On the Way to Wonder

“Mirror. Mirror on the wall, who is most beautiful of all?” asks the wicked stepmother of Sleeping Beauty.  We know the story.  The mirror reveals a momentary truth and in response, the stepmother acts.  Our mirrors reflect truth to us also but we bring the interpretation and act.  Walter Wangerin, Jr, intrigued me with his theory that being made in the image of God implies that our most honest mirror is seeing ourselves in the lives of others.  I may look in the mirror on the wall and feel I have my act together but it is when I interact with another and see the pain caused by my thoughtless comment that I truly see myself and know truth about myself.  We love stories with happy endings that portray the “good side” of humanity and we resist dark narratives of evil and gloom that force us to acknowledge the selfishness that lies within.

         Wangarin proposes that by avoiding the “hurt other,” I also avoid the possibility of grace, of forgiveness.  When I hurt the other and must humble myself and ask forgiveness, is when I open myself to grace and love.  Many resist the journey of Lent, as it is a painful journey into our potential for selfishness and cruelty.  The journey will end at the cross for Easter is still cloaked in mystery.  Death, we know, is something to be avoided and the Lenten journey embraces death.  It is as I face the selfishness of my actions, humble myself and ask forgiveness, that I can then hear words of forgiveness.  But I am getting ahead of myself.  The words of Isaiah in the Old Testament foreshadowed the cross and healing. 

         As we look in the mirror today to see if the ashes of yesterday still show, if our face is clean, remember these words of Isaiah and allow them to work in your heart today.

Isaiah 53:4-6  The Message

^2-6 The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
    a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
    nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
    a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
    We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
    our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
    that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
    that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
    Through his bruises we get healed.
We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.
    We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,
    on him, on him.

 Today, Ash Wednesday, many Christians will go to church, be marked with a cross on their forehead and hear the ancient words, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  In the shadow of death, life becomes precious.  I was once told that writing the inscription for my grave would prepare me to live life.  Jesus tells us a parable, Luke 12:16-21:

            ¹⁶ Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man   produced abundantly. ¹⁷ And he thought to himself, ‘What         should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ ¹⁸ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. ¹⁹ And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for        many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ ²⁰ But God said to him,  ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.  And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ ²¹ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not    rich toward God.”

Remembering our destination helps us chart a course on the map.

Remembering our mortality gives perspective on fragile relationships.

Remembering our frailty humbles us to seek forgiveness and help.

Remembering the brevity of life helps us embrace the moment.

         We wear our masks, socially distance, get our vaccines and an ice-storm reminds us that we are dust and to dust we will return.  Today we remember that we do not know the hour or the day when death will visit – hopefully later than sooner.

         For the next forty days, not counting Sundays, many Christians will embrace Lenten spiritual disciplines as we remember and travel with Jesus to the cross, to death.  The surprise of resurrection will have to wait for Easter.  For now we practice focusing disciplines like extra times of prayer, fasting, focused scripture readings, special tithes, elimination or addition of practices – something out of the ordinary to help us remember we are dust, temporary, fragile, formed in the shape the God of the universe wants us and trying to live a life that pleases God with God’s help.  Many our Lenten journey of meditations bless you.

Love – the last debate – has the last word.  We are coming to the end of the book of Mark and the author, John Mark’s, recording of Jesus’ last confrontation with Pharisees and Sadducees.  A woman outlives seven brothers who she was been passed down to as the previous one died and so the question – whose wife will be in eternity.  Another teacher of the law, observing the interchange about legalities, goes the heart of the debate, “What is the most important commandment?”  For many, this summary is their key understanding of Jesus.  Jesus quotes the Shema, “Hear of Israel, the Lord our God is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  There is no commandment greater than these. (Mark 12:29)”

         In our world of demonstrations and advocacy that often turns ugly and violent or faced with movies of love and leave, we easily become confused, perhaps cynical.  If all parties agree, can we do anything we want that feels like love?  The tension between love and law is real.  Often the motives of the heart can be discerned by the actions of the person, how we treat our neighbor.  But most often it is a much murkier situation that our great courts are divided about.  I find it not surprising that Mark does not end his story with this scene but continues on to tell of the journey to the cross by Jesus.  Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and we will start that journey, practicing the Lenten disciplines of heightened prayer, fasting, self-denial, reading – purposeful acts that help us focus on our spiritual journey with Jesus.

         Love may not end in a happy-ever-after scenario but often it ends with a trial and a cross.  Love is not easy and not always pretty.  As we ponder our “loves” today, perhaps empty our refrigerator of tempting snacks, decide what to add or give up for the next forty days, consider how to be marked with the cross during Covid, may we focus on the God who incarnated in Jesus and walked the walk and talked the talk and passed through death that we might have eternal life and live with eternal love!  Blessings.

Yesterday the gospel writer shared about Jesus climbing the Mount of Transfiguration with disciples Peter, James and John.  Jesus now leaves his ministry in Galilee and turns to Jerusalem and the cross.  Between Mark 9, yesterday, and Mark 14, Ash Wednesday, we read chapters telling of more healings, more exorcisms, more conflicts with religious authorities.  I want to focus on two scenes that have deeply impacted the development of Christianity and my understanding of the spiritual life.

         Mark 10: 13-16 tells us, “People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them.”  This is not a scene of illness or evil.  This is different.  People asked the rabbis to bless their children, parents want their children blessed.  The disciples, focusing on sharing the “good news” and faith as a cognitive gathering of information were off base.  If faith is measured by our academic ability to memorize Scripture or our disciplined will to follow Scripture, we are in trouble.  Jesus responds, “Let the little children come tome and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”  Whew, a child’s innocent trust, brought not begging, not really understanding but cooperating – become a new image.

         How many times do we think we can’t try something because we are not experts like our religious leaders?  How many times do we condemn ourselves for being toddlers in our faith?  How many times do we feel guilty for wanting to snuggle with our God rather than come to him with an eloquent question?  Perhaps today you are exhausted from worrying about Covid, exhausted from the unending wrangling and arguments about the impeachment, drained from trying to balance the budget and afraid to go to the store or meet with friends.  We are living in challenging times but this scene of Jesus welcoming little children brought to him comforts our weary souls. “Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  When we feel so small and insignificant, Jesus has time to open his arms to us and we can climb on his lap.  Thank you Lord for welcoming children – and me!

Tomorrow we celebrate Valentine’s Day, named after Saint Valentine, a Christian martyr around 300 CE.  Versions of his story have Valentine in Rome as a Christian leader who runs into trouble because of his faith.  In the story I grew up with, Valentine’s servants are imprisoned, to be killed.  Valentine meets the blind jailer’s daughter who carries messages of encouragement written on red hearts to the prisoners.  When discovered, Valentine offers to die for his friends and the girl receives her sight.  Both are examples of love. 

         Today, the historical story I read had a Roman official challenging Valentine that if he could make the official’s blind daughter see then the official would become Christian.  Valentine prayed and the girl was given sight.  Valentine later refused to give up his faith and was martyred.  Both stories speak of love, of sharing that love, and of the cost of that love.

         Let us take time today and make an acronym of love – for each letter of love, write words that describe love.  For example: L: light – love brings light to my days and lightens my load.  O: open – love doesn’t keep secrets and I feel more open when I am loved.  V: victorious – when I am loved whether I win or lose the race, a friend is with me.  E: eager – love is eager to please the other.  Pick your own words.  Love is a gift and a wonderful blessing to our lives.  1 Corinthians 13, the love chapter of the Bible, talks about love and ending, “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  Impeachments condemn and defend, pandemics kill but God’s goal is love.  Blessings as you ponder and may you have a wonderful day remembering the gift of people who have loved you.

Chariots of fire, not the movie, but the original story is our Old Testament text for Sunday, from 2 Kings 2:1-12.  The prophet Elijah knows he is going to die, as does his disciple Elisha, and seemingly the groups of prophets they encounter as they walk to the river Jordon.  Elijah encourages Elisha to stay at various points on the journey and Elisha refuses to leave Elijah as he travels to his death.  “I will not leave you.”  The prophets encourage Elisha to stay with them and he refuses.  He will stand with Elijah.  Finally Elijah turns to Elisha and asks him what he, Elijah, can do for Elisha before Elijah is taken.  Elisha requests a double portion of Elijah’s spirit.  When they reach the Jordon, “suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind.”  Disney could have fun with this!

         Elisha’s pledge was, “I will not leave you.”  Elisha’s plea was, “a double portion of your spirit.”  Reading this story and these words in the midst of a pandemic where death tolls are still being broadcast daily and where one of our national strategies is isolation, causes me to reflect.  How do I journey with loved ones to death when all about me is encouraging me to separate myself?  Images of loved ones talking through windows to their loved one come to mind.  Thank you Lord for electronic communication!  Cards sent and prayers offered keep us connected as we wait – at a distance.  Our bodies may be separated but our hearts are not.

         What is it that is our plea, what do we want, from someone we know we must be separated from?  That’s a heavy question.  As I sort through old pictures and ponder how to arrange them in a scrapbook, memories flood my mind.  A picture captures that moment and I can carry it forward and tell others. of the person’s spirit  Or, I have different mementos sitting around the house that bring back memories of relationship.  My mother had little Hummel dolls on her counter that are now on mine.  For the lucky we have CDs that capture memories like weddings or Christmas programs where I hear my uncle’s voice singing.  Gravesites are covered with flowers on special days.  We do not want to be separated from the love and meaning we find with our loved ones.

         Perhaps as we hurry through the tasks of today that sometimes leave us tired and flustered, maybe even feeling taken for granted, let us make an effort to not think about the negative but thank God for the gift of relationship.  Even if we must affirm our love from a distance, we can still cherish the spirit of the person who has blessed our lives and traveled with us for part of our journey. What is your pledge to your friends and what do you want from them?

“You can please some of the people all of the time but you can please none of the people all of the time.”  Jesus must have felt that way.  Yesterday he was criticized for eating with sinners and in the next section of Chapter 2 of Mark, Jesus is criticized for not eating, fasting, with the righteous.  Whoopi laments in Sister Act 1, “Surely there is something I can do that won’t chip my nails!”  I feel his frustration.  Jesus responds with two oblique examples.  New material patches are not put on old material and new wine is not put in old wineskins.  What do these examples mean? Allow me to chew on this a minute with you.

         New ideas and approaches challenge the traditions we live with and are disruptive.   In my lifetime I can remember the social discussions around having a Catholic president.  Now we have debated having a businessman president.  The changing of music styles, art styles and clothing trends show how the new challenges the old and creates tension among people. Mass inoculations now demand new ways of thinking.  Technology has stretched our awareness of the world and the burdens we carry.  Some days we feel like we can please no one.

         But personally, I ponder if there are new ways that I am patching into my old ways of behaving that impact the fabric of my life.  Zooming for church, wearing of masks, and social distancing immediately come to mind.  Jesus points out that people don’t fast when the bridegroom is present.  There is a time and place that are appropriate for different “patches.”  Jesus does not make a blanket statement about fasting but points out that appropriateness of situation is a factor.  Secondly whenever we patch together old and new, we experience tension as one gives and the other takes.  New wine ferments, expands and bursts the old container.  Change and growth are inevitable.  The new patch becomes tested, tried and shrinks into place causing changes to the garment.  The question is not whether or not to fast or eat with sinners but the appropriateness of the time and the realization of the stretching and shrinking of ways of thinking that result. 

         We are going through a time when we are being challenged in our political thinking and in our medical practices.  As we listen to the news today and follow the impeachment proceedings and as we hear the most recent thoughts on the pandemic, may we be slow to judge and criticize.  May we be able to discern what is true and eternal and of God.  May we be kind to those who see the issues slightly different than ourselves and who confront us.  We are being stretched spiritually as well as politically and medically.  Remember to breath!  Blessings today.

“Peeps,” “How are your peeps?”  is a slang way of asking about your friends.  Often when the kids were home on break from boarding school in Kenya, I would try to have ordered a dozen day-old baby peepers, baby chicks.  They were great entertainment for the children.  So peeps implies to me, a group of friends that are beloved and in agreement.  It implies relationship.  Who do we associate with is the question that comes to mind from today’s scene in Mark 2.  Jesus does not seem concerned with “herd immunity.” 

         The story in Mark again challenges us as Jesus is working with his “peeps,” directing his “herd” of followers, walking beside the lake when he notices the outcast – the tax collector, Levi.  Even we probably do not cozy up with the IRS, with the felon, with the “fringe elements” in our society.  We might nod our head in their direction. Jesus goes beyond noticing and gives a simple invitation, “Follow me.” He shocks everyone there.  But Levi doesn’t just drop all his friends and follow, finally being included with the “in-group.”  Levi throws a party and invites his outcast friends, “tax collectors and sinners.”  Jesus eats with them and is criticized.  How can he associate with people like that?

         So I am led to reflect on the diversity in my “peeps?”  Do all my friends look like me and agree with me?  That is a tough question in our polarized society.  I turn on the radio and hear people being challenged about their political allegiances, about their willingness to wear a mask, about their ethnic origins… You name it and we are willing to debate and challenge the credibility of the other.  Will the votes on the impeachment be secret ballots to protect the lives of the voters?  We are afraid to “peep up” about our opinions.

         Diversity does not seem to bother Jesus.  He does not seem to be choosing followers because of their education, because of their political correctness, because of their connections.  In fact, he calls people like you and me to “follow.”  Amazing.  He simply says, “Follow me.”  In our task oriented thinking, that simple command challenges us.  God’s question is not what we have done, what we have learned, how are we dressed but are we willing to follow his way.

         Jesus responds to his critics. People who do not understand they are sick, do not need a doctor so do not need him – the Son of God.  The doctor is for the sick, not the healthy.  Following is acknowledging we need help.  Today as we listen to the news, go about our tasks, rub shoulders with people different from us, may we open our hearts and hear the voice of God telling us how to “follow,” how to see “the other” as one of the peeps Jesus wants to follow him.   

“Mustard seed,” “grain of sand,” “twinkle in the eye” are all sayings for something very small that feels more like a distant hope than a present faith.  The man with the unclean spirit did not appear to be looking to be healed.  The woman with a fever was not going to a healing service.  We hear nothing of her faith. Only the masses coming to the door of the rumor they have heard in town about a man doing the remarkable presents a glimmer of hope.  The leper also presents a conditional cry, “If you are willing.”  The next story in Mark, chapter two, has Jesus back in his “hometown” of Capernaum, in a house crammed with people asking him questions and who are skeptical.  Four men bring their paralyzed friend and cannot get close.  They climb up to the flat roof where grains are dried, dig through the ceiling, and lower their friend to lie before Jesus.  That was a lot of work for those four men.  That was a lot of disruption to the meeting.  The first recorded words come from Jesus to the man, “Son your sins are forgiven.”  Now that is a mouth full and the onlookers question – as do we.

         So far the people healed are the victims – of evil spirits, of illness, of associating with dirt to “catch” leprosy.  But now Jesus implies that illness can result from my own sin.  Ouch.  But even more surprising is that Jesus does not call for repentance, does not have the man list his sin before others, and acts as “the Son of Man.”  Sometimes my faith is a glimmer of hope like the leper but often I wallow in despair on my mat, defeated by my own self-incriminations. Being in the presence of Christ, supported by faithful friends, and then hearing that my sins are forgiven leads to being able to “take up my mat and walk.”  Healing does not come from the amount of faith I have but comes from the Son of Man who has power over evil.  The power is not within me but within Christ.

         Today we may be fighting despair and feel hopeless or we may be the friends holding up someone else or perhaps we are the one questioning in the room.  In any case, there is hope for Jesus sees and acts to relieve our sins, our doubts, and honor our friendships.  Thank you Lord.