February 3rd Reflection

While he was babbling on like this, a light-radiant cloud enveloped them. As they found themselves buried in the cloud, they became deeply aware of God. Then there was a voice out of the cloud: "This is my Son, the Chosen! Listen to him."
Luke 9.34-35

"...they became deeply aware of God."

We have a tendency to separate our experience of the Divine, our religious life, from our practical daily life. Our days are full of appointments, work, school, practices, and leisure. Perhaps we are a bit like Peter, babbling on about how nice it would be to settle down a bit. But if our actions don't match our desires, this is an empty prayer.

Deep awareness of God comes with practice. The practice is making space for God to enter in by striving to live a holy life, such as reading scripture, praying, and treating others, especially those whom nobody loves, with love.

As you read this, I invite you to pause for just a moment, to slow down long enough to imagine that at this very moment a bright, shining cloud of the love of God envelopes you and those around you. How does that change you? How does it change the way you see those around you? How might the rest of your day be just a little bit different because you have become just a little bit more aware that where you go, the presence of God goes with you.

Reflection for 8/19/2015

Sermons are conversations. I trust that the Holy Spirit has been at work in your heart and mine long before 10: 45 AM on Sunday morning and remains at work far longer than the roughly 20 minutes I get to share with you every week. Some evidence of God's work is your willingness to share with me your thoughts following worship.

For example: Someone helpfully pointed out this past Sunday that I was mistaken in my presentation of Ulrich Zwingli as an Anabaptist. Zwingli was quite opposed the Anabaptist movement despite the fact they held very similar theological views on the Lord's Supper. But Zwingli held that this group of Christians took the test of faith being the born again experience too far. "In their [Anabaptist] own minds, however, they were simply carrying Zwingli's biblicism to its logical conclusion..." ("A History of the Christian Church" Walker, pg. 450.) I'm hope my error didn't offend too much and that it didn't detract from the idea that over the course of history the Lord's Supper has at times been an offense. 
 
I hope the sermon doesn't end in the narthex either. Invariably, I seem to stumble upon a quote or situation during the week that brings Sunday's sermon back to mind. That happened this week as well. I was catching up on a program I occasionally listen to and heard an interview with John O' Donohue in which he said the following:

"And, I think for parenting, for relationships, and for all the domains of our endeavor and work, to have access to a religious tradition is a huge strengthening, critical resource, which keeps you wide awake and makes you ask yourself the hard questions. Like, I've always thought that tradition is to the community what memory is to the individual. And if you lose your memory, you wake up in the morning, you don't know where you are, who you are, what ground your standing on. And if you lose your tradition, it's the same thing." - John O' Donahue (from his 8/6 Interview on "On Being with Krista Tippet")  

I hope this past Sunday's sermon gave you a little bit better understanding of the tradition of the Lord's Supper and how it informs who we are as Christians. In the face of rampant consumerism, is the idea that all we need is the body and blood of Christ offensive? Is it offensive that Jesus tells us that in the body and blood we find unity when there seem to be so many reasons to divide ourselves from others? Given our experience of the ubiquity of death, does Jesus' gift of life eternal offend commonsense? If you're interested, you can listen to this sermon here.   

Reflection for 8/4/2015

We've been studying John chapter 6 the past couple of weeks in worship. It's known as the bread of life discourse. In this chapter, Jesus addresses both physical hunger (the feeding of the multitudes) and spiritual hunger (the bread of God).
 

For as often as we eat, and as often as eating and food appear in the Bible, it's my impression that eating is not something we talk all that much about as Christians. Put "prayer" in the Amazon search engine, and you'll come up with several hundred thousand books on the subject. Put "eating" or "food" along with "Bible" or "Christianity" or even "spirituality" in the same search engine, and you'll come up with at most about a thousand books. Some of these are for individuals struggling with unhealthy eating habits and others with some pretty peculiar premises (eat the foods of the Bible for health). At best, this topic usually gets placed under one of two umbrellas: hospitality or social justice, but rarely as a subject on its own.  
 

Perhaps there is good reason: Jesus says, "Don't work for food that doesn't last, but for the food that endures for eternal life..." (Jn. 6.27). He seems to be implying that our concern should be for spiritual or eternal matters; leading to the conclusion that earthly food must be of temporal value at best. Combine this with the theological weight of a sacramental understanding of the Lord's Supper, and maybe it's no wonder we don't think about food much beyond what will we bring to the next potluck. 
 

I've heard it said that if a person is physically hungry, he can't be expected to pay attention to their spiritual hunger. At first, this seems to make sense: Jesus first fed the 5,000, and then taught them about more important things: the bread of life. But on the other hand, I've also heard it said that it's only the hungry who come to know Jesus (perhaps a good example would be the unnamed rich man and Lazarus). A good reminder that formulaic approaches to a relationship with Jesus typically fall short.
 

Maybe it's enough to say: food/eating matters. It mattered to the Israelites wandering in the wilderness enough that they came to believe that God not hears our cries for help, but answers them. Jesus was able to use this religiously significant story to teach his followers how he was both the same as (a gift from God) and different from (eternal rather than temporal) manna. Food/eating mattered to Peter and Cornelius, and the Holy Spirit was able to use this shared meal of what would have been unusual food for Peter to teach them that God does not show partiality to one group over another (Acts 10).
 

We're going to continue on with this discourse for the next couple of weeks. Do you have your own favorite food story (Biblical or otherwise) that informs your faith? What does that story teach you about the love of God?