Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Family (Page 13 of 15)

The Patients of Job: Part Three – “What Is Half of 11?” – Sermon for Pentecost 21, Proper 24B – October 21, 2012

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, October 21, 2012, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Proper 24B: Job 38:1-7,34-41; Psalm 104:1-9,25,37b; Hebrews 5:1-10; Mark 10:35-45. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page. At St. Paul’s Parish, the whole of Job 38 was read as the Old Testament lesson.)

The illustrations which follow in this sermon were presented as PowerPoint slides during the homily.

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This is our third installment in the sermon series The Patients of Job and we begin with a diagnostic question: What is half of 11?

Job 38:1-7, (34-41) Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b  or  Isaiah 53:4-12 Psalm 91:9-16  Hebrews 5:1-10 Mark 10:35-45

Think about that for a while and we will return to this question in a moment. First, however, we need to catch ourselves up-to-date on the story of Job.

When we left Job last week, he and his friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar had had a long conversation about Job’s condition, his various misfortunes, and his own purity or blameworthiness; they then waxed philosophical about a hypothetical and stereotypical wicked man, being rather unclear whether that man was, in fact, Job. We were left with Job determined to take God to court where he would plead his innocence, but in something of a quandary because he was unsure where to find God.

Despite his confusion and bewilderment about the whereabouts of the Almighty, Job then spends the next nine chapters laying out his case. Bildad interrupts him briefly, but other than that the three friends do not speak further. There is a brief excursus in Chapter 28 about creation and wisdom, and scholars are unsure if Job is actually the speaker of that portion; it may be that this is one of the friends or even the narrator of the story speaking, but the text is unclear. When Job finishes, a newcomer begins to speak, Elihu the son of Barachel the Buzite. He comes on the scene unannounced, expresses his anger at Job and his friends because of their lack of understanding about God, and picks holes in some of their arguments. Most scholars think this a later addition to the book because Elihu’s speeches really add nothing and interrupt the flow between Job’s final speech and the appearance of the character God whose first speech in response to Job we heard today as our Old Testament reading. (I asked our lector to read the whole of Chapter 38, not simply the selected verses required by the Lectionary.)

My friend and colleague Steve _________, who is now the priest-in-charge of St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church in Mayfield Village, recently characterized the Book of Job, and this chapter of it in particular as “Job asking, ‘Why am I, a righteous man, suffering so?’ and God’s answer is ‘I am God and you are not.'” As Steve noted, that is not an entirely satisfying answer! I’ve often thought of the book and God’s answer in even less positive terms; it has frequently seemed to me that God’s response is (pardon the expression!), “Who the hell are you?”

But as I re-read the whole of the story in preparation for these sermons, and again as I have written each homily, I think that Steve and I have been wrong about this story. I don’t think God’s answer is either “I’m God and you’re not” or “Who the hell are you?” I think God’s answer is “What is half of 11?” And, again, I’ll come back to that.

I mentioned Chapter 28 earlier; that chapter really sets the background for God’s response to Job in this chapter. Chapter 28 has been called “one of the most exquisite poetic compositions of the entire Bible” (New Interpreters Bible, Vol. IV, Abingdon Press:1996, p. 528); I encourage you to read it! In Chapter 28, the speaker (whether Job or someone else) addresses the paradox of wisdom which cannot be found because it is everywhere. “Surely there is a mine for silver, and a place for gold to be refined,” it begins. (v. 1) “But where shall wisdom be found?” it asks, “And where is the place of understanding?” (v. 12) In what is really a hymn to wisdom and creation, the speaker sings of precious metals and prized gemstones, of the animals of nature, of the phenomena of weather, and of God who understands the way of wisdom because God “looks to the ends of the earth, and sees everything under the heavens.” (v. 24) Human beings, says the speaker, find wisdom through participation in creation in two particular ways. First, by what the speaker calls “the fear of the Lord,” a biblical term for piety or prayerful mindfulness; second, through “departure from evil,” which is to say moral action and uprightness. In these ways, human beings participate in the integrity of creation and understand the interrelatedness of all things; in a word, human beings find wisdom through creation and in creativity. This, then, is the background for what God says to Job in Chapter 38.

Job has laid out his legal case and made his arguments. God appears on the scene and rather than answer the lawsuit, he turns the tables on Job and starts asking him a lot of questions about nature. He asks about the seas, about wild animals, about storms and clouds and thunder, but says not a word about any of the points Job has laid out so carefully in his legal case . . . not a word. Instead, God’s address to Job is characterized by an “unrelenting use of rhetorical questions: ‘Who?’ ‘Where?’ ‘How?’ ‘What . . . can you . . . have you . . . do you know?'” (N.I.B., p. 598)

“What,” says God, “is half of 11?” Well, not actually. “What is half of 11?” is a question asked by my friend John O’Keefe. And, of course, we all know the answer, don’t we? Half of 11 is 5.5. You take 11; you divide it by 2; you get 5-and-a-half. Done.

5.5

But are we? In John’s book, The Church Creative (CreateSpace:2012), he suggests we ought to open ourselves to considering the question “What is half of 11?” from different and unexpected perspectives. (See also John’s website, The Church Creative.)

What if we visualize or understand this question not as “What is half of the number 11?” but “What is half of a character made up of two 1s, two vertical strokes?” Then half of 11 is . . .

1

. . . and the second half is . . .

1 & 1

Or what if we think not in Arabic numerals but in the Roman numerals?

What Is Half of XI?

Then the first half of XI is an X . . .

X

. . . and the second half is an I.

X & I

Or, we could just slice the figure horizontally so that there’s a top half . . .

Top of XI

. . . and a bottom half.

Top & Bottom of XI

Here’s another thought. Think in terms of words, not numbers. “What is half of e-l-e-v-e-n?”

What is half of eleven?

Obviously, the first half is “e-l-e” . . .

ele

. . . and the second, “v-e-n”.

ele & ven

Or, half of the word “eleven” is made up of the vowel “e” . . .

eee

. . . and the other half is made up of consonants.

eee & lvn

I suggest to you that God’s numerous rhetorical questions are meant to get Job to look at himself, his situation, his losses, and his current condition, from a different perspective, to understand God in a different way. God’s response to Job is like asking “What is half of 11?”

Just like us, when we read that question as being only and solely a math problem, Job has a particular way of seeing the world, a particular way of understanding reality, a particular way of understanding God. His frame of reference, if you will, was the social structure of his world, the village, clan, and family structure within which his life was lived. Job’s theological imagination was framed by that structure; the metaphors through which he sought to understand God came from that structure. Just as Job, acting as a person of honor, would hear and respond to a complaint from one of his employees or one of his children, so he believed God would hear and respond to his case. “Job’s image of God is developed out the highest and best values of his society, values that Job has always tried to embody.” (N.I.B., p. 556) This is fully in keeping with the Biblical tradition of “thinking about God by means of metaphors drawn largely from the realm of human relations.” (Ibid.) The problem, of course, is that such metaphors are limited and inadequate. God is not simply an ideal human person; God is “wholly other”, and God will not fit completely into the neat and tidy lines of our metaphors. Job is only partially correct about God. God will (and does) deal with Job as a loving Parent might deal with a child, but not in the way Job anticipates.

My daughter Caitlin recently shared with me an essay she wrote for one of her college courses. In it she related a story about my uncle, who was a very talented professional artist, teaching her to draw. This is her story:

My great uncle Richard was the first person to let me loose with a tool and tell me that I had the power to create “Art”. Sitting under an orange tree in my Grammy’s backyard, he handed me some colored pencils and told me to draw my favorite thing; at the time it was flowers. My geometric and organic patterns turned into a kid’s rendition of paisley. Once I got that flower thing down I wanted to move on to something more awesome. I couldn’t think of what to draw, so Uncle Richard decided to teach me a Surrealist technique to ease the imagination process. He told me to take a black pen, and without thinking about it too much, draw one continuous line all over the paper, “Just scribble it all up.”

After I scribbled the most extreme mess on the page, he told me to “make the ends meet.” I found the point at which I began my crazy doodle, connected the dots and then colored in the shapes between the lines with a myriad of color as he suggested. The great American painter Jasper Johns said the way to make art is to “Do something, then do something to that, then do something to that.”

My uncle had my daughter do something like this . . .

Squiggle

. . . and then do something like this to it.

Squiggle Colored-in

In this way, Uncle Richard taught Caitlin that she had (as she put it) “the power to create.” It must have worked; last year Caitlin painted this watercolor . . .

Red Snapper, copyright 2012, Caitlin Funston

and, with it, won a scholarship at the University of Missouri.

God’s response to Job, all those rhetorical questions – “Who?” “Where?” “How?” “What . . . can you . . . have you . . . do you know?” – were God’s way of getting Job to “just scribble it all up,” of getting Job to stop being confined within the lines and limits and inadequacies of his metaphors, of getting Job to think creatively, of helping Job to find wisdom by participating in the integrity of creation and through understanding of the interrelatedness of all things. God’s response was not asking Job “Who the hell are you?” and God wasn’t answering his complaint with “I’m God and you’re not.” God was, however, saying, “I’m God but not in anyway you’ve ever considered, understood, or even imagined.” God was saying, “Neither I nor the world I created will fit within the neat lines of your metaphorical box.”

God’s response to Job is an invitation, and therein is the balm for us as “Patients of Job”, the prescription for whatever sickens our souls, for remedy for whatever ails our realities. God’s response is an invitation to Job and to us to participate in creation, to “scribble it all up,” to do something, then do something to that, then do something to that, to answer “What is half of 11?” in unexpected ways, to be creative in our problem solving. The answer to Job’s problem is not to sit on his pile of ashes moaning and complaining, disputing legalisms and “did I deserve it?”s with his friends; the answer to Job’s problem is not to sit on his pile of ashes framing legal arguments and preparing to sue God! The answer to Job’s problem is to get creative, to do something unexpected, to think outside the box. And that is spiritual medicine for us because, just like Job’s, neither our problems, nor our world, nor our God . . .

"Come on God, Get In There!!"

. . . will fit in our neat metaphorical boxes. Amen.

Warm Olive Oil – From the Daily Office – October 20, 2012

From Luke’s Gospel:

While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was concealed from them, so that they could not perceive it. And they were afraid to ask him about this saying.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Luke 9:43-45 – October 20, 2012)

Olive OilI’ve been thinking about this little bit of Scripture all day! It’s nearly 10:30 p.m. – time for Compline! – and I’m still thinking about seven words from the morning gospel: “Let these words sink into your ears” . . . .

What a great image for coming to wisdom, to understanding, to appreciation for the thoughts of another! I have this vision of Christ’s words as if they were an oily ointment soaking into his listeners’ ears and then oozing into their brains, their consciences, their very being.

When I was a kid I was prone to ear aches. The home remedy for them was warmed olive oil poured into your ear! I would lie down on my bed (or more often on the sofa in my grandmother’s living room, a towel under my head to protect the upholstery of her davenport), and she would put several drops of warmed olive oil into my ear. At first (especially if it was a bit over-warm) it was startling, but then it would sooth away the awful stabbing pain of the ear ache. I can still remember the sense of relief, the noticeable absence of pain.

When I was five years old, just a few month before my father died in an automobile accident, my tonsils and adenoids were removed to prevent further ear aches, so this must surely be a very early memory.

Jesus’ words soaking into his disciples’ ears should be like that. “Let these words sink into your ears . . . . ” Let these words soothe away the pains of this world. Of course, in this case, his words themselves were painful. His disciples were going to lose their master. Still, the image of wisdom oozing into their consciences, into our consciences, like that warm olive oil on my grandmother’s davenport remains. “Let these words sink into your ears.” Let my wisdom soak into your being like warm olive oil.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

The Womb-Love of Mother God – From the Daily Office – October 6, 2012

From the Prophet Hosea:

How can I give you up, Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Hosea 11:8 – October 6, 2012)

Mother and Child DrawingThis passage is one of my favorites in the book of the prophet Hosea. (I’m a fan of that prophet for a number of reasons and this little-remarked verse is one them.) Hosea’s major metaphor for the relationship of God with Israel is that of marriage. Hosea portrayed God as Israel’s “husband” and condemend the nation because of the “adulterous” relationship it had had with other gods. As a “prophetic act” Hosea married a prostitute named Gomer, with whom his relationship parallels that of God with Israel. He tells of Gomer running away from him and having sex with another man, but he loves her and forgives her. Similarly, even though the people of Israel worshiped other gods, Hosea prophesied that Yahweh continues to love his people and does not abandon the covenant with them. This verse, however, departs from that metaphor and presents, instead, a maternal and feminine image of God.

At the heart of this verse are two Hebrew words, one of which is translated as “heart”; the other, as “compassion”. The first is leb and in Judaic understanding it refers not merely to the body’s physical heart, but to the innermost being of the human person. It refers to the center of personal life, to a human being’s psychic and spiritual energies upon which the whole moral and religious condition of a person completely depends. Here, it is God who has this sort of inner core of being, and the center of God’s Being is inextricably linked in this verse with God’s compassion.

Our English word compassion derives from the Latin for “suffering together”; compassion is the ability to share in the suffering of another, to be empathetic. The Hebrew word translated as “compassion” is rechemet, which comes from the Hebrew root rechem which literally means “womb”. The Hebrew understanding of compassion is deeply maternal, rooted in a profound metaphor of birthing and motherhood; compassion in Hebrew thought might best be conceived not as “shared suffering”, but as “womb love”. This word applied to God conjurs a beautiful image of God as our mother doing all the amazing and miraculous things a life-giving, birthing mother does. She protects her unborn child; she nourishes, cradles, and prepares her child. She gives birth to her child and after delivering her child, how can she give up or forget her child? “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?” asks God in Isaiah, “Even these may forget, yet I will never forget you.” (Isaiah 49:15)

My father died when I was five years old and, though my mother remarried when I was ten, for five important formative years of my childhood my mother was the only parent I knew; so this maternal metaphor for God speaks loudly to me. I do not have a problem with patriarchal imagery and what hymnist Brian Wren called “kingafap language” (King-God-Almighty-Father-Protector) for God, but I know that many do. For them, Hosea’s and Isaiah’s maternal images may be even more powerful.

We must always remember that every word we speak, every image we conceive, every verse of Scripture we read about God is a metaphor and every metaphor is limited. Still, this often-overlooked verse from the prophet Hosea reminds us that we are God’s children and that at the center of God’s Being is the womb-love of a mother for her child, for us.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Wonderfully and Marvelously Made – From the Daily Office – September 15, 2012

From the Psalms:

For you yourself created my inmost parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will thank you because I am marvelously made;
your works are wonderful, and I know it well.
My body was not hidden from you,
while I was being made in secret
and woven in the depths of the earth.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 139:12-14 (BCP Versification) – September 15, 2012)
 
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to tackle what this portion of the evening Psalm for today brings to mind. After all, I love the Old Testament reading for today which is (as many have recently been) from the Book of Job; it is that wonderful chapter where God, having had enough of Job’s whining, finally answers him saying:

Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man,
I will question you, and you shall declare to me.
Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding.

I just love God’s reply which basically says, “Who the Hell are you?” But as I was reading this lesson, I came upon this question that God asks, “Who shut the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?” and that mention of a womb took me back to the evening Psalm and that took me back to a conversation I was part of earlier in the week. The conversation had to do with abortion, opposition to abortion, and what it means to be pro-life.

The conversation was sparked by this picture:

“Jesus,” said one party to the conversation, “commands us to care about both?”

“Where,” asked another party, “does Jesus command us to care about fetuses.”

Of course, Jesus does not; Jesus never made much mention of pregnancy or childbirth or care for the unborn. However, today’s Psalm might be read to lay the foundation for an understanding of God’s care for the unborn. The other party to the conversation didn’t go there, however. Instead, that person referred to Jesus’ citation of the second great commandmant: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matt. 22:39) He continued with this assertion: “Since a baby in utero is a person and a child of God, the baby is your neighbor.” This statement is a logical as well as a theological stretch, I’m afraid, and here is where I started giving the issue some thought.

The reference to “a baby in utero” is fraught with issues. There is considerable debate today as to when a fertilized egg achieves the status of “baby”. It is not, however, at the moment of conception. Technically, from a medical point of view, a baby isn’t a baby until it’s born; “baby”, medically, refers to an infant, a newborn. From two months after conception until birth the child in utero is considered a fetus. During the first two months after conception, it is an embryo. (And then there are the theological issue of “ensoulment”, which is said to happen at “quickening”, and the legal issue of “viability”, which is the ability of the fetus to live outside the womb. Neither time nor space allow exploration of those issues.)

The second issue with the statement is in referring to whatever it is that is in utero as a “person”. Personhood is a legal concept and, in law, personhood is achieved at birth. (I’m not going to get into the currently hot political issue of whether corporations are people; that’s a whole other legal question.) Legally, a person is an autonomous being, a natural born man, woman, or child. The fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus in utero may be a person-in-potential, but is not yet a person-in-actuality. There are, of course, a number of proposed bills or constitutional amendments in several states that would change this legal definition, but as of now this is where American law stands.

Now, having said that, there are good reasons for being opposed to abortion, but basing that opposition on the supposed personhood of the in utero embryo or fetus, and stretching that personhood to neighbor status, and attaching Jesus’ “second great commandment” to that supposed neighbor just is not one of them. I’m opposed to abortion because I truly do believe, as this Psalm says, that God is involved in the procreative and developmental processes, that the development of the embryo into a fetus and the growth of the fetus are not simply mindless biological operations, that there is a mystical, spiritual “knitting” taking place, that we human beings are wonderfully and marvelously made by God. Abortion interferes with God’s work whereby we are “made in secret and woven in the depths of the earth.”

But I am also opposed to the outlawing of abortion because I hold what I believe is a fully consistent “pro-life” philosophy. I believe that one who is opposed to abortion must also be in favor of safeguarding the health and welfare of mothers before, during, and after giving birth. I believe that one must be in favor of improving the lives of children after they are born. A truly pro-life position would promote child and maternal welfare and health programs, feeding programs, education programs, and (I believe) access to safe and legal abortion in those circumstances where the life, health and safety of the mother are at risk, where the pregnancy results from rape or incest, or where there is medical reason to believe that the person-in-potential will be born with severe physical or mental developmental handicaps which would make life an intolerable burden. To be truly pro-life is to be pro-choice, because the choice is not between abortion or a baby; the choice is between a safe, legal abortion and an unsafe, deadly one. No woman should ever have to choose the latter!

To oppose abortion without supporting infant and maternal health programs, child welfare programs, good education, and access to safe and legal abortion when needed, is not a pro-life stance. It is simply to be pro-birth, but there is so much more to life after birth!

We are wonderfully and marvelously made, knit and woven together by God in our mother’s wombs, not just to be born but to have a life, a good life. That’s why, as opposed to abortion as I may be, I hold to a pro-life pro-choice position in favor of the availability of legally regulated, medically safe, accessible abortion for women who need to choose that path.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Unbind Him and Let Him Go – From the Daily Office – September 14, 2102

From the Gospel of John:

When Jesus saw [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
* * *
[Jesus] cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 11:33-36,43-44 – September 14, 2012)
 
Icon of the Raising of LazarusMy father-in-law died a week ago; he will be laid to rest later today. His ashes will be interred next to those of my mother-in-law, his first wife, who passed away sixteen years ago. Marge was a Christian and an active church member; Paul was not. I’m not sure he was ever baptized but, if he was, he left that behind long ago. (Yes, I know the theology of baptism – once baptized, always baptized – and that may true from the church’s point of view, perhaps even from God’s perspective, but that was not Paul’s reality.)

There’s an old saw that “there are no atheists in foxholes,” but in our few, brief conversations about religious faith I learned from Paul how wrong that is. A communications specialist with the Air Force in World War II, Paul had seen plenty of death during combat and had been present at the liberation of one of the concentration camps; a personal encounter with the inhumanity of war and oppression had knocked any notion of God completely away. Paul simply didn’t believe. Coming face to face with the issue theologians and philosophers call “theodicy” had made religious faith impossible for him.

But Paul was a good man. Except for a couple of years during high school and those war years in Europe, Paul spent his entire life, all 95+ years of it, in the same small Nevada town. Everyone knew Paul and Paul would have done (and often did do) anything for any of his neighbors. I know that there will be a crowd at the memorial event the family has planned and that many will weep. Some (my wife and I among them) will quietly say prayers for this good man who didn’t believe but who lived his life the way believers are supposed to live theirs.

Despite the insistence of some on the Pauline requirement that salvation requires that one “confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead,” (Rom. 10:9) I cannot believe that my father-in-law is not among the saved. When I read the Gospels, I do not find Jesus laying down such requirements. Rather, I find him focusing on how one lives one’s life. I find him promising eternal life to those who do good, who help their neighbors, who care for those who cannot care for themselves, who provide food to the hungry, who make this world a better place because they have lived in it. By that standard, my father-in-law Paul is one of the saints in light. I’m quite confident that on that last great day, he will hear a voice crying “Paul, come out!” and that Jesus will say to whomever is handling the administrative details of the resurrection, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

May he rest in peace and (surely to his surprise) rise in glory!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Lady Wisdom & Questions God Is Never Going to Ask – Sermon for Pentecost 12, Proper 15B – August 19, 2012

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, August 19, 2012, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Proper 15B: Proverbs 9:1-6; Psalm 34:9-14; Ephesians 5:15-20; and John 6:51-58)

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Proverbs 9 by David WierzbickiAs I may have mentioned here before, I spent many of my childhood summers in the southeastern Kansas town of Winfield with my paternal grandparents, C.E. and Edna Funston. Winfield was my parents’ hometown, both of them were raised there and my mother had been born there. Her maternal grandparents, Hinrich and Harmke Buss, were immigrants from that area of Germany right next to Holland called “Ostfriesland”. My father was born in Dodge City, and he and his folks moved to Winfield when he was just a few months old; they were relative newcomers but my grandfather soon became a prominent citizen.

Anyway, one of the things I remember about Winfield is the way newcomers, or anyone someone was meeting for the first time, were almost invariably asked two questions. I once discussed this with a friend who was born and raised in South Carolina and she said it was the same in her hometown, that these are what she called “very Southern questions.” That makes sense because in an odd way, southeastern Kansas is much more Southern than it is midwestern. My mother used to all that part of Kansas “lap land” – meaning that it is were Oklahoma and Arkansas lap over into Kansas.

So there were these two questions that people asked when first meeting another person. The first was, “Who are your people?” Winfield was an agricultural center and not much else. There was no industry or manufacturing that would bring people to town. There was farming and the businesses that support farming, all of which were family owned. So if somebody new came to town to work in on a farm or in a farm-supporting business, it was assumed you must be part of the family. So, who are your people? The answer placed you in a particular social context. So I would say, “Well, my mother is Betty Sargent, one of the Buss cousins.” Anyone local would then know I was a descendant of Henry Buss. My greatgrandfather had had two families. One set of children were born to first wife Mary – she had 14 kids who lived; another set of 13 living children were born to Harmke, my greatgrandmother. According to his obituary, all of those children were alive when Henry died and he left approximately 200 acres of land to each of them. Doing the math, you get the idea that he had acquired a lot of farmland (something over 5,000 acres) and that he (and his children after him) were influential in the local economy. As I mentioned before, on the paternal side my grandparents were comparatively new to the town, but they had become very active members of the Methodist Church and my grandfather, an active Mason, had risen in those ranks as well. So if I continued to my inquirer, “And my father is C.E. and Edna Funston’s youngest son,” he or she would immediately know I was related to a Past Master of the Lodge and an elder in the Methodist Church.

Because of that, I wasn’t often asked the second question, “Where do you go to church?” But I could have been because it really wasn’t a given that I would have been a Methodist. The Busses were members of the Dutch Reformed Church and the Sargents belonged to the Disciples of Christ; I could have been either of those – but the truth was, except for those summer months with the Funstons at the Methodist Church, I really didn’t go to church as a kid.

In any event, those questions served to place someone in a social context, to define in the questioner’s mind who they were and where the fit. And the truth is they aren’t just “Kansas questions” or “Southern questions”. They are everywhere questions. In the fall of 2005, Evie and I took our first trip to Ireland and, as part of that trip, visited County Donegal as I was in search of Funstons in the area where I believe my Funston great-greatgrandfather originated. In Donegal Town itself, we happened to stop into a woolen sweater store run by a man named Sean McGinty. Mr. McGinty asked about our trip and I was explaining to him my family connection to the area. He turned to his wife Mary and said, “You’re from Pettigo; weren’t there some Funstons in Pettego.” She thought for a moment and replied, “Yes . . . . but they weren’t our people.” — They weren’t our people, meaning they weren’t Roman Catholic. The Irish Funstons were and still are Church of Ireland – Anglicans . . . Protestants. “Who are your people?” “Where do you go to church?” They or something like them are human questions; the help us to put people in their place, to categorize one another, to define each other. They are human questions.

But they are not God’s questions! Long before St. Paul would write to the Galatians that in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female,” (Gal. 3:28) the compiler of the Book of Proverbs would make the same point in the 8th and 9th Chapters of that book, part of which we read today. In these chapters we read of Lady Wisdom, one of the most intriguing characters in all of the Old Testament. In the 8th Chapter, before the part we heard this morning, she tells us herself:

When [God] established the heavens, I was there, when he drew a circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him, like a master worker; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race. (Prov. 8:27-31)

She was, she tells us, a “master worker” helping God to create all that is. And in our reading this morning from Chapter 9, we see her as “the hostess with the mostest” who is ready to throw a party, to do the honors at a great feast. She has “slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has . . . set her table,” and she sent her servants out to invite her guests. In fact, she herself stands in her doorway, in the highest places of the town calling,

“You that are simple, turn in here!” To those without sense she says, “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” (Prov. 9:4-6)

Note that she doesn’t ask, “Who are your people? Where do you go to church?” She doesn’t ask if any are Jew or Greek, slave or free, black or white, straight or gay, Republican or Democrat, Catholic or Protestant, none of that matters . . . all she asks is that we be “simple” and “without sense.”

Now that’s a bit disconcerting and, frankly, I think the translation belies the true meaning of the invitation. The Hebrew here is, “Mi-phethi yasur henah chasar-leb ‘am’rah lo.” The word translated as “simple” (and sometimes as “naive”) is phethi. It’s root is the word pawthaw, which means “wide open”. An alternative and more positive understanding of this word is “open-minded”. The term “without sense” (sometimes rendered “lacking understanding”) is chasar-leb. Chasar means “without” or “lacking”. Leb (rendered here as “sense” or “understanding”) is most often translated as “heart” because in the ancient Hebrew understanding the heart was believed to be the seat of comprehension and emotion. This is not simple understanding or sense, this is passionate belief, enthusiastic commitment; in a negative sense we might say “bias” or “prejudice”.

Lady Wisdom is not inviting simpletons or the foolishly naive into her parlor; she is inviting the open-minded, those who have no preconceptions, no intolerant prepossessions. Lady Wisdom, God’s master worker, does not care if you are Jew or Greek, Irish or German, black or white or Asian or Native American, straight or gay or lesbian or transgendered, Democrat or Republican or Socialist or Libertarian. Lady Wisdom, God’s master worker, doesn’t care who your people are; she cares about whose you are! She doesn’t care where you go to church; she cares that you are the church, the People of God! She wants you to be open-minded, to come without prejudice or preconception. Her invitation is reminiscent of the Prophet Isaiah’s, “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord.” (Isaiah 1:18 – KJV) She invites us to come and learn.

She has set her table; she is ready to host her party. “Come, [she says] eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” Lady Wisdom’s celebration is the marriage feast of the Lamb; her invitation is to that very supper Jesus would share with his disciples and shares with us throughout all the ages. St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians the words we recite each time we gather at this Table:

. . . that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Cor. 11:23-2)

And here in John’s Gospel today he promises that “those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” (John 6:54-56)

To this Feast we are all invited without regard to who our people may be, without regard to where we go to church. To this Feast today we welcome Nathan Joseph Daley who is to be baptized. No one here will ask, “Who are your people?” but if anyone ever does, Nathan can answer “The People of God” . . . and if he wants to be more specific, he can say “The Episcopalians!” No one here will ask, “Where do you go to church?” but if anyone ever does, Nathan can answer, “St. Paul’s!”

Someone else may ask those questions of Nathan or of you or me, but God is never going to ask them! God will ask, “Are you open-minded? Are you free of bias and prejudice?” God will ask, “Are you filled with the Spirit? Do you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs? Do you sing and make melody to the Lord in your heart? Do you give thanks at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ?” (Questions drawn from Ephesians 5:18-20) God will ask, “Do you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Do you strive for justice and peace among all people? Do you respect the dignity of every human being?” (Questions drawn from the Baptismal Covenant in the Book of Common Prayer, pg. 305)

With God’s help, Nathan and we will grow and learn to do these; through God’s grace, he and we will feast on Bread and Wine, and “lay aside immaturity, and live and walk in the way of insight.”

Let us pray:

Grant, Lord God, to Nathan who is about to be baptized into the death and resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ, and to those who already have been baptized, that, as we have put away the old life of sin, so we may be renewed in the spirit of our minds, lay aside immaturity, and live and walk in the way of insight, righteousness, and true holiness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Marriage and Matrimony: A Tradition of Change

I’m an Episcopalian, an Anglican. That means that, following the lead of our seminal theologian Richard Hooker (1554-1600), I look at religious questions from three perspectives using three sources of authority: Holy Scripture, tradition, and reason. On the question of whether the committed, loving relationships of couples of the same sex should be blessed by the church and recognized by the state, the scriptural perspective is usually the only one the opponents of “same-sex marriage” address. They have been answered adequately on many occasions by others much more able to debate scripture than I am. Based on their analyses, I am satisfied that the Bible does not condemn homosexual relationships. It condemns perversion of human relationships, but that is quite a different thing. There is nothing perverted about two people (whatever their sexes may be) committing themselves to a life-long, mutually supportive, loving, and committed union.

In this essay, I shall examine marriage and the sacrament of matrimony from the standpoint of tradition, starting with two observations about marriage in the Christian church. The first is from an historian and Episcopal theologian, the Rev. Dr. Earl H. Brill:

Marriage is a universal human institution. It exists in every society, in every age. Can we, then, speak in any meaningful sense of Christian marriage? If by that term is meant something unique and exclusive, something significantly different from marriage as other human communities conceive it, than the answer must be No. But the answer is Yes if we mean merely that the Christian community maintains a particular view of marriage, even though it may be shared by many outside the Christian fold. Christians look at marriage from the perspective of certain presumptions about what marriage ought to be.

We have to concede that our view of marriage is historically conditioned. It has changed with time, mostly for the better, we believe. (The Christian Moral Vision, Seabury Press, New York: 1979, p. 97; italics in original)

The second is from a Roman Catholic scholar, Dr. Joseph Martos, former director of the Russell Institute of Religion and Ministry at Spalding University in Louisville, Kentucky:

Relatively early in the history of Christianity, marriage was regarded as a sacrament in the broad sense, but it was only in the 12th Century that it came to be regarded as a sacrament in the same sense as baptism and the other official sacraments. In fact, before the 11th Century there was no such thing as a Christian wedding ceremony and throughout the Middle Ages there was no single church ritual for solemnizing marriages between Christians. It was only after the Council of Trent, because of the need to eliminate abuses in the practice of private marriages, that a standard Catholic wedding rite came into existence. (Doors to the Sacred, Doubleday, New York: 1982, p. 399)

So, then, we have a picture of matrimony as being treated as a sacrament of the church only in the latter half of the church’s existence, a sacrament the nature of which has been seen to change in the church’s view during that time.

Although these two scholars use the word “marriage” to describe the church’s sacramental rite as well as the legal contract formed by the two parties, I have found it useful make a distinction between the two. Therefore, other than in quotations such as these, I use the word “marriage” to refer to the legal institution and the word “matrimony” to refer to the church’s sacrament. Though often included in the same ritual in the practice of American society, they are separate things. It would, perhaps, be easier to consider and debate the thorny issue of same-sex relationships if they were not thus confused in the American mind. For purposes of this essay, however, let’s try to keep them separate.

“Marriage” is a state-sanctioned “personal relation arising out of a civil contract”, so defined in, for example, California Family Code Sec. 300. Marriage is a union which the parties cannot of their own volition and act dissolve, but which can be dissolved only by authority of the state. Again, the California Family Code provides an example of this restriction; Section 310 thereof provides that “marriage is dissolved only by one of the following: (a) the death of one of the parties, (b) a judgment of dissolution of marriage, (c) a judgment of nullity of marriage.” Although a licensed minister of religion may be the official before whom the parties form this contract, “marriage” is not a matter of religion.

“Matrimony,” however, is. In the eyes of my tradition, the Episcopal Church, the sacrament of Holy Matrimony “signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people.” (The Book of Common Prayer, 1979, p. 423) (It is unfortunately not helpful to this distinction that the Prayer Book and the bridal liturgies of many Christian and other religious traditions use the words “matrimony” and “marriage” interchangeably! Nonetheless, the distinction is useful.) Christian sacramental theology teaches that when two persons are united in an integrated, faithful love that helps them and others to become more fully the image of God, this is a privileged sign or “sacrament” of God’s loving presence. The sex of the persons involved is irrelevant: persons of the same sex can exhibit God’s loving presence just as well as couples of opposite sex. In his classic treatise Spiritual Friendship, St. Aelred of Rievaulx showed friendship between any two people, whether a marital couple of opposite sexes or brother (or sister) religious of the same sex, to be sacramental of God’s unity, guiding the friends into relationship with Christ in this life and in eternity.

Having made this distinction between “marriage” and “matrimony”, the argument from tradition takes note that in both the civil or legal sphere and the religious or theological sphere, the relevant authorities are free to make changes in their respective definitions. In American law the nature of the civil obligations of the spouses, who can marry whom, if and when they can divorce, what property rights either may have, and so forth have been the subject of many changes. Changes in law, either by legislatures or courts, have included allowing interracial marriage, easing the availability of divorce, extending the property rights of women, allowing a married woman to retain her maiden name, and allowing married couples to purchase and use contraceptives. In other words, what constitutes the legal estate of marriage is something the secular state can, and often has, changed. (Wikipedia has a fairly comprehensive list of these changes.)

In the religious realm, the Bible itself displays a tradition of changing attitudes and changing norms toward marital union. Polygamy was acceptable early in the history of ancient Israel: Jacob married two sisters, Leah and Rachel (Genesis 29), and Solomon had at least 700 wives and 300 concubines (1 Kings 11:3). Divorce, while not encouraged, was certainly not prohibited. Levirate unions, a man’s obligatory marriage to his brother’s widow, was at times required (Deuteronomy 25:5) and at other times disallowed (Leviticus 20:21).

With the advent of Christianity and its legalization under Constantine in the Fourth Century, the church became a sort of record keeper for marriages (which were, for the most part, a matter of concern for the upper classes only). Although the church developed, applied, and enforced a variety of new regulations (including rules about consanguinity, affinity, and spiritual affinity), marriage was not a matter of church ritual and there were no bridal liturgies until the 12th Century when the clergy started to have a role in weddings. It was not until the 13th Century that priests actually took charge of the ceremonies. Thus, the church became increasingly involved in the marriage business, mostly by adopting and enforcing rules of who could marry whom. As Dr. Martos wrote above, it was not until the 12th Century, when clergy began presiding at weddings, that a “sacrament” of matrimony was identified.

Just four centuries later that notion came under attack. The Protestant Reformation of the 16th Century rejected the sacramental concept of matrimony. Martin Luther rejected it altogether as a concern of the church, declaring marriage to be “a worldly thing . . . that belongs to the realm of government”, and Calvin agreed. (David L. Snuth, Divorce And Remarriage From The Early Church To John Wesley, Trinity Journal 11.2, Fall 1990). In the 17th Century, the English Parliament, dominated by Puritans, passed an act which proclaimed that marriage was not a sacrament but rather a purely secular matter, forbidding clergy to preside and requiring a justice of the peace to do so. The Roman Catholic Church at the Council of Trent (1545-63), in response to the Protestant Reformation, dug in its heels by affirming the sacramentality of matrimony and requiring that a priest or bishop preside at all weddings.

In North America, colonized in part on the notion of religious freedom later enshrined in the U.S. Constitution, there were numerous experiments with matrimony and marriage in many of the Utopian settlements. The “complex marriage” scheme of John Noyes at the Oneida Colony in New York, the polygamy of the early Mormons, and the complete abstinence of the Shakers in their communities through the northeast come immediately to mind.

The religious tradition of marital union, including the Christian sacrament of matrimony, like the legal tradition, is demonstrably one of acceptance of changing practices and norms.

16th Century Anglican theologian Richard Hooker understood tradition dynamically. Most Catholics and Protestants in his day (as in this) claimed to hold and practice “the faith once delivered to the saints” and to be doing nothing differently from the first Christians; everyone else they accused of innovating. Hooker believed that it was acceptable for the church to change as times changed: “The Church hath authority to establish that for an order at one time, which at another time it may abolish, and in both do well.” (Hooker, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, V.8.2, Folger Library Edition, Belknap Press: Boston, 1977)

It is of particular note that Hooker writes, “matters necessary unto salvation are of a different nature from ceremonies, order, and the kind of Church-government.” For the latter (ceremonies, order, and polity) tradition and reason provide sufficient basis for change; one need not refer to Scripture. (Laws, III.2.2) He writes that “laws human must be made according to the general laws of nature, and without contradiction unto any positive law of scripture.” What is not prohibited in Scripture is a matter for consideration and development as the church may see fit. As I have noted above, others have made the argument (successfully in my estimation) that homosexuality and same-sex unions are not prohibited in Holy Scripture. Whether to extend the church’s sacramental blessing to persons who wish to marry someone of the same sex is a matter of ceremony and order, one with a demonstrable tradition of amendment; it is, therefore, a subject open to change.

Both the American civil law of marriage and the church’s sacramental institution of matrimony have changed through the centuries; indeed, it is not an overstatement to say that both have a tradition of change. It is my considered belief that the time is now. The time has come for the church’s sacramental blessing to be extended to same-sex couples, just as the time has come for the civil law to extend the right to marry to such couples.

This essay also appears on Mark Sandlin’s blog The God Article.

A Facebook Posting – May 2, 2012

I don’t know if this is real. I hope it is. I really hope it is. The accompanying picture and the following words were posted on Facebook recently.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day ,I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware – beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Under the Crush

It was an extremely busy weekend. Our parish youth group held its Second Annual Homeless Awareness Sleep-Out with kids from several other parishes. Dozens of kids and adult chaperones slept in self-made cardboard shelters on the front lawn of the church to call attention to homelessness in our community. They raised more than $500 for Project Homes (our local shelter program) by “panhandling” on the town square. That was Saturday night.

Sunday morning the kids joined us for worship then, after our late service, we held the 5th Annual Gentlemen’s Competitive Cake Auction. 23 men (including myself) of the congregation baked and decorated cakes which were auctioned for a total of $2,075. These funds will go to pay for our EYC’s summer mission activities. (In the voting, I took home the coveted “Golden Apron” for my “Chestnut Cottage Cake”.)

With all of that, I sort of fell down on the job of authoring my Daily Office Meditations for Sunday, March 25, and Monday, March 26. However, I will get those posted and get back on track for tomorrow, Tuesday, March 27.

I Am Really Angry! Get Rush Limbaugh Off the Air!

OK – I’ve had a long day today – up at 5 a.m. to get ready to preside and preach at two church services. Arrange to make a hospital call (which turned out to be unnecessary). Nurse my knee (on which a meniscectomy and cartillage repair was performed last Wednesday). Set up the church dining room for a Lenten soup supper and study program, and then lead that program, and then oversee the tearing-down and cleaning-up afterward. It was a long, but rewarding day of parish ministry.

But then I read this blog by a mother whose daughter was bullied at school this last week – called a “slut” by classmates because she takes birth control – something that they got wind of because some adult on a band trip violated a confidence. I was a band parent – I was president of our children’s band parents boosters group. I know about permission slips and medication supervision and confidentiality. Having been a practicing attorney (and still a member of the Bar) and being a priest, I have a vested interest in confidentiality! So its violation bothers me … a lot.

AND THIS STORY JUST PISSES ME OFF! Maybe it’s just because I’m tired at the end of a long day … but I have a daughter, too. If this had happened to her, I’d have turned into a raving lunatic and sought out those who had humiliated her and probably done them harm. (Yeah, I know, clergy aren’t supposed to think or do such things … but I’m pretty sure I would have!) Some adult on the band trip has a lot to answer for, as do the bullies who abused this young lady and their parents … and mostly Rush Limbaugh and those who idolize his brand of insensitive bullshit! The Republican candidates and office holders who have failed to denounce his treatment of Sandra Fluke also bear responsibility. This just has to stop and a good place to start stopping it is to get that jackass removed from the airwaves!

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