Gospel text for Sunday 21 June 2020

Matthew 10.24-39        Jesus said to the twelve disciples, “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!

“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

For I have come to set a man against his father, 

and a daughter against her mother, 

and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; 

and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Reflection    Jaundiced air envelops the scene. A barren desert scape blown dry by lethal winds bearing dusty devils brings no consolation. The majesty of mountains that usually glorify this desolation is shrouded beneath a burial cloak of black and orange smoke crowned with ashen billows. 

“Oh God, what is happening to our world? I am driving through a post apocalyptic movie set. Everywhere I look the world is on fire. Not only the Bighorn fire in front of me but also the Sawtooth and Mangum fires at my back. Not only forest fires but also viral fires leaping from unsuspecting host to host, inciting disease and dealing death. Not only Covid-19 but also protesters and provocateurs, champions of change inciting protectors of the status quo. O God, this moment moans with pain, pain so great we are all groaning.” 

Rapt in this apocalyptic apprehension while driving from Phoenix to Tucson an audible groan escaped my gut riding a river of tears. This is world pain, weltschmerz, a great German word that speaks to the collective pain experienced during times of extended conflict and transition. Today the pain I feel is greater than my own. 

I groan with the many blameless police as well as their several brutal colleagues, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the peaceful protesters calling for an end to ethnic violence as well as their     agitated provocateurs, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the conscientious folk sacrificing their pleasures to cut short Covid-19 as well as with those who due to need or desire exercise their right to act as they choose, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with all creatures, the earth and the air, for the pain that inflames all of them.

James Baldwin, an African American novelist, was one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers especially known for his essays on the black experience in the United States. Baldwin writes, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

Driving from Phoenix to Tucson I stumbled into everything I have been afraid to face; the depth and breadth of pain that is inflaming every person, group, institution, government and country today. I fear for our way of life. I fear that we cannot breath and be who we are. I am afraid to open my mind and my heart to consciously experience the depths of this personal and collective pain; weltschmerz. 

How are we to be with this pain? When the world as we have known it is replaced by an apocalyptic movie set do we welcome the pain, anger, resentment and confusion as  invitations to venture deep inside ourselves and experience Divine wisdom hidden within? Probably not our first go to. If we are honest we are more likely to eat, drink, do drugs, binge watch Netflix or even meditate seeking something pleasurable to avoid the strong emotions.  When we have no idea what is going on or how things are going to turn out, do we welcome this as an opportunity for something new and better to emerge? or do look for someone or something to blame, or make ourselves the guilty ones?

When we shut ourselves off from experiencing reality as it is, we disconnect our selves from wisdom, which is the Holy Spirit present with us. When we are disconnected Jesus’ words make no sense. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Jesus brings a sword because we need it to poke and to prod us, to unmask the ways we run from reality. 

Jesus brings a sword to uncover our preference to look for someone to blame (including ourselves), rather than welcome the discomfort of our anxiety, fear, resentment and uncertainty.

Jesus brings a sword to vanquish our desire to recreate the way things were rather than wait in uncertainty for something new to be conceived. 

Jesus brings a sword to turn us around to face ourselves and the fullness of our humanity.  And I recoil.

I recoil because I feel vulnerable. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my belly that churns as I live through the desolating apocalypse of mysterious virus, insidious fires, protests and provocateurs, violence and threats of more. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my heart where I am connected to every person, plant and place. This soft spot is the fullness of my humanity, the tender site of of divine presence with me that weeps with every burnt twig and mourning mother. 

This is the place I am loath to face because the spring of living water that Jesus brings there bears not only his incomprehensible peace but also every droplet of world pain. Still James Baldwin’s words echo in my soul, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” 

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Hebrew Testament Text for 3rd Sunday in Lent, 15 March 2020

Exodus 17:1-7        From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Reflection        Is the Lord among us or not? As it was with our ancient Israelite ancestors, this seems to be the default question when we find ourselves wandering in the wilderness of Sin, when life tosses us a curve ball, or a coronavirus.

How do we proceed from COVID-19 to hope? How do we ride out a roller coaster stock market? How do we face armed guards in Walmart doling out toilet paper? How do we submit to social distancing? How do we brave the grave uncertainties of our time without succumbing to fear? In short, how do we endure?

Let me suggest, in this time of great unsettlement,  moment to moment we must choose in which direction we will walk.  Like Jesus, do we turn our face to Jerusalem, consent to our suffering and put our faith in God with us declaring, “Not what I want but what you want?” Or do we join the ancient people of God in the wilderness of Sin, anxious and testy, quarreling among ourselves, looking for someone to blame? 

Decades ago during a retreat with the late Thomas Keating, the Cistercian monk responsible for bringing the practice of Centering Prayer out of hallowed  monastery halls to the general public, I asked Keating about suffering. This gangly six foot six inch tall man threw back his awkward arms and exclaimed with the glee of a giggling two year old, “Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Keating taught, it is in welcoming our suffering that it is redeemed. **

We find the crowning example of welcoming or consenting to suffering on the night that Jesus shared his final Passover meal with the disciples. After supper Jesus took Peter, James and John with him to a place called Gethsemane, “Then he said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.’ And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.’” (Matt 26.38-39)

Many of us are “deeply grieved, even to death.” Anxiety pumps our blood and our imagination finds no place to rest. We want to throw ourselves onto the ground and plead, “O God, make this stop! I don’t want coronavirus. I don’t want my loved ones to contract COVID-19.” Of course we do not. But are we willing to stay with Jesus face down in the dirt?  Are we willing to go the next step and submit (which by the way, means endure) are we willing to consent with Jesus, “yet not what I want but what you want?”  

Ours is not a religion that promises if we follow the rules and do everything right, check all the boxes, pay our pledge and say the right prayers, nothing bad will happen to us. Frankly, that is magical thinking. Ours is a religion that asserts, bad things are likely to happen even to good people but do not be afraid because God is with us, right in the midst of our suffering. Knowing God is with us gives us the strength and courage to endure. And the place in which we are most likely to meet God is face down in the dirt when we surrender saying, “Not what I want but what you want.” Or in Thomas Keating’s words, “Welcome, welcome, welcome.”

Covid-19 is spreading. As of March 11th there are nine cases in Arizona. Mindful measures to stop its spread have cost many their hourly wages, have kept elders confined, students out of school and parents out of work. We are anxious, deeply grieved and must choose. Do we turn our face to Jerusalem, put our faith in God with us saying, “Not what I want but what you want?” or do we join the ancient people of God in the wilderness of Sin, anxious and testy, quarreling among ourselves, looking for someone to blame? 

** To learn more about Welcoming Prayer, a method of consenting to God’s presence and action in our lives,  click on

https://www.contemplativeoutreach.org/welcoming-prayer

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Luke 9:51-62        When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, "Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go." And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." To another he said, "Follow me." But he said, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." Another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home." Jesus said to him, "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God."

Reflection        The Way of following Jesus to Jerusalem, the City of Peace, is opposite humanity’s impulsive inclination to react, get exercised, blame and exact revenge. The Way of Jesus is unswerving determination to proclaim the Kingdom of God’s peace for all in the face of human weakness, frustration, violence and tragedy. The Way of following Jesus to Jerusalem demands a peaceful response even, and perhaps especially, when we feel invaded, imperiled or insecure. I believe that is what the writer of Luke’s gospel means when he writes, “Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.” The idiom, ‘set your face’  means being determined to do something despite forces to the contrary.

Jesus has “set his face toward Jerusalem.” He is single- minded and determined. Nothing will distract him from fulfilling his purpose – from fulfilling God’s purpose to be the living breathing revelation of peace on earth, to reveal to people then and now exactly what peace looks like… and what it will cost. 

Which brings to mind that fateful day in October of 2006 in Nickel Mines, PA, when a man burst into a one room school house, shot eight Amish girls, killing five, then killed himself. Since then we have suffered many scenes of senseless violence. But the situation in Nickel Mines is singular because of the way the families responded. Rather than react with outrage and blame, claim social, political or religious persecution, and seek retaliation, the Amish families went to the killer’s burial service and offered forgiveness and hugs to the killer’s grieving family. 

Even though the family’s of the dead girls were brokenhearted, they choose to express forgiveness and peace rather than blame and retaliation and in so doing touched the hearts of people around the world, even then years later. This is the image of transforming  peace revealed in the midst of violence and tragedy. This is The Way to Jerusalem, the City of Peace.

Which lands us in front of a very large mirror asking, “How are we individually and collectively living the peaceful way of Jesus? What ideas or beliefs are we clinging to that stand in the way of being the revelation of peace right now? How does our desire for safety and security prevent us from being peace in the world? Are we willing to change even those things that are as fundamental to us as our comfort, personal boundaries and rights, public borders, family units and identities to  propagate peace and a place for all people? 

Are we willing to restructure our social, political and religious institutions to insure peace and a place for all people? Are we willing to redistribute wealth and resources to insure peace and a place for all people? Are we willing to pick up our crosses and meet hostility with gentleness? Violence with kindness? Hatred with love?  Are we willing to “set our face toward Jerusalem” and be peace, right now?  

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