyes, it seems, but there are also those who believe, again whether or not they trust their own vision.

There are lots of ways of expressing incredulity, whether stating belief or disbelief. The reading today said that "some doubted," evidently more than our friend Thomas who was openly disbelieving until offered visual proof. I have to wonder, who else had doubts? And after being with Jesus for some time, seeing miracles, signs and wonders, what about his appearance still made them doubt? I wonder, would I be one of those "I'll believe it when I see it" followers or an "I just can't believe it!" one. How much do I believe based on what I observe and how much because of what I feel? How much do I trust my instinct and how much do I require visual (or tactile) reinforcement when it comes to believing something?

The gospel of Matthew ends with Jesus pronouncing what is called the Great Commission, the instruction to go out and evangelize the whole world, but also put in words of great comfort, " [R]emember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." What a great last line -- leaving on a word of hope with an open-ended promise. Hope can't be seen, but it can be most powerfully experienced. That is what Jesus offers us, even if we don't see him walking down the street or living next door. He is still as close as a breath and as present as a heartbeat. It can't be seen, but only experienced -- and passed along.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Judges 6:1-24 (NRSV:)

The story of Gideon's call reminds us today of the standard, stock answer we humans tend to give when we first hear and recognize it..."You've got the wrong person. I'm too (fill in the blank.) I'm just a (fill in the blank.)" I'm the lowest member of the least, no-account clan in town. The Bible is full of these "I'm too" and "I'm just a" moments. I'm too young, I'm too old, I'm too slow of tongue. I'm just a boy, I'm just a shepherd, I'm just an outsider.

We're also reminded of those time when our efforts are destroyed by others, seemingly just for the sake of doing it, and how it teaches us hoarding instincts. The Israelites are planting seed, and as soon as anyone notices it sprouting, here come the Midianites and the Amalekites to lay it waste. Anyone who was ever a younger sibling can recall those times sitting happily, stacking blocks or Legos, only to have an older brother or sister lurking around the corner, watching intently, and then, just at the right moment, roar through the room smashing those carefully-planned construction projects. We are taught from an early age to do those things we really care about in secret.

When the angel accepts Gideon's offering, a fire springs up, and we all know the converse of the old saw "Where there's smoke, there's fire"--where there's fire, there's also smoke--smoke that everyone can see. The Midianites and the Amalekites can surely see smoke off in the distance, and it's clear someone has something to offer.

The terms of the offering are interesting, too. Gideon is told to pour out the broth in the pot--to throw out the stock. Any of us who've ever cooked a roast or a chicken would never think of such a thing. Pour out the stock, how crazy is that? We can make noodles out of that. We can make stew. Why, there are all kinds of goodies we can make of that, and one never knows when we might need it. But no--Gideon is told to pour off what we'd normally hold back and save.

As we grow in faith, one of the discoveries we often make is that God constantly calls to us to offer up more of what we have, even in times when we feel there are vandals at the gate, lurking in the shadows to tear our works apart. We're told to sow time and time again, even if we are afraid. God's antidote to fear is "keep doing ministry." I remember a very fearful time in the life of my parish when a wise friend's best advice was "just keep doing your ministries, keep doing what you sense that you are called to do." Turns out she was right about that.

Another thing we discover is God just sort of chuckles at "I'm too..." and "I'm just a..." and says, "You know, I've heard that one before." I suspect God has heard them all. Like the angel in our reading today, God simply sits patiently under the oak tree waiting for us to come around to God's way of thinking, and says, "You silly thing, I've been sitting here all along."

What, do you suppose, is in the works for your life, where God has been quietly, patiently sitting under the oak tree at your house, waiting for you to come around to God's way of thinking about your part in it?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Monday, August 6, 2012 -- Week of Proper 13, Year Two
The Transfiguration of Our Lord

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer)
EITHER the readings for Monday of Proper 13, p. 979
Psalms 80 (morning) 77, [79] (evening)
Judges 6:25-40
Acts 2:37-47
John 1:1-18

OR the readings for The Transfiguration, p. 998
Morning Prayer: Psalms 2, 24; Exodus 24:12-18; 2 Corinthians 4:1-6
Evening Prayer: Psalm 72; Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; John 12:27-36a

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

I chose the readings for Transfiguration

It might be helpful to read this morning's second lesson for the Transfiguration -- 2 Corinthians 4:1-6 -- backwards.

Start with the image of the "face of Jesus Christ." Jesus' face is the face of profound love, the image of God. Jesus looks and brings understanding, forgiveness, healing, and hope. He looks upon the tax collector and sees a friend; he looks upon the emotionally ill demoniac and bring coherence; he looks upon the fishermen and gives vocation; he looks upon the one caught in adultery and brings acceptance; he looks upon the leper and bring cleansing; he looks upon the deaf gives hearing; he looks upon the mute and creates vision; he looks upon the enemy and turns the other cheek; he looks upon the hungry and gives food; he looks upon the proud and exposes them; he looks upon Peter's denial and accepts the deadly consequences; he rises from death to look again upon Peter and commission him.

We look upon "the face of Jesus" and we see "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God." We see and understand how God is gloriously manifest in this loving, forgiving, healing, suffering, rising life. This is the light that shines out of the darkness. This is the light that shines in our hearts.

Our hearts bear the light of Christ. His face turns toward us, gazing upon us with his profound countenance of love, and our hearts are kindled with light. We know ourselves to be loved, and our hearts are warmed. His light becomes our light, the light at the center of our being. From that stillpoint, we are whole, we are empowered, we are loved.

And so we are given the strength and identity to follow the way that he has led, the way of humble, hopeful service. Our identity shifts from defensive self-centeredness to willing openness. It is no longer about us, for we rest in the loving gaze of Jesus. We are empowered to become "slaves for Jesus' sake."

It is a counter-cultural calling in a competitive and proud world. We all grow up blinded by the cultural conditioning of fear and selfishness. We can understand that others won't readily accept this alternative lifestyle. The values of the Beatitudes are a very different set of values from what most people inherit.

But we don't lose heart. We can simply be -- open, honest, hopeful. We know that all that matters has been given to us as a gift from God. There is nothing we need to do except to accept our acceptance and live by the light of that love.

So we read St. Paul's words again in their original order:

Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus' sake. For it is the God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. 2 Corinthians 4:1-6

Tuesday, August 7, 2012 -- Week of Proper 13, Year Two
John Mason Neale, priest, 1866

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 78:1-39 (morning) 78:40-72 (evening)
Judges 7:1-18
Acts 3:1-11
John 1:19-28

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

One of the constant themes of scripture is that God acts through us, and when our actions are consistent with what God is doing, God does marvelous things through us.

I have a friend who likes to summarize Christian life and mission this way: "Go out into the world awake and alert to see what it is that God is up to, and then ask, how can I participate? How can I help in whatever it is that God is already doing?"

The story of Gideon is a delightful folk tale of a great victory of a small group who overcome great odds. With courage and trustful obedience to God, they do something that defies their littleness. That is a constant theme of scripture. God raises up the little, the lost and the least and makes them the instrument for God's amazing work.

In Acts, Peter and Paul enter the Temple at the 3:00 hour of prayer and encounter the lame man who begs for alms. They have no money for him, but they fix their attention upon him in the name and spirit of Jesus, and the man is healed. One who is dependent and paralyzed is given strength to walk.

And John who is baptizing in the wilderness, gives interpretation to his activity, defining himself modestly as one who is making straight the way of the greater one who is coming. John embraces his work within the greater scope of God's intention.

Today is a new day. What is God up to and how can I participate? Though I am small and little, if I am united with God's work, great things may happen. All it takes is a little courage and trustful obedience, and maybe a few friends with similar intent.

What needs will cross my path begging for my attention and for enough creativity that I might give more than just something superficial like money, but something more real, like a portion of the empowering spirit of Jesus?

How can I embrace my part in what God is doing? How can I prepare the way of the Lord? Each of us is called to prophecy and service, and that is a high calling. And, we are called to see that work modestly within the greater work of God.

The presumption is that God is doing great things and will use the little, the lost and the least to accomplish it.

How can we help?

Wednesday, August 8, 2012 -- -- Week of Proper 13, Year Two
Dominic, Priest and Friar, 1221

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 119:97-120 (morning) 81, 82 (evening)
Judges 7:19 - 8:12
Acts 3:12-26
John 1:29-42

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

"And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers." Acts 3:17

Peter has just responded to a crowd's questioning. How did you heal the lame beggar by the Beautiful Gate? By faith in the name of Jesus, he tells them. The same Jesus "whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate... You killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead." Peter's words are a strong accusation.

But, Peter makes accommodation for them. They didn't know any better. "And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers."

Recently Desmond Tutu was giving and interview in Hawaii. He was asked this question: "Looking back on Nelson Mandela's incredible life and your common struggle against apartheid, what would you say is the greatest lesson you learned about that painful time?"

Bishop Tutu began his answer with this: "First, I do not know what kind of person I might have turned out to be had I been subjected to the same conditions as the racists. So I have learned to say thankfully, 'There but for the grace of God go I.'"

We are all products of our environments. As I watch the Olympics I cheer for the USA simply because that is my home. I find myself passionately for or against these wonderful athletes only based on my own geography that has formed my loyalties. If I were from China, I would support the Chinese competitors.

I grew up a white person in the segregated South. We inherited traditions and customs that were our norms. When others, many of them outsiders, challenged our norms, most of my neighbors defended our traditions. We had been raised racists, but for the most part, we didn't understand that. The kind of change that we were being challenged with seemed radical and threatening to most. It made many white Southerners afraid. I knew those people. They were good people. They went to church and prayed to God. They raised families and were faithful to their jobs and to their community. Some had been raised by beloved black servants in their homes. They knew and loved individual black people. But they had been so convinced of the inferiority of black people as a whole, that they couldn't imagine a society where black people had equal power. Some believed that the racial order was part of the natural and divine structure of reality. Imagining a different order felt profoundly threatening.

Different people are pre-disposed toward change. Some change easily. Some do not. There were some Southern whites who were early adopters of the notion of equal rights. They found it resonated with their religious and their political values even if it was foreign to their experience. But equality was too big a change for most. The vast majority of Southern whites were deeply formed by their own culture and too threatened by such a fundamental change. A shift of privilege and power was asked, and it is hard to give up privilege and power.

How long do you make accommodation for a big cultural change? Peter tells his listeners, "And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance," but now it is time to repent and turn to God "so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord." I think Peter expected that once they knew better, people should change.

Some individuals can turn on a dime. Cultures change over time. There are now more black elected officials in Mississippi per capita than in any state in the union. Public facilities are entirely integrated. But there is also a network of white private academies. Churches are mostly either black or white. And racism is still prevalent. The animosity toward President Obama is palpable; it's not just politics.

At the General Convention one deputy whom I dearly love spoke of the proposal to endorse a rite of blessing for same-sex couples as "turning on a dime." Slow down, she begged. This is all so sudden. She told a story of a large barge that tried to turn too quickly and hit a local bridge. You are trying to turn a big barge too quickly, she said. Present in the audience were a few who had worked for decades before the church passed the first legislation acknowledging that "homosexual persons are children of God who have a full and equal claim with all other persons upon the love, acceptance and pastoral concern and care of the Church." That passed in 1976, over thirty years ago. It feels like a lifetime to many.

We live with these tensions of environments and paradigms. Peter offers us the example of being courageous witnesses to the new possibility while understanding the powerful influence of culture. But, whenever we are given an invitation to change in order to move toward greater healing, wholeness, compassion, and love, it is time to repent and turn to God "so that your sins may be wiped out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord."

Even at that, it was hard for Peter. He and Paul fought bitterly when Peter backed away from table fellowship with Gentile Christians. It's not easy. Instincts and early formation are powerful. As Bishop Tutu says, "I do not know what kind of person I might have turned out to be had I been subjected to the same conditions as the racists. So I have learned to say thankfully, 'There but for the grace of God go I.'"

A second characteristic of Hooker is a belief in authority mingled with a great distrust of infallibility. He is ready to believe, certainly, in what God has shown and done, but equally ready to shrink from claims for the infallibility of the language in which God’s revelation is at any time expressed. A sentence in Hooker expresses this: “Two things there are that trouble these latter times: one is that the Church of Rome cannot, another is that Geneva will not, err.” This remains an honest Anglican characteristic, and if we want to unravel it, I think we need to probe into religious language and the extent to which its use is inevitable in expressing divine relationship, although not in making a mathematical statement.

A sense of mystery and of the mysteriousness of divine truth is something Hooker felt very strongly indeed. Again and again we find him pausing and saying, “Do not ask me to define it, do not define it yourself, it really is truly mysterious.” And he combined that sense of mystery with a real certainty about what God has given through Christ and in the church. Here again, unraveling the implications of Hooker’s sense of mystery still leaves a lot of probing to be done.

Michael Ramsey, The Anglican Spirit (New York: Seabury Classics, 2004), p. 9.

This statement from one of the greatest Archbishops of Canterbury captures the spirit of Richard Hooker and of Anglicanism itself quite well. We dare not lose either the sense of humility and fallibility and consequent openness to divergent voices, nor the sense of “real certainty about what God has given through Christ and in the church.”

For my part, I am convinced that there is an entire spirituality bound up with Anglican views of Catholicity as comprehensiveness. It is not the simple minded, “lazy pluralism” of much postmoderninism and multiculturalism. Nor is it the facile accommodation with well-heeled “cultured despisers” that underlies the popular stereotype of Catholic-light. Rather, it is a “mere Christianity,” at once deeply conservative and deeply radical, because it gathers a community of “all sorts and conditions” around the life changing mystery of “what God has shown and done.”

It would be a profound mistake to insist that Anglican Christians have no certainty or grand narrative. To the contrary, we have the deeply unsettling story of the Babe in the manger and the Savior on the cross. Christianity’s deep enemy is not certainty per se, but the misplaced certainty of idolatry. Every statement about God involves mystery, because GOD is unfathomable mystery. And yet the Gospel is true—really true—and the mystery is really given to be touched, tasted, and handled. (See 1John 1:1-4)

The Rev. Bill Carroll serves as rector of Emmanuel Parish, Shawnee in the Diocese of Oklahoma. His new parish blog is Emmanuel Shawnee Blog

Friday, August 10, 2012 -- Week of Proper 13, Year Two
Laurence, Deacon, and Martyr at Rome, 258

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 88 (morning) 91, 92 (evening)
Judges 9:1-16, 19-21
Acts 4:13-31
John 2:1-12

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

One of the most ubiquitous forms of prayer in the Jewish tradition is the berakhah. (I've seen it spelled various ways.) It is a prayer of blessing. It is a prayer in a spirit of thanksgiving that expresses wonder at how blessed God is. Many of our Christian prayers, including our eucharisitic prayer, are based on the form of Jewish berakhah. Those prayers typically begin by blessing God and then praising God through thanksgiving. "Blessed are you, O Lord, sovereign of the universe, for you give us wine to gladden our hearts." That is a common berakhah blessing prayer over the wine.

In Jewish tradition, to bless something is to give thanks for it. To thank God for something is to acknowledge God as its source. The blessing is also a form of consecration. For anything that is blessed is consecrated. In the Eucharist, we bless bread and wine with the prayer we call the "Great Thanksgiving," and the bread and wine is consecrated. Something which is consecrated is made holy and set aside to be used for God's purposes. So to pray a blessing is to receive something with thanks to God -- which makes it holy. It is an abundant process.

In John's Gospel, Jesus' first miracle is to turn water into wine at a wedding feast where the wine has given out. It is a sign of his work. Through Jesus, the ordinary water becomes deep and sparkling wine that gladdens the heart. The party can continue. The celebration is blessed. The bridegroom who would have been publicly humiliated is rescued and the whole community is able to rejoice is social happiness. "Blessed are you, O Lord, sovereign of the universe, for you give us wine to gladden our hearts."

How can I take this day and bless it?

First, I can give thanks to God and acknowledge God as the source of the miracle of this day. The thin dark has become deep and sparkling light that gladdens the heart. By blessing God, thanking God for this moment and this day, the day is consecrated, made holy, set aside for God's purposes.

And what are God's purposes? It usually has something to do with abundant life. The party continues. The celebration is blessed. The broken is being healed and the whole community is enabled to rejoice together.

To bless anything is to make it holy. The characteristic stance of creature to the creator is to stand in thanskgiving. To bless life with thankfulness is to make it abundant -- to turn water into wine.

Commemoration of St. Clare of Assisi, nun
Readings:
Psalm 63:1-8
Song of Solomon 2:10-13
1 Peter 4:1-2
Luke 12:32-37

What you hold,

to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you.
-- St. Clare in her second letter to St. Agnes of Prague (1235)

Clare (1194-1253) was the daughter of a wealthy family. She was eighteen when one day she heard a local friar preaching in the marketplace and was moved to not only take his words to heart but to follow in his teaching of following Jesus in a life of poverty, prayer and service. Of course, her family did not approve and forcibly brought her home, but she escaped with a companion and fled to the preacher whose name was Francis. Together they founded a convent for an order of women following the rule of Francis. The order, called the Order of Poor Ladies and finally the Poor Clares, attracted young women from well-to-do homes despite the rigorous life required by the rule that Francis had established and Clare strengthened. They were strictly cloistered although they nursed the sick, wore homespun brown robes, went barefoot, ate no meat, slept on pallets of twigs, prayed for the world and practiced silence except for necessary speech. Of all the sisters of the order, none was more rigorous in her observances than Clare. She wrote to other abbesses as the order spread beyond Assisi and some of her letters to Agnes of Prague, a correspondence lasting over twenty years, are still in existence. In the last months of his life, Francis, now blind and ill, came to her convent at San Damiano and Clare cared for her long-time friend and mentor until his death. She herself died in 1253 and was canonized two years later. St. Clare is considered the patron saint of goldsmiths and those who work with gold, those with eye diseases, laundry workers, embroiderers, telephones, television, and television writers.

What would make a young woman give up a life of luxury to live in a manner every bit as dire as the poorest of the poor, as Mother Teresa called them? Most of us today would scramble to live a life where the food was good and plentiful, clothes were rich and fashionable, houses large and roomy (although without indoor plumbing like we know it) and parties, dinners and entertainment were frequent. It's hard to understand but then, many young women today give up everything to enter the religious life, work hard, pray often, sleep rough and own nothing (or next to it). Many try, not all succeed in following the vocation that they believe God set before them, but enough do that religious orders still exist, still follow the rules set down centuries and more ago, and still make a difference in the world. It's a call from God to do something special -- and anyone who answers a call from God whether to the religious life, ministry or even as a committed lay worker shares in that specialness.

Religious orders have rules for living and practicing their faith, rules that are binding on each individual within or seeking to become part of the community. Rules are often seen as restrictions on freedom, telling what may be done and what is not allowed. The more rules, the more restrictions. Yet rules sometimes offer freedom itself. When the boundaries are firmly understood and accepted, it can free up the mind and body to go about life, doing what needs to be done and serving where service is needed. We often chafe at restrictions on what we consider our freedoms, but if we think about it, without rules we would have anarchy -- and nobody really wants that (except anarchists, of course).

I seem to live in a world where people are concerned with themselves and their possessions/entitlements. It's a world of having to have the biggest, newest, fastest, most expensive or most fashionable. I have to stop and remember that also there are nuns who are in this world and yet removed from it. They don't acquire, they serve instead of demanding to be waited on, they spend their lives taking care of the people most others would either ignore or try to keep out of their neighborhoods, and they pray often for those who, for some reason or other, cannot or will not pray for themselves or others. The lives of nuns used to be not so different from how they lived in the world, but today, religious life is a very different thing. That there are still young (and some older) women who voluntarily choose to live a communal life and one that demands poverty, chastity, obedience and often un-Godly hours is, in my humble opinion, more than just a ministry or just a vocation. It's living Jesus' teachings and dedicating oneself to the work of the kingdom, whether enclosed behind monastery walls or living in a community outside.

Clare and her sisters in religion, regardless of the rule they follow or the order to which they pledge themselves, show me what it means to really be willing to empty oneself and be filled anew. They give me an example that the young man who could not sell all and follow Jesus couldn't do, and yet they do gladly and willingly. They show courage and strength, and many, like Clare, weren't and aren't afraid to stand up to authority when necessary. I have a feeling that if she were here today, Clare might not be on a bus but she might be encouraging her nuns to do what they believe is right and God's will for them as women, as religious, and as citizens of a broken world that needs more healing and not more fractures. Whether behind monastery walls, walking about a busy city or standing up for what they believe God wants them to do, there is something admirable and, yes, compelling about them. It isn't always easy to follow God because sometimes God leads in some pretty non-traditional and unworldly ways.

Sometimes I almost wish I had the call and the strength follow their path.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Psalm 66, 67 (Morning)
Psalm 19, 46 (Evening)
Judges 11:1-11, 29-40
2 Corinthians 11:21b-31
Mark 4:35-41

Judges 11:1-11, 11:29-40

The sacrifice of Jephthah's daughter is, frankly, one of the most awful and misongynistic stories in the Hebrew Bible, and it's very difficult for me to read it and hope for finding much of anything redeeming in it. Even Phyllis Trible's attempt at deepening this story in Texts of Terror doesn't do much for me. The part that particularly irritates me is that the girl was just dancing and singing like folks of that time normally did after a great victory (think of a cross between what happened after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea and escaped the Egyptians mixed with people chanting, "USA! USA!" after Olympic events) and she just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with regards to Jephthah's vow. If that's not enough, Jephthah speaks to his daughter like this is somehow HER fault. (What's with this "YOU have brought me very low; YOU have become the cause of great trouble," garbage, anyway? Let's all sing another verse of Blame the Victim.)

There are so many things in the Bible that my first thought is "What bright light bulb allowed THIS to be left in as Holy Scripture?" that I do not like at all. This story. The rape of Tamar. Paul's statements in the Epistles about women and the ones people now use to claim the "sin" in stable, loving homosexual relationships. Several things in Revelation...no, I take that back. Pretty much all of Revelation. I think I'd even let the three or four good verses in there go by the wayside to get rid of all the apocalyptic stuff.

But then I step back and think, "Well...maybe that's the point. Maybe it's there to remind me I don't have to like everything that happened in the Bible in order for it to be a transformational experience in my life or in my community of faith. Everything doesn't have to go my way to feel closer to God." In fact, maybe I'm not supposed to like it, in the same way I no longer have to like the seamier side of American history in order to appreciate being American. I probably should not like what happened at Wounded Knee, nor what happened under the Jim Crow laws of the South, nor what happened to Carrie Buck under the eugenics laws of the early 20th century in Buck vs. Bell.

It rings hollow, truthfully, when we try to justify everything that happened in Holy Scripture as actually being holy acts, or try to skirt around them by means of Christian apologetics. It's also just as hollow when we attempt work-arounds with the failings of Christianity. We don't have to like what the Jesuits did to the natives of the southwestern U.S., we don't have to like Martin Luther's anti-Semitism, and we don't have to like how the Episcopal Church "converted" Native Americans by making them feel sinful about their own cultures and traditions, only to, sometimes, abandon them after they did it, much as our church did to the Alaskan natives to some degree. Pretending that the institutional church's icky past is not icky, is...well...even more icky than if we would just fess up to it.

Perhaps our call is merely to sit silently with these things and feel them, and only then postulate what actions would help us to do better and then act accordingly. I think about a time I worshiped in St. Margaret's in London. There's a place where a German oil bomb damaged one of the walls in 1940. The folks at St. Margaret's didn't try to cover it up or rebuild it; instead they opted to make the repairs necessary to preserve the integrity of the building, and they worship there now, scars and all. Perhaps the challenge for us on many levels is to worship anyway, despite the scars, and to focus on the integrity of our "building," the body of Christ, in the present moment, allowing our corporate past sins to be what they are. Perhaps our task is not to attempt to justify their existence, but instead to embrace a new one.

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Monday, August 13, 2012 -- Week of Proper 14, Year Two
Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down, Connor, and Dromore, 1667

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 89:1-18 (morning) 89:19-52 (evening)
Judges 12:1-7
Acts 5:12-26
John 3:1-21

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Nicodemus is unusual. He is one of the leaders who comes to Jesus with interest and sympathy. Most people of position and respect have found fault with the ititerant Galilean. But Nicodemus approaches Jesus with the respectful title, "Teacher." "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God."

Jesus then takes Nicodemus to his edge. As a Pharisee, Nicodemus is an observant Jew, following the laws of Torah in a life of obedience and devotion. Since he is an acknowledged leader, he is probably a person of some accomplishment. In other words, he is managing his life with some degree of competence and dignity. But something must be lacking. He approaches Jesus with curiosity.

Jesus goes immediately to what must be Nicodemus' edge: You must be "born from above/born anew." Jesus will contrast the life of the flesh and the life of the spirit/wind. A new life from a new source. This is the next step for this good man. Nicodemus leaves this story appearing perplexed, but later we will see him standing up in the Sanhedrin, arguing for for due process for Jesus at his trial, and Nicodemus will help Joseph of Arimathea bury Jesus' body.

Nicodemus is a good patron for all of us who are basically good, conscientious, and competent people. Those of us who follow the rules and seem to do okay. We are respectful and respected people who have accomplished a degree of success. But when you have done what you are supposed to do and established a sound reputation and degree of prosperity, sometimes there is a nagging sense of incompletion, "Is that all there is?"

Jesus invites this good man into a new self-understanding -- a living relationship with a lively God. It is such a different way of being that it is like being born anew, born from above. It is unpredictable and light-hearted. It is more like sailing than motor boating.

In this new life, Jesus invites Nicodemus to attune himself to the subtle movement of the Spirit, as ephemeral as the wind. He is to let his intuition and wonder guide him into a mystery of divine adventure. When the wind of intuition moves a bit -- he is to stop like Moses before the bush and allow himself to move with the Spirit.

All of his life Nicodemus has followed the conventional way -- doing the correct and expected thing, setting goals and reaching them. Now he is to be open to new possibilities -- available to turn in a moment should his heart be touched, willing to move into the unknowing direction should his intuitive curiosity be aroused.

For those of us with controlled and predictable lives, this can be an unnerving and thrilling invitation. Can we give up control? Can we let go of our comfortable, conventional way of living by the rules? Can we be free and responsive to the movement of the Spirit?

It is an exciting but risky invitation. It may call for great change and struggle and sacrifice. But it is walking in the light and living in love. It is the invitation into the kingdom of God.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012 -- Week of Proper 14, Year Two
Jonathan Myrick Daniels, Seminarian and Martyr, 1965

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 97, 99, [100] (morning) 94, [95] (evening)
Judges 13:1-15
Acts 5:27-52
John 3:22-36

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

But Peter and the apostles answered (the high priest and council), "We must obey God rather than any human authority." (Acts 5:29)

Peter and the apostles are engaging in civil disobedience. They have already been jailed and "ordered not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus." (4:18) Some of them have already been placed in prison twice. It is obvious that from the law's perspective, what they are doing is illegal. Peter appeals to a higher judge and court, to more universal principles.

Today is the feast of Jonathan Myrick Daniels who followed the call to join a movement of civil disobedience on behalf of civil rights for black Americans in 1965. He was jailed in Selma, Alabama. A few moments after being released, he saw a man with a shotgun approach cursing sixteen-year old Ruby Sales, a black girl. Jonathan moved to shield her from the gunman and was killed by the gun's discharge.

Jonathan Myrick Daniels is one of forty-one persons remembered at the Civil Rights Memorial as being among those who lost their lives in the struggle for black civil rights. In our Episcopal Church calendar he is remembered on this day, the anniversary of his martyrdom.

We cannot count how many have been killed as witnesses to Christ since the days of Peter and Stephen. We remember many of them in our calendar and stories, but countless others live in the memory and presence of God.

The church has always honored and extolled those who were willing to risk prison, exile, impoverishment, violence and death for the sake of obeying God rather than human authority. We give thanks to those who are willing to stand up for justice.

A few months ago a group of young immigrants who are without legal papers in this country stood before a forum of over 700 people in our little town. They are all graduates of universities -- bright, gifted, and articulate -- and they are risking detention and deportation for the sake of helping us put human faces on the people some call "illegals." More recently a group of undocumented people very publicly rode a bus across much of the country in the tradition of the 1960's Freedom Riders to bear witness to the injustice of our immigration system.

Martin Luther King said, "Everyone has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws." "An injustice wherever it is, is a threat to justice everywhere." He quoted future Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, "A justice too long delayed is justice denied."

I'm proud of my parishioner Dave Williams who has a lawsuit demanding recognition of his same-sex marriage in California which is not legally recognized at home. I think of all of those who have been bullied, harassed, threatened, beaten and killed because of their sexual orientation or their gender identification.

I see another more subtle threat to justice these days -- a threat to economic justice. For the past thirty years the wealthy and powerful have manipulated the political and economic system to their advantage. They have created a massive concentration of wealth and power in the hands of fewer and fewer people. The greed and manipulation of the elite in the financial industries provoked the recent economic meltdown that has injured so many and threatened the foundations of government and economic stability. While cloaking themselves in the guise of freedom, the wealthy and elite have declared a silent war on the rest of us and upon the government, the only thing that can stand up to them on behalf of the poor. They are attacking the safety nets and programs of compassion and opportunity that offer a hand up to the unfortunate. Who will stand up to them?

At the heart of every struggle for justice is the call of love. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. We give thanks for those whose love is so great that they are willing to risk their own security and lives for the sake of justice for all. May we recognize and respect their struggle and continue their work in our generation.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012 -- Week of Proper 14, Year Two
Saint Mary the Virgin, Mother of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer)

EITHER, the readings for Wednesday of Proper 14, p. 979
Psalms 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30 (morning) 119:121-144 (evening)
Judges 13:15-24
Acts 6:1-15
John 4:1-26

OR, the readings for St. Mary the Virgin, p. 999
Morning Prayer:
Psalms 113, 115
1 Samuel 2:1-10
John 2:1-12
Evening Prayer:
Psalms 45 or 138, 149;
Jeremiah 31:1-14 or Zechariah 2:10-13
John 19:23-27 or Acts 1:6-14

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Dame Julian of Norwich (died c.1416) has a lovely revelation of the experience of God's love for all humanity revealed through Christ's particular love for Mary. Christ asks Julian, "Can you see in her how greatly you are loved?" In Mary, Julian can see the virtues that she can learn for herself.

Julian has three spiritual sights of Mary, the first "when she was big with child, the second sorrowing under the cross, and the third as she is now, delightful, glorious, and rejoicing." Since Mary serves as a symbol for the church and for all humanity under God's love, one might see these three visions as three states of the human situation and experience -- our blessed potential for bearing God's incarnation into the world; our sorrow and suffering; our joyful exaltation within the love and presence of God.

Here is a portion of Julian's delightful "Revelation":

With the same cheerful joy our good Lord looked down to his right and thereby brought to mind the place where our Lady was standing during his passion. "Do you want to see her?" he said, saying in effect, "I know quite well you want to see my blessed Mother, for, after myself, she is the greatest joy I can show you, and most like me and worthy of me. Of all my creation, she is the most desirable sight." And because of his great, wonderful, unique love for this sweet maiden, his blessed Mother our Lady Saint Mary, he showed her to be rejoicing greatly. This is the meaning of the sweet words. It was as if he were saying, "Do you want to see how I love her, so that you can rejoice with me in my love for her, and hers for me?"

Here -- to understand this word further -- our Lord God is speaking to all who are going to be saved, as it were to all humankind in the person of one individual. He is saying, "Can you see in her how greatly you are loved? For love of you made her so exalted, so noble, so worthy. This pleases me, and I want it to please you too." For after himself she is the most blessed of all sights.

But, for all that, I am not expected to want to see her physically present here on earth, but rather to see the virtues of her blessed soul, her truth, her wisdom, her charity, so that I can learn to know myself, and reverently fear my God.

When our good Lord had showed me this and said, "Do you want to see her?" I answered, "Yes, good Lord, thank you very much. Yes, good Lord, if it is your will." I prayed this often, and I thought I was going to see her in person. But I did not see her in this way. Jesus, in that word, gave me a spiritual sight of her. Just as I had seen her before, lowly and unaffected, so now he showed her, exalted, noble, glorious, and pleasing to him above all creation.

He wills it to be known that all who delight in him should delight in her too, with the same pleasure he has in her, and she in him. To help understand it better he gave this example. If you love one particular thing above everything else, you will try to make everyone else love and like what it is you love so greatly. When Jesus said, "Do you want to see her?" I thought is was the nicest word about her that he could possibly have said, together with the spiritual revelation that he gave me of her. Except in the case of our Lady, Saint Mary, our Lord showed me no one specially -- and her he showed three times. The first occasion was when she was big with child, the second sorrowing under the cross, and the third as she is now, delightful, glorious, and rejoicing."

(Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, 25; ET by Clifton Walters, London, 1966, pp. 101-2; quoted by Robert Atwell, Celebrating the Saints, Canterbury, 2010, p. 472)

When the girl [i.e., the blessed Virgin Mary] is greeted as “full of grace” by the angel, she is afraid. It casts a light on her own essential nature that she had never reflected on. “Poverty of spirit” (or, what is the same, humility) is not some verifiable virtue—capability, suitability, competence is something one can be conscious of—but the unconsidered awareness that everything that one is and has is God’s loan and gift and is only there to bring the giver into the spotlight.
~Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mary for Today (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1988), p. 69.

What would change if we took the example of Our Lady to heart? We would become transparent to God by putting ourselves at the Word’s disposal. Body and soul we would be given over to God, without thereby becoming conscious of any special virtue—infused or acquired—of our own. The saints, and Mary first among them, are not particularly self-conscious, certainly not self-absorbed. Rather they are filled with the “unconsidered awareness that everything that one is and has is God’s loan and gift.” Like her Son, in whom she has her very being, Mary exists from and for the Father.

The Rev. Bill Carroll serves as rector of Emmanuel Parish, Shawnee in the Diocese of Oklahoma. His new parish blog is Emmanuel Shawnee Blog

Friday, August 17, 2012 -- Week of Proper 14
Samuel Johnson, Timothy Cutler, and Thomas Bradbury Chandler, Priests, 1772, 1765, 1790

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 979)
Psalms 102 (morning) 107:1-32 (evening)
Judges 14:20 - 15:20
Acts 7:17-29
John 4:43-54

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Samson is the kind of hero's folk tale that thrives among an oppressed people. His story happens at a time when the Philistines are dominant over the tribes of Israel. The Philistines have consolidated their position in the prosperous coastal plain in an alliance of five strong cities. The Israelites live in the hill country, their tribes related in a loose confederacy. The Philistines are able to reach into the hills and express their power whenever they wish. No doubt, the more sophisticated coast people made sport of their rural circumcised neighbors.

Samson's exploits are the stories of an individual of great personal power and courage who wreaks havoc with an oppressor. When his riddle is betrayed, he raids one of the coastal town and kills forty men to seize their festal garments to pay his bet. He uses clever low-tech means to terrorize the powerful Palestinians -- tying torches to foxes' tails to burn their harvest and orchards; slaying a cohort of men with the jawbone of a donkey. Guerrilla warfare and terrorism.

We've also got the intrigue of counter-terrorism, as the Palestinians exploit his weakness for women to compromise him. This is great spy stuff and a compelling story. Stay tuned. The Delilah story starts tomorrow.

And Sunday's reading for Morning Prayer will bring the cycle to its end. Blind Samson will pull down the pillars of the house "full of men and women; all the lords of the Philistines" -- 3000 of them. Looking ahead at the story, my heart skipped just a bit when I read that number. A suicide attack on a great building in which 3000 were killed. That sounds too familiar.

In the end, nothing much changed. The Philistines still held sway over the Israelites, a condition that would continue for many years until the successes of Saul and David. But the oppressed Israelites had a story of a hero they could tell their children about.

I remember as a child being told the story of Samson. It was one of my favorites. I wanted to grow up to be strong like him, able to defeat God's enemies with my might and cunning. The stuff with girls just sounded perplexing. I wouldn't be so stupid as to tell some girl about the secret of my strength. I wouldn't make the mistakes Samson made -- then nothing could stop me.

It might seem like pretty innocent stuff. Like Superman and Batman. Unless you are a kid growing up in occupied Palestine in a Hezbollah school in Gaza for the children of the unemployed, demoralized masses there. This is the kind of story oppressed people tell to restore a bit of pride. It's the kind of story that inspires courage for resistance. It's the kind of story that plants seeds to grow freedom fighters. It's the kind of story that can create a new generation of heroes -- or terrorists -- depending upon with side of the power struggle you occupy. It's the kind of story that glorifies wanton damage and death. It's not one of my favorite stories anymore.

But then, I am a Philistine, one of the powerful.

What would I think of a story like this if I were a black Moslem in Darfur? ...a Kurdish child on the Turkish-Iraqi border? ...a student in a Taliban school in Pakistan? ...a Palestinian boy in Gaza?

How should we think about her today, this little Middle Eastern woman called Mary? Different times and cultures have interpreted her in different ways and she could easily be the Lady of a Thousand Faces. Let’s see why.

The first thing is to look in Scripture and, in particular, the Gospels. Not surprisingly, she doesn’t get much court-time: in Matthew, Mary doesn’t say anything and is kind of beige, neutral; in Mark, she’s like the cocky on the biscuit tin, an outsider; in Luke, she’s a woman of faith; in John, the only name she gets is “the mother of Jesus”, which says a lot, particularly if you’re a clergy spouse.

Certainly, there’s no consistency in the Good Book. However, we can say some things about her, this one who has intrigued and fascinated people for centuries.

Mary ( Miriamin Hebrew) was, start to finish, a Jewish woman. She had inherited her faith from her family line, one that stretched back to Abraham and Sarah. Her prayers were to YHWH, the God who set people free, the One who established covenant with his people.

Mary followed the Torah (Law) by reciting the prayers, keeping Sabbath and Festivals and lighting candles. She was a typical Jewish woman who also believed that the Messiah had come. This didn’t mean that she stopped attending synagogue; far from it, she continued that practice.

While Mary was one of the original Jewish Christians, she was never a Gentile. It does her no honour, therefore, to take to her Jewishness with a bottle of White King Bleach. Don’t think we haven’t done that, believe me. We have.

We’ve turned her Jewish complexion into that of a blond, blue-eyed Caucasian. Not content with disfigurement, we’ve also taken to her spiritual life and made her into a 20 th/21 stcentury version of a Christian woman, which she ain’t.

Mary lived in a rural village, Nazareth , whose population consisted largely of peasants and tradies. Married to a local chippie, her life consisted of taking care of her large household. Besides Joseph and Jesus, Scripture tells us there were four brothers: James, Joses, Judas and Simon and some unnamed sisters.

Her days were filled with the hard, unpaid work of women of all ages: the feeding, clothing and nurturing of a growing household. Like other village women of her day, she was, most likely, illiterate.

Times were tough in l’le old Nazareth . This village was part of an occupied state under the heel of imperial Rome . Revolution was in the air. The atmosphere was tense. Violence and poverty prevailed.

To our shame, it’s only in recent days that we’ve even noticed the similarities between Mary's life and the lives of many others. The Flight into Egypt and the death of her son Jesus by execution compares with those who, among other horrors, have had their children and grandchildren disappear or murdered by dictatorial regimes.

Whatever else Mary is, she is a sister of the marginalized women in every oppressive situation. It does her no honour, then, to take her out of her dangerous historical circumstance and transform her into an icon of a peaceful middle-class, western woman dressed in a blue robe.

Mary walked by faith, not by sight. She had a relationship with God that was profound. In her days, people's hope for the coming of the Messiah included the hope that he would liberate the poor from oppression. That was her hope, too.

Her “Here I am Lord” in Luke is a response to the call of God on her life to be God's partner in the work of redemption, a vocation that still eludes many of us today. As I say, she walked by faith, not by sight.

God stood beside this young woman who was pregnant outside of wedlock and in danger of her own life. God stood with her to fulfil the divine promise. Mary's faith-filled partnership with God in the work of liberation is sung out in the Magnificat(Lk 1:46-55). It's the longest set of words placed on the lips of any woman in the New Testament.

In this song, she sings of the future, when peaceful justice will take root in the land among all people. She’s a prototype of many others – Martin Luther King and so on – and, like his speech, her song is great too; a revolutionary song of salvation. Not only is Mary full of grace but she’s also full of political opinions, which is a Good Thing in anyone.

It does no honour to her to reduce her faith to a privatised level. What’s worse, though, is to reduce Mary’s faith to that of a doting mother/son thing. Before Jesus was born, Mary had her own deep relationship with God and it’s a relationship that isn't focused on Jesus.

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is someone whose life we ought to try to copy; she’s a friend of God. It’s good to find her and to let her dangerous memory inspire and encourage our own witness as a partner with her in that same hope.

(Note from Ian: Reflections this week is an edited version of a Sermon I’m planning to deliver at St Mary’s Atherton on Sunday. It’s their Festival Day. I’m indebted to Sr Elizabeth Johnson CSJ for her insights.)

The Rev. Ian McAlister is the Ministry Development Officer in the Diocese of Queensland and blogs at Reflections from the HIll

After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
 
Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ The sick man answered him, ‘Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Stand up, take your mat and walk.’ At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.
 
Now that day was a sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, ‘It is the sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat.’ But he answered them, ‘The man who made me well said to me, “Take up your mat and walk.” ’ They asked him, ‘Who is the man who said to you, “Take it up and walk”?’ Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.’ The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well. Therefore the Jews started persecuting Jesus, because he was doing such things on the sabbath. But Jesus answered them, ‘My Father is still working, and I also am working.’ For this reason the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because he was not only breaking the sabbath, but was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God. -- John 5:1-18 (NRSV)
 
Sometimes it doesn't take much to get some people upset. A wrong word, an unintentional act, a perceived slight can be all it takes to get someone (or a group of someones) uptight and ready to fight. Families have split over who seems to get more attention (or goodies) than the others, political parties have split over how far something can go before it no longer represents what members feel are their defining principles, even churches have become acrimonious and expelled people who don't seem to toe the line doctrinally or in line with the prevailing interpretation of the church. It seems Jesus was one of those pot-stirrers who people either seemed to love or hate. In this case, John seems to want us to believe that the Jews as a group began to persecute Jesus because not only did he break the rules (doing something on the sabbath that he wasn't supposed to do) but that he was claiming a relationship that was not possible or proper. And it all started with a pool of water, a disabled man with a mat and an act of charity.
 
Archaeologists have found what appears to be the site of Beth-zatha, called in other tongues and translations Belzatha, Bethsaida or Bethesda. There aren't five porticos in the excavation site, but never let a few porticoes get in the way of a discovery. Luckily, the imagination can provide what is scientifically missing, so therefore in my mind's eye, I see some pools of water sort of like swimming pools or spas, surrounded by porticoes and with edges wide enough to accommodate several rows of people as well as walkways to lead them down to the water. Periodically the waters would roil and bubble and people who were ill or disabled or injured would do their best to get into the water to get the benefit before the waters stilled. Was it an angel? A place where the air was vented from the pipes that heated the water? A geological vent that, like those in Yellowstone and other places, occasionally bubbled and steamed? It's above my pay grade to decide about that. All I can do is picture the waters moving and let the ambiguity do its own thing.
 
The picture that builds itself in my mind is of the water beginning to move, and people crowding down the steps or the edge to get in. I see lots of people, some who were able to step into the pool by themselves and others who needed a lot of help getting to the water. Of those people, only those who had servants, family or friends to help them get there are able to immerse themselves in what was a healing place. Then there's this guy, all alone, unable to move very fast or even very far, but who kept trying, year after year, to get to the water only to find others who were more able take the place in the water that he had hoped to have for himself. Still, he kept trying, kept getting pushed out of the way, kept getting more and more isolated and in danger of losing hope of ever being cured or healed of his infirmity. Then this man shows up, asking if he wanted to be made well. I'm sure the guy with the mat thought to himself, "And why else would I be here?" but he was polite and explained the situation to his questioner. I wonder what he thought when all of a sudden he hears, "Stand up, take up your mat and walk" and felt sensations in his limbs that he hadn't felt for thirty-eight years. He did what he was told and the story moves on.
 
I can't stop thinking about the scene at the pool, though. In my mind I see the guy with the mat struggling and people getting in his way as if he were invisible or some sort of bug to be ignored or stepped on by his betters. I think of the great pool of life that stretches out in front of all of us and look to see who gets in the pool and who is pushed aside. It isn't hard to imagine at all. I see people of all races and ethnicities whose way to the pool has been deliberately and sometimes maliciously blocked. I see women victimized by rape and slavery because of their gender, because they offended a male family member or because they were of the wrong village or clan. I see Native Americans and other indigenous people pushed off their lands and spiritual homes by conquerors who saw material benefit to be gained from that same land. I see children and the elderly punished for their inability to actively contribute to the family, their inability to fight on one side or another of a conflict, or caught in a gap that leaves them without the ability to secure good schooling, access to medical care, or security from abuse, neglect or external threat. I see GLBT folk who are encouraged to pay taxes and work to contribute to the economy but who are denied many of the benefits their heterosexual brothers and sisters enjoy simply by virtue of their heterosexuality. I see religious people, bishops like Oscar Romero and women like the American nuns, who were/are being silenced or threatened or even marginalized because they follow a reading of the gospel of Jesus that others claim to follow but whose actions belie their words. There are so many wanting to get to the waters and be healed and so many others equally determined not to allow them to get there, often stepping into the vacant places themselves, whether or not they need the healing. Again and again, my mind turns to those people and why it is so hard for so many to not see their plight and do something to help them get to the pool.
 
And then I wonder -- who have I stepped in front of on the way to the pool who might have needed the immersion more than I? Lord knows I'm no saint, much less Jesus, who can do great things (and sometimes the small things that often mean more than the big ones) but where could I have done more to clear a path or offer a shoulder for someone to lean on? I can think of dozens of incidents where totally unaware of what I was doing I did block someone else's path and the shame is a heavy burden. Knowing that I need healing too, and even if I think I can make it to the pool myself, I find I can't do it alone and need some help. Can I expect mercy when so often I have denied it to others by my silence or my actions?
 
In my mind's eye I see Jesus approaching, asking if I want to be made well and to pick up the mat and walk, just as he did to the guy at the pool. That's what God's grace does for a person. The thing is, I know that this is a changing moment and one which is not a figment of my imagination. It is as real to me as it was to the guy with the mat. Now I face the challenge as did he - do I have the courage to actually get up and walk? More important, what am I going to do to help others to get in the pool, take up their mats and realize that they are whole persons, beloved and welcomed as full and complete members of the family of God, worth being heard and valued for who they are.
 
The water is starting to bubble

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Psalm 118 (Morning)
Psalm 145 (Evening)
Judges 16:15-31
2 Corinthians 13:1-11
Mark 5:25-34

2 Cor. 13:1-11

Our Epistle today evokes remembrances of those times in our lives where we have been in the un-enviable position of knowing in our heart of hearts that we made a decision or chose a path of action that ultimately was the right thing, but all external evidence at the time we did it screamed that we had failed. It's a reading that is flanked by two other readings supportive to it--we are reminded in the story of Samson that all of us are vulnerable to other people in certain ways or to certain people, and our Gospel story today of the woman with hemorrhages calls to mind those feelings of uncleanliness over things to which we were powerless.

Also, on a personal note, as the mysterious powers of the Daily Office Lectionary often do, this particular scripture came up on a day that for me, is the anniversary of a day some years ago that began my own personal dark walk through a situation where, in retrospect, I had done the right thing but it sure didn't seem like it at the time. In fact, for a long time, the verdict would have been that I was the transgressor.

All of us have situations that show up in our lives where even those close to us think we're making a mistake, or popular opinion is that we are "the bad guy," or just where we happen to be carries preconceived notions. The communities of the early church, Corinth included, were probably looked upon with a lot of preconceived notions and there's no doubt rumors circulated about them that were less than flattering. In a way, it's no different than when people hear the word "Christian" and think that community believes things that may or may not be applicable ("doesn't believe in dinosaurs," "ignorant," "hates GLBT people," etc.) As individuals, words carry preconceived messages, too. In things like divorces, the firing of employees, child custody suits, arrests, and charges, people are going to believe what they choose to believe. The only truths that last in those stories are the truths that are borne out over time--and of course, the problem is we all have to live long enough for those to surface. It's why in all communities with a public face, the church included, that infighting and dissension become magnified in the public eye. Human nature is that people are quick to tear down anything that has been raised up for any reason.

Paul's exhortation to the people of the church of Corinth is to do things for a greater truth--the truth of the Good News in Christ. He asks them to do something that is a hallmark of Twelve Step Programs--to look to themselves first, and test themselves first as to their motives and actions--to always be open to self-questioning and the possibility that what, at the moment, feels like "failure" may not ultimately be failure, but instead, growth.

When you look back at the stories in your own life, where are the places that felt like "failure" but turned out instead to be growth spurts? Where are the places that felt like despair that turned out to be seeds of a bigger hope?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Monday, August 20, 2012 -- Week of Proper 15
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, 1153

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms 106:1-18 (morning) 106:19-28 (evening)
Judges 17:1-13
Acts 7:44 - 8:1a
John 5:19-29

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Today is the feast day of Bernard, who wrote some of the most passionate sermons and treatises -- some filled with his passionate love of God, some filled with passionate polemic against those whom he thought threatened the church or its faith. Though he has been criticized for his preaching which fueled the disastrous Second Crusade, he is appreciated for stopping a purge of Jews in the Rhineland, and many Jews from there named their sons for him.

Here is a lovely passage from Bernard's On the Love of God as collected by Robert Atwell in his delightful resource Celebrating the Saints, (Canterbury Press, 2010).

God deserves of us all our love, a love which knows no bounds. This is the first thing to understand. The reason is because God was the first to love. God, who is so great, loves us so much; he loves us freely, poor, pathetic, worthless creatures though we be. This is why I insist that our love for God should know no bounds. And since love given to God is given to the One who is infinite and without boundary, what measure or boundary could we make anyway?

God is indeed rich to all who call to him, for he can give them nothing better than to give them himself. He gave himself to be our righteousness, and he keeps himself to be our great reward. He offers himself as refreshment to our souls, and spends himself to set free those in prison. You are good, Lord, to the soul that seeks you. What, then, are you to the soul that find you? The marvel is, no one can seek you who has not already found you. You want us to find you so that we may seek you, but we can never anticipate your coming, for though we say 'Early shall be my prayer come before you,' a chilly, loveless thing that prayer would be, were it not warmed by your own breath and born of your own Spirit.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012 -- Week of Proper 15

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms [120], 121, 122, 123 (morning) 124, 125, 126, [127] (evening)
Judges 18:1-15
Acts 8:1-13
John 5:30-47

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life... But I know that you do not have the love of God in you. John 5:39-40, 42

Sincere and conscientious people search the Bible and come to conflicting opinions. We can acknowledge and respect that each has honestly come to their conclusions. We can accept that their interpretation makes sense to them and in some way works for them. But there does come a limit to what we can agree about. There are times when we must agree to disagree, and do so respectfully. We each must make our case and stand by our conscience, but not all Biblically based arguments are equal.

There were so many ways that sincere and conscientious people could look at Jesus and hear his words and they could object to him on Biblical grounds. He seemed to take familiar liberties with God, claiming an intimacy that by some strict interpretations sounded blasphemous. He did acts of compassion and healing on the Sabbath, a violation of one of the Ten Commandments by some judgments. He did not meet the conventional expectations of the Messiah, for he had no political or military impact to drive out the Roman occupation and restore Israel's glory. He did not observe many of the purity laws and consorted with sinners of various kinds -- tax collectors, prostitutes, outcasts, the stricken, demoniacs, a man living in the tombs, women outside his family, Samaritans and foreigners. There were many Biblical grounds for someone to reject Jesus.

How did those who responded to Jesus recognize the presence of God in him? What overcame the "Biblical objections" to his ministry?

I think there are two things. The first and primary is love. Jesus' ministry was characterized by love and compassion. In the passage from John today, Jesus remarks that those who "refuse to come to [him] to have life" are those who "do not have the love of God" in them. When Jesus summarizes the Law with the Great Commandment to love God, neighbor and self, he offers a lens for interpreting the commands of scripture. When those who had the love of God in them experienced the incarnation of that love, they recognized one who was performing God's will, even when those acts seemed contrary to conventional interpretations of scripture. Jesus said, "my judgment is just, because I seek not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me." (5:30b) Jesus reveals that God is love. Love trumps law and tradition.

Jesus was also fearless. He did not play to the fears that so many of his hearers carried, fears often based on scripture. He was not afraid to touch the unclean, to speak intimately with God, to do good on the Sabbath, to show hospitality toward the marginalized.

When we think about the Biblical interpretations that tend to divide us today, might not love and fear be lenses for us to make judgment. Where do we see love in the unexpected place or unexpected person? Where might the appeal to fear be groundless? After all, perfect love casts out fear. (1 John 4:18)

I wonder what it would be like if we took all of the contentious issues that separate believers and put them under one test: Fear not; Love.

August 22, 2012 -- Week of Proper 15

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms 119:145-176 (morning) 128, 129, 130 (evening)
Judges 18:16-31
Acts 8:14-25
John 6:1-15

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Power and money. These are the idols of our age. I've said for a while that the biggest threat to our nation is the pattern of concentration of power and wealth into fewer and fewer hands. It's has been happening under our radar for the past thirty years. Now unlimited anonymous super PACS can buy even more power and influence for those who already have it. How dare you imply that they pay more taxes or accept regulation for the common good? Meanwhile, income for the middle class and poor has been flat or declining for a decade. But if you whine, the rich and powerful will blame those who try to give voice to the needs of the vast majority. And I pay twice the percentage of taxes as a multi-millionaire presidential candidate. It's a system fixed to favor power and money.

Power and money. These are the idols that establish the house of Dan in our story from Judges. They found the unsuspecting city of Laish, "living securely, ...quiet and unsuspecting, lacking nothing on earth." (Judges 18:7) Along the way to war they came across the home of Micah and his household shrine attended by a Levite priest. The Danites stole the idol and vestments, they bribed the priest and set off. When Micah protested, they told him to shut up, "'or else hot-tempered fellows will attack you, and you will lose your life and the lives of your household.' Then the Danites went on their way. When Micah saw that they were too strong for him, he turned and went back to his home." (18:25-26) The Danites then proceeded to destroy the "quiet and unsuspecting city" of Laish, rebuilt it and named it Dan, and they set up the idol in the temple sanctuary of Dan.

A few years ago I heard the story of an Ozark craftsman who built an attractive birdhouse. It was picked up by a nearby major retailer. They asked for so many orders that he borrowed to expand his production and hired new workers. But after a couple of years the retailer had the product reverse-engineered in China, where they could supply it for much less, and the local craftsman was bankrupted, his workers left unemployed.

We have witnesses to another way. In the Acts of the Apostles we read how Peter and John and the other disciples gave themselves to service, healing and bringing coherence to those who were troubled. When "a certain man named Simon" saw their power, he was fascinated. He saw Peter and John lay hands upon people, "and they received the Holy Spirit." Simon offered the disciples money, trying to buy their power. The disciples rebuked him strongly. "May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain God's gift with money! You have no part or share in this, for your heart is not right before God." (8:20-21)

The gospel story offers a challenging and competing paradigm to the claims of power and money. We see Jesus preaching. There is a large crowd. They are hungry. The business assessors do their calculations. It's impossible. "Six months' wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little." (6:7) Philip notes that there is a boy present who has five barley loaves and two fish. It doesn't say whether Philip asked or the boy volunteered. But the boy generously gave them his food.

The little boy was the 1% in that crowd. He had the food. He could have kept what was his. It belonged to him. He might have decided it wasn't in his self-interest to share or to give it away. But that depends on how you define self-interest, doesn't it? The boy offers what he has for the common good.

Jesus has the people sit down. He give thanks. In that atmosphere of Jesus -- always an atmosphere of love and compassion -- generosity combined with thanksgiving makes all the difference. All are fed. All are satisfied. And there is abundance left over.

Two competing ways of being in the world:
Power and money.
Love and compassion expressed in thanksgiving and generosity.

How different might our nation be if we embraced the values of Jesus?

Jesu that dost in Mary dwell
Be in thy servants’ hearts as well,
In the spirit of thy holiness,
In the fullness of thy force and stress,
In the very ways that thy life goes
And virtues that thy pattern shows,
In sharing of thy mysteries;
And every power in us that is
Against that power put under feet
In the Holy Ghost the Paraclete

To the glory of the Father. Amen.

This poem captures, in a powerful way, the sense that Mary is a model for the Christian indwelt with Jesus and the Holy Spirit. It is a prayer that the same Son and the same Spirit that were in our Lady might also be found in us.

The Spirit is the spirit of Christ’s holiness that will bring us into full conformity with Christ. He also subdues every hostile power.

And all “to the glory of [God] the Father.”

Friday, August 24, 2012 -- Week of Proper 15
Saint Bartholomew the Apostle

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer)
EITHER the readings for Friday of Proper 15, p. 981
Psalms 140, 142 (morning) 141, 143:1-11(12) (evening)
Job 2:1-13
Acts 9:1-9
John 6:27-40

OR, the readings for St. Bartholomew, p. 999
Morning Prayer: Psalm 86; Genesis 28:10-17; John 1:43-51
Evening Prayer: Psalms 15, 67; Isaiah 66:1-2, 18-23, 1 Peter 5:1-11

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

I used the readings for Friday of Proper 15

I have a friend who likes to talk about the transforming effect of what he calls "the visitation of the dark angels." He talks about movements in life, when something apparently catastrophic or overwhelming happens. So often that challenging event becomes the cauldron out of which something wonderful emerges. Death and resurrection; light out of the darkness; brokenness and healing; lost and found.

We are entering into one of our tradition's most expansive considerations of this dark mystery, the story of Job. Job explores the problem of human suffering and the question of God's justice in the face of great tragedy. As the story opens, horrible catastrophe falls upon Job as a result of a wager in the heavenly court about his integrity. His goodness is what brings him calamity.

We will witness the anemic responses of those who attempt to defend the conventional view of God's justice -- that God rewards the good and punishes the wicked. We will descend into the belly of suffering, anguish and alienation with Job. Eventually, whether it is satisfying to us or not, we will hear Job's witness of a mystical encounter with God that dissolves him into silence. Is it a full or an empty silence? Readers have argued for centuries.

Today we hear Luke's version of Saul dramatic encounter with God. Saul has participated in the stoning of Stephen. He is vigorously persecuting the followers of Jesus. He is defending his traditional faith. He is cleansing and purifying his people. But something has cracked inside him. Maybe it was the purity and faith of Stephen as he spoke of a heavenly vision while being killed. Maybe it is the conviction with which these people hold to their faith in Jesus. Maybe it is his own dissatisfaction with his self-absorbed project to be the perfect person.

Saul is stopped in his tracks. He is blinded by the light. The actor become the acted upon. Passively he is led by the hand and told what to do in his blindness. He is entering into a new life. Saul, the enemy of the Way will become Paul, the greatest evangelist of the early church.

Jesus says in John's gospel that it is God's will that he should lose nothing of all that he has given him. And that God has given all into the Son's hands. Jesus gives the gift of eternal life rather than judgment, the bread which gives life to the world.

God will go to extraordinary lengths to bring us to ourselves and to give us this eternal life. God is darkly, mysteriously present, especially in the catastrophic and tragic. Christians point to Jesus on the cross as the fulcrum of God's Being, absorbing all of our evil and suffering. God turns death into resurrection.

Job will curse and wish he were dead. Saul will walk blindly into an unknown future. Jesus will feed others with the bread from heaven until he is sacrificed and becomes the bread from heaven. Out of the cauldron emerges something wonderful. Death and resurrection; light out of the darkness; the broken healed; the lost found.

Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, ‘Ananias.’ He answered, ‘Here I am, Lord.’ The Lord said to him, ‘Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.’ But Ananias answered, ‘Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.’ But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’ So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, ‘Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.’ And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, -- Acts 9:10-19a (NRSV)

One of the most prevalent responses in the Bible seems to be "Here I am" or "Here am I." Seems like somebody's always saying it, especially when it's God calling someone and they respond verbally. It's a pretty good answer, even if it quite often it sets a person off on a very difficult journey with a lot of hard work and possibly some real opposition to overcome.

Ananias was no different. God called and Ananias, good disciple that he was, gave the proper answer, "Here I am, Lord." Now it seems funny for someone to say that to God, because, after all, God always knows where a person is. At least it gives the person the option of ignoring it or hanging out the "Out to Lunch" sign on the door. Still, most of the folks in the Bible seem to be curious about what God wants, so they do the Biblical equivalent of picking up the ringing cell phone and saying "Hello?" When Ananias heard what it was God wanted, though, he might have wanted to turn tail, run far and fast in the opposite direction and hope God would forget the whole thing. God's instruction? Go find the guy who's responsible for the greatest persecution of the followers of Jesus in all of Israel and do what? Deliberately seek out Saul of Tarsus and calmly introduce himself as Ananias, a follower of Jesus sent by God to resolve a problem Paul had been contending with for three or four days? How nutty is that? It's like sending a lamb into the den of a lion, but God wasn't kidding, and when God isn't kidding, there's only one thing to do. Ananias put on his Birkenstocks, wrapped himself in his cloak and set out, hoping he would return in one piece at the end of the encounter.

There are times when a person has to do what they don't want to do, or perhaps something they are afraid to do. It takes a lot of courage sometimes and often more than a little faith to step out and challenge oneself, even if it seems God is doing the calling forth. In Ananias' case, it was asking him to trust that (a) Saul was not laying a trap, (b) Saul really needed assistance or (c) that God really wasn't playing a joke on him. Evidently, Ananias weighed the options and figured trusting God was enough, so off he went to the street called Straight and got on with what he had been sent to do. I wonder -- what were his thoughts when he first came into the room where Saul was? Did he have a moment to pause and look at the enemy, sitting or lying there blind and defenseless, before Saul knew of his presence? Or did he just walk in, lay hands on Saul, pray and then beat feet out the door? Saul was healed and then baptized, so did Ananias do that as well? The answers have to be left to the imagination, but it certainly makes for an interesting series of thoughts.

I wonder what I would do if I were in Ananias's shoes (or Birks). What if I felt God told me to go to someone I saw as an enemy and to do something for them? What if it were to go to someone I feared or hated? If I saw them, weak and hurting in front of me, would I forget the fear and hate and see their humanity and their need, or only their weakness and helplessness and gloat just a bit? I have to admit, Ananias is probably a bigger person than I might be, much as I'd like to think I could do as he did.

When it comes to the "Here I am, Lord" thing, I have to ponder the power of those four words. They have the power to totally transform things, to shove aside the familiar and drop me into a whirlpool of unfamiliarity and real (or perceived) risk and danger. They have the power to force me to make a decision as to which path to follow and the potential consequences of each one. They have the power to totally reverse my direction and my thinking. Most of all, though, they have the power to open new possibilities and opportunities. They have the power to make me something more than I can be if left to my own devices, to be a help to a person, a group or maybe a world and not just a timid creature hiding in the safety of my own house or mind. "Here I am, Lord," can take me into the lions' den, like Ananias felt he was walking into, and make those lions into peaceful, purring house cats. Now house cats I can live with, provided I have enough nerve to walk into the arena in the first place.

So now my job is to listen for that cell phone or knock on the door -- and decide how I will answer.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Psalm 146, 147 (Morning)
Psalm 111, 112, 113 (Evening)
Job 4:1-6, 12-21
Revelation 4:1-11
Mark 6:1-6a

Job 4:1-6, 12-21 (NRSV): Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered: “If one ventures a word with you, will you be offended? But who can keep from speaking? See, you have instructed many; you have strengthened the weak hands. Your words have supported those who were stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble knees. But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?

“Now a word came stealing to me, my ear received the whisper of it. Amid thoughts from visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on mortals, dread came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones shake. A spirit glided past my face; the hair of my flesh bristled. It stood still, but I could not discern its appearance. A form was before my eyes; there was silence, then I heard a voice: ‘Can mortals be righteous before God? Can human beings be pure before their Maker? Even in his servants he puts no trust, and his angels he charges with error; how much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed like a moth. Between morning and evening they are destroyed; they perish forever without any regarding it. Their tent-cord is plucked up within them, and they die devoid of wisdom.’

Job's friend Eliphaz means well. In our reading today (and in the subsequent paragraphs of this passage) Eliphaz, relating his dream, reminds Job of something that's an important reminder to all of us--that we're a pretty small speck in the universe, and it's not about "us" but about God--but then Eliphaz messes up his own soliloquy at the end. He finishes off with that "Are you SURE you haven't done something wrong? You HAD to do something wrong to have God THIS mad at you," bit.

Eliphaz reminds me a lot of those people, who, when I've been in the middle of a major life stressor, say things that they think are "kind"--(or even "Christian")--and by my way of thinking, they're so theologically far off the mark that I want to just take a stick and clobber the person--but they're my friends, so I don't. (Well, and also because it would be assault and the State Board of Healing Arts would have issues with that.)

"God doesn't give us anything we can't handle." (Baloney. God is not a personal spiritual fitness trainer, forcing me to do spiritual ab crunches "for my own good," and with a "no pain, no gain," mentality.)

"God needed an angel so that's why so-and-so had to die." (Oh, give me a break. God has plenty of angels. And if I die prematurely, and I find out that was the reason, God and I are gonna have some words, for sure, pulling me out of the middle of all the good stuff I was working on, and away from all the love in my life. That sounds kinda imperiously needy to me.)

"Everything happens for a reason." (Well, maybe, but I don't think the reason is, "Because God is a manipulator and a micromanager.")

But you get the drift.

The fact is, we have no right to project God on any other person. We have enough to do in sifting out God's call in our own lives. As painful as it is for Job's friends, Job needs to be in his place of misery to get where he is going in his relationship with God.

I have read the book of Job many times in the deepest darkest hours of my own lament, and trust me, I can become very Job-like, figuratively throwing ashes on my head and not eating or sleeping well and generally looking pitiful. But like Job, there's a place where God finally watches all this dramatic misery and finds a way to say in a roundabout way, "Oh, for crying out loud, Maria, you act as if I'm not in charge around here. Get over yourself." But other people telling me to get over myself never works.

The more I read the book of Job, the more strongly I wish his friends would have just sat with him in his misery and just been with him, with few words. Maybe just pray alongside of him or offer sacrifices for healing of his tragic troubles.

This is a place where, when we fast forward, any of us might begin to see where "just being who we are in our parish community and at worship" is critically important. It's where services such as healing services, comfort services, recovery services, and "blue Christmas" services can be deep wells of ministry. It's where things like blessings and anointings become important parts of that healing. Who can each of us be in those places as steadfast people of love and quiet faith? I know when I look back at the hardest times of my life, the people who just hung out with me and checked in with me "for no reason" were the people I came to love more deeply in a new way, and it often made room for me to be the same way for someone new, who was going through a rough patch.

Where is each of us called to simply sit and be, in the course of another person's pain? Where's the empty spot in the life of the church where we can fill a vital ministry of presence for others?

Monday, August 27, 2012 -- Week of Proper 16
Thomas Gallaudet with Henry Winter Syle, 1902, 1890

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms 1, 2, 3 (morning) 4, 7 (evening)
Job 4:1; 5:1-11, 17-21, 26-27
Acts 9:19b-31
John 6:60-71

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

It seems so important when reading Job to remember how it comes out in the end. As I listened to the words of Eliphaz today, I had to remind myself of the final verdict at the end of the book -- God rejected the argument of Eliphaz.

But so many of the verses sound so similar to passages in the Psalms or in Proverbs. Some of the pithy nuggets of Job's friends are quoted as examples of Biblical wisdom. I can hear it in the back of my mind -- someone preaching, "The Bible says, 'Human beings are born to trouble just as sparks fly upward.'" Amen brother. But wait. Eliphaz said that, and he was one of the losers in the debate. God said his argument was essentially false. It may not be a great idea to say, "the Bible says..." and quote Eliphaz.

Yet, Eliphaz sounds so much like the Psalms we have today for our morning office. Psalm 1 insists that the righteous are happy, "like trees planted by streams of water, ...everything they do shall prosper... It is not so with the wicked; they are like chaff which the wind blows away." Job's fortunes have been blown away like chaff. His misery must be a sign of his sin, Eliphaz reasons, "therefore do not despise the discipline of the Almighty."

Eliphaz advises Job, "As for me, I would seek God, and to God I would commit my cause." So does the Psalmist, who in the face of many adversaries declares, "I call aloud to you, O God, and you answer me from your holy hill.... Surely, you will strike all my enemies across the face." (Ps. 3) Eliphaz offers similar confidence to Job. "You shall come to your grave in ripe old age, as a shock of grain comes up to the threshing floor in its season. See, we have searched this out; it is true. Hear, and know it for yourself." Eliphaz sounds a lot like Psalm 2. "Let me announce the decree of God, who has said to me, 'You are my Son; this day have I begotten you. Ask of me, and I will give you the nations for your inheritance and the ends of the earth for you possession. You shall crush them with an iron rod and shatter them like a piece of pottery.'"

Eliphaz declares with confidence a conventional wisdom grounded in the theology of the Scriptures, especially the Psalms, Proverbs, and in the theology of the Deuteronomic history. Yet his words feel like an attack to poor Job. They seem shallow and unsatisfactory, not wise and comforting. Eliphaz throws the Book at Job and only adds to Job's suffering.

In the end, God will declare Job's fierce honesty in the darkness to be more faithful, true and authentic than his friends' mastery of the Book.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012 -- Week of Proper 16
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, and Theologian, 430
Moses the Black, Desert Father and Martyr, c. 405

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalm 5,6 (morning) // 10, 11 (evening)
Job 6:1-4, 8-15, 21
Acts 9:32-43
John 6:60-71

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

From years ago I remember reading something that haunted me. It was a book of fiction, some thriller or murder mystery; I forget the name of the book. The villain was someone who liked to torture people. I was about to repeat the part of the book that so troubled me, but as I was writing it, I decided that it is not something I want to spread. I don't want someone else having to live with a similar image in their memory, even if it is fiction. Suffice it to say, there are situations where one can only wish to die and beg for its relief to come soon. I've been with people at those times. I've begged God for their release.

Job gives word to that terrible anguish: "O that I might have my request, and that God would grant my desire; that it would please God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off! ...What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is my end, that I should be patient?" (6:8-9, 11)

After many years of being with people during their final passage to death, I've formed a rather simple, literal belief that God works with particular meaning and efficiency around the timing of death. So often I've seen things happen in the waiting and process of death, usually things that are only recognizable later in retrospect. God seems to use that liminal time to heal relationships and individuals.

Yet as I write this, I also recall other sufferings unto death that I have experienced as mere tragedy. I could no blessing or healing, only extended misery. In those situations, Job's accusation toward his friends hits home to me. He tells them, "You see my calamity, and are afraid." (6:21b) I fear such circumstances for anyone and for myself.

I can pray that we offer our suffering to God as Jesus did on his cross, trusting God to accomplish something when we are helpless. I can pray that God will give meaning to our suffering as he gave meaning to Jesus' cross. I can pray that, in some mysterious way, God will use our human pain as God used Jesus' suffering, for the healing of the world. I can recognize that we may never know how God might use our suffering. I know we may experience the kind of utter abandonment and hopelessness that yields such plaintive words as, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34) Remembering such human possibilities puts passion into the petition from the Lord's Prayer, "Save us from the time of trial." Yet, I can imagine God's presence and work in the darkness.

We are still at the beginning of Job. He has yet so much to endure. It makes me wonder for myself and for those whom I love, what shall we have to endure? How shall we manage?

Wednesday, August 29, 2012 -- Week of Proper 16
John Bunyan, Writer, 1688

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms 119:1-24 (morning) // 12, 13, 14 (evening)
Job 6:1; 7:1-21
Acts 10:1-16
John 7:1-13

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

"God, leave me alone!" is Job's cry. He is haunted and suffering. Bad dreams and long sleepless nights of tossing. Illness that will not improve. His only way out is death.

He parodies Psalm 8, "What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" That psalm thanks God for glorifying human beings beyond our deserving. Job turns the psalm on its ear, asking God, why do you pay so much attention to us to make us so miserable? Just look the other way and leave us alone, he tells God. He'll be dead and gone soon, "as the cloud fades and vanishes, so those who go down to Sheol do not come up; they return no more to their houses, nor do their places know them any more. ...I shall lie in the earth; you will seek me, but I shall not be." Death will be his relief from suffering and also his escape from God's hand.

One of the messages of the story of Job is that God accepts such frank lament and complaint. Job is an example of honesty. He can tell God what he really thinks without covering it with pieties or respectful "prayerful" language. This is the real language of prayer from the heart. Job blasts God with his anger and hurt. He shows us how to speak forthrightly to God. We can tell God anything.

In fact, when we are angry or hurt, it is helpful to direct our fury toward God. God is big enough to take it. If we project our anger and hurt on another human being, we are likely to hurt or confuse that person. If we project our anger and hurt inwardly, we are likely to become depressed. The healthiest and safest way to express our deepest and most conflictive emotions is to direct them to God in fierce honesty.

Sometimes we hear nothing in response.

Sometimes we sense that though we hear nothing, God is still there. God does not depart just because we have challenged God.

Occasionally we sense a response. Jeremiah railed at God, calling God a "deceitful brook," and God's response was to scold him for speaking foolishly, and then to give him more authority and work to do. In the book of Job, we hear Job's complaints, and we will wait a long time for God's response. Eventually, Job will experience God face to face, and Job will be changed.

Only God is big enough to take our most extreme emotions. It is right to communicate them to God honestly.
____________________

A note about our reading from Acts. We are beginning a story narrating an important turning point in the history of the early Church. By a revelation in a dream, Peter will have his traditional, Biblical understanding of "clean" and "profane" challenged. Then he be sent to the home of the Roman army officer Cornelius. Peter will witness the presence of God in this household of unclean, Gentile pagans, and Peter will see the gifts of the Holy Spirit manifest in them. He will then do something remarkable and very controversial. Peter will baptize them into the fellowship of the community.

Peter's act will cause a huge church conflict. Why would he do such a unilateral thing, contrary to the Scripture and tradition that they have inherited? Peter will have to face the other apostles and explain his behavior. Peter will explain his vision and his observation of the gifts of the Spirit among these outsiders. "If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?" (11:17) The apostles will be silenced and will thank God for the manifestation of the Spirit among the Gentiles.

But this is a fight that will go on for a long time.

Paul will pick up the banner of inclusion and liberation, baptizing Gentiles into his congregations without circumcision. Repeatedly he will be attacked by fellow Christians, and he will have to defend his actions over and over. But the new, revisionist way will prevail. Once again, God shows the presence of grace where it wasn't expected, the manifestation of the gifts of the Spirit among those believed to be unclean sinners.

It is a story to give heart to the Episcopal Church and other bodies who have seen the gifts of the Spirit among our GLBT brothers and sisters. We've seen the same gifts among them that we have received. We can no longer regard them as unclean or profane. But it will take a long time for all of our fellow Christians to be convinced.

Religious fundamentalists who insist that politics must be theocratic or Theodosian—equating a particular political order with God’s will or design—often find democracy the work of the devil. Perhaps, in response to these charges, a concrete example of the delicate balancing act that I endorse is necessary. I rely on reports of John Paul II’s visit to the Baltic States in September 1993 for this story. The situation in Lithuania was particularly delicate for John Paul because “Polish nationalists for their part have tried to exploit the alleged mistreatment of the 300,000 strong Polish minority in Lithuania.” Thus, being not only pope but also a Pole associated with Polish aspirations to self-determination, John Paul “had to be very careful not to offend Lithuanian sensibilities.”

Much of current Lithuania, remember, was once part of Poland. The Lithuanian capital, Vilnius, is Poland’s “Wilno,” dear to the hearts of Poles everywhere, in part because it is the home of Adam Mickiewicz, the greatest Polish poet. But John Paul, while acknowledging the love Poles have for that particular place, used the Lithuanian name Vilnius throughout his pastoral visit, including the one time he spoke Polish—when he delivered [sic] mass in the Polish-language church in that city. For the rest of his visit, “the Pope spoke…Lithuanian which he had learned for the occasion” and this “made a tremendously positive impression on the Lithuanians.” The Poles “were not so pleased, but coming from the Pope they had to accept it. The Pope exhorted the Poles to identify fully with Lithuania, and not to dwell on the past—by which he meant not to endlessly recall the time when Vilnius was part of Poland.
~Jean Bethke Elshtain, Democracy on Trial (New York: Basic Books, 1995), pp. 111-112.

I share this story about Pope John Paul II, as told by Jean Bethke Elshtain, because we are in a political season, and various candidates and parties will vie for our allegiance, and because we are called as Christian people to be engaged with the needs and concerns of our society. John Paul’s example of diplomacy and symbolic bringing together of different sides with their tensions and contrary historical narratives might be of use to us as we think about our own engagement in deeply divided America. How might the Church promote civility and reasoned discourse in the winner-take-all struggle that our system seems to promote. How might we seek the common good by gracious accommodation without sacrificing the personal stake that each one of us has in the outcome?

The Rev. Bill Carroll serves as rector of Emmanuel Parish, Shawnee in the Diocese of Oklahoma. His new parish blog is Emmanuel Shawnee Blog

Friday, August 31, 2012 -- Week of Proper 16
Aidan and Cuthbert, Bishops of Lindisfarne, 651, 684

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 981)
Psalms 16, 17 (morning) // 22 (evening)
Job 9:1-15, 32-35
Acts 10:34-48
John 7:37-52

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

We're in political year. One of the tactics we will see is the strategy of fear. Opponents will focus on whatever fear they can manipulate in the public mind and try to make that fear the lens through which we see the other candidate. They know that voters tend to "vote against" more than to "vote for." We've seen for many years the proliferation of attack ads.

Since attack ads often use half-truths, exaggerations and inaccuracies, many of us turn to web sites like factcheck.org, a nonpartisan, nonprofit service that seeks to reduce deception and confusion by monitoring the factual accuracy of political speech.

In John 7, Jesus is beginning to create some political "buzz" at the Jerusalem Festival of Booths. During the dramatic last day of the festival, the traditional reading for that day tells the story of God's giving Israel water from the rock during the sojourn in the wilderness. What an image of hope for a dry and thirsty people.

Jesus takes that image of hope and invites the thirsty to come to him and to receive the life-giving Spirit which will burst from within them like a hidden spring in their souls. The image hits a responsive chord. People speculate: Is he a prophet? Is he the Messiah?

Time for the attack ad. Distract them from his message. Distract them from their hope. Focus on something tangential and make it central. "He's from Galilee. Look in your Bibles. It doesn't say the Messiah comes from Galilee. He's a fraud."

But his message and his way of speaking has a power. They don't arrest him. The authorities are furious. And, you sense that they are a bit afraid of the crowd. They are used to manipulating the crowd with fear and intimidation. They wouldn't want someone outside their control to cause the crowd to gain its own voice. "This crowd, which does not know the law," say the authorities, "they are accursed." It is an ironic statement. It is the authorities who do not know the embodiment of the law in Jesus who is love personified, who has summarized the law to be love of God, neighbor and self.

It is Nicodemus, one of the authorities, who appeals to factcheck.org. "Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?"

He gets a rude reply. The authorities stick to their talking points. "Surely you are not also from Galilee, are you? Search and you will see that no prophet is to arise from Galilee." They smear Jesus again with the Galilee button.

There is a tinge of racism in that smear. Galilee is an outsider province. It is a portion of Israel that is influenced by trade and interchange with foreigners. Jerusalem is suspicious of Galileans. During the narrative about Jesus' arrest, Peter is threatened when someone recognizes his Galilean accent. "Certainly you are also one of them, for your accent betrays you." The threat provides Peter with his third temptation to betray Jesus before the cock crows. Fear is all around.

Fear is a terrible motivator. Maybe that is why the phrase "fear not / do not be afraid / be not afraid" occurs 365 times in the scripture, I'm told. One for every day of the week.

Jesus sought to motivate with a loving compassion that inspired hope grounded in a trust of God. Out of his trust in God he brought healing, reconciliation, and a community committed to the "well-being of the least of these." His appeal was to our highest nature: Perfect love, which casts out fear.

The battle between fear and love is both an external and an internal struggle.

I'm reminded of the old Cherokee tale. A Cherokee elder is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil -- he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good -- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you -- and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."