Weekly Reflection--May 29

The following pictures seem to me the most appropriate response to the crazy machinations of doomsday prognosticator Harold Camping and those of his ilk.  Rather than get sucked into the media circus and expend any mental energy on a fantastical farce, the pictures that follow ground us and remind us of where God calls us to use our energies:  in this world, for God's people and God's world.  They are pictures taken within the last week and express the variety of activities at St. Francis (work on our buildings, concerts, Midnight Runs, clean up days!). 

As Blake Scalet aptly pointed out this past Sunday, rapture language and imagination is only a little over 100 years old.  Yet, the propensity to focus on that which is beyond us and to engage in the sturm und drang of judgment is, unfortunately, unavoidable and an interesting part of the human psyche.  However, like so many things in life, we can choose to disengage.  And the whole idea of rapture is a good thing to reject.   

 

(Hart Music Trio at Sounds Good concert)

One point of clarification needs to be voiced when discussing the end-of-times:  the misuse of the book of Revelation.  (A quick aside: a great litmus test to see if people have even a slight clue of what is found in the last book of the Bible is what they call that book.  More often than not, you will hear people refer to Revelations.  It is actually Revelation--no S.  As in The Revelation to John, which is the exact title of the book.)  

 

(Preparing the Midnight Run)

While doomsayers will create elaborate schemes for the bizarre symbolism of the book of Revelation--mainly utilized by the writer John of Patmos to protect the communities to which he wrote from the Roman persecutors of his day--they too often neglect the other texts that are present near the end of the book.

My favorite is:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. ²And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. ³And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; ⁴he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away." ⁵And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See, I am making all things new.". . .I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. ²³And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. ²⁴The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. ²⁵Its gates will never be shut by day-and there will be no night there. ²⁶People will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. ²⁷But nothing unclean will enter it.

 

(Alice Smith and Kimberly Miller during clean up day)

What is clear is that God brings about God's "end" (whatever that looks like).  Furthermore, the beauty of this ending in chapter 21 is that John envisions all the stuff of the world--the glory and honor of the nations--all the beauty and wonder and creativity and skill of the human race is brought into the city of God and nothing unclean will enter it.  Perhaps it is not our being pure and perfect that God desires, but God comes to us--in Christ and in the new Jerusalem--and God purifies whatever is impure in the world.  Not you.  Not me.  Not some bizarre prognosticators who are self-appointed nabobs of nothingness.  God brings about God's fulfillment.

And when we believe and trust that God is the one in charge and God is the one who has already begun the end by entering fully into  the world to redeem the world, well then our work becomes more focused.  We can be less concerned about who is in and out, and we can be more concerned about the fragility of the world in which we live or those who are discarded by others; or we can engage more fully in the life and the community we have been given to enjoy God's grace in the presence of an other and others.  This action, of course, is not filled with earth shattering visages of God or divine pronouncements, but do not be fooled:  in every act of grace and mercy, of love and healing, of engagement in and for the world a little more of the reign of God is revealed among us.  

Now, that's a vision I can live into.

    

Blessings, 

  

Mark

Weekly Reflection--May 8

This past Sunday the gospel text replayed again the story of Thomas (the Twin) and the doubter.  John relates the story of the one disciple who was not present with the others on the first Easter Eve (and who has been known ever since as Doubting Thomas).  Kind of a hard rap for missing a meeting.  Yet, for all the bad press Thomas has received down the ages, I suspect the honest report is that a little bit of Thomas lives on in all of us. 

Certainly, we have those moments of clarity and conviction.  However, we also experience any number of occasions where wonderment (at best) and doubt (at worst) fill our being.  We, after all, are only human, and such questions that arise within us are natural. 

One of the points of last week's sermon was the commonalities shared by the resurrection encounters.  They really are quite interesting.  The connections include:

1.  The resurrection experiences all possess this reality of mistaken identity.  People--from Mary Magdalene to the disciples in the upper room to the two on the way to Emmaus--encounter the risen Jesus, but they do not recognize him.

2.  When the people who have these experiences of mistaken identity remain with, continue to talk to, and abide with this individual whom they do not initially recognize, they eventually come to see that their friend is with them.  

I suspect there is a kernel of truth there for us as well.  So much of the life of faith is lived continuing the conversation and remaining with the One whom we long to know and, periodically, stumbling into an awareness that the risen Lord is present to and for us, continues to journey with us, and, speaks a similar word to us that he spoke to his friends centuries ago, "Peace be with you."

Again, there are moments where this experience is much more accessible than at other times.  And I am loathe to say that some cookie cutter formula will give you instant or greater awareness of this reality.  As there are so many ways to be in the world, there are as many ways to experience this reality. So, it is elusive and serendipitous. Indeed, more often than not it is Jesus who comes to those early followers, and it is Jesus who comes to us again and again.  Because of this, we hold very little power to have on-demand experiences. 

The other piece that I find so comforting about the Thomas narrative is the communal nature of faith.  Thomas and the other disciples see

Jesus, and they have this powerful encounter.  However, most everyone after that--Christians for 2 millennia--have not

seen Jesus, but they have come to believe because they heard this story.  Therefore, faith (which means more trust

than some intellectual assent to ideas or doctrine) requires more than one person. 

I, literally, cannot believe on my own.  I need someone else to tell me the story.  And I am privileged to tell the story to others.  Indeed, in the life of faith, the moments when I find it difficult

to believe,

the community exists to believe on my behalf.  And when another may find it hard

to believe, I can believe on his or her behalf until the time that Jesus makes himself known more fully. 

Of course, the Church has a social reality to its being, and we are communal by nature, so it is good that we gather together.  However, I love the degree to which we are, truly, dependent upon each other.

 How do we come to believe?

Well, let me tell you a story. . .

    

Blessings, 

  

Mark