Do We Get It?

The context of Isaiah 40:21-31 is about the Israelites who are in exile in Babylon. God is about to liberate them through an unlikely figure: Cyrus II of Persia. This reading, appointed for today's liturgy, comes just after the section in Chapter 40 where: 1) God has announced a new beginning, a new epoch; 2) God prods the people to begin preparing to return from their long exile, and also for God’s coming in glory; 3) God’s incomparability as Creator of all is highlighted and emphasized against merely human nations and empires who, compared to God, are nothing.  

God begins by asking rhetorically: “Do you all get it yet??” God is the origin, and the in-between, and the end of everything in our lives.

“Who created these?”, God asks, pointing at the magnificent and vast created world. It’s only in the first lines of Genesis and in this passage that the Hebrew word bara = created is used. It is God who is the Source of beginnings in our lives, God who is the Source sustaining us, and God who is the Source bringing everything to completion, i.e., in LOVE. “The Lord is the everlasting God.” And God emphasizes this so much because we forget it so much, especially when preoccupied with the pain and suffering and loss in which we frequently find ourselves.

In v. 27 Israel is on the “pity pot” because of such narrow vision: after all of God’s demonstrated promises and proofs throughout their past history, they’re frustrated, fearful that God has forgotten them and left them alone. If they could look long enough at the big picture, they’d see that human suffering is only temporary, and more, that it’s even a necessary part of God’s bigger design. “God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless...those who wait for the Lord [and not for the “good old days” or “what might have been”] shall renew their strength...”

We can look at Mark’s portion of the Gospel for today (1:29-39) as having two parts. Part 1 takes place at Capernaum. Jesus is “on the road” which will eventually lead to Jerusalem and to his death. Hints of Lent, soon to come! There’s a progression from his Baptism, then being led into the desert to be tested, then on to his call of those who would take up his cause, and finally his being on the road to his ministry. Mark’s message is that Jesus’ agenda is that of his Father and of the Spirit: namely, to bring God’s reign to reality.

You’ll notice some similarities to last week’s Gospel: 1) Jesus, acting on his own, heals someone (the demon-possessed man/Peter’s mother-in-law); and 2) Demons are present. They mess up human lives and they fear Jesus. The reason is because they “know” who Jesus is and that they are incompatible with him in our lives. Though many of the afflicted and of those standing around don’t understand, the demons know who’s in charge.

As Jesus finishes a teaching session in the synagogue, he’s invited to Peter’s house where Peter’s mother-in-law presumably lives with him and his wife. Though Peter’s wife isn’t mentioned specifically here, Paul later [in 1 Corinthians] very clearly refers to her as possibly accompanying Peter on his mission. Perhaps the mother-in-law had the flu -- “she was in bed with a fever”, always risky for an older person. In his quiet, gentle way Jesus comes to her and takes her hand. The fever subsides; she gets up out of the bed, and heads for the kitchen to get them all something to eat! Perhaps Mark puts this little detail in his Gospel to show that the mother-in-law is an example to us in looking beyond her own ills to the needs of others.

As so often in Jesus’ ministry, it doesn’t take long for the news to get around that he’s done something dramatic, even though he tries so hard to keep a lid on it [what the scholars call the “Messianic Secret”]. By sundown sick and possessed people are standing and taking numbers at the home in order to take advantage of a free healing by the Rabbi. And Jesus responds tirelessly, healing those with “various diseases” and casting out “many demons”, whom Jesus doesn’t permit to speak.

Mark shifts immediately to Part 2 of the reading which takes place the following morning. It represents Mark’s conception of Jesus’ goals and objectives in proclaiming God’s reign as Jesus himself models them.

First, Jesus is up very early, before dawn, and he prays. You get the feeling, reading this, that it was part of Jesus’ regular routine. He goes to a “deserted place”, though obviously not a desert, a place of silence. He communes with the Holy Source of his healing ministry and of his preaching power. But his peace is short-lived, because Peter and the gang come hunting for him, and loudly announce that EVERYONE is looking for Jesus! [Very much like a parish rector on Sunday morning!] It’s not that they’ve suddenly gotten inspired by his preaching about God’s coming reign. They’re focussed on “getting healed”, getting a hand-out, preoccupied with their frustrations, their lack and their emptiness.

Jesus stops the disciples in their tracks by announcing: “We’re moving on, to the neighboring towns, so that I can get on with preaching the message, the Good News: “for that is what I came to do.” And Mark notes that he did just that: preached “throughout Galilee” in the synagogues and cast out demons. Now think about this a minute. Suppose you’d brought yourself, or perhaps your spouse or your child to Capernaum, in an impossible physical or mental or spiritual condition, for healing or at least for advice or a kind word -- and the healer says he’s moving on! What feelings would be running through your mind as you watched him and his band trudge down the road, away from your village?? What do you do now?? Where do you go?? Who will help?? And how, at that moment, would you be feeling toward God?? The fact is that we’ve all been there at that place.

Our lives are constantly full of new beginnings, both in happy times and ironically in the midst of suffering and difficulty. A friend of mine just recently split up with her partner, and I reminded her that she could bet that some sort of new call from God was probably in that situation.

Our whole task as human beings and as Christian human beings is to prepare for return from our exiles and to prepare for God’s coming in glory in our lives. That won’t necessarily be a dramatic end-time event, but rather the coming of God’s reign which, through our simple ministries, we help bring about in our own and others’ lives.

We need to continually check on ourselves: “Do we really get it??” -- the vision of Christ to bring all together in God who is Love through Jesus. Even when we feel left out, frustrated, fearful, angry, God sustains us and renews our strength. Perhaps the best way to know and to recognize that is in and through our demonstrated love of one another.
The Spirit of Love enables us to do this through prayer; through proclaiming the Good News of Love; through speaking the truth to power, when necessary, whether in political or religious realms; through healing others by our thoughts, words, and deeds.

The past almost two months I’ve been feeling a bit like those Israelites whom God addresses today: on my “pity pot”, bemoaning “My way is hidden from the Lord...”, as I watched the progression of my son’s illness and almost his death at one point. I, too, have felt left behind in frustration, anxiety, agitation. But prayer has become very important during this time, and I’ve uncomfortably felt God confronting me, as he did the Israelites, with his questions: “Have you not known; have you not heard...God gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless...” But God really got through to me through my own dear son, in the midst of his daily struggle to keep alive, who, last Sunday, sent me this poem which he wrote:

In all of us there is a meadow that exists. 
It is the place where God exists.
The harsh weather dries the meadow out 
to the point where there is no growth.
How can it be a meadow still? 
No green, no moisture, nothing that one can walk through 
feeling the soft tickle of spires of thin grass on the legs.

God lives in the deep cracks of the earth. 
God lives in the constant, cool breeze 
that flows through the vast and expansive land we travel.

Gently touch the cracks of the earth -- the dry cold earth -- 
and God will always grow the green soft grace that soothes the soul. 
You just don't need to see it or smell it 
to know that it will grow.

Brigid - "Mary of the Gael"

St. Brigid (Bride)

mid-5th cent. - c. 523

[Brigid's Well and Statue

Sculptor, Annette McCormack

Photo, Mario Corrigan]

Brigid's Feast

I should like a great lake of finest ale

For the Kings of kings.

I should like a table of the choicest food

For the family of heaven.

Let the ale be made from the fruits of faith, 

And the food be forgiving love.

I should welcome the poor to my feast,

For they are God's children.

I should welcome the sick to my feast, 

For they are God's joy.

Let the poor sit with Jesus at the highest place,

And the sick dance with the angels.

God bless the poor,

God bless the sick,

And bless our human race.

God bless our food, 

God bless our drink, 

All homes, O God, embrace.

[From Celtic Fire, edited by Robert Van de Weyer, pp. 39-40] 

Thoughts On A Bud and A Sock

What is going on?!

I walked out this morning to retrieve the daily newspaper and noticed that the saucer magnolia (?) in my patio has a huge flower and another on the way, and it's only February 4! It just doesn't seem right. Feeling that the bud must feel confused in this crazy back-and-forth weather we've been having, I confess to a pang of pity as I looked up at it.  

Though it kills me to admit it, I like order in the universe.  I can fairly readily adapt to change, if necessary, but I like the regular rhythm of things.  I'm comforted by knowing what to expect, what I can count on (which seems less and less these days).  So, you can imagine that I feel solidarity with a lot of other folks who are going bonkers with the current status of just about everything in the surrounding society, around the globe actually, in nature, in politics, etc.  Amidst all this my son, Andrew's prolonged illness and the uncertainty of its resolution has knocked me for a loop.

Then, last Friday, which is my laundry day (remember, I like order!), I came up one sock short.  It always drives me to distraction, though it's not unusual for a sock to get stuck inside the washer or dryer, or to fall to some place in the closet, usually in some unreachable place which tests my "senior" ability of coordination to retrieve it.  Anyway, I'm a sock short;  so for the past four days my Inner Calming Spirit: you know, the one that's always whispering things in your ear, says to me: "Just be cool.  It's here somewhere and it'll show up.  Did you shake out the clothes from the 

dryer?"  "Yeah, I did, piece by piece," I reply in frustration.  "Well, be cool: it'll show up sooner or later."  And past experience, I admit, has proven that to be generally true.

It was cold this morning, so I wore one of my warm plaid shirts, one which I had thoroughly checked for the sock last Friday.  I'm standing at the kitchen sink, washing out the coffee pot.  I look down, and there's the sock!  "Feel better?" smirks the ICS.  "You had to ask, didn't you?", I sputter.

Then something came to mind which Jesus already told us a long time ago: "I tell you, don't worry about your life...Isn't the body more than clothing [including socks]?...Look at the flowers...how they grow...So don't worry...Today's trouble is enough for today..."

OK, once again I get it!

  

The Good Person

St. Anskar (c. 796-865)

Benedictine Monk

Missionary Bishop to Denmark and Sweden

Archbishop of Hamburg and Bremen

For the past couple weeks I've been working my way through a fascinating historical book by David Levering Lewis, God's Crucible: Islam and the Making of Europe, 570-1215.  I'm smack dab in the middle of his account of the reign of Charlemagne, very much a contemporary of Anskar.  In fact, there's conjecture that Anskar's father may have had some standing at the king's court.  The connection of the book with Anskar is intriguing because the former recounts the rather long history of Charlemagne's dealings with the Saxons, Danes, and Swedes.  A particular thorn in the side of Charlemagne was Widukind, a Saxon warlord with whom the king did battle on a number of occasions.  Problem was, though, that Wily Widukind always managed to escape, usually to the Danes where he found support.  In one of the amazing turnarounds of history, Widukind's luck ran out around 785, and some say that, having seen the handwriting on the wall as Charlemagne continued to devastate the Saxon people, Widukind actually allowed himself to be captured. Charlemagne, by this time inescapably enmeshed in his relationship with Pope Adrian and the Roman Catholic Church, spared Widukind's life, but insisted that he turn from his pagan practices and be baptized.  The king of the Franks even volunteered to be Widukind's godfather! Widukind, apparently a man of complete extremes, laid down his weapons for good, influenced his Saxon compatriots to join him in embracing the faith, and himself became a faithful son of Holy Mother Church.  Perhaps not the ideal way to gain converts, but, hey, it worked!  

Anskar was probably born in Corbie, near Amiens, around 796.  At age four his mother died, and he was entrusted to the care of the Benedictine monks at the monastery of Corbie, a not-unusual tradition.  It seems that he was professed as monk in his early adolescence.  I could tell you what his biographer, Rimbert, says about his life there, but its full of visions, visions, and more visions.  In my advancing years, I've become increasingly skeptical about some hagiographies.  According to most of them the saint of choice was of sterling character, holy beyond what any of us could probably aspire to: in other words, and unreal person.  So I'll spare you that stuff.   With Anskar we'll just have to live with an information gap!  

In 826, when Anskar was about thirty years old, 12 years after Charlemagne's death, King Harald of Denmark converted to Christianity, which probably delighted Charlemagne's successors, and surely lessened their military grief. The times, they were definitely a' changin'.   Anyway, Harald, in his new-found zeal, decided he needed some missionaries.   Anskar led a group to Schleswig and tried to start a school there.  Political conditions and ingrained lack of receptivity of Christianity in the people led to Anskar's being run out by the pagans, who burned his school to the ground, and his moving on to Sweden.  There he's reputed to have built the first Christian church in Scandinavia, at Björnskö.   Between 826 and 865 Anskar's labors in Denmark, Sweden, and northern Germany were responsible for a good measure of success for the Church.   In addition to preaching the gospel, he built hospitals and bought back captives, persuading the chief men of  the country north of the Elba to give up the slave trade, a source of great profit to them.

Emperor/King Louis the Pious, Charlemagne's son, named Anskar as abbot of Corbie and the first bishop of the new diocese of Hamburg in 831.  After he was consecrated in 832, he visited Rome where Pope Gregory IV made him Archbishop and Papal Legate to the Scandinavians and Slavs, because of which he became known as the "Apostle of the North".  Anskar founded a monastery and a school at Hamburg, Turholt Abbey becoming the center of his operations. In 845 the Norsemen destroyed Hamburg and Anskar fled to Bremen.  By this time the missions in Sweden had collapsed because of the invasion of the Vikings and the expulsion of Gautbert, first bishop of Sweden, whom Anskar had helped consecrate.

King Louis the German of the East Franks made Anskar bishop of Bremen, from where he now conducted his missionary outreach in the North, sending missionaries to Sweden again in 851.  He himself visited there a few years later and converted Haarik II of Sweden.  The Church of Sweden honors Anskar as its apostle, and he serves as a symbol of the historic friendship and present-day connection between the Anglican Churches and the Church of Sweden.  

Anskar died in 865 and was buried in the church of St. Peter's, Bremen.  There's an interesting footnote to Rimbert's Life of Anskar which seems to indicate that Anskar was well-aware that he was as human as the rest of us and was no goody-two-shoes, as Rimbert tends to portray him.   Rimbert, in winding up his account of Anskar's life says: "Wherefore let no one be surprised that he did not attain to that [physical] martyrdom which he so greatly desired and which, he thought, had been promised to him, for it cannot be proved that this was promised as he himself interpreted the word martyrdom.  In the case of visible martyrdom pride might affect the mind..."  The footnote to this observes: "Anskar himself admitted that he had been specially affected by the temptation to indulge pride."  

It is said that one time, when some of Anskar's friends were talking of miracles for which he was supposed to have been responsible, he said, "If I were worthy in my Lord's sight, I would ask of Him to grant me one miracle -- that He would make me a good person."  Certainly not a prideful statement there.  Makes you kinda like a saint like this, no?!

The Man Who Hoped

There's a story about a Methodist bishop, Bishop Welch, when he turned 101 years old.  He was asked if he didn't think a lot about dying.  Not at all, he replied, When was the last time you heard of a Methodist bishop dying at 101?  That's hopefulness!

Today the Episcopal Church celebrates the feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the temple.  The story, found in Luke 2:22-40, speaks of a man of hope: Simeon.  Though there's nothing in the text to confirm it, it's possible that he was an older man.  Indeed, his voicing of the song, which we know as the hymn for Compline, the Nunc Dimittis (At last you give leave...), suggests this.  Artists have depicted him as a venerable, white-haired elder, with clear, alert sparkling eyes, alert because he's waiting and watching. (See picture to the left: Entry to Temple, The Coptic Network Picture Archive)

Simeon appears but briefly on Luke's pages.  It was popularly believed that "Simeon" derived from shama Yahweh = Yahweh has heard.  The story says he was in Jerusalem, presumably as a resident, though he might have been a pilgrim.  Luke describes him as righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and says that the Holy Spirit was upon him.  It seems that Simeon had been given God's assurance that he wouldn't die before seeing the Anointed One, the Messiah.  On just this day, at this time, when Mary and Joseph were bringing their newborn son to the temple to carry out the rituals of the Law as observant Jews, Simeon had felt the Spirit's urging to go there also.  

We're not clear on how he finally recognized them, but when he did, he took the baby in his arms and blessed God:

God, at last you have given your servant leave

to go in peace as you have promised:

With my own eyes I have seen the Savior,

whom you have prepared for all the world to see:

A Light to enlighten the nations,

and the glory of your people, Israel.

 And his father and his mother, Luke tells us, were surprised at these words...  Simeon blesses them, then speaks to Mary those cryptic words about her son's destiny and about the sufferings she will experience.  And that's it! We don't ever hear of Simeon again.

Perhaps there are several messages here, as simple and unassuming as Simeon himself was.  As Christians, once we have accepted Jesus Christ through our baptismal commitment, we no longer have to prove anything to anyone.  We don't have to be handsome or beautiful, or brilliant, or efficient, or physically strong, or rich and powerful, or famous. Our value, as a person who is in Christ is: 1) in being who and what our baptismal covenant call us to be: righteous, i.e., right with God, with our neighbor, and with our self -- certainly never self-righteous; and 2) devout: in Greek, eulabes = taking or receiving well, being circumspect or looking around, catching on well.

Simeon also helps us appreciate the importance of the unseen, the unclear.  He doesn't fall into the trap of believing that the only reality is what you perceive with the senses.  There's always something more to see and learn in the depths of people and situations in our lives.  How many folks in the temple with Simeon that day saw only another couple and a baby? God is a God of surprises, always seeming to pop up, revealing Godself, in unexpected places and people and events where we'd never think or bother to look on our own.

Contrary to some popular notions through the ages, Simeon knew that God wasn't a God out there or up there.  Simeon recognized God as present everywhere, all pervasive, in his own heart and life.  He was in touch with God through the Spirit.  You might think of Simeon as a sort of preview of Pentecost.

Finally, because of the Holy Spirit's presence and promise, Simeon could hope.  Can you imagine how preoccupied he must have been with the Spirit's inner assurance that he'd live to see the Messiah of God? Can you visualize how he must have greeted each new morning? How often must Simeon have prayed with longing that verse from Psalm 118: On this day the Holy One has acted; we will rejoice and be glad in it! Perhaps today will be the day!

The Spirit's promise enabled Simeon to go on hoping and to look to the future despite the troubled society and times in which he lived: with Roman occupiers who had defeated his people and taken over the land; knowing that Herod the King had defiled God's law in killing off every possible rival to the throne, even his own sons and wife; being fully aware of the corruption among the priestly and religious leaders; living in an atmosphere of daily threat from criminals who infested the roads and highways.  Yet Simeon trusted God's Spirit who communicated and confirmed God's promises to save: Behold, I send my messenger...the One whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple...the messenger of the covenant... behold, he is coming...(Malachi 3:1-4)  Those same promises have been given to us.  It would be a shame to treat them, as we so often do, simply as nice, inspiring words on a printed page.  Just as Simeon, we need to allow ourselves to be in-spired, breathed into, by God's wind/breath/Spirit given to us in Baptism.  The Spirit needs to be given free reign in our lives, so that we can come to how real those promises are for us.  

Simeon received a promise.  He prayed, and watched, and hoped.  And what happened? An old man got to hold a baby. It's always a big deal in a family, you know, to hold a baby.  Everyone takes turns and passes the baby around, while making varying degrees of unintelligible and inane sounds and faces! Somebody with a camera says, Smile!, and the baby frowns as the flash goes off, then laughs.

There were no cameras that day in the temple, no crowds of family and friends making over the child.  Just Mary and Joseph, ordinary parents, and this old man, Simeon, holding the baby, the Promised One, the One called Jeshua, Yahweh saves.  

Oh, and Anna the prophetess, too; but that's a story for another time!

 

  

Meditation From a Hospital Room

My son, Andrew, sent me this yesterday from his hospital bed in Florida.  Illness sometimes stirs the creative juices in us.

In all of us there is a meadow that exists. 

It is the place where God exists.
The harsh weather dries the meadow out
to the point where there is no growth.
How can it be a meadow still?
No green, no moisture, nothing that one can walk through
feeling the soft tickle of spires of thin grass on the legs.

God lives in the deep cracks of the earth.
God lives in the constant, cool breeze
that flows through the vast and expansive land we travel.

Gently touch the cracks of the earth - the dry cold earth -
and God will always grow the green soft grace that soothes the soul.
You just don't need to see it or smell it
to know that it will grow.

Who Speaks for Whom?

Massud Farzan, a contemporary Sufi author and Professor Emeritus of English at the Metropolitan College of Boston University, relates a story about a man who was claiming to be God.  He was taken to the Caliph who said: "Last year someone was claiming to be a prophet.  He was executed."  "Serves him right," the man answered, "I hadn't sent him."

God, quoted by Moses, as quoted by the writer(s) of Deuteronomy (18:15-20), spells out as well as anyone could the description and role of a prophet: to be a spokesperson, an intermediary, for God -- not, primarily, a future-teller.  "...'I will raise up for them a prophet...from among their own people; I will put my words in the mouth of the prophet...Anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in my name, I myself will hold accountable.  But any prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, or who presumes to speak in my name a word that I have not commanded the prophet to speak -- that prophet shall die."  Pretty strong words!

People in every age have emerged with a prophetic voice: people who, rightly or wrongly, challenge society's institutions and authority.  The sticky wicket in all this, of course, is the element of God's inspiration.  How does one know? Those who claim they speak for God are a dime a dozen, especially on Sunday morning TV.  Others are sincere in their claims, but many times are, unfortunately mistaken.  I've always felt this way about Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet.

Paul the Apostle certainly dealt with this issue constantly.  Throughout his missionary career there were people in the church communities which he established who deemed themselves spokespersons for the Almighty in the structure, theology, and practices of those communities.  In his first letter to the Corinthian Christians (8:1b-12) he notes two kinds of "prophetic" knowledge: 1) the kind which "puffs up":  "...Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge...";  and 2) the "knowledge" which comes through exercising God's love to others: "...anyone who loves God is known by God..."  Dishonoring others, "sinning" against them, is a sure sign of a false prophet, and no amount of "spiritual knowledge" can justify that.

Mark, in his Gospel (1:21-28) says that it's only Jesus who truly speaks in God's name and, therefore, is qualified as God's prophet, spokesperson, intermediary.  Mark depicts this teacher, wonder-worker, and healer from Nazareth as one displaying genuine "authority".  In Greek, the word for "authority" is exousia = "from one's own existence or self; mastery; taking charge; presence".  Its Latin counterpart is auctoritas = from augere, meaning to "help increase or grow".  Jesus silences falsehood and evil in the Gospel because he's the Holy One of God.  Jesus builds through love, makes people grow because he knows and is known by God, the source of love.

Probably a good number of us at times hanker to think of ourselves, or even act like, something of a prophet, a loudspeaker for God.  All things being equal, it's good that there are prophetic voices in every age.  Institutions need to be challenged and held accountable in order to truly serve and build up the common good of humankind.  History has repeatedly demonstrated, and boy, do we have reminders of that these days,  that institutions, the Church, governments, organizations, banks, etc. don't always ably or honestly fulfill their responsibilities.  It's fairly common for those in authority to lose sight of the greater picture, the common good, and grow selfish and corrupt, frequently oppressing and repressing, through misused power and greed, the very people whom God intends them to serve.

That almost makes necessary the appearance of outspoken, zealous, concerned, sometimes angry, people who prick consciences and beam a spotlight on the shortcomings and even willful maliciousness of those who lead or govern.  The danger with prophets, however, with anyone who presumes to speak for God, is perspective.  Only a person who truly knows and is known by God constantly can maintain any sort of balance.  John Wesley gives this sobering advice to aspiring prophets:  "Do not hastily ascribe things to God.  Do not easily suppose voices, dreams, impressions, visions or revelations to be from God.  They may be from God.  They may be from nature.  They may be from the devil."

For those who espouse to follow Jesus, the only true measure of whether or not we authentically speak for the Gospel is Jesus himself.  It's interesting in Mark's Gospel that the members of the synagogue at Capernaum "...were astounded at his teaching...as one having authority."  Yet the unclean spirit mentioned knew exactly who Jesus was and cowered in fear before him: "...What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God."   Perhaps we, too, need to continually ask ourselves, as his followers and as citizens of society, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?"  We deserve no hearing unless we speak by the authority and presence, and in the name of the Holy One we claim to follow.