Monday, May 5, 2014

May 5, 2014 

1 Peter 5:1-14

     Today's excerpt is from The first Epistle of Peter and is part of a letter likely written around 64 AD to members of the early Church  giving direction around baptism . If it was in fact written at this time, it was a time of persecution hence in today's passage, reference in verse 9 regarding all those undergoing suffering.. we find a word of encouragement to resist and hold steadfast in the faith , and "God will strengthen and restore you". Babylon is likely a code word for the Roman Empire, and  Mark is a reference to Mark who sometimes is associated with Peter doing ministry in Rome.

     When times are tough, I think how Jesus himself walked a path of suffering, especially during his last days, and yet was steadfast in his awareness of being in company with God. In our human condition, we too  are likely to experience loneliness, poor health, economic hardship, and even chaotic times to varying degrees. We can fall apart , or we in spirit can  be open to God's power and grace , and in the process find the strength to persist and be empowered, taking comfort in that Peace of Christ, which passes all understanding.

Archdeacon Ken Cardwell

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Sunday, May 4, 2014

1 John 2:7-17

I’m struck by the down to earth counsel in verses 9-11, reminiscent of Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:  

So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. (5:23-24, NRSV)

The advice about reconciliation sticks out from the somewhat arcane language of ‘darkness and light,’ ‘the evil one,’ ‘desires of the flesh,’ and such. This helps to remind me that while our faith includes mystical elements, so much of what we are ‘about’ concerns relationships, community life, forgiveness, caring for others. With social relations in mind, take a look at the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20; Deuteronomy 5) and the Beatitudes (Matthew 5; Luke 6), and you’ll see that there is much there. 

Father Paul Gibson, one of the architects of our Book of Alternative Services, writes that the Peace that we share in the course of our Sunday liturgy is a “precondition” for sharing in the Eucharist. “Only those who accept one another may approach the table of fellowship” (Make Preparation, Toronto: ABC Publishing, 2009). The Peace and Eucharist are so closely related, that you can’t accept one and ignore the other. The Eucharist isn’t just about magic words, it’s about living ‘in the light,’ moving beyond our isolated existences into communion with God and one another. (Or into communion with God through one another? Communion with one another through God?)

Congregations can be particularly susceptible to social disruptions for a number of reasons. This is bound to happen in any community made up of real, flawed people. Hopefully in stressful times we can remember the advice found in passages such as today’s, mindful that many of our holy scriptures pertain to the seeming mundane issues  of living constructively in community with one another.

- Matthew Kieswetter

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Exodus 17:1-16

“Strike the rock, so that water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.”

Several years ago, I was on an overnight flight seated near a father and his young daughter. She was fussy and irritable, but he remained calm and compassionate. In a soothing tone, the man gave voice to the feelings of his child. “You’re really tired and you can’t fall asleep. Is that right?” The girl agreed with a cranky and worn-out, “Yes.” “The plane is making a lot of noises and the seats are really uncomfortable aren’t they.” “Uh-uh,” the girl replied. The choice of words and tone fit the situation perfectly and soon, the girl grew more relaxed and eventually fell asleep.

            Simple as it was, I was inspired by this human and compassionate encounter. How many times have I seen just the opposite? Parents who scold their children for being justifiably fussy. Parents who are more worried about disturbing the other passengers than about consoling their children that they end up making more noise with their reprimands. But I was impressed with this father. In the short term, he was calming his daughter, but in the long run he was teaching her to trust herself. He was teaching her to name her feelings and make friends with them instead of letting them control her. I can only imagine that this interaction between the father and daughter was their usual way. Ultimately, being raised by her parents in this way, the girl was learning that the world can be a trustworthy place.

            I thought of that experience as I read this story from Exodus. The Israelites are tired, they are cranky, they are thirsty and soon they are the victims of enemy attack. Despite being dramatically liberated from Egypt, their memories are short. They curse Moses their leader and lose faith in their God.

            Even though the settings and the tone are very different, I like to think that the purpose of this story in Exodus is functionally similar to my story of the father and daughter. As this story was passed down in oral tradition or is re-enacted in liturgy or devotional reading even today, readers are taught to trust themselves. Yes, we live in a world where we get spiritually thirsty. Yes, we are often under spiritual attack with discouragement or despair. And, yes, the same God who brings release from the times of our captivities is also the One who provides water from the rock and victory over defeat.

            The spiritual teacher Richard Rohr reminds us of one of the paradoxes of the spiritual life:  “Life is difficult AND Jesus’ promise that ‘My yoke is easy.’” To deny either side of the paradox is to deny the full truth of lived experience. Difficulties will challenge our fundamental trust in the world. In those moments, how can we all stop, name our feelings and be open to the love our compassionate God has for us?  

- David Shumaker

Friday, May 2, 2014

Friday, May 2, 2014

Exodus 16: 23-36

“Give us this day our Daily Bread”

We’ve known that line since we were first taught to pray.  The older we get, the more we recognize our complete helplessness without God to feed us in the barren places of our lives.  So, we pray.   

Exodus 16 continues the story of Moses and the Children of Israel as they literally wander in a barren place, without food.  But their first response is to complain.  After only 45 days of travel, they want to go back to the familiar slave food available in Egypt.  

It always amazes me that this group reverts to complaining, ignoring Moses’ leadership and ignoring God’s instructions.  They experienced the plagues of Egypt, including the First Passover – which their first-born babies survived.  Then, after decades in bondage, they were released from slavery to freedom.  They witnessed the parting of the Red (reed) Sea and the drowning of Pharaoh’s army.  A pillar of fire went before them to guide their way.  Any one of these incidents would seal the faith of most people forever, but these folks suffer from serious short-term memory loss.  At every turn, they whine and complain like selfish children.  They blame Moses and Aaron, who remind them that their complaints are not against them, but against God himself.  God responds:

“How long will you [people] refuse to keep my commands and my instructions?”

Moses, trusting in God, declares that the Israelites will be fed.  So, they find quails for meat in the evening and manna in flakes on the ground the next morning.  God’s instructions are clear – take only an omer (3lb–1.4kg) per person.  But instructions are ignored.  Some take too much, some not enough.  Yet, amazingly, those who hoard food, find the excess full of worms, and those who took too little, find they have just enough – another miracle…!  

And God wants them to take double on Friday, so the Sabbath will be free for worship.  They are to bake and boil what they need: miraculously it does not go bad on the Sabbath.  The hand of God touches every part of this story, yet the people ignore these signs and revert to selfish human habits.    

In spite of clear instructions, some people still go out to gather on the Sabbath.  Moses is forced to repeat the instructions yet again.  And to remind the people – should they continue to forget, Moses has Aaron place a jar of manna in the Arc of the Covenant.  Apparently, that jar was preserved into the Land of Canaan.  But the real miracle was God’s daily bread.  As the scripture says:

35 “The Israelites ate manna forty years, until they came to a land that was settled;
they ate manna until they reached the border of Canaan”

I examine this story, many centuries later and it causes me to wonder: do I also slip too easily into selfish complaining about my life?  Do I wish things were like they were in the past?  Do I too forget that the Lord freed me from slavery?  How many miracles do I have to see before I simply obey? Do I really need to see pillars of fire and seas parting to give my obedience to God?  Is the birth of a child enough of a miracle?  How about successful cancer surgery?

There is another part to this story that I often forget.  The manna dissolves in a day.  The unused quail meat goes bad.  When God feeds his children, he attends to them EVERY DAY.  So, when I learned to fold my hands in my bed as a child, and pray to God for my daily bread, I was also learning to keep in touch with God on a daily basis.  I prayed for the members of my family by name.  Later, I prayed for my friends – saying their names out loud.  Eventually, I prayed for the horrible things in the world that I could not help.  I prayed for God to be there – through others.  And when disaster came, and I found myself in a barren place – empty, I had learned through years of practice, not to complain, but to open my hands and beg that once again I would be filled.  And I was.

-Peter Mansell  Easter, 2014 

May 1, 2014 (St. Philip and St. Andrew)

Thursday, May 1, 2014 (Feast Day of St. Philip and St. Andrew)

John 14:6-14

Today we remember two of the apostles, followers of Jesus’s way of life. Not only did they share in ministering to people with Jesus, but tradition holds that they were both died martyrs. James is said to have been crucified, and then as if that weren’t bad enough, dismembered. Philip is said to have been crucified too (and again, as if that weren’t bad enough, he was upside down). 

Today’s passage from John, with the famous “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” speech, is associated with these apostles. Sadly, this passage seems to get used primarily as a club with which to beat those whom some see to be our religious ‘rivals.’ It is one of the big proof texts for what is called religious exclusivism. Was Jesus turning his nose up at the Hindus and Buddhists to the east? Or to the indigenous people in North America? 

The Gospel of John features several “I am” statements from Jesus. John’s Jesus talks about himself quite a lot. His acts also tend to point to his identity. Jesus gives sight to the blind man because he is the light of the world. When Jesus refers to himself as the “bread of life” in chapter 6 of the gospel we need to realize that it intentionally follows John’s account of the feeding of the 5000. Jesus’s “I am the resurrection and the life” speech goes along with the story of the raising of Lazarus. The statements and miracles shed light on one another.

So in today’s reading Jesus reveals himself to be “the way,” and associates himself directly with the Father. However, he says that if his listeners have trouble accepting this, they should look to his works. And I think this is key. The Book of Acts refers to the Jesus movement as the Way. Members of that small but growing Jewish sect did more than just worship the person of Christ. They shared what they had. They welcomed orphans and widows. They refused the violence and oppression of the Roman Empire. To see this “I am the way” speech simply as a boast of Jesus that we can appropriate for ourselves and use to put down others is to miss the point. Jesus isn’t calling us into static worship of himself. He is calling us into dynamic communion with the Father and into a radical way of life marked by self-giving love. Even in the Great Commission at the end of Matthew, another authoritative speech of Jesus, he doesn’t say “go and make sure everyone believes such and such about me;’ he says “obey everything that I have commanded you” (Matt 28:20). 

Nostra Aetate, the Vatican’s statement on other religions, comes to mind. You can find the whole statement online, but here is a small segment: 

The Church reproves, as foreign to the mind of Christ, any discrimination against men or harassment of them because of their race, color, condition of life, or religion. On the contrary, following in the footsteps of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, this sacred synod ardently implores the Christian faithful to "maintain good fellowship among the nations" (1 Peter 2:12), and, if possible, to live for their part in peace with all men, so that they may truly be sons of the Father who is in heaven.

I am writing this reflection as someone who holds what would probably be considered a pretty traditional Christology (view on the person and role of Jesus). I can (and do) bow at his name with the best of them. However, I am also convinced that God did not become man just to give us an idol to worship. Jesus is much greater than that. If Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the life, then he will significantly impact not only our personal devotions, but our whole existence. Indeed, being a follower of Jesus should inform and transform our very way of life.

-Matthew Kieswetter

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

 Commentary on John 15:1-11

Jesus has one Last Supper with his friends before facing his inevitable arrest and execution.  Time is running out as he chooses the words he wants to say to them – the last time he has a chance to teach or explain who he is, where he is going and who his disciples are in relation to him

He must convince them that they too have the power to continue in his place, they too will be filled with the Spirit and will be able to do what he does – in his name.  The urgency of the moment begins well back in Chapter 13 where Jesus tells the disciples to “love one another” and builds to his great prayer for the disciples in Chapter 17.

John 15: “I am the vine and you are the branches.”

This is the theme of the painting that hangs in the lower parish hall at St. John’s.  In that picture, I connect the risen Jesus to the Beatitudes using the images of light turning to vines, binding all into one.  Blessed are they who do these things….  

I imagine Jesus, reclining at the Last Supper on pillows and sharing the food with his friends.  I see the bread dipped in various sauces: I see the wine – a bowl of fruit.  The disciples struggle with the news that they will be left alone without their teacher.  Perhaps Jesus holds up a handful of grapes.  He says: “I am the vine; you are the branches.”  Then, he explains how he will always be alive in them.

An unattached branch withers and dies.  It goes into the fire.  Likewise, a living branch is pruned (cared for by the Gardener) – to provide maximum yield.  And such nurtured branches bear much good fruit.  Perhaps conscience – that small voice we hear from time to time is the Gardiner ‘pruning’ us…  

Jesus explains that as long as they have his WORDS inside, his disciples remain attached to him, no matter where his body may go.  And with his SPIRIT to remind them, they will not take a wrong turn.  Their witness will continue as alive as those living and nurtured branches.  It’s a perfect image of spiritual connection.

Jesus reminds them that as God has loved him, he in turn loves them.  All they have to do is ‘abide in his love’.  But, they must keep his commandments as Jesus has kept his Father’s commandments.  He promises that if they follow this path, their joy will be great.  Reading the words centuries later, we too hope for that joy.  

But the commandments of Jesus prove to be a daily challenge: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; turn the other cheek; do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  It’s a long set of rules for simple fishermen to remember.

In the next two verses – 12 - 13, Jesus simplifies it all for his friends –

“Love others as I have loved you.”

He even declares, in grim foreshadowing - how far that love could go… 

“Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

In John 15, the writer describes a brilliant teacher, moments before his own death, summoning catchphrases that will be remembered for the rest of our lives – and for all time.

- Peter Mansell  Lent, 2014

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

1 Peter 1:13-25

You Shall be Holy, For I am Holy, or, You Have to Model Yourself on Someone

Like many others, the life and writings of the twentieth century monk-author-social critic-poet-peace activist-mystic-hermit-celebrity Thomas Merton have been an important part of my spiritual nourishment. For some, Merton’s writings can be a bit esoteric. For others, he comes across as sentimental and/or sentimentalized. But those who like him... really like him. 

Thomas Merton

Merton was a smart guy, who attended Columbia University in New York, with a bunch of other smart, bohemian friends. Eventually he felt a calling to commit himself to the Church. He was rejected by the Franciscans, who I think saw him as a mired too deeply in a life of sin, but  he was, thankfully, welcomed by the Cistercian order. 

One day the young Merton was discussing his faith with his best friend Robert Lax (a wonderful poet and interesting figure in his own right). Lax asked Merton about his goals as a convert. Merton was stunned by the question, and humbly said something about just trying to be a good Catholic. Lax wasn’t pleased with that answer, and instead challenged Merton to aim to be a saint. That was quite a dare, not to mention difficult feat, thought Merton! But Lax was unmoved, and claimed that to become a saint, one simply had to, basically, set out to become one. Try your best. 

Robert Lax

Today’s reading from the First Letter of Peter seems to come off in a similarly casual way, quoting God’s command in Leviticus to “be holy, for I am holy.” Okay, dummies: get your acts together. Do better. Be holy, you know, because God is. But, for me at least, it’s a lot easier on the page, in the abstract, than in real life!

I think the key to make any sense of this is in verse 21: “Through him you have come to trust in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are set on God.” At the core of our lives is our trust in God. This is the source of our energy, our motivation, our desires. We don’t begin living a holy life through our own power, but through the power of God working within us. 

Merton, for many, is in some sense, a saint. Part of his attraction is that he was very human, full of imperfections. Yet, his life was one that revolved around prayer, the sacraments, the proclamation of the Gospel, and a love for people and creation. Might we consider this a holy life? Is that what makes a saint? Maybe. And maybe we can find some encouragement in that.

- Matthew Kieswetter