January 24, 2012

You Cannot Be Serious

Psalm 147:1-11, 20c – 5th Sunday after Epiphany – for February 5, 2012

“The Lord God builds up Jerusalem; he gathers the outcasts of Israel.” (Psalm 147:2)

When or where, and from whom, did I first hear . . . I don’t read the Bible literally, but I take it seriously?

A mentor? Perhaps. Was it a gem discovered in a now-recycled magazine article? Could’ve been. Did a renowned theologian first tease me with these words? Possible. This I’m confident about: I’ve quoted it since Jimmy Carter sat in the Oval Office, wondering why no one liked him anymore. Therefore, before the easily plucked quotations from the digital realms of Google and Wikipedia, I offered this simple, and oh so true, sentence to readers and listeners.

At least it’s oh so true for me.

While studying a few verses of Psalm 147 the other day, I kept hearing I-don’t-read-the-Bible-literally… nudge my consciousness. Nudge? Actually it felt more like tennis great John McEnroe infamously shouting, “You cannot be serious!”

He heals the brokenhearted… (Ps. 147:3). If that’s true, then why do so many of the people I call for hospice weep, sound anguished, speak with voices as if worn out by shouting in a storm?

He determines the number of stars… (Ps. 147:4). Please. In Biblical times they thought the sky was a fixed dome, and the sun moved just above the clouds each day. It’s the Bible that claims Joshua made the sun stand still (Joshua 10). So pardon me if I don’t equate ancient theological metaphors with modern astronomy.

The Lord lifts up the downtrodden… (Ps. 147:6). Can the good Lord please talk some sense into those forlorn homeless men at the corner of Fresno’s Blackstone and Herndon who brandish signs like: I’m a vetran and hongry, pleas help me? They appear permanently downtrodden.

There are other upbeat promises and platitudinous pablum in Psalm 147, so I’ll let you choose your own to be incredulous about. Or, because my views may not be oh so true for you, you can debate or debunk my feeble (un)beliefs.

Psalms 147 is not the only “problem.” The Bible’s chock-full of stumbling blocks and John McEnroe situations.

Such as, can any modern reader study the Bible and not be unsettled with its treatment of women? When scripture was written, women—all women—were property. Find me a verse empowering women and I’ll find you 10 or 100 belittling them. Continue reading →

Print Friendly Print Get a PDF version of this webpage PDF

4 Comments

Filed under Epiphany, Lectionary - Year B

Tagged as , , , , , ,

January 20, 2012

Sunday Best

A few years ago I attended a Mormon church down the block from my home. I checked their website before going. Glad I did! On their page, the Latter-Day Saints’ (LDS) website suggested wearing “Sunday best” for those attending Sacrament Service.

What is your “Sunday best?”

As I kid, my "Sunday best" wasn't quite like my Dad's suit!

OK, I did wear nice clothes: creased pants, shined shoes, and I was color-coordinated. What a guy.

I’d rather not go “fancy” to worship, though it’s more than an LDS website that challenges me. I can easily hear the echo of my parents’ voices . . . make sure to dress for the occasion!

I think of the passing mention about what Jesus wore in John 19:23. When the soldiers at the cross divided Jesus’ garment, the Gospel said it was, “seamless, woven in one piece from the top.”

In my long-ago Sunday school days (of course always wearing my parents-required Sunday best) I assumed the garment must have been “special.” Nope. Common clothes. Jesus wore what everyone else wore. Simple. Plain. Far from “special.”

What is “Sunday best?” I say, come as you are. Simple. Plain.

And back to the LDS. In a Newsweek article (Feb. 11, 2008), the then recently deceased LDS President Gordon B. Hinckley was remembered and appreciated. A quote about him said, “He implored people to be better—to be kinder, more forgiving, more inclusive. And he led by tireless example.”

That, I think, is the best “Sunday best” to wear. Not clothes, but wearing and living out a humble attitude and honest faith.

Print Friendly Print Get a PDF version of this webpage PDF

Leave a Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , ,

January 19, 2012

G is for . . .

GLOWS

Early evening, Royal Arch Lake - southern Yosemite

Alpenglow is the dance of sunlight on stone in a mountain amphitheater.

Faces glow too; inward light. Moses, after his encounters with God, covered his face. The Israelites, already witnesses to great miracles according to scripture, couldn’t handle Moses’ blazing cheeks. In Jesus’ transfiguration, he shimmers, incandescent with glory. Were those fiery moments sacred history or sacred myth? I don’t care, for I’ve seen the hints of God at work within and around, where the light that is present—in a child’s smile, an adult’s words of forgiveness, a couple’s announcement of love—cannot be described or quantified. It simply is.

In the mountains, I witness rock afire. In scripture I read of transfiguration. But the light of glory happens here and about. And we, so adept at guarding our heart and hiding our fears, should and can struggle to keep our eyes open. Light abounds. A divine glow illuminates the soul…in ongoing creation, within each beloved creature.

Print Friendly Print Get a PDF version of this webpage PDF

Leave a Comment

Filed under Faith Mutters

Tagged as , , , ,

January 17, 2012

Not Limp, Tame, Cautious or Safe

Mark 1: 21-28 – The 4th Sunday after Epiphany – for January 29, 2012

“They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this…’” (Mark 1:27)

I entered the post office. Waiting in line, I grasped a shopping bag holding twenty-one copies of my book, A Companion for the Journey. Identical in size, weight and packaging, they were ready to mail.

For practical and humble reasons, I planned to send them to clergy friends. Companion is my book and I’m proud of the accomplishment.

Practically speaking, I’d like to sell enough to cover printing costs. With books heavy in hand, I also think ministers are a good audience to generate word-of-mouth. Buzz. You know: they’ll tell other clergy pals to spring for a copy; they’ll tell a layperson or ten that Companion (by that swell fellow Larry) is worth a read. However, I’ll readily admit self-published also means selfishly-published. It’s not only about selling enough to keep a bottom line in black ink. Please read it and like it (as we declare in the gospel according to Facebook). Ah, ego.

Now, about humble as my other reason . . .

“Sir, can I help you?”

Oops! It’s my turn at the post office window. I stepped forward, hoisted the bag of nouns and verbs onto the counter space papered with official USPS notes to customers. I stacked the ready-to-mail packages of vanity in front of the clerk.

“Same size, same weight,” I said. Since I’d used my handy-dandy Martha Stewart kitchen scale at home, I added, “They’re each about seven point seven ounces.” Didn’t I sound like an expert? (Or a babbling fool?)

“You’re right,” she replied after weighing a book. The clerk consulted a list taped to the counter and then gazed at me. “Are they all domestic?”

I paused. I didn’t hear domestic. Instead, had she wondered if they were . . . domesticated? Maybe it’s because I’m anxious about sending books to friends. Maybe it’s because my mind continuously plays weird word games. Regardless, I asked, “What do you mean by domes–” Continue reading →

Print Friendly Print Get a PDF version of this webpage PDF

8 Comments

Filed under Epiphany, Lectionary - Year B

Tagged as , , , ,

January 14, 2012

Zombies…Bring ‘Em On!

The living, on the run... (photo from AMC's website)

Zombies are my guilty pleasure. They are my not-so-secret favorites in the usual suspects of horror films. And they are, so help me God, philosophically intriguing.

On February 12, AMC’s The Walking Dead returns for its run (or stagger walk) of spring episodes. I. Can’t. Wait.

I first encountered zombies during seminary. No, not fellow students or faculty! While at Claremont School of Theology, with its wedding cake-like chapel and Hollywood proximity, I viewed George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968). It was heaps better than studying theodicy. The Living Dead made world religions feel tame. Jesus raising Lazarus from a tomb—hmmm?—how about a zombie slogging through a cemetery filled with tombs?

For me, werewolves are ho-hum. Vampires? Been there, done that in so many films. Let’s lose The Lost Boys and cast away the marketing chains of Twilight. The last vampire flick I saw that mattered, and made me squirm on my safe couch, was Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark (1987). After a ride in Dark’s wreck-reation vehicle, I didn’t want to date any more neck suckers.

Zombies? First, doggone it, they do scare me—if done well like The Walking Dead. Of course, there’s more to Dead than blood-riddled, flesh-eating creatures chasing the remnants of humanity. It’s a road movie, the characters on the move from Point A to Point B, ala Thelma and Louise. It’s also one of the endless variations of Agatha Christie’s Ten Little Indians: which character dies next? Lies and cheating? Check. Birth and death? Check. Deceit, bravery and stupidity? All there. Token redneck. Token African-American. Token Korean-American. Yup, yup, yup. A British actor portraying an average American guy? Mark “yes” in that box!

Philosophically, my affection for zombies is simple. Zombies are consumers, a reflection of a capitalism running (staggering) amuck. The best zombie stories hold a gory mirror up to contemporary society and grunt, “This is what you’ve done to yourself.” Zombies have turned away from trusting neighbor and loving God for the worship of More. Do you own a house, or does it own you? The ones with the most toys at the end . . . wins? The Magi’s symbolic gifts of yesteryear is today’s bloated credit card debt. The God of More roams the countryside. The consumer is consumed. Is there no escape?

Finally, most importantly, whether a zombie tale or any Barbara Kingsolver novel, there are transcendent moments in The Walking Dead that take my breath away (er, in a good way). I’ll mention one without spoiling the plot for Dead virgins. For Dead fans, I’ll mention two words and you’ll understand: the barn. Set up over several episodes, a climax occurs where (for me) two reactions simultaneously unfold around a barn. Sympathy. A viewer suddenly understands, and can relate to, a character’s decision. Empathy. Every viewer—I guarantee it is every viewer—knows the personal cost of protecting the one you love. I watch, mesmerized. Something awful has happened, something awful will happen . . . and the past, present and future of awful is borne of and because of human folly.

Me? I’m gonna buckle up and enjoy zombie time. They are my guilty pleasure. They also, when a story is told well, tell me about myself.

Print Friendly Print Get a PDF version of this webpage PDF

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , ,