When there’s nothing good to thank God for

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Give thanks to the Lord because God is good,
because God’s faithful love lasts forever.”

(Psalm 118:1)

In reading this verse I was once again struck by my tendency to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God is good, but because of my perception that God is good to me. If I’m honest, I have to acknowledge that I want to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God’s love lasts forever, but because of my sense that somehow, that love has shined on me.

But what about when bad things happen? What about God feels absent? I confess that my default tendency in those moments is not to “give thanks to the Lord.” How can I thank God when there’s nothing good to thank God for?

And there it is–when it feels like “there’s nothing good to thank God for,” perhaps I’m missing the point of giving thanks. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God is good, not because God does or doesn’t do good things for me. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God’s love is bigger and broader and deeper and more eternal than anything else in my life–good or bad. 

As a person of faith, I’m invited to accept the invitation of the psalmist and give thanks to God because of who God is and how God loves. Period. 

And you are, too.

May it be so!
Deb

What does it mean to offer a sacrifice of praise?

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!…
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!”
(Psalm 150:1,2,6)

I’ve had the phrase “sacrifice of praise” stuck in my head for the last few days. I’m not sure where I saw it, or how it got there, but it’s been there, rolling around, forcing me to think about it. What does it mean, to offer a sacrifice of praise? Those two words don’t really seem to go together easily.

Doesn’t offering a sacrifice usually imply some sort of hardship? Doesn’t the idea of making a sacrifice generally include the understanding of doing something that’s not comfortable or easy, but in fact, is inconvenient, difficult, or even painful? And isn’t offering praise, on the other hand, the sharing of something good and encouraging and uplifting, the offering of which usually comes easily and willingly, and even naturally?

So why are we invited to “continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise”? (cf. Hebrews 13:15; emphasis mine).

People are struggling right now. And not just “right now,” but for close to a year. A year. For almost twelve months we have been living with the restrictions imposed by COVID-19–which I do not need to elaborate on; we all know them all too well. Of course, people were struggling before that, too; life was not all rainbows and roses pre-coronavirus.

But the COVID-related restrictions have made everyone’s struggles even greater.

People are struggling. People around the world and across the street. Our neighbors and co-workers, our educators and political leaders, our relatives and friends. You who are reading this, and I who am writing this. We are all struggling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to try to deny. I dare say it’s a fact of life in this season through which we are living.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Suddenly, the idea of offering a sacrifice of praise makes sense. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, there may not be a lot that we want to say to God that is good and encouraging and uplifting. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, offering praise to God may not come easily or willingly or naturally. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, praising God is not necessarily easy or comfortable. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, I dare say that praising God may very well be difficult, or even painful.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Perhaps it doesn’t come easily. Perhaps it doesn’t feel natural. Perhaps it’s even painful.

But maybe, just maybe, as people of faith, we can dig deep and offer a sacrifice of praise to God–praising God for God’s steadfast love and abiding presence if nothing else–right now, in the midst of these struggles.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Thank God I Don’t Have a Demon…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“That evening, at sunset, they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed with demons….And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons….” (Mark 1:32, 34)

When I read passages like this in the Bible, I’m immediately grateful that I don’t have a demon. There are stories where someone has a demon who throws that person into the fire, or onto the ground; there are stories where someone with a demon is mute and another howls and cuts himself. In all of these stories, Jesus casts out the demons and restores their former “hosts” to wholeness; but still–I read them and feel very grateful that I don’t need that kind of healing from Jesus.

I’m especially thankful that I don’t have a demon that throws me into the fire–because this is where I’ve been spending a LOT of time in recent weeks:

But…as I think about it…I realize that there is something within me that can pull me away from wholeness, and forcefully.

There is no demon within me that pushes me to the ground…but there is, sometimes, something within me that does try to push me down–telling me things like I’m not good enough, I’m not capable enough, I don’t know enough….

Similarly, there is no unclean spirit within me that causes me to be mute…but there is, sometimes, something within me that influences me to be silent when I should speak up, that keeps me from speaking what I know to be true when that truth feels too uncomfortable or painful or risky….

As for cutting myself, there is no evil spirit within me that has led me to do that…but I have, at times, listened to something within me that has allowed me to chose to harm myself in other ways–by not addressing unhealthy relationships, for example, or by not listening to my own voice among all those I listen to for wisdom and guidance. 

I am more comfortable calling the “something within me” that puts me down, my “inner critic” instead of the voice of a demon, but it is similarly destructive. And while I’m more likely to think of those thoughts that try to silence me as coming from a place of fear and insecurity rather than an “unclean spirit,” couldn’t fear and insecurity be considered something similar?? And the variation on self-harm? Well, the voice within me that persuades me to not value myself appropriately could perhaps be considered an “evil spirit.”

Maybe I do have demons that need to be cast out by Jesus–demons within me that cause me to doubt my goodness and my capabilities, to doubt the truth that I know, to doubt my own wisdom and authority.

Maybe I do need Jesus to cast them out, so that there will be more space for a sense of my belovedness, and so that I can more fully trust God’s goodness and truth and wisdom within me.

Maybe I do need “that kind of healing” from Jesus….

Do you?

Heal us, Jesus!

Amen.

“Put a muzzle on it!”

Rev. Talitha Arnold, United Church of Santa Fe

As a pastor, I probably shouldn’t confess this, but I have a hard time with some of the stories the Bible tells about Jesus. His zapping a fig tree for not bearing fruit (when it wasn’t the season for figs) is one. (Mark 11:12-25) His chastising Martha for being busy in the kitchen is another. (Luke 10:38-42) How else was dinner going to get fixed?

These days—eleven months into the pandemic, economic upheaval, and virtual church—the story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41) is at the top of the list. According to Mark’s Gospel, one night Jesus decides he wants to get to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Peter and the other fishermen-turned-disciples humor him and set sail. Before they reach shore, they get caught in a storm that threatens to swamp the boat and dump all of them into the drink.

But in the midst of the howling wind and crashing waves, Jesus calmly rebukes the storm. “Peace, be still,” he says, according to the King James Version. J.B. Phillips translates Jesus’ words as “hush now” and the Wycliffe Bible as “Wax dumb.” The Message translates Jesus’ command as “settle down,” as if Jesus were talking to an errant child, and not a raging storm that’s about to drown them all.

Given the myriad of storms that swirl around us—from the pandemic to economic upheaval to “alternate facts” to conspiracy plots—I need a Jesus who does more than say “hush now” or “settle down” to the howling winds. Speaking personally, on a day in which my computer was hacked, my dog figured out how to unlatch the back gate to get out, and a backlog of work swamps my desk, I need a Jesus who stands up to the chaos and pushes back at the waves of disruption, be they global or part of daily life.

Believe it or not, that’s the Jesus in this story. In the Gospel’s original Greek, he snarls at the screeching wind and crashing waves: “Put a muzzle on it!” That’s the literal translation of how this story was first told. It’s a far cry from the gentle, long-suffering Jesus of some later translations.

I find Jesus’ snarl to the wind and waves comforting. When the storms of life rage around us and within us, it’s good to remember that Jesus didn’t stay safe on the shore but was in the boat with Peter and the others that night—and is with us as well. When like those fishermen, we’re caught in storms we’re not sure we can weather, I’m glad for the One whose power can silence even the loudest clamor. When we can’t calm our own waves of doubt or quiet the inner howls of despair, I’m thankful for the One who can put a muzzle on it all.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the One whose voice we can still hear through such an ancient story that still offers new life. Perhaps you are, too.a

Blessings,
Talitha

P.S. Nizhoni came back 🙂

Inerrancy and Textualism

by Hailey Lyons

I can’t have been the only one holding their breath during the Supreme Court hearing on November 10 over the Affordable Care Act. California v Texas may decide that SCOTUS’ 2017 striking down of the financial penalties on the individual mandate clause means the individual mandate must go, and/or the entire ACA. While what we’ve heard since the hearing is positive – Roberts and Kavanaugh erring on the side of severability rather than dismissing the ACA entirely – there remains much work to do in order to win over the other conservative Justices. This includes Gorsuch and Barrett, two Justices who claim to be in the mold of Scalia as Textualists.

Part of my nervousness for this hearing is a direct result of Amy Coney Barrett’s confirmation to the Supreme Court. While other op-eds and professional analysts have written tomes on her experience, judicial philosophy, and religious concerns, I want to keep the focus here on the connection between the Christian doctrine of Inerrancy and the legal doctrine of Textualism. There is a surprising amount of scholarship on the connection between the two, but in light of recent events I feel the need to bring it back into our minds.

Many of us in the UCC come from different denominations with vastly different understandings of the value and methods of interpretation that can be applied to Scripture. As I explored previously, the Methodist doctrine of Prima Scriptura and the Evangelical doctrine of Sola Scriptura are inextricably linked by the power arbiters of Scripture hold. However, the Evangelical doctrine of Inerrancy – or infallibility depending on your denomination – reigns supreme in the Christian Right denominations and many non-denominational churches. Inerrancy cements not just who holds the power to interpret Scripture but also several key, presuppositional points that have become the hallmark of Evangelicalism. This has not always been the case and is a rather recent phenomenon of the past hundred years of American Christianity.

Textualism largely originates with the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, who argues that the Constitution should be interpreted solely within itself – separated from socio-historical understandings and intentions. Within Textualism, sitting Justices Gorsuch and Barrett occupy vastly different approaches. Gorsuch has shown through his rulings thus far that he sticks rather strictly to the assumptions of Textualism, while Barrett copies Scalia’s wedding of Textualism to Strict Constructionism, a form of Originalism that’s deeply invested in the historical popular opinion at the time of the Constitution or law under consideration’s writing. While Scalia openly contradicted himself and rejected Strict Constructionism, both his legacy and Barrett’s judicial philosophy uphold it completely. Thus, there is an awkward relationship between rigidly understanding a text devoid of its time and context and attempting to understand public opinion of the time and context.

This is exactly how Inerrancy has evolved in Evangelical circles. Inerrancy often served in its early contexts as a way of providing ministers without education license to impose their own culture and context into Scripture itself. At the advent of Higher Criticism in Germany, Evangelicals were suspicious and terrified of its potential to wrench the interpretation of scripture out of their hands. However, through the decades leading to the rise of the Moral Majority and coming to the end of the 20th century, increasingly determined conservative takeovers of Evangelical institutions provided an awkward mix of Inerrancy and the Higher Criticism. In Reformed circles, Evangelicals use a form of exegesis that strives to combine portions of the Higher Criticism with Inerrancy while keeping Inerrancy at the top of the interpretive hierarchy and retaining interpretive power within authoritative bodies.

At its outset, Inerrancy and Textualism don’t seem particularly joined, but their evolution to form awkward relationships between the authority/interpretation of texts within strictly textual frameworks and authority/interpretation of texts within their socio-historical contexts provide a parallel body of study. The modern products of these relationships provide also provide a stunning parallel that cannot be ignored.

One of my focuses in my graduate program is Christian Nationalism within the Evangelical community, and the various ways it expresses itself. The dominant view of Christian Nationalism in Evangelicalism currently privileges a revisionist narrative of history that advocates America is a Christian nation founded on Christian principles that would be in line with modern Evangelical theological positions. The less dominant view doesn’t believe America is a Christian nation, but instead places a revisionist narrative of biblical history that meets modern Evangelical theological positions anyways. Both embrace inerrancy, and appropriate history to that end.

Amy Coney Barrett did not join the Supreme Court without extreme concern and dispute. Much of this was rooted in her obvious intermixing of judiciary education at Notre Dame with her fringe Catholic views. More than any Justice to sit the bench in recent memory, there was no question that Barrett would not be able to separate her religious views from her judicial ones – despite her vociferous statements to the contrary. At issue are also – as a Strict Constructionist – her religious views providing a revisionist view of American history that is more likely to steer her judicial philosophy hard to the right side of the political spectrum.

In both cases, history is only relevant in that it suits the whims of the textual interpretations imposed on it by authorities. When understood this way, there is no difference beyond the semantical one between Inerrancy and Textualism. Perhaps this is why so many Evangelicals and political conservatives have come together on judicial appointments and policy positions in recent decades. Rather than easily dismissing Evangelicals’ fanaticism on women’s autonomy and heteronormativity, we should understand it through this lens – one that demands supreme control of interpretations of texts and history itself in order to control the present and future.

“Prima Scriptura” and the Wesleyan Quadrilateral

by Hailey Lyons

  1. Scripture – Prima Scriptura
  2. Tradition – Teachings and History of the Church
  3. Reason – Informed Interpretation of Scripture and Common Sense
  4. Experience – Personal Interaction and Narrative

The Wesleyan Quadrilateral holds a special place in my heart. While I was still struggling to understand how to accept my identity, I came across it as a way of broadening theology beyond Sola Scriptura. The expression of the Quadrilateral I encountered emphasized Experience as a way of overcoming dominant scriptural interpretations where Reason and Tradition could not.

It is saddening to see that this expression doesn’t fully extend to our Methodist siblings. In a heated fight over the fate of LGBT members and clergy, the Wesleyan Quadrilateral has become the grounds on which the United Methodist Church divides. A stunted version of the Quadrilateral places outsized importance in Prima Scriptura and undervaluing Experience, denying our LGBT Methodist siblings the right of marriage and service in clergy.

I can’t emphasize enough just how heartbreaking such a fight is. The Quadrilateral has been the primary theological tool for training and teaching in the UMC for generations now, and it has wrought much good alongside the bad. Again, it was the theological bridge for me to accept my identity and move towards a more inclusive faith. It is by no means the ultimate model for theological study, but it was never intended to be. The fact that it has been taken to be so only further problematizes its use. Ridding the Quadrilateral of Experience isn’t the root problem, as dangerous as that’s proving to be.

The Quadrilateral’s hierarchy is the root problem.

Prima Scriptura is in principle not the same as Sola Scriptura. Prima Scriptura places scripture at the forefront of the Quadrilateral, while normally allowing Tradition, Reason, and Experience to be lenses of interpretation. Sola Scriptura deifies the Bible itself, placing it over and against interpretations Evangelical theologians and church leaders disagree with. Such a doctrine makes it easier to promote only one, authoritative interpretation of scripture and enforce inerrancy. Anyone utilizing the Wesleyan Quadrilateral would do well to understand the difference between the two and ensure neither they nor their ecclesial family cross into Sola Scriptura.

And yet Prima Scriptura already restricts the other elements of the Quadrilateral, influencing them into behaving circularly rather than collectively. When such occurs, in spite of being named a Quadrilateral, Outler’s theology reverts to the authoritarian Sola Scriptura. The checks and balances of the Quadrilateral become a mockery of theological study. We can strive as much as possible to create change within the system, but eventually we have to realize the problem is the system itself. Prima Scriptura has proven too tantalizing an opportunity for those who would do others harm.

What is the solution to the problem of Prima Scriptura? Many of our Methodist siblings have been better able to effectuate the checks and balances I mentioned earlier, keeping Experience in the Quadrilateral and coming to places of inclusion and progressiveness. But it still doesn’t solve the root problem, only postponing the discussion for another day.

There are two potential solutions: reform the Quadrilateral and make its elements coequal, or abolish it. Neither solution solves the divide in the UMC, but they offer hope for greater reform.

Reforming the Quadrilateral is a softer transition, but that doesn’t mean an easier one. It might create wider ground for discussion and disagreement, and might push congregations, conferences, and seminaries further towards inclusion. There is still much the Quadrilateral might offer in the way of orienting theology in a postmodern world, with an intersectional quality that allows for inward critiques. And yet, it would be irresponsible to ignore the tremendous difficulties Quadrilateral reformers have already faced in upholding Experience, much less creating a more equalized Quadrilateral. The results have been painful to say the least.

Abolishing the Quadrilateral cuts the conversation entirely in what may amount more to scorched earth than a clean break. It has the chance to fragment theological discourse from the academy down to local church bible studies and prayer meetings. But perhaps this raises the opportunity for new theologies to be written and implemented.

Any time Christian doctrine is reduced to so heavy an emphasis on scripture that it drowns out the collective experiences, traditions, and reasoning of individuals, it becomes a system of oppression and domination. This is made infinitely harder when the system upholds oppression and domination at its founding. Such an idea isn’t unique to Christianity, either.

Prima Scriptura must go, and with it the Quadrilateral.

Partnerships and Partings

by John Indermark

Acts 15:36-41

Partnerships. First there had been Peter and John in Jerusalem. Now came Barnabas and Saul in Antioch and points beyond. Heat forges bonds of metal and relationship. Barnabas took the heat of standing by Saul in Jerusalem when no other would, no doubt deepening their ties to one another. When Jerusalem commissioned Barnabas to the church at Antioch, Barnabas soon after traveled to Tarsus to find Saul that he might assist in the work at Antioch (Acts 11:19-26). Later, the pair would undertake a missionary journey to Cyprus.  

Two critical developments transform their partnership during this latter journey. What had heretofore been “Barnabas and Saul” (13:2) now became “Paul and his companions” (13:13). The text does not explain the reversal of billing, but the focus of Acts clearly shifts to Paul-no-longer-Saul. Secondly, almost as a footnote in the same verse introducing this new order, a minor companion named John Mark separated from the entourage in Pamphylia. 

Partnerships work in delicate balances, whether among friends or in businesses. . . or within churches. Regarding Paul and Barnabas: should a reversal in the order of names signal a change in the relationship? Not necessarily. Should the departure of a “junior partner” influence the workings of the seniors? Not always. It is to be underscored that neither of these occurrences, in their initial unfolding, caused Acts to explicitly note the partnership had changed.

Yet within two chapters, the partnership ends. Acts traces the cause to the footnoted departure of John Mark. A new journey awaited, a journey determined by Paul’s unilateral declaration (15:36). Barnabas desired to take John Mark with them, a desire squashed by Paul’s unilateral veto (15:38). Paul, apparently, now came first in more than name order. Disagreement deepens. The partnership dissolves. Barnabas and Saul, Paul and Barnabas, were no more. Great things done by these two would never be done in tandem again. They parted.

Before we trot out funeral dirges and mourners for a tragic ending, consider the fresh beginnings unleashed – not by Paul, but Barnabas. Barnabas, once again, risked his own reputation for the sake of a maligned colleague. Just as he had with Saul/Paul before, Barnabas gives John Mark another chance. By the gracious act of Barnabas, failure in the church in one instance is not hopelessly relegated to a lifelong imposition of disgrace and disuse. 

Truth be told, Barnabas surpassed Paul in this episode through re-enacting Jesus’ own tendency toward ministries of rehabilitation: a ministry that commissioned as apostles the very ones who had deserted him (Matthew 26:56); a ministry that founded a church upon the very one who denied knowing Jesus in a spate of curses. (Mark 14:71); a ministry of second chances.

Even the split that sends Barnabas and John Mark in one direction and Paul and Silas in another contributes positively to the church’s expansion. Where before one missionary partnership set out to declare the gospel of Jesus Christ, now two sets of partners fan out to do the same, potentially doubling the territory to be covered and the persons to be encountered.

So, to put this in a larger and contemporary frame: are denominational schisms to be sought? No. Are divisive church conflicts among its always-abundant cache of clashing personalities and vigorously-held theologies to be encouraged? No. But the parting of Barnabas with Paul for the sake of John Mark does reveal God’s ability to bring fresh beginnings out of seeming dead-ends. In the final analysis, it is not our successes or failures at church unity that manage God’s purposes. It is the other way around. Barnabas risked giving Saul a chance, then John Mark a second chance. And God used Barnabas’ risks. So it can be for us. May potential endings to what has been not preclude us from risking for the sake of what could be.

Christmas 2019 Meditation

by Bill Lyons

“We are all meant to be mothers of God . . . for God is always needing to be born.”

Meister Eckhart

One Christmas I ventured into the kitchen at Grandma’s house. She and my mom and my aunt were scurrying to clear the table, put away food, and wash dishes, all while chattering about this church friend, that neighbor, or some distant relative’s Christmas letter. Their movements were fluid, fast-paced, and well-rehearsed from years of repetition. I could only imagine their energy before dinner. 

Until that particular Christmas, I had only known the “living room” side of family holidays. The guys sat lazily on comfortable furniture, predicted outcomes of college bowl games, avoided politics (it wasn’t safe then either but for different reasons), and stared at the tree. We kids piled presents neatly at everyone’s traditional seats, so as to be ready the moment our hostesses emerged. How different these two distinct experiences of the same day were!

The Nativity narrative sounds very “living room” to me this year, telling the tale from the guys’ point of view. The Holy Couple’s journey seems to be all about Joseph. The innkeeper pointed to the stable from his establishment’s doorway. Shepherds (almost always males then) experienced the wonder of an angelic birth announcement. Privileged Magi decoded a star’s mysterious meaning and called on the king of Judea before delivering beneficent gifts to a different king’s impoverished family. Yes definitely, a carol-inspiring guys lens on Christmas. I imagine Mary describing Jesus’s birth quite differently.

There can be no question that she was uncomfortable at that point in her pregnancy. Her mother tried to hide her worry while Mary smiled through her own fear and anxiety at the prospect of leaving the familiarity and support network of her hometown. The shifting backbone of a walking donkey is no friend to a widening cervix. We aren’t told exactly when Mary’s water broke, if she thought her back pain was just from the 4- to 7-day trip, or just how long she was in labor. At some point, the contractions got closer together, lasted longer, and wrenched a first baby through a virgin’s birth canal. Where was the epidural, the episiotomy? Were there any experienced mothers or midwives at the manger?! Or was it only an inexperienced Joseph holding her hand, telling her to breathe, that it would be OK, sweating beside her albeit for different reasons. 

Not all births had happy outcomes then – or now. But when they did, when they do, a feeling that ‘everything is right with the world’ arrives too.  Sometimes it comes after the first cry and baby turns pink, or after the last push and the placenta’s exit, or maybe even after the OMG moment that this baby is beautiful and ours. Sometimes it settles in after the relief that baby has latched onto mommy’s nipple and is nursing. It’s the realization that a miracle just happened. And with that moment, everything that mommy’s just been through yields to the joy of what’s just happened and what can happen next.

All of that had to have been part of Matthew’s, “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way,” (Matthew 1:18) but no one recorded it. We have trouble remembering it.  And we need to remember – especially in these days – we need to remember how the birth of Jesus happened for Mary if we are going to live into our roles as “mothers of God.”

John’s never-read-at-Christmas account of Jesus’s birth makes our ‘mother of God’ role crystal clear (Rev. 12). And no wonder we don’t read it! An expectant mother is about to give birth while an incarnation of evil waits to catch and devour her baby the moment the child is delivered. For John, we (the Church) are that expectant mother, the agent through which Jesus arrives in our time and our place. And just like Mary’s experience, our delivery of the Christ in the world is fraught with fears, painful and exhausting, and includes blood, sweat, and tears. But we don’t really want to hear that version of the nativity on Christmas Eve. 

Neither do we want to hear the after-birth Gospel accounts about the Holy Family fleeing for their lives and seeking asylum in Egypt, or the ensuing slaughter of Bethlehem’s children under age two. Still, those stories are part of the Holy Family’s Christmas experience. Tragically, stories like those are the Christmas experience still of too many families in poverty, facing violence, being trafficked, at our country’s borders, separated, and in detention. 

I wonder exactly when Christmas became the story of Jesus coming into the world to deliver individuals from personal sin. That wasn’t Mary’s experience. Mary’s song about Christmas (Luke 1:46-55) was about bringing down the mighty and filling up the hungry. Delivering Jesus into the world was a painful, messy, labor-intensive task. But the outcome was, and is, new life in our midst! Mary’s lens on Christmas promised a time when everything would be made right again. As long as we are willing to be “mothers of God” and deliver Jesus into our world, Christmas still holds that promise. 

When Jesus does arrive through our acts of charity, advocacy, generosity, solidarity, or justice restored, we can experience, like I imagine Mary experiencing, the truth of John’s words: When a woman is in labor, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. (John 16:21) May these Twelve Days of Christmas revive and renew you, strengthen and encourage you, empower and embolden you as mothers of God in our time. May joy be yours every time you bring Jesus into the world, joy so profound that everything you just went through in the process melts into God’s forgiving forgetfulness.  And be assured of this: everything in that moment is right with the world. 

This Unholy Christmas

by Abigail Conley

This Christmas seems to be a Christmas of lasts. An aunt is dying and this will be her last Christmas by any reasonable account. My mom was diagnosed with dementia earlier this year, and while medication is staving off some symptoms, that won’t last forever. “Rapidly progressing” was added to the diagnosis. In less than six months, she went from working full-time to not making sense in phone conversations. Hindsight says there may have been earlier signs, but no matter what, I imagine she will be much less of the mom I cherish by this time next year. I’m walking with lay leaders snagging moments with loved ones, knowing this is the last Christmas together. 

All of that is terrible, and brings some wonderful with it, and is exactly what we expect from life. Some years and seasons are better than others. But as I read the story of the Magi’s visit with a bible study a couple weeks ago, I was reminded of the strange and profound re-writing of history that Christians did. Matthew, the only Gospel writer to tell of the Magi’s visit, does all sorts of acrobatics to tie this experience of Jesus to the Old Testament. He cites verse after verse, assuring us, “This is what those people were talking about.”

If you go back and read the original texts, what Matthew says is about Jesus is never about Jesus. Read Isaiah all the way through at face value if you don’t believe me. Yet, here he is, re-writing, re-telling, certain of God’s faithfulness in the quoted texts and in the experience of Jesus. Facts are being rewritten in favor of Truth. 

One of my rabbi friends was appalled the day I told him that many Christians’ understanding of redemption is that a ransom was paid by Christ or a purchase made. Redeemed ends up wrapped up in the cross. With all the horror still on his face, he said, “You mean it’s not that God can take something terrible and make something good out of it? Like the holocaust?” I liked his definition better for sure, but I readily admitted that was a definition that would have to be supplied and agreed upon. It was not the assumed definition. 

I say that because Christians do not have a corner on God’s ongoing work in the world. Sometimes we think we do for sure, but we are not alone among the people who believe God still intervenes in this place. Nor are we alone in our understanding that we participate in God’s work. 

We are a bit alone in the Trinity, though. Even those of us who reject the notion of the Trinity are still wrestling with it. I can go most ways on the Trinity, but I do like that one of the claims of the Trinity is that the prophetic Spirit that was with Isaiah made its home with the church. We are always Spirit-led, Spirit-breathed people. I wonder about what it means so many years later for our Jewish family, but I am still amazed by the permission given by the Spirit for Matthew to rewrite history. 

And I said all the Spirit stuff to come back to this: lasts are still holy. We have permission to figure out the new thing. We do not sit back waiting for God to do God’s thing. We make choices, and we do so with prayer and discernment trust the Spirit remains with us through that. Some of God’s best work even seems to come in impossible interruptions that are made holy. 

So as we sit in these days with the prophets roused by the Spirits, and the Magi called by a star, and the Shepherds beckoned by angels, and a holy family that definitely wasn’t feeling so holy to start with, keep deep hope even through the lasts. For God still calls and leads, even you.

God is Bigger!

guest post by Deborah Church Worley from her sermon on October 13, 2019 at White Rock Presbyterian Church

Then Peter began to speak to them: ‘I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.’”  (Acts 10:34-35)

When I was at Cornell last weekend with my soon-to-be-graduating daughter Sarah, I was filled with both memories of my time there as a student, some 30 years ago, give or take, as well as perspectives as the mom of a prospective student, seeing some things in a fresh way, as Sarah was seeing them for the first time. I did feel a somewhat surprising feeling of pride toward Cornell…a feeling of wanting to share all that was good about it with Sarah…a growing hope that she might be able to experience Cornell as a student herself….

One of the memories that came most quickly to mind, I’m a little embarrassed to say, was actually one that I had shared with my kids previously, because each time I think about it, it makes me laugh. Or at least chuckle. And that is of a T-shirt that some entrepreneurial students created and sold door-to-door in my freshman dorm. It had the Harvard seal on the front… and on the back it said, “Harvard…because not everyone can get into Cornell.”  🙂 🙂 🙂 

Now that’s not biggest nor the most famous rivalry in the world, but it does exist.  🙂

Some of these [rivalries] are likely more familiar to more people:

Coke/Pepsi
McDonald’s/Burger King
Fox/CNN
DC/Marvel
Taylor Swift/Kanye West
Apple/Microsoft
Celtics/Lakers
Tom Brady/Peyton Manning
Red Sox/Yankees

And of course, for us here in New Mexico, there’s this one….

Red or green chile??

Some of these rivalries are all in good fun. Some, people take more seriously. Sometimes, just to say, for example, that you’re a fan of a particular team can get you in hot water and earn you some seriously nasty looks and comments, at a minimum. I have a good friend who grew up in Maine and is a lifelong, committed fan of the New England Patriots. When they are in the Super Bowl (which seems to happen pretty regularly these days!), she doesn’t like to tell anyone she’ll be rooting for them…as that is not a particularly welcome comment around here.

And that’s just football! What about things that are inherently more serious? Like politics? There are some serious, and significant, divisions in our country around politics, and it seems like it’s only getting worse…

There are places where a person might very well be afraid to admit that she, or he, voted for Hilary in the last Presidential election; just like there are also places where a person might not feel safe admitting to having voted for Trump. It’s more than a personal preference; it seems to be taken as a reflection of your intelligence or character or goodness or patriotism.

It seems there’s a growing attitude of “If you’re different from me in some way that’s significant to me, I don’t need–or even want–to really get to know you, or know why you think what you think; I know all I need to know about you simply because you’re a [fill-in-the-blank].”  

Patriots fan. Broncos fan.

Republican.  Democrat.  

Labbie.  High school dropout.

“I know all I need to know about you because you have tattoos, and body piercings.

Because you curse like a sailor, smoke like a chimney, and drink like a fish.

Because you went to an Ivy League school.

Because you went to Cornell… 🙂 

Because you went to Harvard….  :/ 

Because you served your country in the Armed Services.

Because you didn’t serve your country in the Armed Services….  

I know all I need to know about you because you live in the [Espanola] Valley.  

Because you live in Los Alamos.  

Because you live in a million-dollar home.  

Because you live in a mobile home.

I know all I need to know about you, thank you very much, 

because of the color of your skin…the shape of your nose…

the accent in your voice…the sound of your last name…

the person you love…the church you attend–or don’t…

the height of your car’s suspension…the height of your heels….

I know all I need to know about you, because I know that one thing about you

Sometimes it feels like this kind of thinking is becoming more prevalent rather than less…

But maybe not. Maybe it’s just always been around. It certainly existed in first-century Israel. It’s present in the background of today’s passage. Jews and Gentiles really didn’t associate with each other much. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have that big a deal for Peter to visit Cornelius. The story might not have even been worth recording. But it did get recorded, because it was a big deal.

According to one website I looked at, in first-century Israel, “[According to William Barclay,] it was common for a Jewish man to begin the day with a prayer thanking God that he was not a slave, a Gentile, or a woman.”  It went on to say that “a basic part of the Jewish religion in the days of the New Testament was an oath that promised that one would never help a Gentile under any circumstances, such as giving directions if they were asked. But it went even as far as [promising to refuse] to help a Gentile woman at the time of her greatest need – when she was giving birth – because the result would only be to bring another Gentile into the world.”  Another extreme example of the importance of remaining separate that I stumbled upon in my research is that “if a Jew married a Gentile, the Jewish community would have a funeral for the Jew and consider them dead.” Less extreme but perhaps more important as it was a more common possibility, was the thought that “to even enter the house of a Gentile made a Jew unclean before God.” Jews and Gentiles just did not associate. They knew everything they needed to know about one another simply by knowing to which group they belonged.

That would have been Peter’s training, and point of reference. As a devout Jew, he would have prayed those prayers, made those promises, taken those oaths. He would not have eaten with Gentiles, or invited them into his house, or entered the house of a Gentile himself. Those were simply things he had learned since his birth to not do, things that were ingrained in him by his religious teachings, traditions among his people that were acceptable and accepted, going back thousands of years. To live by those practices didn’t make him a bad person; on the contrary, they made him a good Jew. He was doing what he needed to do, what was expected, what was right.

Until now.

Until God broke in.

Until the Holy Spirit of God told Peter, showed Peter, taught Peter, otherwise.

“Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” 

Or more simply put, as it says in “The Message”:  “If God says it’s okay, it’s okay.” 

Peter’s religion had kind of put God, and the blessings of God, in a box.  A box meant only for the people of that religion. And only for the people of that religion that did it right!  

Religion seems to have a tendency to do that.  Or perhaps, it’s not religion per se, but the people of those religions, who want to make sure they get it right, so that God will love them and bless them….and part of what helps them make sure they’re getting it right, it seems, it be clear about who’s getting it wrong…

Certainly the Christian church, and a good number of us Christians (or more accurately, a horrifying number of us Christians…), seem to think and behave in that way…..  

Our practices and traditions, some of which have been passed down for hundreds and even thousands of year, can be harmfully divisive, can seem to seek to exclude rather than include, can serve to move us toward that attitude of “I know all I need to know about you, because I know that one thing about you…,” and it seems we, as Christians, sometimes take that even further, going on to think that “because I know that one thing about you, I also know God doesn’t love you. Or at least not as much as God loves me.  Not until you change that one thing so that you’re more like me…” No wonder there are people who would “rather chew glass than come to church.”!! (That was a quote in the article in the Daily Post from someone from the Freedom Church in Los Alamos! Did anyone else see that?? 🙂 )

I am bigger than that! I am bigger than your practices and customs! I am bigger than the way you have always done things!  I am bigger, and my blessings are meant for so many more than just your people! I am bigger than your customs have allowed me to be, and I am breaking out! Watch, and watch out! Even better–come with me! Go where I lead you, do what I tell you, say the words I give you, and you and so many more will be blessed!  

And Peter listened, and he went, and he did, and he said…all that the Holy Spirit of God told him to do. And the world was changed!  

It’s true that there are rivalries and divisions and misunderstandings and prejudices in our world. Just like there were in first-century Israel. And before. Just like, I suspect, there always will be, this side of heaven. And while some are good-natured and harmless, some are very hurtful and hateful.  

But our God, the God of Peter and the God of Cornelius, the God who took on flesh in Jesus of Nazareth and who empowered the apostles in the form of the Holy Spirit, the God whom we gather each Sunday to worship and depart each Sunday to serve, our God is bigger than all of that!! 

Our God is bigger…and stronger…and greater…and truly beyond our comprehension and capacity to know…but that God knows us, and loves us, and loves the world! And wants to bless the world. Our God wants to bless the world–the whole world, and all the people of the world, not just those whom we choose or approve of or deem to be worthy or like, but all persons… And God can use us to do that, to bless people and change the world…if we, like Peter, will listen and go and do and say, led by the Holy Spirit of God. 

May God break our hearts…so that God might first break in, and then break out!

Amen.