On Eternal Life

The sermon text this morning was from Mark 10, where the rich young ruler approaches Jesus.

The question he asks, What must I do to inherit eternal life?, is a strange question on a few levels.

First of all, as David noted this morning, there is something of a paradox, a bit of irony, here.  An inheritance is not something earned, but something given.  And, usually, an inheritance is a given according to the family bloodline.  So, how do you earn an inheritance?  Well, you "earn" an inheritance by the simple fact that you are born into a family.

But, as the text was read, I noticed something I had apparently always overlooked: what the man wants to inherit is eternal life.  What does it mean to inherit eternal life?  Is that something that can be passed down to the next of kin?  Well, I don't know anything about eternal life, but I don't think my parents can pass it along to me with they die.

At any rate, David both appreciated the question asked and noted that it wasn't really a question that people today ask all that often.

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And, bear with me, but the whole deal about eternal life always gets under my skin a bit anyway.  There are a great many folks who would be mighty disappointed if they died and found out there is no eternal life, no heaven.  It's something our churches have stressed so much that people expect it, demand it even.  Their entire life revolves around the idea that there is another life beyond this one, often to the detriment of this world.

Well, I would not deny that idea, but I also don't usually put much thought into it.  I would not be disappointed if there is no afterlife, because eternal life is, for me, a blessed hope, not an expectation.  It is something about which to rejoice, but not to demand.

When we start thinking about eternal life, it is hard not to start concentrating on it.  And it is hard not to try to earn it, to think of it as a reward, to think we deserve it (or to think someone else doesn't!).  On the other hand, if we can't earn it, then it's hard not to use it as an excuse or a crutch.  Either way, it's hard not to use the idea as a trump card, the ultimate trump card, that we can pull out to remind ourselves (and others!) that we will be the Winners in the end.

In short, the whole idea starts to muddy our motives and questions the sincerity of our actions.  And that's why I ("I, not the Lord," to quote Paul) think it best to leave eternal life to the realm of hope and get on with living and loving, here and now.

Is that wrong?

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In other words, I think there is a good reason people today don't ask the question the rich young ruler asks.

People today are sick and tired of all this talk about heaven (and hell)...and for good reason.  They've been told their whole lives that they need to do this (and not that), believe that (and not this), to get to heaven (and avoid hell).  They've been threatened with hell and then offered the "get out of hell free" card.

People today look around at all the suffering in the world, at all the suffering in their lives.  And they ask, What do heaven and hell have to do with this?  What does eternal life have to do with suffering now?

The only world they know is the world in which they live, the world of here and now, so they are right to ask where we get off talking about some distant afterlife when there are real people in need today.

People today, I think, are more concerned with "our daily bread" than they are with eternal life.

Is that a bad thing?

Praying Twice

"He who sings prays twice."

So goes a quote from Saint Augustine, a good quote for this morning's couple share with Ray and Trudy.  And I think we can extend singing to include music in general.

Trudy, of course, is a wonderful vocalist, a true blessing to have at FBC.  Ray, the most joyful Minister of Music (and Administration, we learned this morning), is more talented as an instrumentalist and composer.  Not only are they each supremely talented, but they are even better as a team.  And anyone who has heard "This I Know" (or any number of songs) can attest to this.

He who sings prays twice, wrote Augustine.  But that's not quite right, for it is incomplete because, when Trudy sings, when Ray plays or composes or directs, we all join the prayer.

We pray in thanksgiving for their gifts, but we are also lifted into prayer by their gifts, as God uses their gifts to help us worship.

And, for that, as well as for them, we say: Thanks be to God.

The Table Tells The Tale

This past Sunday was, like every first Sunday in October, World Communion Sunday.

World Communion Sunday is exactly what it sounds like: a time for the world to celebrate communion. It was started in the 1930s by the Presbyterians and soon spread to other branches of the church. If only for a day, Christians around the world put aside their differences to partake in a common meal. May the meal remind us that we are one in Christ Jesus.

Our pastor put it nicely, reminding us that the Table lets us know that we are not alone, that we have a family, that we have a home. The Table does not belong to us, but to God, which is why we receive rather than take the meal. Yet, God's Table is bigger than we know. Thus, the sermon's title: A Big Table.

Yet, I believe the sermon could (should?) have been titled, The Table Tells The Tale. At the end of the sermon, after describing God's Big Table, we were asked to think about how we define family because we eat with our family. In essence, he was asking what walls we erect around the Table, for, although it is really God's Table, we try to control who has access.

We can talk a good talk and we can say anyone is welcome around the Table. But, really, is anyone welcome? If so, why don't we mix it up on World Communion Sunday and gather together with those of other traditions? If so, why is it that we are the most segregated at 11am on Sunday morning? If anyone is welcome, why do we not reach out to those long-lost kinfolk, the ones with whom we haven't spoken in years, if ever?

When it comes to assessing our sense of hospitality, a good place to look is around the Table. How welcoming are we?

The Table tells the tale.

Shared Responsibilities

In church, we often speak of sharing or bearing each other's burdens.

Generally, we mean by this that we help each other out in times of need. For example, we visit those in the hospital or we provide meals for those dealing with hards times or we pray for each other.

That's an important part of what it means to be the church, no doubt about it. Yet, we have other burdens. And those burdens need to be shared as well.

I'm thinking, in particular, of the burden or responsibility to read and interpret Scripture. This is a burden for each of us, even if it is a burden we gladly accept. Either way, it is a burden that must be shared. And one of the great sins of what is called the Protestant Reformation is that individuals came to think that they did not need each other or the church to understand Scripture.

It is a good thing for individuals to read and interpret Scripture, to seek to apply it to their lives, but there are voices within the text to which, for whatever reason, we are deaf. Those voices need to be heard.

Contrary to what Greer likes to say sometimes, somewhat in jest, the way to hear those other voices is not to earn a degree from a seminary. Trust me on that one. I've been to seminary and I can tell you that I know folks with nothing more than an 8th grade education who have more insight into the Bible than some of best and brightest seminary folk, student or faculty. Rather, the way to hear those voices is to read Scripture together as the church and to listen to one another.

This morning, for example, our text touched on the healing of a leper. And, in our midst, we had two people with experience with leprosy. Bill H had encountered lepers growing up in Africa. And Greer had actually spent time at a facility for lepers in Louisiana, alongside the top leprosy researcher of the 20th century.

Now, I'm here to tell you that no formal theological training will provide those voices. Those voices only come from experience. And my experience renders me deaf to that, so it's a good thing we have folks like Bill and Greer in our midst.

This is a common experience.

I was once interviewed for a job teaching at a private, Christian, high school. I was asked my thoughts on female ministers. The answer I gave was that no man can preach about Eve, Ruth and Naomi, Mary (any of the Mary's), the Whore of Babylon, or any of those women whose names have been lost to history (so and so's wife)--no man can preach about these women from the perspective of a woman. That's not to say a man can't bring insight, but a man doesn't have the lived experience of a woman. And, because of that, I need women to bring that perspective to the text. (Needless to say, I didn't get the job.)

Take some time to think about the voices to which you are deaf. Granted, we are deaf to some voices because they we don't even know about them, which is another reason we need each other. But there are some voices to which we are deaf because we don't want to hear them. Reflect on those voices and ask for ears to hear.

Take some time, also, to think about the voices you hear that others don't. Be thankful, but also remember that we have the responsibility to share those voices with each other. If you have ears to hear and we are deaf to that voice, then you have the burden of being the voice to the voiceless for us. We are counting on you. We need you.

Lectio Divina Insight

I am not sure how many people read the comments section under the First Responses posts, which is why I am posting Maria's insightful reply to the post on Lectio Divina here as a new post. I hope you don't mind, Maria!

Lectio Divina can also be done in a small group. I once experienced this with the Dominican Sisters. Someone read the passage aloud slowly, and then we observed a period of silence for individual reflection/meditation. Then each person, if she wished, may share something that stood out for her. Another person then read the same passage again aloud slowly, and the process repeated. We read the passage three times, and continued with reflection and sharing each time. There was much silence and pauses throughout the process. It was interesting how the same passage may have quite different message to each person. At the end we ended with prayer. There was a leader who gently facilitated through it. I personally felt it was a refreshing experience.

Lectio Divina at first may seem like an abstract, mystical practice that is hard to grasp, but I think we just have to start with baby steps. Like any meditation practice, it ushers us to into a slower rhythm than we normally used to. I have a hard time with it because, by myself, I have a tendency to want to get through the passage as quickly as possible, like reading any other book, then search in my head whatever clever insight I can come up with on my own, instead of really just sitting with the text and ruminate on it. At times things would just flow out of me, and I knew it was really the Holy Spirit, but that doesn't happen all the time, or even most of the time, I think. It takes discipline to quiet down my own thoughts. I find that it helps to just focus on the phrase/words that stood out for me, and keep them in mind as I go on through the rest of the day. Sometimes those text take on new meaning when seen in the context of a daily situation. I think that's the transformative element that JB mentioned.

Thanks for the insight, Maria!

Does anyone else have experience with this practice and have insights to share? Has anyone attempted this practice since Carol mentioned it last week?

Strange Behavior of Jesus for $400

If you have even just flipped through the Gospels, you know that Jesus engages in some pretty strange behavior at times.

And, lest you start throwing stones, that is not necessarily bad. Strange behavior can certainly be bad, but it can just as easily seem strange because we lack understanding.

One area where there is a general lack of understanding is Scripture, which is why we need each other so much. It is also the reason the responsibility of each of us to read and interpret Scripture is so vital, as is our shared responsibility to engage in honest dialogue about the meaning of the text. We were reminded of this today in Connect4, as we discussed the first chapter of the Gospel called Mark.

The question raised was why Jesus opts to leave town, rather than stay and continue healing the sick. There are all these people with needs. And, judging from the previous day, Jesus has the ability to provide healing. He gets up early in the morning and goes off by himself. After a while, the disciples come looking for him, telling him of all the people seeking his assistance. And how does he respond? He says, "Peace. I'm out of here." (loose translation)

Now, I am no Biblical scholar, but my educational background is in the study of Scripture and theology--and I would never have come up with the response Greer offered this morning.

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.

Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

So goes the ancient proverb. Applied to our text, Jesus was trying to balance the dual aspects of his ministry, the teaching/preaching side and the healing side.

The general consensus is that Jesus had to get away from the mob of people seeking healing. But this only gets half of the point. The other half is the part about the teaching/preaching.

Greer said, or at least suggested, that all the healing would limit the ability of Jesus to teach the people and preach the good news, that the message would get lost in all the healing, that the people would demand healing in lieu of all the talking.

And maybe, just maybe, that's why he had to move on. It's possible that a certain point is reached where the healing ministry begins to distract from the message of God's love.

Lectio Divina

Sunday, we were introduced to another spiritual practice from our ancient Christian heritage.

The spiritual practice this week was Lectio Divina, which is Latin for "divine reading." It is a way of prayerfully engaging the words of Scripture. Known mainly as a monastic tradition, it is a practice that can benefit us all.

There are four stages of Lectio Divina: Lectio, Meditatio, Oratio, and Contemplatio.

1. Lectio is the reading stage, where a short passage of Scripture is read slowly and intentionally. The text is read a few times, letting the words sink into the self. This is like taking a bite of Scripture.
2. Meditatio is a time of reflection, an openness to the guidance of the Spirit as we think about the meaning of the text. This is like chewing the bite of Scripture taken in the first stage.
3. Oratio is when we respond to the text by opening the self to God's presence. Here, thinking stops, as our heart enters into communion with the divine. This is a somewhat mystical stage that is like savoring the taste and source of the bite of Scripture taken.
4. Contemplatio is a time of rest, when we let go, not only of worldly things, but also of our spiritual thoughts and aspirations. Here, we rest in the presence of God in Scripture and within the self. Here, we allow the Spirit transform us as we rest. This is like the bite of Scripture taken being digested and integrated into the body.

After these four stages, we re-enter the world, transformed and nourished for the work of the day.

World Veggie Day

Today, 1 October, is World Vegetarian Day.

Now, although I am not a vegetarian, I do think there are several aspects of vegetarianism that should be considered by us carnivores. And today is the day set aside for just that purpose.

First, consider that meat was not allowed in the Bible until several chapters into Genesis. At first, humans were only allowed to eat of the earth (Gen 2.9, 16). Animals, meanwhile, were for other purposes, originally that of a possible partner or companion (Gen 2.18-20). It is not until after the Flood that God allows humans to eat meat (Gen 9.3-5).

Second, consider that it takes more land, resources, and money to produce meat than it does to produce vegetables. Simply put, the animals must be fed something and they must be able to roam. The food fed to the animals we eat could be fed to hungry people and the land used for roaming/grazing could be used to grow more crops. Did you know that it takes 16 pounds of grain, on average, to produce 1 pound of meat? (Lappe, Diet for a Small Planet, page 9) Vegetarianism is just a more efficient use of resources.

Third, consider how meat is produced these days. Eric Schlosser revealed "the dark side of the American meal," a phrase that serves as the subtitle of his horrifyingly informative Fast Food Nation. Is the luxury of eating meat worth the pain and cruelty it causes?

Finally, consider all the extra greenhouse gasses produced by meat consumption, most notably methane. Read here if you are interested in that.