Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Ministry (Page 55 of 59)

Complacency Is Just Not an Option! – From the Daily Office – October 5, 2012

From the Gospel of Luke:

Jesus said: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”

Bookplate Engraving of "Sloth"Today I am forcing myself to get back in the groove with these daily meditations on bits of Scripture from the lessons of the Episcopal Church’s Daily Office Lectionary. I took a break two weeks ago about the time of my father-in-law’s death and funeral, a break which was just supposed to be a couple of days, and it stretched on and on and I got out of the habit. I tried, a couple of times (once with a bit from Judith and once with bit from the fourth chapter of Luke), but I couldn’t discipline myself to sit down, compose, and publish the thoughts in my head. I was slothful; in the words of medieval monks, I was suffering from daily, early-morning acedia. Acedia, one of the Seven Deadly Sins, according to Wikipedia is “a state of listlessness or torpor, of not caring or not being concerned with one’s position or condition in the world.” That is not the mental state exhibited by Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson from Luke, but I think he addresses it and, thus, today’s lesson has helped me out of my own torpor.

In today’s Gospel we have the Lukan version of the Beatitudes which differs in many respects from the more well-known and oft-quoted version in Matthew (Matt. 5:3–12). It differs so much that we refer to Luke’s rendition as “the Blessings and Woes” rather than as “Beatitudes,” and that title gives witness to the most distinctive difference, the addition of the “woes” addressed to the well-off. And it is those “woes” which I focus on today.

Each of these states of woe is introduced in the same way. In Greek the word translate into English as “woe” is ouai. It’s pronounced something like “oo-why” and is, according to something I remember reading in seminary but can’t find now, an onomatopoetic term expressive of a sigh . . . a sigh of profound sadness. So rather than being (as is often understood) Christ’s prediction of some terrible calamity that is to befall the well-to-do, the satisfied, the currently happy, or those who are lauded, these “woes” are statements of Jesus’ current sadness about them.

Why should Jesus be unhappy about this state of well-being? I suspect it is because well-being can lead to complacency or, worse, to efforts to maintain it at the expense of others. Complacency is a form of acedia. It makes people fear the unknown, mistrust the untried, and abhor the new; it makes people resist change. The complacent will stick to what they have always done even when it stops working. The theme-song of the complacent is, “We’ve always done it this way.” Jesus stands in opposition to “the way it’s always been done.” He calls us to new ways of behavior, new ways of being in community, new ways of caring for one another. No wonder he sighs so deeply with such sadness for the satisfied, for the complacent.

So this is where I find encouragement, inspiration, and energy in this passage . . . after heaving these profound sighs, Jesus doesn’t just sit there. He goes on with his teaching, issuing his call for changed behavior, and then goes on with his ministry; in the first verse of the next chapter, Luke tells us, “After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum.” (Luke 7:1) Immediately, he is confronted by a request for healing and then, shortly thereafter, he raises the son of the widow of Nain from death. For Jesus (and for us) complacency is just not an option! We may sigh, but there is always something to be done.

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

Eyewitness Testimony – From the Daily Office – September 24, 2012

From the Gospel of Luke:

Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Luke 1:1-4 – September 25, 2012)
 
Bible Beat“Just as they were handed on to us . . . .” Those eight words from the introduction to Luke’s Gospel are often overlooked; in fact, I’d be willing to bet there are members of the church who’ve never heard or read them! The prologue to Luke’s Gospel is a very formal, brief, and somewhat vague introduction, but these eight words may be the most important in it. They ought to be heard as a caution to those who would treat this (or any Gospel) as absolute truth; Gospels are not histories, nor are they eyewitness accounts. As the writer makes clear, it was someone else who witnessed the things he writes about; he learned them because they were “handed on” and because he has done his research.

Not that eyewitness testimony would be all that great! As a former trial lawyer, I can verify from personal experience that eyewitness evidence is notoriously unreliable. This is because human beings don’t actually remember what we see; we reconstruct what we believe we have seen. Memory is a reconstruction, not a record. Research has shown that memory traces are, at best, highly impoverished versions of the original perception. Eyewitnesses often have insufficient information in their memories, so they reconstruct events adding pieces of information from other sources. There are two main sources of additional information: 1) pre-existing stereotyped mental models of objects and events, and 2) other memories. When people recognize a situation, either in perception or in memory, they invoke the most applicable steretypical model, or another similar memory, and unconsciously fill in missing information in order to complete the picture. This is why two eyewitnesses will describe an event in very different ways. This (in part) is why there are four Gospels, each telling Jesus’ story in a different way.

So even though Luke “investigated everything carefully from the very first,” his Gospel cannot be taken as 100% historical fact; none of the Gospels can. That’s no reason not to read them, study them, read, mark, and inwardly digest them. But it is a reason not to beat other people over the head with them. The Gospels are part of the story “handed on to us” and like Luke, we have to do our research and do our best to discover the truth.

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

Doers of the Word – From the Daily Office – September 23, 2102

From the Letter of James:

Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act – they will be blessed in their doing.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – James 1:22-25 – September 23, 2012)
 
Bla Bla Bla - Act NowIt is said that Martin Luther hated the Letter of James; he called it an “epistle of straw” and didn’t believe it should be in the Bible. Why? Some folks will tell you it is because this epistle doesn’t support Luther’s theology of justification by grace through faith; James insists that works are necessary and the reformer just didn’t like that. However, that’s not really the case. Luther had doubts about the epistle’s apostolicity; he didn’t think it was really written by James the Apostle. He was probably right.

Nonetheless, in his preface to the New Testament, Luther praised the Letter of James and said he considered it a good book “because it sets up no doctrine of men but vigorously promulgates the law of God.” According to Luther’s biographer, Roland Bainton, “Once Luther remarked that he would give his doctor’s beret to anyone who could reconcile James and Paul. Yet he did not venture to reject James from the canon of Scripture, and on occasion earned his own beret by effecting reconciliation. ‘Faith,’ he wrote, ‘is a living, restless thing. It cannot be inoperative. We are not saved by works; but if there be no works, there must be something amiss with faith.’ ” (Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther)

Earlier this year, President Barack Obama addressed a prayer breakfast and took this passage as his text. Among other things, this is what he said:

The Bible teaches us to “be doers of the word and not merely hearers.” We’re required to have a living, breathing, active faith in our own lives. And each of us is called on to give something of ourselves for the betterment of others – and to live the truth of our faith not just with words, but with deeds.

So even as we join the great debates of our age – how we best put people back to work, how we ensure opportunity for every child, the role of government in protecting this extraordinary planet that God has made for us, how we lessen the occasions of war – even as we debate these great issues, we must be reminded of the difference that we can make each day in our small interactions, in our personal lives.

As a loving husband, or a supportive parent, or a good neighbor, or a helpful colleague – in each of these roles, we help bring His kingdom to Earth. And as important as government policy may be in shaping our world, we are reminded that it’s the cumulative acts of kindness and courage and charity and love, it’s the respect we show each other and the generosity that we share with each other that in our everyday lives will somehow sustain us during these challenging times.

That’s pretty good Christian theology, Mr. President!

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

Simple Wisdom from Above – Sermon for Pentecost 17, Proper 20B – September 23, 2012

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, September 23, 2012, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Proper 20B: Wisdom of Solomon 1:16-2:1,12-22; Psalm 54; James 3:13-4:3,7-8a; and Mark 9:30-37.)

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Wisdom Highway SignThe collect for today from The Book of Common Prayer:

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

On the positive side, the side of “things heavenly,” there is the “wisdom from above [which] is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” On the negative side, the side of “earthly things,” there is “wisdom [which] does not come down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, [and] devilish;” the story from the Wisdom of Solomon demonstrates what this sort of “negative wisdom” leads to. How do we learn wisdom and how do we learn to choose one sort over the other?

One way, of course, is from our elders. We learn by watching them, by listening to them, by doing what they do. Sometimes that’s good, sometimes not so good, but as the old saying goes, apples don’t fall far from the tree. For most of us, the ways we do things, the ways we make choices and decisions, the ways we react the world around us are pretty much the same ways our parents or grandparents did. I know I’m not alone in having those moments when I hear myself saying something and then think, “O heavens! When did I turn into my father (or into my mother)?”

But the world changes rapidly and we don’t always find ourselves in situations where the “wisdom of the elders” can be used. We face new contexts and different challenges; we deal with a reality that they never encountered.

My wife’s father passed away a couple of weeks ago and last weekend we were away in Nevada for his memorial service. (Our thanks to the many of you who have expressed your condolences.) Paul was 95-1/2 years old, and as we celebrated his life I thought about the way the world has changed in the almost complete century of his life. The Wright brothers flew their plane at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, just 14 years (almost to the day) before he was born. Look what has happened to the air transportation and space flight since then. Paul’s entire working life was spent in the telephone communications industry and look what has happened in that business and its offshoots, cell phones, smartphones, the internet, Facebook, and all the rest. The world has changed dramatically in just the span of his life, and the wisdom of the early 20th Century is sometimes woefully inadequate in dealing with the 21st Century.

Sometimes we humans can’t deal with change, particularly when it comes at us rapidly as it has in these past several decades. Our reaction is often to try lock things down, to try to stop the change. But we can’t really do that; the world changes anyway. Wisdom, the right kind of wisdom, the “wisdom from above” as James calls it, recognizes that. It is, he says, “willing to yield.” Earlier in his letter, in fact in its very first words, James writes, “My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” (1:2-3) For James, it is a simple thing: ” Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.” (4:10)

James understands, and he wants his readers, you and me, to understand that nothing is ever locked down, that change can never be stopped, it can only be embraced; for James this is as true for changes in ourselves as it is for changes in the world. In this letter, James writing to the whole church; unlike Paul’s letters which were written to particular congregations to solve particular problems, James’s epistle is written to all Christians in every place at every time. Therefore, he knows he is writing to people who are in different and widely differing circumstances, to Christians who are at different stages of spiritual maturity. But he is able to address each of us, no matter where along the journey we may be, because even our faith is not locked down.

Conversion to Christ is not a one-time thing; it is an on-going, life-long process. We aren’t brought suddenly in a blinding instance from darkness fully into the light so that everything before some point of conversion is left behind and all ambiguity removed. It just doesn’t work that way. Conversion is an on-going process. Every day we have to leave behind our anxieties about earthly things, and learn again to love things heavenly; every day we have to turn away from the wisdom from below, from envy and selfish ambition, from disorder and wickedness, toward the wisdom from above, toward peaceableness and gentleness, toward simplicity and mercy.
I spend some time each day in prayer and one of my favorite resources is this book, Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community in northeastern England. In it are readings for each day of the year. This was yesterday’s taken from another book entitled Hebridean Altars: The Spirit of an Island Race by a Scots Presbyterian minister named Allistair MacLean:

When the shadows fall upon hill and glen;
and the bird-music is mute;
when the silken dark is a friend;
and the river sings to the stars:
ask yourself, sister,
ask yourself, brother,
the question you alone have power to answer:
O King and Saviour of all,
what is [Your] gift to me?
and do I use it to [Your] pleasing?

That is a wonderfully wise, spiritually simple question to ask everyday, a question which we each are only able to answer for ourselves in prayerful conversation with God: What is God’s gift to me and do I use it to God’s pleasing? It is a question which can help us to turn from earthly things, from envy and ambition and disorder and wickedness, toward heavenly things, toward peace and gentleness and mercy. It is a question which we, God’s children, should ask everyday in prayerful conversation with the Father.

In today’s Gospel lesson from Mark, when the disciples are arguing amongst themselves about envy and ambition, Jesus took a little child and put her among them; Jesus took the child in his arms and said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” When Matthew tells this story, Jesus also says, “Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 18:3-4) In Mark’s Gospel he will say this in another setting, “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” (Mark 10:15)

As a child, we look to our elders to learn wisdom; as children of God, we look to our Father to learn the wisdom from above. In that way, we receive the kingdom of God; we enter the kingdom of heaven. In today’s reading in Celtic Daily Prayer, also from Hebridean Altars, this is the very image presented, the image of a child reaching up to and being lifted up by the Father:

Often I strain and climb
and struggle to lay hold
of everything I’m certain
You have planned for me.
And nothing happens:
there comes no answer.
Only You reach down to me
just where I am.
When you give me no answer
to my questions,
still I have only to raise my arms
to You, my Father
and then You lift me up.
Then because You are my Father
You speak these words of truth
to my heart:
“You are not an accident.
Even at the moment of your conception,
out of many possibilities,
only certain cells combined,
survived, grew to be you.
You are unique.
You were created for a purpose.
God loves you.”

In our world today, the search for spiritual answers, the search for religious certainty, the attempt to lock things down does more to divide than it does to unite. It is a misguided quest governed more by the wisdom from below than by the wisdom from above. The wisdom from above does not try to lock down an unchangeable certainty, but rather turns daily to God with childlike simplicity to ask, “What is your gift for me today?”

In 1848, in the spirit of James’s epistle and Christ’s metaphor of childlike welcoming and faith, Elder Joseph Brackett of the Shaker community in Alfred, Maine, wrote one-verse song describing a simple children’s dance as a paradigm for gaining wisdom. It is entitled Simple Gifts, and these are the words:

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.

You’ll find this song in the hymnal, Hymn No. 554. Will you stand and sing it with me today and then everyday remember to seek the wisdom from above by asking that simple question of God: “What is your gift to me today, and do I use it to your pleasing?” Shall we sing?

KJV Paul or NRSV Paul? – From the Daily Office – September 22, 2012

From the Book of Acts:

Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Acts 17:22-23 (NRSV) – September 22, 2012)

St Paul Window, St Paul's Church, Medina, OhioEvery Sunday I stand in front of a stained-glass window depicting this scene, the altar window of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Medina, Ohio. St. Paul stands magisterially among a group of attentive Athenians, his right arm raised, his index finger pointing to heaven; the Parthenon is scene in the background; a banner lost amidst Victorian decoration declares (in good King James English), “Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.” (v. 23)

The contrast between the modern (New Revised Standard) and older (King James) translations is absolutely striking! In verse 22 of the text as translated above, Paul praises the Athenians as “extremely religious.” In the KJV translation, he condemns them as “too superstitious.” In the translation of verse 23 above, they worship God as “unknown”; in the KJV, they worship “ignorantly.” In the modern translation, Paul is respectful of the Athenians; in the Authorized version, he addresses them with contempt.

In the Greek, the first term is deisidaimonia which can have either affirmative (“religious”) or negative (“superstitious”) meanings. The second term is agnoeo which is related to our English word agnostic; it directly translates as “not knowing”. Paul uses it frequently in his letters to mean such things as “unaware,” “uninformed,” or “not recognizing.” Like the first term, it can have either affirmative or negative meanings depending on context.

How should we read it? Like the good bishops and scholars who translated the Authorized Version under warrant of King James in the early 17th Century, or like the modern scholars who translated the NRSV in the late 20th Century? And which version ought we to emulate in our dealings with non-Christians?

It should come as no surprise to anyone that my preference is for the later translation. Although Paul is often forceful in his rhetoric, neither his letters nor Luke’s portrait of him in the Book of Acts suggests that he was ever deliberately rude. He was, rather, respectful of his audiences; I believe we should give him the benefit of the doubt and translate his conversation with the Athenians in that light. I believe, also, that as we engage those who are not of the Christian faith it is that same attitude of respect and courtesy that we should adopt.

The Athenians of our day are our neighbors, our friends and co-workers, who have adopted a new version of agnosticism, who say, “I am spiritual but not religious.” It is these “SBNRs” (as some current writers of church literature have labeled them) to whom we are commissioned to present the Gospel. Several months ago, I read a blog post by an author I like and respect which, I’m sad to say, takes the KJV attitude towards such folks. The post is entitled Spiritual but Not Religious? Please Stop Boring Me. In it the author, a clergy person, describes the experience many of us ordained have had of sitting next to an SBNR on an airplane; she complains that she finds such persons, these folks who “find God in sunsets,” simply uninteresting:

Being privately spiritual but not religious just doesn’t interest me. There is nothing challenging about having deep thoughts all by oneself. What is interesting is doing this work in community, where other people might call you on stuff, or heaven forbid, disagree with you. Where life with God gets rich and provocative is when you dig deeply into a tradition that you did not invent all for yourself.

Thank you for sharing, spiritual but not religious sunset person. You are now comfortably in the norm for self-centered American culture, right smack in the bland majority of people who find ancient religions dull but find themselves uniquely fascinating. Can I switch seats now and sit next to someone who has been shaped by a mighty cloud of witnesses instead? Can I spend my time talking to someone brave enough to encounter God in a real human community? Because when this flight gets choppy, that’s who I want by my side, holding my hand, saying a prayer and simply putting up with me, just like we try to do in church.

Now, as I said, I like and respect this author, but I can’t applaud the attitude betrayed by this particular comment. This is the attitude of the KJV Paul condemning the Athenians as superstitious and ignorant! This attitude is not going to win any converts. I sympathize with the author; I know how dull and boring those on-board conversations can be. I know what it’s like to get onto an airplane hoping for a little “down time” only to have to do the work of being a “professional Christian”. It’s hard work, but guess what? It’s the work we were baptized to do (not ordained to do, baptized); it’s the work to which all Christians are called – to love our neighbor as ourselves, to spread the Gospel, to make the faith attractive to others. We do that when emulate the NRSV Paul; we fail if we follow the example of the KJV Paul.

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

It’s A Puzzlement! – From the Daily Office – September 19, 2012

From Psalms:

Give the king your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to a king’s son.
May he judge your people with righteousness,
and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
and the hills, in righteousness.
May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,
give deliverance to the needy,
and crush the oppressor.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 72:1-4 (NRSV) – September 19, 2012)
 
Yul Brynner as the King of Siam in The King and IIt’s a puzzlement!

In a recent online discussion of economic issues, a participant commented: “Government should not be charged with solving societal issues such as poverty, and this should be a society’s efforts to solve these problems through programs, charities, etc. sought by a willing group of individuals.” (I quote the comment as written; no editing.)

I don’t understand this compartmentalization of reality, this distinction of “government” as somehow separate from and different from “society”. I especially don’t understand it in a country whose founding document begins,

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

What is “society” if it is not “We the People”? And in our system of governance, the government, the sovereign, is also “We the People”. So how is it that “government” is distinct and different from “society” in the context of the United States of America? We the People decide by our votes who serves in “the government”. If we like the job they do, we vote them in again; if not, we vote them out. (There are a lot of people employed by “the government” who are not elected to it; but they are not “the government” — they are “government employees”. We can get rid of them, too, by voting out their elected bosses who are answerable to us.)

OK . . . so there’s that political framework puzzlement, but there’s also a religious puzzlement. Christian folk, especially conservative evangelical American Christian folk, love to pray the Psalms. Some of our most conservative brothers and sisters will allow no music in their worship other than the Psalms. So here we have a Psalm praying to God to give “the king” the power to “judge [God’s] poor with justice,” to “defend the cause of the poor,” to “give deliverance to the needy.” Later in the Psalm, “the king” is praised because he “delivers the needy when they call” (v. 12), he “has pity on the weak and the needy” and saves their lives (v. 13), he redeems their lives from oppression and violence (v. 14). In other words, he does all the things the participant in that conversation said the government shouldn’t do.

But the king was the government at the time the Psalms were written! We might be tempted to change king to president in an attempt to contextualize and modernize this Psalm to fit our American circumstance, but president would be the wrong word to substitute. The right word would be government. And an even more correct substitution would be We the People . . . for the king named in this Psalm was the sovereign and in our country We the People are the sovereign.

If we wish to pray this Psalm in our context, that would be the way to do it:

Give We the People your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to our children.
May We the People judge your people with righteousness,
and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
and the hills, in righteousness.
May We the People defend the cause of the poor of the people,
give deliverance to the needy,
and crush the oppressor.

Why the compartmentalization of life? Why the separation of government from society? Why the failure to see that what we revere in Holy Scripture, the righteousness prayed for the government in ancient Israel, ought to be our prayer for the government in modern America? Why the failure to see that it should be a prayer for ourselves? Why the refusal, as a society, as a nation, as the sovereigns of our nation’s government, to deliver the needy when they call, to have pity on the weak and the needy and save their lives, to redeem the lives of the poor from oppression and violence?

We the People are the society. We the People are the sovereign. We the People are the government. We the People are the ones called by this Psalm and charged by Holy Scripture with “solving societal issues such as poverty.” Why is this so difficult to comprehend?

As another king (a fictional one) was wont to say, “It’s a puzzlement!”

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

God’s in Control – From the Daily Office – September 18, 2012

From John’s Gospel:

The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel!.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 9:12-13 – September 18, 2012)
 
2008 Electoral MapWe are living through a presidential election campaign in the United States. It seems to have been going on for ever, and the political ads and the news coverage of the candidates are increasing in intensity and in frequency. Pollsters take the public’s political pulse; commentators analyze the polls; the public reacts to the analysis; the pollsters re-poll the public. It’s a system of pendulum swings that feeds upon itself and oscillates back and forth. Flip-flopping candidates are matched by a flip-flopping electorate, and the candidates, their surrogates, and the commentators all decry the fickleness of the crowd.

But there is nothing new in a vacillating crowd, just look at today’s story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. In just a few days, without the help of 24/7 television news and the internet, the same crowd will be whipped into a frenzy demanding Jesus’ execution. In their eyes, Jesus will go from king to criminal in less than a week! They will move from “Hosanna!” to “Hang him!” in four days’ time! Talk about a rapidly swinging electoral pendulum!

Of course, at this point in the American electoral process opinions are pretty much hardened; our electoral choices are probably rock-solid by now. The candidates are courting a small portion of voters, the so-called “undecided”. This group makes up under 10% of the voting public: a recent Wall Street Journal poll says only 3% of voters haven’t decided who they will vote for, while Gallup places the number at 8% at the highest. In physics terms, I suspect, the “amplitude” of the political pendulum’s oscillations is very small.

It was larger in Jesus’ time. As told in the Gospels, the swing involved nearly the whole crowd of visitors (and residents) in Jerusalem, not just a small (under 10%) group of “undecided” Jews.

Here’s what I take away from a comparison of the Jerusalem crowd and the American electorate, and the outcome of their and our decisions . . . in the long run, they were not in control and, frankly, neither are we. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t care, shouldn’t decide as carefully and prayerfully as we can, shouldn’t take part in the electoral process, shouldn’t vote. We should do all those things! But we should do so in the faithful assurance that, in the long run, God is and will be in control. The “Jerusalem electorate” chose badly; God redeemed that decision and used its result for the salvation of the world. However we choose, whatever the short term result, in the long term God will use it.

Archbishop William Temple, archbishop of Canterbury during the Second World War, once said:

“While we deliberate, God reigns.
When we decide wisely, God reigns.
When we decide foolishly, God reigns.
When we serve God in humble loyalty, God reigns.
When we serve God self-assertively, God reigns.
When we rebel and seek to withhold our service God reigns –
The Alpha and the Omega, which is and which was,
And which is to come, the Almighty.”

So we should do our homework. We should study the issues, review the candidates, take part in the process, vote in the election. We should do so hopefully and, regardless of the outcome, we should not despair. In the end, whatever decision we make, God’s in control!

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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.

Look Who I’m Talking To! – From the Daily Office – September 12, 2012

From the Gospel of John:

Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow-disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 11:16 – September 12, 2012)
 
Icon of Saint ThomasCommentaries insist that all John is doing in identifying Thomas as having been “called the Twin” is translating his Semitic name into its Greek equivalent, Didumos meaning “two-fold, twain, or twin”. But I wonder why he does this? A strain of Christian gnosticism insisted that Thomas was Jesus’ twin brother! Wouldn’t that have been interesting? How would we explain the Incarnation if the “power of the Holy Spirit” which came over Mary and produced a child with no earthly father had actually resulted in twins? Only one of them would be the Incarnation? Would that even make sense? No, I don’t think the gnostics got that one right, at all. But still, I find it intriguing that John throws in this little tidbit that Thomas was called “the Twin.” (He does it three times! He must have thought it important! See also John 20:24 and 21:1.)

This intriguing fellow, after Jesus refuses his disciples’ advice and decides to go to Bethany to deal with the death of Lazarus, utters the words, “Let us go, that we may die with him.” Die with whom? Jesus, one supposes. But he could be referring to Lazarus. Let’s assume (as most others have before us) that he means Jesus. Can’t you hear the exasperation in his voice? One can almost hear sarcasm. I can envision Thomas turning to the other disciples and saying, as so many Jewish vaudeville comedians have done, “Look who I’m talking to!” Yet again Jesus declines to take the advice of those closest to him. Yet again he’s going to do something they think is foolish, dangerous, and ill-advised. Sure that Jesus is walking into some sort of death-trap, Thomas heaves himself up and says (probably with an indignant sigh), “C’mon! Let’s go get ourselves killed!”

For all his sarcasm and indignation, however, Thomas is the obedient disciple. He may have objections; he may have second thoughts. He may know all the reasons that what is asked of him is impractical but, after having his say, he is still going to do it because his Lord has asked it of him. Could it be that John is not calling him “the Twin” at all? Could it be that in naming him Didumos John is calling him “Thomas two-fold”? “Thomas who is of two minds”? Thomas who voices objections but carries through in any event?

That’s the tough part of the story to internalize and make my own, the carrying through anyway. I usually only get as far as the objections, the second thoughts, and the impracticalities, or at least I take a long time to get through them (when I do get through them). For example, I knew in high school that I was called to ordained ministry, but did everything possible to not respond to the call as a young man. In college, my university chaplain and my parish priest both encouraged me to make an application for postulancy and to consider seminary. I followed their urgings but, looking back, I realize I also did just about everything I could to undermine the process. I was successful – I was rejected by the Commission on Ministry of the Diocese of San Diego. They told me finish college, maybe get a graduate degree and then re-apply. “Yeah, right!” was my reply. That was in 1973. Fifteen years later after two graduate degrees and a career practicing law, several refusals to my then-bishop who often encouraged me to consider ordination, and a lot of nagging from God, I finally reapplied and quickly went through the process. Twenty-two ordained years later, I can’t imagine not being in the ministry.

I guess that’s why I find Thomas so intriguing and so beguiling. I can relate to someone who voices objections, who gets exasperated with God, who gets a little sarcastic with the Lord, who complains about what he’s asked to do. I’m sure that he knew it was pointless, that Jesus was going to get his way in the end . . . but he bitched and moaned anyway, just to have his say. (Sometimes, I think Thomas’ post-resurrection “doubt” was not so much disbelief, as just another incident of getting in a snarky little dig.)

The really intriguing and beguiling figure in the story, however, is Jesus. I can see him sitting there listening to Thomas with a wry little smile and an affectionate shake of the head. He knows Thomas is going to come along in the end, but he also knows that Thomas has to have his say first, and he lets him have it. In my mind’s eye I see Thomas, having voiced his complaints, heaved his sigh, and spoken his sarcasm, getting to his feet and being the first one out the door, Jesus following him, smiling affectionately, shaking his head, and thinking to himself, “Look who I’m talking to!”

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

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