+Z’ev

Today’s assigned readings:

AM Exodus 24:12-18, 2 Corinthians 4:1-6

PM Daniel 7:9-10,13-14, John 12:27-36a

As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.
Daniel 7:13-14

In preaching this feast, it is a half-century tradition to mention the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the only atomic bombs to be used in war… There are peace vigils, and anti-war protests that are traditional on this day. It is right, as well, that one of the great sins of humanity against humanity be noted every year.

But look at the readings for today: a human being - the traditional text says “Son of Man” - and it means “human being” in the same way that CS Lewis used “Son of Adam” and “Daughter of Eve”. This human being is presented to God, “The Ancient One”, and to him is given all “dominion and glory and kingship”. Generally, this is seen as Jesus - I’m down with that - and generally this feast of the Transfiguration is seen as the revelation of his dominion and glory and kingship. I’m down with that.

But God gives that kingship to a human being - a son of Adam. It’s the restoration of humanity’s rightful place in the created order. Like it or not, as stewards of the Created Order, we have a lot of responsibility.

And we fail in that responsibility over and over - just as certainly as the stories in Genesis. We have a whole history and mythology around those failures. Wars, sins, tragedies and disasters, stretching from “the fall of man” in Genesis, through the fall of Troy, to the Fall of Constantinople and Rome, and right on up to the fall of the Bridge in Minneapolis last week. But even though the problem is ours we keep asking “Where was God” in this? We indulge this through over and over.

I blogged on Saturday about one pastor whose entire comment on God’s love for us was (in my thought) totally blown out of the water by allowing his daughter, Talitha to think God let the bridge fall:

Talitha said, “Maybe he let it fall because he wanted all the people of Minneapolis to fear him.” “Yes, Talitha,” I said, “I am sure that is one of the reasons God let the bridge fall.”

But we don’t live in a world where God “turns on” earthquakes or “turns off” the support for bridges. We live in a world that we have screwed up. The Transfiguration shows us humanity as God intended us to be: conversing with people long “dead and gone” because they are not gone at all; glowing with the light of God with whom we are in full communion at all time; living on mountain tops. Instead we have a world of valleys and lost communion: without God and without each other we walk alone through the world.

At an interfaith prayer service in Minneapolis, yesterday, Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty sayid, “It takes a lot of faith to live in a world where tragedy, accidents, illness and injustice do their worst to the people we love,” he said. “We’re here to affirm in prayer our hope in comfort for the grieving, health for the injured and repair and recovery for our city and state.”

Pawlenty has hit on the truth: it takes a lot of faith…

It’s really easy to get distracted. In fact, all of the stories today are about ways God gets someone’s undivided attention - usually by getting them up above everyone else: on a mountain or in a vision. (The reading from Romans is, in fact, about people whose attention God can’t get.) But I noted yesterday that the only way to really get in touch with God is in the sound of silence. Why does God condescend to what Ed Sullivan would call a “rilly big shoe”?

And is it not the Really Big Show that moves us all to doubt the whole thing when the Really Big Tragedy takes over?

Here’s one of my favourite scenes in The Greatest Story Ever Told: when Jesus (Max Von Sydow) raises Lazarus. After some really occult hand gestures on the part of the actor, the camera pans back and you see Jesus standing, small and white, at the foot of a really huge cliff face. “Lazarus! Come!… Foooorthhhhh!…. And the voices echoes around the cliff and there is thunder! and lightening! And Angelic SINGING!!!!!! And then everyone prostrates as the Lord of Life calls his friend from beyond the grave.

But in the Gospel? Jesus cries. Opens the tomb. Prays and calls. Lazarus come out.

Is that enough for us to hold on to, or do we need thunder and lighting and angelic singing and prostrations? And if that’s what it takes to get us to imagine God acting, how scary must it be when God “lets” a bridge fall?

We built the bridge. We did the science. We made the cement and the steal and the bolts and the struts. God made it fall down?

What a petty deity we have made up in our head. Why?

In the stories that are true, even if not historical, God set us up in charge of everything - and we messed up. We tried blaming each other for messing up, and a snake for making us mess up, and then God for making the snake that made someone else mess up. Then God found a way to bring us back, to set everything right.

We just keep messing up.

There seems to have been between 5 and 13 dead. A bridge collapses. 800+ cars bumper to bumper in the middle of rush hour. 8 lanes of traffic including a school bus filled with kids.

A possible max total of only 13 dead?

Glory to God for all things!

And to hear the stories of people helping people, of ordinary folks and rescue workers leaping to save others… actions that bring “comfort for the grieving, health for the injured” we can see the feast of the Transfiguration foreshadowed. God who is love, living in us, present to each other… full communion.

The Transfiguration reminds us of what we’re supposed to be, shining glorious and in full communion with God and all of life. It’s painful to see how far we’ve fallen. But we need to know we did it ourselves else we’re doomed only to keep going down.

Today’s Lections:

Daniel 6:16-28
3 John 1:1-15
Luke 5:27-39

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up, left everything, and followed him. Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a large crowd of tax collectors and others sitting at the table with them.
Luke 5:27-29

One reading of Church history reads that, as a result of the problems in some early congregations where potluck meals were not shared equally among all in the community, the Hierarchy decided to separate communion from the Agape feast to preserve the sanctity of the “Holy Mysteries. ” Another read of Church history is that the “patriarchy” had to control things and so they took the sacrament away from the larger open meetings and create an exclusionist liturgy. I think a likelier reading is that in the face of persecution something got squirrelled away for safe keeping (liturgically speaking) and when, 300 years later, the world became safe, the Church had forgotten how to be open, and so stayed closed. As in all cases of liturgical innovation, first there is a need (in this case, safety) and then later there is a theological reason (let’s hide it until “initiation”). The theological meaning gets read backwards so as to justify the change and thus, when the change is no longer needed, it’s too late. Once you theologically justify it, you’re stuck with it for all eternity. That’s how Eastern Orthodoxy works, anyway.

The first thing Levi does after “follow me” is leave everything behind and throw a party for all of his friends, old and new and Jesus in the midst of them. One way to look at this would be to imagine a sort of evangelical “Come to Jesus” meeting (literally). But another way is to imagine “here are two groups of my friends, I hope they all get along in interesting ways”.

Was Levi being an Evangelist or a good, creative host? Are they the same thing?

The pious complain to Jesus: Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?… your disciples eat and drink. (Luke 5: 30b, 33b)

Jesus, of course, knew about fasting. The Gospels have instructions for how to act when fasting. But when, in this passage, he refers to a time when we will not have the bridegroom with us, how do we reconcile that with the reality that he is with us “always, even until the end of the age”? Is not the Eucharist the greatest of feasts where the bridegroom is present with us (in the bread, or in the person of our neighbour - or both? This is why Nicea I forbade fasting on Sundays (although most Orthodox Churches disobey this canon). This is why there is to be no fasting during the 50 days of Easter although, again, most Orthodox Churches choose to ignore this - Antioch being the only church that is “canonical” in this area.

But imagine a celebration of the Bridegroom - with us for all eternity since the Resurrection - that was nothing but eating and drinking with sinners. The pious, today, still accuse more celebratory Christians of doing nothing but eatting and drinking.

Levi’s first act was an essentially Jewish one: invite everyone over for a party. Many of the religious feasts of Judaism (Passover, Purim and Hanukkah, to name three that Jesus and Levi would have known) have been characterised as, “They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat!”. Sabbath is a party in the house. There are parties for each of the Life stations (Bris, Bar Mitzvah, Wedding, Death), etc. Like many tribal religions, Judaism makes good party. Christianity, growing away from it’s tribal roots into a more civilised society became less celebratory. The Mass became not a meal of celebration, but a sacred rite. And as the various life stations were added to the Church’s repertoire, they too became imbued with “spookiness”, although secular cultures wisely wove party into the midst of things, so much so that eventually the Church had to forbid certain actions in Lent - because they were too celebratory.

We need to recapture the tribal reality. Our first - our VERY first reaction to Jesus should be to throw a party. The bridegroom is here! Share the wealth.

No sackcloth need apply.

Dan. 6:1-15; 2 John 1-13; Luke 5:12-26

Which is easier, to say, “Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, “Stand up and walk’?
Luke 5:24

This verse is a challenge. Which is easier to say? Well, to be honest, both are the same. It takes nearly no energy at all to say either, and we babble on about both. We “forgive” people all the time. We even say things in jest like, “be healed!” Neither hurts very much. And we’re used to hearing both and it be meaningless. We’re even used to hearing people ask for those things and it be meaningless.

Which is it easier to say?

Is Jesus saying (in a cultural equivalence) “I can talk the talk AND I can walk the walk.” or is there something else going on here, some other meaning to be read in the question?

The rabbis observing Jesus are scandalised at his forgiving sins. But Jesus knows these folks live in a world where God punishes humans for sin with just such curses. A man is not born crippled but that his parents sinned. A woman does not develop a flow of blood but that she must have done something horrible. So when a man is dropped through the roof with a crippling disease, there’s a number of things going on:

This man is so horribly diseased that his friends are taking a great risk, dropping him in on Jesus, like this: not just because it is an act of faith, but also because it is an act of social rebellion. Jesus knows the first thing everyone is thinking is “Ewwww, what did he do to get in such a state?”

Did he worship idols?
Did he eat pork?
Did he curse the Holy One?
Spit on the High Priest?
Maybe he had leaven in his house during passover?

Superstition? We can translate it into other, more modern sins.

Was he a Muslim?
Did he do drugs?
Did she drink too much?
Did he have sex he shouldn’t have?
Was she attracted to his own gender?
Maybe he voted for the war in Iraq?
Possibly she supported socialised medicine?
Maybe he ordained women?
Maybe he didn’t?

For each of these sins, ancient or modern, the man would have been excluded from public fellowship. The end result would have been crippling - even if God never got around to cursing him. Being cut off from human fellowship is cripping: one can not be fully human when alone. So when he’s dropped in the middle of the room, in the middle of everyone in politie society the first thing Jesus says is, “Your sins are forgiven.”

The things that divded you from us are gone. I don’t even know what they are. They are unimportant. You don’t even need to confess. *poof* they’re gone. Welcome back to the real world.

Oh, and you can walk again.

Church is to be that: forgiveness of sin and restoration of communion all in one, all at once. Our very lives are to be that.

We’re fortunate not to imagine a God punishes us for such things, although it is still so in some Churches: God causes earthquakes and tsunamis and far worse. In thse places we need to beg God’s mercy not as a loving child asking for parents’ kindly reguard but as a slave who has to deal with his status before a horrid and abusive master.

Jesus knows it is the listeners - most than the sick man - who need their positions questioned. They need their sins of pre-judgement forgiven. They need to be woken up and challenged: the Son of Man - that is all of us - has the authority to forgive sins on the earth, each of us has acts of reconciliation and healing to do. We have outsiders to welcome into the centre of the world.

Dan. 5:13-30; 1 John 5:13-20(21); Luke 5:1-11

By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments.
- 1 John 5:2

And his commandments are not burdensome, says John. He tells us elsewhere what the commandment is, and we know if full well: Love God and love your neighbour as you love yourself. “Love one another as I have loved you.”

I have to be honest: these commands are pretty burdensome. Don’t you think it would be easier if the Maundy Thursday text had been:

A new commandment I give unto you: keep the first ten of the old commandments, but reinterpret them in a manner I shall show unto you. Keep a few of the later ones, mostly picked at random. Listen to Peter, he’s infallible. Fast a lot - at least half the year - but that’s not really “fasting” like the Pharisees mean it: they have not enough rules. Awe, heck! Look at the time. I can’t explain it all tonight. Don’t worry: in about 800 years I’ll have revealed it all to you. DO ALL THAT and you shall be saved.

I like rules. I like black and white. I don’t like chaos. I don’t like disorder. The thing is: I want to define disorder. “This is bad - that is good.” I can handle some chaos…

On 27 October 1986, I was - along with a good many New Yorkers - watching the Mets win the world series. This hadn’t happened since 1969. Worse, NYC hadn’t won a baseball championship in 8 years. AND we were playing against the hated and vile Boston. Everyone was watching. When the final win came a slow wave of chaos engulfed NYC. By the time I made it down the stairs to the ground in front of my fifth floor room, soft objects were falling from the sky: sofa cushions, pages from the New York Times, etc. People were leaning out of windows and yelling and screaming in joy. I made it across Washington Square Park to the insanity of the NYU Dorms on West 4th Street. Far more things were falling out of the sky over here and an impromptu parade began, first just marching around the park but then suddenly filling up fourth street and coming to a halt at the red light on Broadway. Along Broadway cars were honking and other people were leaning out of their upper storey windows to shout along. Suddenly the light changed from red to green and the entire mob of the parade poured in to Broadway: people were running between cars, banging car roofs, car horns honking… chaos and joy.

But God, don’t let me imagine the person next to me might believe something different from me!

I once ran in fear from that second form of Chaos. I began to imagine that the simple commandment to “love one another” was, in fact, more like the hypothetical Maundy I posited above. You know, do more, more, more! And, if you don’t, well, heck, I don’t have to take you seriously. Finally even I wasn’t doing enough to make God happy and it became easier just to do nothing.

But God wants us to love one another. Beyond that what else is there?

Life can sometimes be chaos, sometimes joy, sometimes black and white, sometimes grey, sometimes sad, sometimes decently and well-ordered. But none of that can be confused with the Gospel of Love. And none of that should bother us: we’re told that perfect love casts out all fear. But I’m easily frightened and my trust in God is easily shattered in that fear.

And we return to Love.

Jesus tells us he was sent to proclaim the Good News. And we have two choices: imagine that what we have in the Gospels is a total, complete and infallible picture, or else to imagine it is not. Given the contradictions, different stories, etc, I’ll buy the incomplete picture. But then we have another choice to make: to imagine that God spoke once or twice - and ever more rarely - over the last 2000, or to imagine the Spirit of God is still leading us, by loving one another, deeper and deeper into all Truth.

4/25 Wednesday:
Dan. 5:1-12; 1 John 5:1-12; Luke 4:38-44
St. Mark
AM:Sirach 2:1-11; Acts 12:25-13:3
PM:Isaiah 62:6-12; 2 Tim. 4:1-11