Reflections on the Virgin Birth for the First Day of Christmas December 25

I believe the virgin birth of Jesus …

• ·         Affirms Mary’s essential role in God’s redemptive purpose by bringing Christ into the world through Jesus.
• ·         Affirms the indispensable importance of women through salvation history in the Hebrew Scriptures and in the New Testament.
• ·         Affirms that from creation women fully bear the image of God.
• ·         Affirms that as a young woman of righteous character, Mary’s testimony of her sexual experience (or lack thereof) is to be believed.
• ·         Affirms the essential goodness of the material universe we inhabit and enjoy.
• ·         Affirms the essential goodness of our physical bodies.
• ·         Points ahead, not only to Jesus’ resurrection, but to our hope of the resurrection of the body to eternal life.

I do not, however, make any pretense of understanding either biology or divine intervention in explaining the virgin birth. I well understand that stories, such as Matthew and Luke tell about the birth of Jesus are not intended to be reports such as we in our time might read in newspapers or history books. That does not mean they are not true or real but that they are told in a way to evoke wonder when embracing these profound mysteries.

Neither do I consider some form of doctrinal assent to the virgin birth to be necessary for personal salvation or authentic faith in Jesus. Nor do I use it as a test to determine with whom I will share fellowship in Christ. I am quite content to welcome as my partners on this journey any who aspire to trust and follow Jesus. I believe dialog about these mysteries ought to be for mutual edification rather than dividing into rival camps. I have every confidence that the Holy Spirit can use the words of Scripture to inform and enlighten anyone about the truth of the Gospel without my interpretation. I am also confident that the Holy Spirit can use conversations with fellow travelers to shape me and even use me to shape them.

That the virgin birth is only specifically mentioned in Matthew and Luke suggests that while generally accepted by the early Church, it did not occupy their attention as it has ours, particularly since the Enlightenment. Yes, it may be tangentially inferred from a few New Testament passages (Matthew 13:55; Mark 6:3; Luke 3:23; 4:22; John 6:42; 9:29; Galatians 4:4) and be regarded as logical with an understanding of Jesus’ being fully God and fully human (an attempt of human rationalism to explain a mystery that the New Testament asserts but does not explain). But it is not directly cited in the New Testament passages that contain very early, proto-creedal language: Romans 10:9; 1 Corinthians 15:3-4; Philippians 2:11; 1 Timothy 3:16; 1 John 4:2, 15.

I am very aware that I have friends from all across the theological spectrum who will take exception to something here, or even to my entire endeavor. So be it. I’m not interested in engaging in theological debate or persuasion. If I managed to prompt others to some reflection of the significance of the virgin birth at this season when it gets some public attention, well and good. If your pondering evokes awe at the wonder of the incarnation, I wish for you enriched worship through Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany.

To Be a Flourishing, Fruitful Tree in the Courts of God

Though I am aware that things posted on the internet do not change people’s opinions, recent world and national issues have prompted me to post what I hoped to be thought provoking comments. (Ah the illusions of writers!) For the most part, I get modest affirmation from people I already know are on the same wavelength and mostly ignored by those whom I know don’t see things the way I do. Disagreements are few and tend to seem silly to me. In this same timeframe, I have been concerned about a number of things in our family. Richard Rohr’s meditations for the week of December 9-15 focused on the importance of the interior life. I recognized that these exterior issues had distracted me from tending to my interior life and my contemplative life had withered some.

In response I made a point of getting a session of centering prayer in every day that week and refraining from commenting on current events (at least somewhat – I did post a few scripture and other quotes that seemed incisive to me but left them without comment.) I would have to say that I believed the centering prayer would grow as I resumed a more regular rhythm, but at first I wasn’t finding it particularly satisfying. Releasing the distractions was not easy. Then on December 22 I had what I would have to say was a vision prompted by my daily Psalm prayer rhythm (which I have kept in place for nearly 50 years). I felt I was gaining some consistency with the Jesus Prayer that day, then a vision of the green olive tree in the house of God that I had from Psalm 52:8 that I had read earlier came into wordless focus.

Toward the end of my centering prayer time, I saw the palm tree of Psalm 92:12, also planted in the house of the Lord, flourishing in the courts of God, producing fruit in old age. I don’t recall any biblical or archeological indication of trees growing in the Jerusalem Temple environs, or swallows building nests at God’s altars (Psalm 84:3) I suppose barn swallows might have nested in the eaves and other sheltered outdoor places. That doves, pigeons, and sparrows were sacrificed would seem to be contrary to the images here suggesting security, protection, nourishment, prospering, flourishing, and even bearing fruit (though the cedars in Lebanon don’t bear fruit per se).

Psalm 92:14 specifically mentions bearing fruit in old age. I had had my grandson Sam take pictures of the haircut I got the day before so I can show what I want the next time I get a haircut. Yes, a practical idea, but when I looked at the pictures I recognized myself as having arrived into old age. I know plenty of old folk who try to hang onto what they remember as the “good old days,” which seems to prevent them from living with joy in these good days. I want to embrace all that it means to be flourishing and fruitful in my 70s (now at 72). The images of the trees in the House of God seemed to call me to that today.

The House of the Lord for these flourishing, fruitful trees was not literally the Temple grounds but a great metaphor encouraging me to dwell in God’s presence, as I have been prompted renew my rhythm of centering prayer, in which I expect to receive the nourishment and satisfaction of this stage of my life as the olive, palm, and cedar trees in the House of God.

Personal Reflections on the Virgin Birth …

I believe the virgin birth of Jesus …

• ·         Affirms Mary’s essential role in God’s redemptive purpose by bringing Christ into the world through Jesus.
• ·         Affirms the indispensable importance of women through salvation history in the Hebrew Scriptures and in the New Testament.
• ·         Affirms that from creation women fully bear the image of God.
• ·         Affirms that as a young woman of righteous character, Mary’s testimony of her sexual experience (or lack thereof) is to be believed.
• ·         Affirms the essential goodness of the material universe we inhabit and enjoy.
• ·         Affirms the essential goodness of our physical bodies.
• ·         Points ahead, not only to Jesus’ resurrection, but to our hope of the resurrection of the body to eternal life.

I do not, however, make any pretense of understanding either biology or divine intervention in explaining the virgin birth. I well understand that stories, such as Matthew and Luke tell about the birth of Jesus are not intended to be reports such as we in our time might read in newspapers or history books. That does not mean they are not true or real but that they are told in a way to evoke wonder when embracing these profound mysteries.

Neither do I consider some form of doctrinal assent to the virgin birth to be necessary for personal salvation or authentic faith in Jesus. Nor do I use it as a test to determine with whom I will share fellowship in Christ. I am quite content to welcome as my partners on this journey any who aspire to trust and follow Jesus. I believe dialog about these mysteries ought to be for mutual edification rather than dividing into rival camps. I have every confidence that the Holy Spirit can use the words of Scripture to inform and enlighten anyone about the truth of the Gospel without my interpretation. I am also confident that the Holy Spirit can use conversations with fellow travelers to shape me and even use me to shape them.

That the virgin birth is only specifically mentioned in Matthew and Luke suggests that while generally accepted by the early Church, it did not occupy their attention as it has ours, particularly since the Enlightenment. Yes, it may be tangentially inferred from a few New Testament passages (Matthew 13:55; Mark 6:3; Luke 3:23; 4:22; John 6:42; 9:29; Galatians 4:4) and be regarded as logical with an understanding of Jesus’ being fully God and fully human (an attempt of human rationalism to explain a mystery that the New Testament asserts but does not explain). But it is not directly cited in the New Testament passages that contain very early, proto-creedal language: Romans 10:9; 1 Corinthians 15:3-4; Philippians 2:11; 1 Timothy 3:16; 1 John 4:2, 15.

I am very aware that I have friends from all across the theological spectrum who will take exception to something here, or even to my entire endeavor. So be it. I’m not interested in engaging in theological debate or persuasion. If I managed to prompt others to some reflection of the significance of the virgin birth at this season when it gets some public attention, well and good. If your pondering evokes awe at the wonder of the incarnation, I wish for you enriched worship through Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany.

Biblical Juxtapositions

Pondering Biblical juxtaposition #1

Thanks to Pastor Christie Melby-Gibbons’ sermon in worship with Spirit of Peace Lutheran Church last Sunday, I have been pondering the juxtaposition of Jesus’ denouncing the Scribes in Mark 12:38-40 with Jesus’ observation about the widow who gave everything she had to live on in Mark 12:41-44. This was certainly intentional when Mark wrote the Gospel and probably by Jesus. Jesus accused the Scribes of devouring widows’ houses (v. 40) and then went on to point out a widow living in abject poverty. Pastor Christie told me after the service that one commentary she read speculated that this widow may well have died of malnutrition and exposure within days of giving her offering.

This juxtaposition suggests to me that the very system of offerings to the treasury was the means by which the Scribes devoured widows’ houses. One purpose of the treasury was to support and assist the poor, but as is common today as well, “overhead” and “operating expenses” and “staff salaries” gobbled up most of what was received. Though Jesus made no comment on the widow’s motives, I would agree with those who suggest generosity and compassion motivated her, and the means by which she had been taught to express that was through the Temple treasury, from which she should have been receiving assistance to sustain her life.

All my professional life I have been acutely aware that from my earliest days in para-church Christian education curriculum development through my years of pastoral ministry, my family and I have been supported by the generosity of God’s people. While certainly not perfectly, my intention has always been to respect that in the totality of our stewardship.

Yet, this juxtaposition is a cautionary message, recognizing that the very system that has sustained us for half a century is susceptible to abusing the generosity of people of very limited means. Living in a glass house, as I have all my adult life, I don’t want to be throwing stones at those I don’t know well. Nevertheless, I can’t help but think this juxtaposition is also a strong cautionary word to TV evangelists and mega-church pastors. When ministries grow very large, the maintenance costs grow exponentially. The appeals to give sacrificially tug at the heart strings of many who find encouragement in their association with those ministries, and they give out of their poverty in ways that debilitate their own functioning, which supports unimaginably lavish lifestyles for the leaders of those organizations.

Biblical Juxtaposition #2

Not nearly of the same import, but a bit fascinating nonetheless. For all my years of praying through the Psalms, I think today was the first time I noticed that Leviathan shows up in two of today’s Psalms.

74.14: “You crushed the heads of Leviathan; you gave him as food for the creatures of the wilderness.”

104.26: “There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it.”

Leviathan also shows up in Job 3:8; 41:1 and Isaiah 27:1, but only in these two Psalms. Leviathan was apparently a seven headed sea monster feared in Canaanite mythology and associated by the Hebrews with evil threats to them and to God. So by saying the God had crushed the heads of Leviathan and given its flesh as food to the creatures of the wilderness, it suggests that Leviathan is not supernatural but a creature, over which God’s power is supreme. In Psalm 74 this seems to affirm God’s sovereign power over the gods of Israel’s pagan neighbors and over the evil personified in Leviathan.  In Psalm 104, however, Leviathan (multiple heads not mentioned) is an example of the glory and even joy of God’s creation. Leviathan sports and plays in the sea with the ships, not as a threat but as an object of wonder at the scope and diversity of life in the sea.

If the War Goes On

Today, November 11, 2018 marks the 100^th anniversary of the armistice that ended “The Great War” that was called “The War to End all Wars.” We call it World War I because not only did it not end all wars, the seeds of World War II were sown in the provisions of the Treaty of Versailles. Since the end of World War II with VE Day May 8, 1945 and VJ Day September 2, 1945, war after war has continued with no end in sight. This afternoon was the first time I had heard or sung this hymn, “If the War Goes On,” that we sang in worship with Milwaukee Mennonite Church. To be sure, it reflects that Anabaptist, pacifist theology, but singing it today struck me as poignantly significant. We also sang “My Life Goes On,” with its refrain that reminds me of our real security in Christ.

No storm can shake my inmost calm 
while to that Rock I'm clinging. 
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, 
how can I keep from singing?

If the War Goes On

by John Bell and Graham Maule, 1997

If the war goes on and the children die of hunger,

and the old men weep, for the young men are no more,

and the women learn how to dance without a partner,

who will keep the score?

If the war goes on and the truth is taken hostage,

and new terrors lead to the need to euphemize;

when the calls for peace are declared unpatriotic

who'll expose the lies?

If the war goes on and the daily bread is terror,

and the voiceless poor take the road as refugees;

when a nation's pride destines millions to be homeless,

who will heed their pleas?

If the war goes on and the rich increase their fortunes,

and the arms sales soar as new weapons are displayed;

when a fertile field turns to no-man's land tomorrow,

who'll approve such trade?

If the war goes on, will we close the doors to heaven?

If the war goes on, will we breach the gates of hell?

If the war goes on, will we ever be forgiven?

If the war goes on …

Literary Balance in Mark’s Gospel

As I did my lectio divina on Mark 10:17-31 and 46-51 and prepared for worship with Landmark Senior Living Community on Friday, October 26, 2018, I observed a contrast between the rich man who asked Jesus about eternal life and Bartimaeus, the blind man.

The rich man came to Jesus as he was setting out on a journey (v. 17). That was the journey that was to take Jesus to Jerusalem for the last time. Apparently Jesus had already left Galilee and was in Judea, but east of the Jordan River (v. 1).

Jesus’ instructions to the rich man were not only to sell his possessions and give the money to the poor, but to come and follow Jesus, seemingly on this journey to Jerusalem – Triumphal Entry, trial and crucifixion, and resurrection. The invitation to eternal life was not limited to embracing radical care for poor folk but to accompany Jesus through glory and death to resurrection. So Jesus said, “come and follow,” and the rich man went away sad.

Bartimaeus was sitting at the gate of Jericho through which Jesus was leaving on his way to Jerusalem. Apparently a large crowd was accompanying him, and when Bartimaeus heard that the crowd was following Jesus, he cried out for mercy. Bartimaeus obviously knew something of Jesus’ identity and reputation for he called him “son of David.”

Even though the crowd tried to hush Bartimaeus, Jesus heard his cries above the crowd noise and called him to come. No theological discussion or moral interaction occurred between Jesus and Bartimaeus. Jesus asked him what he wanted Jesus to do for him, almost as though healing his blindness was not obvious. I suspect Jesus was purposely evoking a specific request to solidify in Bartimaeus his faith in what he was expecting of Jesus.

Without fanfare or any tangible act of ceremony, Jesus affirmed that Bartimaeus’ faith had healed him, and his sight was immediately restored. After this Jesus told him to “go” (v. 52), in contrast with “come follow me” to the rich man (v. 21). Yet, Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way. While lifelong discipleship may be implied, the most obvious meaning is that Bartimaeus joined the crowd going with Jesus to Jerusalem.

The different Gospel accounts give important insights into the dynamics of Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday. Matthew 21:8; Mark 11:8; Luke 19:36 focus on the growing crowd that assembled to accompany Jesus into Jerusalem While John 12:12-13 reports that those already in Jerusalem, many for the Passover feast, heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They went out to meet him accompany him back into the city. Incidentally, this is the only place where palm branches are specifically identified with Palm Sunday in the Gospels. So taken together, the Gospels tell us that two crowds met and merged to welcome Jesus into Jerusalem.

This would seem to be a metaphor pointing ahead to Jesus’ return as described in 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17 in which those who have died will come with Jesus and will meet with those who are alive at the time to meet Jesus together in the air and accompany him into Eternal Kingdom. I do believe both are metaphorical representations of a mystery beyond our present understanding and should not be pushed into some rigidly literalistic portrayal as though of a news clip video.

In any case, Jesus called the rich man to follow him, but he went away and missed the on the Triumphal entry, the crucifixion, the resurrection, and living Eternal Life following on the way throughout life. On the other hand, Jesus told Bartimaeus to go, but he followed, and even thought the text does not name him again, I strongly suspect that Bartimaeus followed Jesus through the Triumphal Entry, crucifixion and resurrection to go on the way to Eternal Life.

With this awareness, I suspect a different interactional contrast in the way Mark reported Jesus’ exchanges with the religious leaders between the Triumphal Entry/Cleansing of the Temple, and his trial and crucifixion. They challenged Jesus’ authority to invite a crowd to welcome him as a regal conqueror into Jerusalem, the Davidic capital, and to drive the merchants out of the Temple environs. After which Jesus told a parable (Mark 12:1-12) which they correctly interpreted was against them. The Pharisees and Herodians tried to trap him with questions about taxation, and the Sadducees tried to trap him with questions about leverite marriage and resurrection. In both cases, Jesus refused direct answers to their questions, but turns the conversation around to rather sharply rebuke them and expose their questions as disingenuous traps.

But in the dialog about the greatest commandment (Mark 12:28-34), the Scribe in question was not in on the previous interactions but heard the discussion as he walked by casually. Perhaps looking to defuse the tension (I don’t know, but that is something I might try to do.), he asked Jesus which commandment was first of all. Jesus seemed not to take this as a trap or attack. He answered in a very straightforward manner without cynicism or irony.

The Scribe replied by affirming that Jesus had given the correct answer and repeated it – love God, love neighbor. If it stopped here, it would seem that the Scribe had used his scholarly and spiritual authority to affirm Jesus to his contentious colleagues. But even here, Jesus turned the tables to assert his own authority and told the Scribe, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” We are not told any more about this Scribe. I’d like to think he followed the risen Jesus on the way. But in any case, Jesus’ response stifled any further questioning. They all knew Jesus got the upper hand.

What I find so telling here is that Jesus did not treat this Scribe as a critic who was attacking or trying to trap him but as an authentic, sincere seeker. Yes, his question and answer were a sort of quiz for Jesus, perhaps validating Jesus’ authority for the Temple leaders, but not a trap or trick, but something in his heart was genuine. He was not protecting his power or position but was concerned for the Kingdom of God – a concern which Jesus shared. The text doesn’t tell us what became of this Scribe, but I’d like to believe that he, too, followed Jesus on the way.

At first I was unsure of whether to post this in Writing Workshop or in Pilgrim Path. Since it is largely observations about the text and not my own journey with Jesus, at first I thought I’d put it in Writing Workshop. But as I have transcribed my handwritten draft, I have concluded that these observations are not only encouragement for me as I follow Jesus on the way, but perhaps someone else – maybe someone quite unexpected – will hear the call of Jesus to follow him on the way, as a believe Bartimaeus and the Scribe did. So I am posting it in Pilgrim Path.

Our Rich Treasury of People

             

            For a very long time, when I have been leading workshops on prayer, I have suggested that examining and praying along with the prayers in the New Testament Epistles can stretch our prayers into unexplored territory. Now in “retirement,” I have worked them into my daily prayer rhythm. Yes indeed, I am being stretched, especially in the direction of gratitude.

Close to the beginning of almost every one of these prayers is effusive thanks for people. Sometimes people who have been ministry partners. Sometimes people who have invested themselves in the Church and her mission. Sometimes people who were personally known and some known only by reputation. I am caught up in the warmth of affection expressed in 1 Thessalonians 2:8 which continues through the chapter. “So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.” This is characteristic of the thanks for people that permeates the prayers of the New Testament Epistles.

In this season of my life, as I pray each of those prayers, I am prompted to remember those with whom I have served with great gratitude. I am particularly thankful those who have shaped me through the years. I am thankful for those with whom I shared partnership in ministry. I am thankful for those for whom I was privileged to bring some touch of Christ’s love and presence. And, yes, I have been prompted to give thanks for those whom I found annoying or troubling or confrontational at the time. Each day’s parade seems altogether too fragmentary a sample of those for whom I am indeed thankful, but by coming back to it every day, I am reminded of more and more folk in our great treasury of people.

This rhythm of thanksgiving from the prayers of the New Testament Epistles has given me an expansive vision of the vast treasury of people my wife, family, and I have been enriched to receive. Looking back on now almost 50 years of marriage, recalling the places we have lived and served, it is not the houses, cars, clothes, travels, or even experiences or accomplishsment for which we give the greatest thanks. We are supremely grateful for this great cloud of people who have so lavishly enriched us. Remembering them evokes joyful thanks.

As her Alzheimer’s opens ever larger holes and gaps in my wife’s memory, the wonder and warmth of the people we feel God has given us over these years not only persists but grows. Often something happens that arouses warm emotions from even a distant past relationship. By talking it through together, we are often able to piece together names, locations, events, family connections, congregations in ways that affirm the gifts these folk still are to us. The gifts are not limited by activities or benefits, but are expansive gratitude for the people themselves. To be sure, the day may well come that she will not be able to reconstruct these details. They are getting more challenging for me as well. But the relationships with these folk will continue to be our prayer of thanksgiving for our great treasury of relationships.

Someone else might come up with a different inventory of the prayers of the New Testament Epistles, but these are what I use. Romans 1:8-10; 15:5-6,13; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; 2 Corinthians 13:7-10; Ephesians 1:15-23; 3:14-21; Philippians 1:2-5, 9-11; Colossians 1:2-12; 4:2-4; 1 Thessalonians 1:2-5; 3:10-13; 2 Thessalonians 1:2-4, 11-12; 3:1-2, 5; 2 Timothy 1:3-4, 16-18; Philemon 1:4-7.

Job was Vindicated for Coming before God Boldly

I am pondering this juxtaposition from the lectionary readings for next Sunday, Job 23:3-4 "Oh, that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his dwelling! I would lay my case before him." Hebrews 4:16 "Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness." My understanding of Job's vindication is that his complaints and demands of God were indeed coming before God boldly. God answered Jobs accusers, "you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has." Job 42:7-8

Refuge Under God's Wings

I’m sure I knew this and probably have noticed it before, but today as I prayed through the Psalms (1, 31, 61, 91, 121) I recognized that each of them affirms finding shelter and refuge with God. The image of refuge under God’s wings shows up in 61:4 and 91:4. This is a definitely maternal, feminine image as for most birds (but maybe not all species, I'm not an ornithology expert), the chicks take refuge under the mother’s wings. And in these Psalms, that is an image of great strength, on which I am focusing for my centering prayer today.

Thoughts in Cacophony

Thomas Merton wrote some wonderful prayers that are collected in his little book Thoughts in Solitude (1956). As much as I endeavor to maintain contemplative disciplines and devote myself to caring for my wife on her Alzheimer’s journey, the cacophony of noise in the world that right now seems to be politically amplified, intrudes on my silence and rankles my peace. I am preparing my worship messages for King of Glory and Spirit of Peace Lutheran Churches this coming weekend and Milwaukee Mennonite Church on September 30 (my 72^nd birthday). Yet, the noise in my mind cries to be organized and articulated so it can be released, enabling me to focus on not just these messages but on my true priorities – walking with Jesus and caring for my wife. I have tried relinquishing my thoughts in cacophony in centering prayer through Psalm 31:5, “Into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Much of the current noise arises from contradictory voices about the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to be a Supreme Court Justice and the allegations of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. This is not just in the news, it is the dominant discussion among friends with whom I communicate via the internet, who hold widely varying opinions. I have no way to know which, if either, of them is telling the truth. I have my own concerns about anyone being nominated for the Supreme Court that have nothing to do with this current chaos nor with Row v. Wade. I have personal opinions that I hold loosely since I do not have access to sufficient information, nor perhaps do I have sufficient discernment to make such a crucial decision. I am not a US Senator with the opportunity and responsibility to make such judgements, for which I am indeed thankful.

Even as this current cacophony crashes into my contemplative rhythms and caring for my wife, with whom I can no longer discuss my inner turmoils, Two themes seem to recur and compel me to articulate and relinquish them. One is how to understand and handle youthful indiscretions. The other is how to respect and hear victims of abuse and sexual harassment, especially women and the young.

In my prayer rhythm on the 25^th of every month for 48+ years, I have been encountered by Psalm 25:7 and prompted to pray, “Do not remember the sins of my youth.” Though not quite 25 years old when I began my monthly rotation praying through the Psalms, once past that age I mentally regarded my embarrassing memories from before 25 as sins of my youth, which I hoped to have left behind as I matured. With a sort of spiritual tongue in cheek, I took this cue from the number of the Psalm. In a certain sense, I felt I became a real adult when I turned 40 and smiled internally about making that the new boundary for sins of my youth. Now in my 70s, I even quip publically about how high I might be able to legitimately raise the limit on sins of my youth. While I might ask God not to remember the sins of my youth, I must seriously ask myself how rightly to deal with them, which has implications for what I expect of others when the sins of their youth intrude on them in later years.

I readily confess to ambivalence about this. I have plenty of memories from my high school days that continue to evoke embarrassment, shame, and even guilt feelings. I would not have wanted to have to explain them when being interviewed by a congregation’s pastoral nominating committee. The passing of time, by itself, does not address the issue. Regrets linger; patterns persist; anxiety about accounts resurfacing loom; just retribution threatens. To say “that was a long time ago” or worse yet “boys will be boys,” does not excuse or dismiss responsibility for past indiscretions. For a long time our society seems to have accepted these sorts of illusions without acknowledging the wounds they keep inflicting. For those who have slipped past the consequences of their youthful misbehavior, letting go of that mentality is uncomfortably painful. But for those who have been victims, letting go of complicit “statues of limitations” for people in power is essential to healing and reconciliation.

One of the reasons for not dismissing our youthful indiscretions too easily is that they are often the seeds of persistent patterns. We may get more sophisticated as we get older, and more skillful and covering our tracks. Dishonesty in youth undermines the integrity needed to be trustworthy in maturity. Unchallenged sexual indiscretions in youth become serial adultery and sexual harassment in adults, which seems all too commonplace among those (especially men) in positions of power today. Bullying in youth becomes abuse of power to oppress and intimidate those who are perceived as weak. Without some definitive intervention, the sins of one’s youth become the lifestyle of the adult. While single slips of momentary weakness do occur, significant violations are seldom one-off occurrences. Because the barriers and costs for victims to come forward are so high, when one does quite often many others lurk in the shadows. For this reason, to dismiss an accusation with “just once, long ago” does not ring true and should not allow evading the consequences of even long past misbehavior.

So if wishing the sins of my youth could just fade away is unhealthy and maybe even unjust, how can they be addressed in honest, positive, and restorative ways? Even if they were not public, I do believe that face to face confession to a person is healthy, powerful, and often essential. I have heard Protestants object to Roman Catholic confession by saying, “All they do is tell the priest, say their ‘Our Fathers’ and ‘Hail Marys’ and keep on going.” Conversely, I have heard Catholics object to Protestants keeping their confession secret between them and God as being too easy to fool ourselves into evading real responsibility for our behavior. James 5:16 instructs us to “confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.” Something healthy and powerful happens when we acknowledge our culpability to someone who will assure us of God’s forgiveness in Christ and actually pray for us in our weakness.

When John the Baptist saw Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he refused and said, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” (Matthew 3:8; Luke 3:8) Fruit worthy of repentance is not some sort of penalty or compensation for a wrong but is the sign of an authentic change of direction and even character, which is implied in the understanding of repentance. It is much more than being sorry for what was done (or getting caught for what was done), it is a personal turnaround. For some that might mean counseling, or involvement in an addiction recovery program, or restitution, or withdrawal from leadership temporarily or permanently, or forgoing a cherished opportunity. While the fruit worthy of repentance will be different for different people and situations, it will always be proactive pursuit of a new direction with viable accountability.

Though I have pursued fruit worthy of repentance, not just for sins of my youth but also for my ongoing failings, I can’t claim perfection here. For the last 25 years I have had a personal spiritual director almost all of the time. They have been people whom I trusted not just with my confessions but to hold me accountable to follow the path ahead. Sometimes people or circumstances are so remote I am unable to access them, and in those cases regret persists. I take seriously the prayer of Psalm 19:12, “Clear me from hidden faults.” The problem with hidden faults is that they are hidden, maybe more from me than from others. I need the probing grace of God to deal with this reality. I have found what Thomas Keating wrote in Intimacy with God (Crossroad, 1995) to be both challenging and helpful. I quote in part. (pp. 88-89)

“What is most disconcerting for souls who have been on the journey for twenty or thirty years is that each time we make the transition from one level to the next, we are likely to encounter the same temptations we had before we started the journey, and we think, ‘I’m not getting anywhere; I’m just the same old stick.’ … We encounter it again because there is a circular structure to a spiral staircase and hence horizontally we seem to meet the same old problem. But vertically we are now dealing with it at a more mature level. Hence, we are capable of making a more complete surrender of that attachment or that aversion.”

So the fruit worthy of repentance is not an event or accomplishment that can be achieved and abandoned. No, it is a lifestyle, a lifelong journey. If I am bearing fruit worthy of repentance for the sins of my youth, I will not deny them when they poke up, perhaps at unexpected and unwelcome moments, and I will not protest that I have handled that and don’t need to be reminded, and I will certainly not protest my innocence or righteousness. Rather, I will invite transparency into the journey I am on. There is a certain paradox here, that those who proclaim their qualifications for something, whether political office or pastoral calling, are almost certainly disqualifying themselves, while those who present themselves with humble vulnerability and accountability are likely better qualified.

I readily acknowledge that as a Christian I have framed this in biblical terms, as that is who I am. I want to be crystal clear that I do not expect those who hold public office to be my brand of Christian or any type of Christian to serve well. The US Constitution specifically forbids religious tests for holding public office. Not only is this wise for a pluralistic democracy, I believe it is healthy for authentic Christian discipleship. We don’t need some sort of diluted, generic civil religion masquerading as Christian faith. People should not have to pretend to be religiously something they are not. What is needed is integrity, accountability, character, competence. When it comes to fruit worthy of repentance for youthful indiscretions, I think the kind of honest transparency and intentional pursuit of trustworthy character that I seek in myself as a follower of Jesus are possible for someone who does not share that faith, even if they cast it in somewhat different terms.

 Before moving on to my second concern, with some reluctance I think I should make a personal statement, maybe more for my wife than for myself. Since much of the current cacophony and the implications of youthful indiscretions revolve around sex, I think it is important to put to rest any wild imaginations about my own youth. My reluctance is that I don’t want to seem to be evasive or dismissive of my own youthful indiscretions or somehow come off as self-righteous. Nevertheless, I can say that in high school I did hold hands with a couple of girls I dated, but nothing more. I did not kiss or hug a girl or woman romantically until I was sure that Candy was the one I would marry. During engagement, we did grow in expressions of affection, but our first sex was on our wedding night. Now almost 50 years later, I can say with joy we have been each other’s only intimate partners. 

Having said this, I assure you I am not a pious prude and would acknowledge some of my high school sexual rectitude was motivated more by timidity than morality. I still grimace at how I handled some of my early puberty curiosity. I would also confess that some of my interior imaginations and fantasies don’t match my exterior actual behavior. Though with a fully satisfying marriage, I am not always happy with how I inwardly manage my sexuality. Despite both this track record and pastorally having witnessed too many disasters from out of control sex and power, especially among my clergy colleagues, I know I am not immune and need vigilance and accountability as well as faithful tending of both my relationship with Jesus and my wife.

As far as I am aware I have never been inappropriate with a girl or woman (or boy or man for that matter) in the realm of sex or power. That doesn’t mean that I may not have been perceived that way or inadvertently behaved that way. This is not some declaration of innocence. But I well recognize that my youthful indiscretions have been in speaking and even writing hurtfully and demeaningly to and of other people. I saw a lot of life through “us vs. them” lenses and all too easily assigned unsubstantiated and tainted motives to “them.” I did not exercise appropriate discretion in speaking my critiques of “them” whether they were people in my school or community or even church. As I matured, I have endeavored to make right with those I could and learn to appreciate that other people don’t have to see things the way I do. In fact, I have changed what I think considerably since high school, since turning 25, and am still in process. While I do hope I have endeavored to yield fruit worthy of repentance, I know I am not and never will be finished.

This finally brings me to my second concern, that I will not examine in such depth as I have already explored it elsewhere, and it is more tangential to what prompted me to write. That is how to respect and hear victims of abuse and sexual harassment, especially women and the young. The #MeToo movement brought to public consciousness just how widespread sexual harassment is. It has encouraged many who have been victims of sexual predators and oppressors to speak out. It has been a source of courage for many who hid in fear for years. Yet, the reality is evident in the cacophony around Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations about Brett Kavanaugh. Again, I am not going to wade into deciphering the she-said – he-said or political machinations around all of this. Rather, I want to again raise the important of a change of cultural consensus so that power people (most but not all men) no longer have tacit permission to use sex and gender as weapons of oppression and dominance. I want to see a cultural consensus that rallies around a woman or child (or man) who speaks out and give them a fair chance to be heard and believed. Of course, I believe in due process, but that has to start with respecting victims and those who perceive themselves to have been victims.

My prayer Psalms today brought me to Psalm 140:12. “The Lord maintains the cause of the needy, and executed justice for the poor.” As I chatted about this line with God, the kinds of thoughts I have set down here were rumbling around in my head. Through the Psalms, the Hebrew Prophets, and Jesus’ teaching and relationships, the needy and the poor include a wide scope of those who are written off by much of society. If I am going to be in harmony with The Lord, I need to advocate for the cause and justice of those who are weak.

Now that I have plowed through all of this, maybe my mind can clear enough to get back to preparing my sermons. Also, I have been writing short stories for reading aloud with my wife, and I’ve got the starter idea for the next one. Maybe it will come together this weekend too. I just got word from Tom Irwin (my “literary agent”) that my Ripples book is ready for release, and we’re planning a book signing in Dallas on October 14. I haven’t decided yet if I will post this to my Pilgrim Path blog, but I do hope for release that will let me go on to these other more wholesome and important things unencumbered mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Anchored in Hope

This anchor hope symbol from the 2nd or 3rd century is in the Catacomb Domatilla in Rome,
 which I visited on my pilgrimage there in 2004

In April 2016 my wife, Candy, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Our journey is reshaping our understanding and experience of hope. We have some friends who have told us they are praying God will heal her, a few with categorically assertive assurance that she will be healed. I suppose at one level I do believe God could do that, though that would seem to fly in the face of both medical reality and our previous experience and theological understanding of how God works. The therapy and medications she gets do seem to be slowing progression, though that is very difficult to measure. She is diligent about keeping her brain agile with puzzles, and participating in the Mind Effects program at the Lutheran Home four hours every Thursday. We play Scrabble four to five times a week, and she wins about three-quarters of the time with scores near or over 300. We get wonderful support from our son and his family with whom we share a duplex, and from Spirit of Peace Lutheran Church and Milwaukee Mennonite Church, and some of the connections through the Alzheimer’s Association.

Both the physician who diagnosed her when we lived in Dallas and the one who cares for her here in Milwaukee have encouraged us with a hope that at her age at onset and the pace of decline, she could be fairly functional into her eighties, but nothing can predict a sudden and even precipitously rapid decline. Her father is 91 still living in his own home in Minnesota and has a good but not round-the-clock caregiver as he copes with his own aging challenges. Just recently his long-time dentist moved his wife into residential memory care. This seemed to bring to Candy’s Dad’s the awareness of what we have known and lived with since 2016. When he told me on the phone about his dentist’s wife, he said to me, “I hate to give you bad news, but Candy is not going to get better.”

While we can’t predict the pace of our journey, we are acutely aware of the inexorable path on which Alzheimer’s is taking us. So if we are not hoping she will get better, what does it mean for us to make this journey with hope?

In forty plus years of pastoral ministry, I have stood at many gravesides as the body of a loved one is about to be lowered into the earth and said these classic words, “We commend to almighty God our sister/brother, and we commit her/his body to the ground earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.” Behind those words and the hope they affirm is a mystery far beyond my ability to grasp much less explain. Having attended (sometimes as a hearse or limousine driver) many funerals, I too often cringe at the shallow attempts that seem to me to trivialize both the pain of death and profundity of eternal life. I rebel in anger at the way holding out some sort of “pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by” pseudo-hope has been used as a way of pacifying victims of oppression or discounting the reality of suffering. So far no one has said this to me. “She is or will be so much better off when this life is over and she’s got her mind and body back.” (Or the ubiquitous “She’s in a better place.”) But if they did (even at the end of our journey), I might just snap back with anger.

From very early on, perhaps even late in the first century, Christians have used the anchor as a symbol of hope, taking a cue from Hebrews 6:19. “We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul.” The small ships of ancient times needed a way to weather sudden violent storms. The anchor was used in open water, lowered from the bow of the ship to keep the prow pointing directly into the wind of the storm. That way the ship could ride up and down with the waves without rolling and capsizing. When the anchor was doing its job, it was unseen, deep below the water’s surface, which fits with Romans 8:24. “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen?”

The security of the hope anchor keeps us facing directly into the storm. This is not a hope for a happy ending but a hope for authentic joy along the journey. Candy and I recognize, sometime with humor and sometimes with grief, the increasing gaps in her memory. We have relinquished efforts to save up new memories for the future. Rather, we find hope in the sometimes sober joys of the present. Perhaps enforced in a way we wouldn’t have wished for, this journey is instilling in us the hope of living in the sacrament of the present moment, as I have often taught and recommended Jean-Pierre de Caussade’s little book. God meets us in those present joys, and in the laughs and tears of acknowledged holes in her memory. We savor them as they occur, much as enjoying a delicious meal is superior to remembering or anticipating one. And as God meets us, though unseen, we know we are not alone on this journey.

I have long resonated with Thomas Merton’s prayer from Thoughts in Solitude. “I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.” Yes, we are facing both known and unknown perils on a trackless journey often in the shadow of death, but our hope is that we are not alone. It is not as though God is admonishing us, “Hang in there. A glorious reward awaits.” No, with the anchor of hope unseen, keeping us pointed straight into the storm, we are not alone. God is on the journey, in the perils, with us.

Healthy Remembrance of 9-11-01

As is surely understandable, today, September 11, 2018, the internet has been flooded with calls to never forget 9-11-01. Most of these seem to focus on remembering those who lost their lives and those who gave or risked their lives to save others. Certainly appropriate memorial! Some seem aimed at fueling unlimited vitriol toward all Muslim people. Others promulgate a dark conspiracy theory that this was the work of treasonous Americans, to what end is unclear. Both of those gnaw away at the soul and are thieves of joy and peace.

As I approached my lectio divina and prayer Psalms today, I asked, what is a healthy way to remember 9-11-01? My mind went back to the attack on Pearl Harbor in which 2,403 Americans were killed on December 7, 1941, which President F. D. Roosevelt called “a date which will live in infamy.” For my parents’ generation, this was what they resolved to never forget. Though not without some tensions, after World War II, relationships between Japan and the US not only recovered but improved significantly to the benefit of both nations. Flags still fly at half-mast and memorials are held, but as that generation is passing the fervor on Pearl Harbor Day subsides.

Though the Japanese attack was on a military target, not civilians as on 9-11, and though there have been many other wars and tragic losses of life in violent attacks, Pearl Harbor Day may be the closest parallel in US history to the national experience of 9-11. While much has transpired in 17 years, and a generation with no personal memory of that day is coming of age, the wounds are understandably still raw. Remembrance that nurtures remains elusive.

With this question in my mind, I resonated with Psalm 11:1-4, “How can you say to me, ‘If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?’” Remembering 9-11 can fuel just such anxiety as it bumps up against the turmoil and polarization that seem to plague this nation today. But the Psalm goes on to affirm that “the Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven.” Healthy remembering for people of faith is a reminder that despite appearances, God is still active and in redemptive control.

I ended my prayer Psalms with 131 which gives important perspective. “I do not occupy myself with things too great and wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother.” We easily scramble our brains, our emotions, and even our hearts when we stew over things that are far beyond us. Healthy remembering assures us that we are invited to curl up on God’s lap to be calmed and quieted as a small child with its mother.  

In Exile Seeking the Welfare Here

Having been of Anabaptist conviction my entire adult life, I give my sole and ultimate loyalty and allegiance only to Jesus and the Kingdom of God he proclaimed, considering that my true citizenship. In the spirit of Jeremiah 29.7, I seek the welfare of the country where God has placed me, as if in exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf. Taking my cue from Jesus and the Hebrew Prophets, I seek to advocate and work for justice and compassion for the poor, the weak, the widows, the orphans, the strangers and foreigners. With hope in God, I trust that in the welfare of whatever country we who follow Jesus find ourselves, we will find our welfare and witness the spread throughout the world of the Kingdom Jesus proclaimed, even though often hidden.

God's Presence in a Bowl of Oatmeal

With somewhat fitful sleep through the night, I woke about 4:00 am with my mind swirling in non-specific anxiety. No particular reason I could identify, though returning to sleep evaded me. I got up and made a bowl of oatmeal, my go-to insomnia remedy. I don't know if something physiological is going on or if it's all psychological, but I did return to restful sleep promptly and woke feeling rested and thankful just before 7:00 am. Then in my prayer Psalms this morning (1, 31, 61, 91, 121) every one spoke in some way of resting in God's steadfast love (hesed for you Hebrew buffs). Is hesed an ingredient in oatmeal? These lines from Psalm 31 seemed especially powerful and I took quite a bit of time with my second mug of tea to let them soak in.

• Into your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.
• My times are in your hand;
• Let your face shine upon your servant; save me in your steadfast love.
• Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.

Solomon Prayed for God to Answer the Prayers of Foreigners

In his prayer dedicating the Jerusalem Temple, King Solomon recognized it as extending the promise God had made to Abraham in Genesis 12:3, “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” God’s intention is to include all people in steadfast love, so Solomon prayed in 1 Kings 8:42-43, “When a foreigner comes and prays toward this house, then hear in heaven your dwelling place, and do according to all that the foreigner calls to you, so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you.” We who follow Jesus recognize no distinction between nationalities, races, genders, classes for all are one in Christ. (Romans 10:12; 1 Corinthians 12:13; Galatians 3:28) This is not limited to those who share our faith in Christ but included even those who would consider us to be enemies, as Jesus said in Matthew 5:44 and Paul affirmed in Romans 12:14-21. By extending the love of Christ toward those who are different than we are, perhaps even feared or despised by some, we begin now to experience what we anticipate when we will gather with those from every tribe and language and people and nation around the Throne singing praise to Christ. (Revelation 5:9)

This is not to say that differences of culture, ethnicity, background, etc. don't matter but they are not to disrupt either Christian unity or our common humanity as we live out the love of Christ.

My Soul Cries Out

Last week I wrote how singing Robert Lowry’s hymn My Life Flows On in worship with Spirit of Peace Lutheran Church shaped my meditation, which persisted through the week. http://nstolpepilgrim.blogspot.com/2018/07/above-earths-lamentation.html Then we sang it again in worship with Milwaukee Mennonite Church yesterday afternoon (August 5, 2018). I had been singing it each morning between my lectio divina and Prayer Psalms, listening as intently as possible for the “sweet though far off hymn that hails a new creation” and attending to the faint echoes of the music in my soul. I know I sang it in snatches and in entirety both mentally and vocally through the days of the week. I believe it was beneficial and sustaining for me, even if incrementally, as I continued to wrestle with both internal and external lamentations, tumult, and strife.

For a long time that hymn/folksong has strengthened me and guided me when the path ahead seemed dark and uncertain. I used it for an important turning point in the lives and relationships of a couple in my unpublished novel The Ghosts of Mystic Hills Cemetery. I went back and reviewed that chapter and posted it in my Writing Workshop blog at http://nstolpewriting.blogspot.com/2018/08/nils-from-ghosts-of-mystic-hills.html. Having it come back in worship again a week later, was like bringing the sweet but far off hymn a little nearer and intensifying the echoes in my soul. Not just an affirmation of my meditations this week, it was as though I was hearing the assurance that the hymn that hails the new creation will indeed drown out, indeed drive out, that cacophony of the earth’s lamentations, tumult, and strife that had been weighing me down recently.

The singing of it in worship yesterday came in the context of 16 year old Soraya Keiser’s worship message (sermon) of her learnings from a double pilgrimage she took this summer. First was to historic civil rights sites in the southern US. Dare I call them shrines? Second was to violence torn Guatemala to by sharing life with its victims. Not only was I amazed at the profundity of her insights, but it was the sweet song of the new creation being sung aloud in our very presence.

We ended that worship by singing My Soul Cries Out, with its plaintive refrain of hope that “the world is about to turn.” Again, I was prompted to sing along with the great chorus, confident that “the poor will weep no more, for the food they can never earn; there are tables spread, every mouth be fed,” and God “wipes away all tears for the dawn draws near.” Despite appearances to the contrary, the largely hidden turning of the world is relentless and ultimate. Thanks, Soraya for affirming this with your words and these two songs!