He Ain't Heavy...but could you help me toss him into this well?

Read Genesis 37 and Luke 15:11-32

We do the Bible a great disservice when we read it only as a book about “how to be holy” when, in fact, it is just as much a book about “how to be human.”  The stories in scripture are about real people with real talents and real foibles, filled with examples of love and loss, humility and humiliation, selflessness and selfishness.

These enduring themes are found in many faith traditions over the ages.  Joseph, for example, is an important character in the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faith narratives, figuring significantly in both Genesis and the Qur’an.  The arc of his story covers themes familiar in family life:  love, favoritism, jealousy, brokenness, deceit and reconciliation.

The account of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis 37 is such an example.  As I’ve read this over the years, I am always struck by young Joseph’s arrogance as he lets his older brothers know of his dream that they will bow down to him, and their response of throwing him into a well.  I may be alone on this one, but I always think to myself at this point in the story, “What a twit! He got what he deserved!”

My mother could have shared many stories about raising a houseful of boys with Leah and Rachel.  I was the youngest of four active boys.  I’m sure Mom would have enjoyed commiserating with another female at home from time to time (aside from the family dog), but she never let on. 

Six people in a tiny house with one bathroom made for close quarters and high-volume antics. I was the youngest by a wide span, and by my brothers’ accounts, probably a bit (a lot?) of a spoiled “mama’s boy.” I didn’t get a “coat of many colors,” but they would surely say that I was indulged in ways they were not throughout my childhood and adolescence.  And, there were probably many times they wanted to toss this chatty, smart aleck, know-it-all kid into a cistern…or worse!

Apparently, I was a nuisance from the start.  I shared a birthday month with my next-older brother, Luke, and my parents brought me home from the hospital the same day as his sixth birthday party.  Buzz-kill!  As the story has been laughingly retold over the years, I stole the show on his special day and he never forgot it!

Ah, brotherly love! 

It was sibling rivalry that got the best of Joseph and his band of brothers, rivalry ripened by ego.  Joseph was his father’s favorite.  He knew it, and he certainly let his brothers know it.  Their first reaction, also stemming from their jealous bruised egos, was to do him in for good.  Only later did they modify their plan to something less “permanent.”

If there ever was a perfect example of Proverbs 16:18 (“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall”), this was it—literally.

Fast forward.  We know little about Jesus’ siblings.  In fact, there is disagreement as to whether he had them, although it seems unlikely to me that he would have been an only child.  If he did have brothers and sisters, we do not know how they played, shared, or argued.  In our tendency to “sanctify” all the stories of the Bible, we might shy away from the idea that they acted like a typical family with its share of discord, jealousy, and pain.

We do see Jesus’ frustration, though, with the men who became “brothers” during his brief ministry:  the disciples.  They were, at times, argumentative, prideful, and flat-out dimwitted.  Think of the times Jesus shared his teachings through parables, only to have the lessons fall flat on his disciples’ understanding, often because of their own self-interests and perspectives.

The beauty of Jesus’ parables is how they work on so many levels. One of his most powerful teaching moments involved an allegory about siblings.  The Prodigal Son parable (Luke 15:11-32) is not just an example of how the Kingdom of God works—it’s very much a story about being human.  In it, we see how the natural inclination to let the ego take over influences the actions of both brothers, leading to disconnection from themselves individually and from one another.

There are parallel themes in the story of Joseph and the Prodigal Son.  It was ego that led young Joseph to boast of his influence and position in the family, and it was ego (perhaps even the unbridled “id”) that led the younger brother in Jesus’ parable into the world with his unearned inheritance in hand, squandering all he had on an indulgent lifestyle. 

It was bruised ego that allowed anger and jealousy to win the hearts of Joseph’s older siblings, leading them to plot his disappearance.  Similarly, it was a bruised ego that so hardened the older brother to the lost son’s re-acceptance in the family in Jesus’ parable.

I’ve heard people describe ego as an acronym for “edge God out.”  Others, like the contemporary Franciscan teacher and author, Richard Rohr, speak of ego as the “false self” we build and depend upon in the first half of life, before we return to the “true self” made in the image and likeness of God.

There is a beautiful turning point in the parable of the Prodigal Son, when he is at his lowest point of suffering: “When he came to himself…” (Luke 15:17).  I love that description.  No more blinded by his own ego, his false self, the lost son was able to see his way back from humiliation to home.  The story of Joseph and his brothers also resolves in reconciliation when he reveals his true self to them with tears and forgiveness in Genesis 45.

Our egos serve a purpose, to a point, but can also serve to disconnect us from our siblings in the “big family” of humanity. We see it now more than ever, it seems.  The ego strives to be “right.”  The ego strives to “control.”  The ego strives to individuate and separate and distinguish rather than connect.

Chapter 12 of the Qur’an, where the story of Joseph (Yusuf) is told, ends with this verse:  In their histories there is certainly a lesson for men of understanding.  It is not a narrative which could be forged, but a verification of what is before it and a distinct explanation of all things and a guide and a mercy to a people who believe (12:111).

The stories of Joseph, Jesus, and the Prodigal Son are our stories.  Their families are our families, and the greater human family.  The journeys of Joseph, the Prodigal Son, and their siblings are the journeys Jesus always points us to:  away from the ego to the place where each can come to his or her true self.

Is this not the journey we are called upon in this Holy Lent?
Reflection:  Where has your "ego" led to brokenness in a relationship?  Where do you need to reveal your true self to sow seeds of reconciliation?

F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E

Just as we set aside time to prepare for Christmas Day, it makes sense to set aside time to prepare for Easter....hello, Lent.  Think of all the Christmas preparations for the birth of Jesus; during these days we are preparing for the end of His early life and the birth of His eternal life.  These forty days give us time to shop our hearts and minds, ponder our lists with our names at the top, and choose the perfect gift for Him on Easter morning.  That gift is each of us...a more extensive us.  More of our minds and our hearts and our hands and feet.  How do we get there?  How do we explore deeply in order to offer ourselves more fully?  I honestly don't know.  But I believe the Old Testament story of Joseph will help teach us.

Many scholars believe that the life of Joseph closely connects with Jesus' life story.  In fact, it is practically impossible to examine Joseph's life and not see the similarities in the life of Jesus.  So who is Joseph?

     Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives, and he brought their father a bad report about them.
     Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate robe for him. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.
     Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him all the more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had: We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it.”
     His brothers said to him, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said. Genesis 37:2-8

We learn a few facts pretty quickly:
•Joseph is a member of a very large family
•He is born into a mixed family, step-brothers and step-sisters probably
•His father had a favorite - him!
•He and his brothers did not get along very well - there was jealousy and anger
•Joseph had dreams...I believe big dreams

Ironically, through this story we can immediately recognize Jesus' family life too.  He was a member of a large family, he had brothers and sisters (Mark 6:3).  He was the favorite - the very favorite of his Father.  And the people He came to meet and teach, argued with him, accused Him, and certainly didn't accept Him.  Yet, Jesus had a dream, a vision, a hope.

This life template gives me encouragement.  I see similarities for my own journey.  Do you?  Think about it!  We all began our lives with people who were imperfect, who loved or didn't love on any given day.  Families are complicated, messy, emotional and mark our beginning.  These people loved us as best they knew how.  Some of us received extravagant family love, others received a broken, shallow type family unit.  All of us lived in complicated family units where there were 'favorites' and there was jealousy and anger.  But, there was laughter and love in abundance, too.  There were nicknames and special hugs.  There were some slammed doors and forgotten birthdays as well.  In my house, there was also dreaded silence.  Sometimes it was better than yelling.  It was family.  And it was beautiful.  And dreams were planted and dreams grew.  Because those dreams were planted by a bigger Father.

This Joseph/Jesus story tells me that we all start in the same condition.  We all start with 'F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E' engraved inside us.  And we all face difficult times.  But it's the gift and dream inside that we need to find.  It's that special word planted deeply that whispers and nudges.  This Lent of our lives is the chance to focus on the inside.  And let the dream come alive and breathe and claim us.

Lent 2018: The ForeRunner

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.  Lent is the 40-day period before Easter, the forerunner of Easter.  It's a time to open our hearts a bit wider and to try and understand God more deeply, so that when Easter arrives, it's not just another Sunday but an opportunity to receive the enormous gift God offers each of us.

This year our Lent study will focus on Joseph from the book of Genesis.  Just as Lent is the forerunner to Easter so is Joseph a forerunner to the life of Jesus on earth.  We want to look at the life of Joseph and see what his experiences might offer us as we walk through the day leading up to Easter.  Joseph was born into a normal family, argued with his brothers, was accused of many things, made fun of, was lost, survived and loved...most especially loved.  Does that sound like your family life?

Will you join us for these Forty Faithful Days?  There will be a new posting each Sunday, first from Kathy on February 18, then from Scott of February 25...and we will continue our alternating pattern all the way through the Lenten season.

We hope you will explore this story with us and invite others along on our journey.

Scott and Kathy

Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives, and he brought their father a bad report about them.
Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate robe for him. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.  Genesis 37-2-4 NIV

Monday's Choice

The big day has come and gone.  Baby chicks, Easter eggs, chocolate, and the Easter festivities have once again passed.  It's on to graduations, vacations and summer days.  The 40 days of Lent are over and Easter is over, isn't it?  Are you different this Monday after Easter Sunday?

Did the Easter event change your heart and mind?  At the core of Easter is hope; therefore my life can experience a change.
This next thought may shock some of you but I've often speculated that the formal church is too focused on the cross of Christ instead of the empty tomb.  That's a disturbing sentence, I know, but hear me out!  In our Christian culture, we are taught early in life about Jesus and his work on the cross.  His beautiful and complete grace that covers our sin and selfishness and gives those who believe in Him eternal life.  That is a Truth; for without His death we would be without hope, without life.  However...

...is that where many of us stop?  Do we stop our lives at Jesus' death on the cross?  Oh, we celebrate Easter Sunday in our finery and with our families but can we say we're living Easter on Monday?

Could it be that we are living only half of the Good News?  We call Friday of Holy week...Good Friday as it was good for us that Jesus gave His life so that we may live today and forever.  But I contend that we are stuck on Good Friday.  We are stuck in the pain and anguish of our own lives.  We know what happened on Easter Sunday in Jesus' life but for some reason we have chosen to remain in a 'Friday' lifestyle.  WHAT?

As Christ followers, we are invited to have our own Good Friday where our problems and our pain are put to death.  And, then experience an Easter Sunday in which we receive new life!  But we tend to stay in Friday and our pain from this world consumes our entire attention span.  And life does hurt.  It's hurts so badly to be rejected.  It hurts so badly to lose people to death, particularly death that is violent and random.  It hurts to see sickness and addiction in those we love.  It hurts to have no one to love or to be loved by no one.  It hurts to be lonely and isolated.  We have forgotten what Sunday offers us and our pain!

...they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; he has risen! Luke 24:2-6

He is not here!  He has risen.  That is the message the Bible teaches and that is the life we are offered...a way of real life and Joy in our Monday world.  Jesus' message was certainly one of redemption and salvation and life eternal.  AND, it was also a message of Joy, of overcoming, of living life to the fullest in the midst of earthly pain.  We say we love Him and believe in this message but are we living it?  Are we looking for the dead among the living?  Do I keep looking at my dead pain instead of looking at my alive Joy?  Easter is the day to celebrate that He has overcome our pain and loss.  And, Easter is also the day to wake up and live life to the fullest. Yes, there is pain in our world but He has overcome this pain.

This is the Monday choice.  No one can do this for me.  I can stay tied up in my Good Friday pain, hurt, disappointments and insecurity.  Or I can choose a new way....a way of living life to the fullest.  Choosing an Easter Monday does not mean that I forget my pain; it simply means I choose Jesus over my pain.  I choose to let Him use that pain so that I may help others.  I choose to let Him use that pain to grow me into who He dreamed.

Hallelujah, He is not among the dead.  He is alive!  Are we brave enough to let go of our 'identity of pain' and choose the Joy He offers.  He HAS overcome the world.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Very human...very human, indeed

Holy Saturday--April 15, 2017

Over these weeks of Lent, Kathy and I have invited you to journey with us as we have considered some of the well-known prayers found in Scripture.  With you, we have considered David’s prayer for a clean heart and renewal of a right spirit…and Jesus’ own instruction to the Disciples regarding “how” to pray.  In these culminating days of Holy Week, we will consider Jesus’ personal prayer at his greatest time of trial.

--Scott

There are many perspectives from which one can interpret scripture.  Obviously, a literal interpretation—taking the words, events, and descriptions exactly as they appear on the Biblical page—is one approach, and one that many use.  The risk, in my experience, comes in applying our 21^st century meanings to a language in which these writings were not originally penned or spoken.  Without considerable study and a deep knowledge of the meanings of Greek, Hebrew, and various Middle Eastern languages and dialects in the vernacular of origin for these texts, all “literal” interpretations do become largely “subjective.”

One can also interpret scripture through a lens of symbolism and application (note that I said “also,” not “instead,” as any individual can employ varied approaches to interpreting scriptural text).  What are the greater, deeper meanings of the words, events and descriptions?  How do those deeper meanings relate to, or transform, my experience? 

The entire narrative of the Passion of Christ—indeed the whole week leading up to the Crucifixion—is so laden with drama, politics, grandeur, and tragedy—that a literal approach in and of itself can be, well,  overwhelming.  A cast of thousands, heroes and villains, plots and subplots, graphic violence, earthquakes, dark clouds, and supernatural phenomena abound.  As the central figure and protagonist, Jesus the Christ’s manifestation as the Son of the Almighty God can overshadow the moment which, to me, is the most powerful example of Jesus the Human Being, the one just like us…

A few years ago, a friend shared a sentiment I’ve now heard many times since: “Every person is fighting his or her own great battle…so be kind to each person you meet.”  Indeed, suffering is one of the common experiences we all share as humans. Existential threats, worries about things only imagined, poverty, physical pain and illness, loss—all of these and more are inescapable for anyone living and breathing on this great planet.  Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering."

Sometimes I think we forget (or at least minimize) the very human nature of Jesus by focusing solely on His divinity.  Perhaps this is thanks to the portrayals of Him in films and stories over the years, combined with the many missing details of his life.  He often seems to be "above" the day-to-day experiences that the “regular” folks have.

But was Lazarus’ death the only time that Jesus wept?  You might think so from the limited and literal interpretation of what’s on the Biblical page.  Did he ever have a cross word with Mary or Joseph, or a moment of adolescent rebellion?  Did Jesus ever have the flu?  Did he have a pet he loved and lost, and the broken heart that followed?  Did he ever fall in love?

Just the thought of answering some of these questions is challenging for many, if for no other reason than the notion of Jesus being both “human” and “divine” is challenging for our limited understanding.  We may even think it’s “blasphemous” to ask such questions, even silently.  Easier to fixate only on the mystical, "God-Man" nature of Jesus as The Christ than to consider all of it together.

Yet, there at the very depth of the Passion narrative is Jesus at his most human, just like us, I dare say.  Because who among us who has ever suffered greatly, been paralyzingly afraid, felt desperately alone, did not in some way cry out, “My God!  My God!  Why have you abandoned me?”

This is the cry of the weeping father over the casket of his own child…of the young mother who has learned of a devastating diagnosis…of the teenager who has learned that an unexpected baby is on the way…of the sole provider suddenly laid off a job…of a community in ruins after an earthquake…of a country in ruins after years of no rain, or the devastating rain of warfare. 

This is the cry of a suffering world.

Hanging on the cross, facing an inevitable end, he cried out, “Eli! Eli!  Lema sabachtani? (Matthew 27:46)” This is not a new prayer, one we see attributed only to Jesus in scripture.  No, this is a familiar prayer of David predating the time of Jesus by centuries, found in Psalm 22.  This cry of desperation echoes from a long past across the ages, through Jesus, to us today.

Jesus' cry is the cry of humanity.

Are we bold enough to claim more than the joy of the resurrection… that, in suffering, Jesus’ story is our story?  We can celebrate the Resurrection with thanksgiving; at the same time, we can also be thankful that the One who was resurrected was human enough to cry out to God in desperation and anguish…just like us.

“This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin (Hebrews 4:15).”

One of the greater, deeper meanings found in the Passion narrative is that life is a continuous cycle of suffering, death, and resurrection.  We see this pattern played out in all of nature, not just in our human experience. 

None of us can escape the suffering.  Even the Son of God wasn’t able to do so.  And we know, as sure as day follows night, joy will eventually return in the morning………

Today, I am Hungry - 6th Sunday in Lent

Kale, Left-over fried chicken, coconut and Greek olives...you have 30 minutes to turn this into a wonderful entree for our judges.  Time starts NOW.  This is the Chopped kitchen which airs on the Food Network.  I'm obsessed with this show.  I love to cook and I look to eat and I love watching the chefs try and make something delicious out of ridiculous ingredients.

There are dozens of cooking shows on TV that teach us about new techniques and new foods as though we've become bored with our everyday food.  We don't just want daily food anymore, we want new food, something different, less calories/fat/sugar, etc.  Yes, more please.  Food is not just a daily necessity for us; it has become a hobby.  It's a planned event and for some it's a beautiful memory of home, family and a time of connection.  But today, I don't want to go down memory lane (I could...easily...because no one cooked like my mama and I miss her and her kitchen).  

But today, my thoughts lead me down a less traveled path. 

Give us this day our daily bread (Matthew 6:11)....

And this further Word,

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? (Matthew 6:25-26)

I find it interesting that these two verses are found in the same chapter of the Bible.  They are found in Jesus' teaching after being asked the question, 'teach us to pray'.  He answers this one question with a long teaching session that covers many life issues.  But what we are focused on today is unique to me. I'm focused on these three phrases...Give us this day our daily bread...is not life more than food...look at the birds they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and YET your heavenly Father feeds them.

Have we forgotten this simple message?  Are we so obsessed with new, different and more? Do we really believe He can and will care for us as he does the birds?  Honestly, I'm a little more comfortable knowing I have money in the bank for food tomorrow and a savings account just in case my world turns upside down.  And as Scott mentioned, perhaps we've begun to believe that we are the ones providing ourselves with our food.  It's our hard work, our accomplishments and our paychecks that provide today and tomorrow's food for our tables.  

  

So who am I relying on?  It feels like the answer is 'me'.  And oh, how I hate that thought.  Please Lord, give us what we need not what we want.  Isn't that what 'daily bread' means?  In our fear and insecurity, do we strive for more and more....just in case tomorrow is a disaster?  I know me.  I know I am not enough and never will be enough.  However, my soul knows the truth...there is only one Gardener who provides and through the words 'daily bread' he's teaching us to trust only in Him for today's food, shelter and life.

I contend that as much food as we have in the world, many of us are still hungry and I don't mean those who are in the world and truly starving.  I mean those of us comfortable in our homes with full refrigerators and full everything else.

Proverbs offered an interesting word to me recently.  It reads like this:

“Two things I ask of you, Lord;

    do not refuse me before I die:

Keep falsehood and lies far from me;

    give me neither poverty nor riches,

    but give me only my daily bread.

Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you

    and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’" Proverbs 30:7-9a

So, could 'Give us this day our daily bread', truly mean:  Lord, give me only what I need in this day otherwise, I may have too much and disown you...Otherwise, I may have too much and say 'Who is the Lord'?

In our North American wealth, has this happened to us?  Has this happened in you?  And yes, has this happened in me?  When I pray, give us this day our daily bread, I pray it is only enough to sustain me for fear that my selfishness will lead me to forget who HE is....my only provider, my only life source, my one and only, Bread of Life.

one day

one bird

one basket

one fish

one loaf

one prayer

one Lord

one pilgrim

one journey

more than enough

more than I can imagine

more than I expected

more than I can fathom

more than I hoped

more than others

more than most

more in one day

I need

I admit

I submit

I acknowledge

I thirst

I hunger 

Just today: I come, I bow, I ask, I eat, I'm filled

Tomorrow will care for itself

One bird, one life, one day

--Kathy

April 9, 2017

"Give us each day our daily bread"--5th Sunday in Lent

Sometime in your life, hope that you might see one starved man, the look on his face when the bread finally arrives.  Hope that you might have baked it or bought it or even kneaded it yourself.  For that look on his face, for your meeting his eyes across a piece of bread, you might be willing to lose a lot, or suffer a lot, or die a little even.

--Father Daniel Berrigan

I’ve never really been hungry, not in the life-or-death, desperate sense.  My hard-working parents always put my brothers and me first, always made sure that we had everything we needed, and many of the things we just wanted, even if it meant great sacrifice on their part.

As an adult, I have worked hard and reaped the benefits; nevertheless, I know that even without hard work, I’d probably be doing better than most thanks to my comfortable perch of privilege as a white man in the most prosperous land on earth.

So when I consider Jesus’ instruction on prayer to include, “Give us each day our daily bread (Luke 11:3),” I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit that I’ve pretty much taken it for granted that the food would be coming, prayer or not. 

When my double-door refrigerator is nearly empty and the cupboard is growing bare, I get up on my two healthy legs, drive my clean and well-appointed car to the nearby supermarket, fill my eco-friendly bags with an array of needs and wants, slide my chip-enabled card in the reader, and make my way home to wash my vegetables clean with water that pours effortlessly right out of the tap.

The convenience of this oft-repeated experience has lulled me into a comfortable and complacent resting place where it becomes easy to think God has nothing at all to do with it.  So why insist that this be a daily prayer?

All that any of us has, in fact, rests uneasily in a fragile web of good fortune, economics, politics, and power.  A look back at the hours immediately after Hurricane Katrina (or any number of natural disasters) plainly shows what a difference a day makes, and that each of us living in comfort is but a few choices or a set of unforeseen circumstances away from real hunger, from desperate need.

Lifted up as prayer, “Give us each day our daily bread” should be more than “magic words” routinely spoken as a safeguard from poverty.  If we rest relatively assured that the bread (and most everything else) we need will come our way, what do we do with this prayer?

We know, of course, that for the majority of the millions of people living around the world, the tender mercies of food, clean water, shelter, safety, and medical care cannot be taken for granted.  And when they do come, they are not manna from heaven laid fresh daily upon the land by a benevolent God (Exodus 16: 1-36).

Indeed, God’s tender mercies are conveyed through the acts of charity, hospitality, and humanity of those who have “more than enough.”

As I’ve reflected on this one small phrase—“Give us each day our daily bread”—I’m drawn to other words of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew:

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go visit you?”

The King will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25: 44-45)

As I write this, I think of the children of Aleppo, the mothers of the Sudan, the fathers and sons striving close to home and around the world…nameless faces all merging into a sad uniformity.  We grow weary of their stories, and their familiarity has bred contempt. 

Yet when they pray, “Give us each day our daily bread,” or whatever similar supplication may arise from their traditions, the answer to their prayers is…us.

Now, Kathy and I write these blog entries each week entirely as reflections of our own personal experience, our faith struggles, and far more questions than answers.  I feel confident she would join me in expressing the hope that what we share is never interpreted as “preachy” or “pious,” but rather our vulnerability and questions, humbly exposed.

I quoted Father Daniel Berrigan to start.  He was considered a rebel, a revolutionary, a militant subversive by “the establishment” in the 1960s.  In His time, so was Jesus.  And he paid for it with his life, as we know. 

Berrigan’s words about the recognition of needs unmet, and our obligation to be the agents of answered prayers, seem to reflect the same sentiment of Jesus regarding “the least of these,” do they not?  And if Jesus’ words serve only to “comfort the afflicted,” but never to “afflict the comfortable,” then how are we to be transformed?  What would be the point of all this Christianity, anyway?

These are the kinds of questions I struggle with as I think of “living” the Gospel, and falling so woefully short.

Set your politics aside for a moment, whatever they may be, and consider the experience Tim Kaine recently relayed from his time as a missionary in Honduras.  During the campaign for the vice-presidency, he was profiled in a revealing feature article in a national newspaper. 

He spoke of his lifelong Catholic faith and how it was deepened during those years in Central America.  His first-hand experiences with deep poverty led him to change his mealtime prayer from the traditional Catholic grace, “Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord,” to a new petition:

“Lord, give bread to those who are hungry, and a hunger for justice to those who have bread.”

Amen, and amen!

--Scott

April 2, 2017