Those who are preaching on the gospel lesson for Sunday (or those who find themselves listening to someone else preach on it) may find these words, from Henri Nouwen, helpful, as I did this morning:
The immense suffering of humanity can easily be understood as a sign of God’s wrath, as a punishment. It often was understood that way, and it often still is. The Psalmist says: “Yahweh is holding a cup filled with a heady blend of wine; he will pour it, they will drink it to the dregs, all the wicked on earth will drink it” (Psalm 75:8). And we, looking at the horrors that plague our world, are saying, “How can there be a loving God when all this is happening? It must be a cruel, spiteful God who allows human beings to suffer so much!”
Jesus, however, took upon himself all this suffering and lifted it up on the cross, not as a curse but as a blessing. Jesus made the cup of God’s wrath into a cup of blessings. That’s the mystery of the Eucharist. Jesus died for us so that we may live. He poured out his blood for us so that we may find new life. He gave himself away for us, so that we can live in community. He became for us food and drink so that we can be fed for everlasting life. That is what Jesus meant when he took the cup and said: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood poured out for you” (Luke 22:20). The Eucharist is that sacred mystery through which what we lived as a curse, we now live as a blessing. Our suffering can no longer be a divine punishment. Jesus transformed it as the way to new life. His blood, and ours too, now can become martyr’s blood—blood that witnesses to a new covenant, a new communion, a new community.
When we lift the cup of our life and share with one another our sufferings and joys in mutual vulnerability, the new covenant can become visible among us. The surprise of it all is that it is often the least among us who reveal to us that our cup is a cup of blessings. - Henri Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup? pp.68-69
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
John Calvin on Welcoming Sinners
Found this in my reading today and thought it was good enough to share. The last paragraph in particular is worth reading. - Richard Francis
Not they who are in health need a physician. It is evident from Christ’s reply that the scribes erred in two ways: they did not take into account the office of Christ; and, while they spared their own vices, they proudly despised all others. This deserves our particular attention, for it is a disease which has been always very general. Hypocrites, being satisfied and intoxicated with a foolish confidence in their own righteousness, do not consider the purpose for which Christ was sent into the world, and do not acknowledge the depth of evils in which the human race is plunged, or the dreadful wrath and curse of God which lies on all, or the accumulated load of vices which weighs them down.
The consequence is, that they are too stupid to feel the miseries of men, or to think of a remedy. While they flatter themselves, they cannot endure to be placed in their own rank, and think that injustice is done them, when they are classed with transgressors. Our Lord glances at this second error by replying, that they who are in health have no need of a physician. It is an ironical admission, and is intended to show that they are offended when they see sinners, because they claim righteousness for themselves. Because you are in health, (he says,) you despise the sick, are offended at them, and cannot endure the sight of them: but a physician ought to be affected in a very different manner. He afterwards points out that he must discharge the duties of a physician, because he has been sent by the Father to call sinners.
Though Christ begins with reproof, yet if we desire to make progress in his doctrine, what he has put in the second place must receive our first consideration. He came to quicken the dead, to justify the guilty and condemned, to wash those who were polluted and full of uncleanness, to rescue the lost from hell, to clothe with his glory those who were covered with shame, to renew to a blessed immortality those who were debased by disgusting vices. If we consider that this was his office and the end of his coming,—if we remember that this was the reason why he took upon him our flesh, why he shed his blood, why he offered the sacrifice of his death, why he descended even to hell, we will never think it strange that he should gather to salvation those who have been the worst of men, and who have been covered with a mass of crimes.
He whom you detest appears to you to be unworthy of the grace of Christ. Why then was Christ himself made a sacrifice and a curse, but that he might stretch out his hand to accursed sinners? Now, if we feel disgust at being associated by Baptism and the Lord’s Supper with vile men, and regard our connection with them as a sort of stain upon us, we ought immediately to descend into ourselves, and to search without flattery our own evils. Such an examination will make us willingly allow ourselves to be washed in the same fountain with the most impure, and will hinder us from rejecting the righteousness which he offers indiscriminately to all the ungodly, the life which he offers to the dead, and the salvation which he offers to the lost. - John Calvin, commenting on Mark 2:12 and parallels
Not they who are in health need a physician. It is evident from Christ’s reply that the scribes erred in two ways: they did not take into account the office of Christ; and, while they spared their own vices, they proudly despised all others. This deserves our particular attention, for it is a disease which has been always very general. Hypocrites, being satisfied and intoxicated with a foolish confidence in their own righteousness, do not consider the purpose for which Christ was sent into the world, and do not acknowledge the depth of evils in which the human race is plunged, or the dreadful wrath and curse of God which lies on all, or the accumulated load of vices which weighs them down.
The consequence is, that they are too stupid to feel the miseries of men, or to think of a remedy. While they flatter themselves, they cannot endure to be placed in their own rank, and think that injustice is done them, when they are classed with transgressors. Our Lord glances at this second error by replying, that they who are in health have no need of a physician. It is an ironical admission, and is intended to show that they are offended when they see sinners, because they claim righteousness for themselves. Because you are in health, (he says,) you despise the sick, are offended at them, and cannot endure the sight of them: but a physician ought to be affected in a very different manner. He afterwards points out that he must discharge the duties of a physician, because he has been sent by the Father to call sinners.
Though Christ begins with reproof, yet if we desire to make progress in his doctrine, what he has put in the second place must receive our first consideration. He came to quicken the dead, to justify the guilty and condemned, to wash those who were polluted and full of uncleanness, to rescue the lost from hell, to clothe with his glory those who were covered with shame, to renew to a blessed immortality those who were debased by disgusting vices. If we consider that this was his office and the end of his coming,—if we remember that this was the reason why he took upon him our flesh, why he shed his blood, why he offered the sacrifice of his death, why he descended even to hell, we will never think it strange that he should gather to salvation those who have been the worst of men, and who have been covered with a mass of crimes.
He whom you detest appears to you to be unworthy of the grace of Christ. Why then was Christ himself made a sacrifice and a curse, but that he might stretch out his hand to accursed sinners? Now, if we feel disgust at being associated by Baptism and the Lord’s Supper with vile men, and regard our connection with them as a sort of stain upon us, we ought immediately to descend into ourselves, and to search without flattery our own evils. Such an examination will make us willingly allow ourselves to be washed in the same fountain with the most impure, and will hinder us from rejecting the righteousness which he offers indiscriminately to all the ungodly, the life which he offers to the dead, and the salvation which he offers to the lost. - John Calvin, commenting on Mark 2:12 and parallels
Monday, February 22, 2010
Lent
I don’t remember when I first became aware of Lent. We didn’t observe Lent in the open-country Presbyterian Church that was my family of faith for my first 18 years. That may have been part of our Calvinist heritage that viewed with distrust anything that might be regarded as “Catholic,” or it may have been the free church tradition that had so much influence on our Presbyterian churches, at least in the Midwest. By my teen years I had probably learned about Lent, but it seemed pretty clear that it was Catholic Thing, that Protestants didn’t do Lent.
By seminary I was well aware of Lent, largely I think through the Methodist church we attended after college, but again not a lot was made of Lent at my non-denominational, evangelical seminary, though there were plenty of students and faculty members from liturgical churches. I think Lent really began to be important to me as I got into the parish and began to settle into the rhythm of the church year.
Now, while Lent is important to me, it’s not a season of personal focus so much as a time of corporate discipline. We add Wednesday services during Lent, so my preaching preparation is doubled. I don’t usually give up anything for Lent, though you can ask me about the time I fasted from coffee for 40 days (I almost made it the whole time). One year, in response to a suggestion from a colleague, I added something for Lent, volunteering at a local elementary school. I enjoyed that so much that I continued it long after Lent was over, which may prompt the question: should we be doing something during Lent that we enjoy, or are spiritual disciplines by definition painful?
Preaching twice a week in Lent is more work, but it’s work I enjoy. Paying more attention to prayer takes more effort, but it’s rewarding. Nobody likes thinking about sin and death, but they are the biggest realities of our lives, and any thoughts about sin draw us inevitably to Jesus Christ: his death, his resurrection, his intercession. There’s a reason it’s called Good Friday. Several years ago I saw a TV interview with the novelist John Updike, who had just published Roger’s Version. The interviewer noted that the central character of the novel was a minister, and that ministers had figured prominently in several of Updike’s stories; why was that? Updike’s answer went something like this: ministers are interestingly people [!] because they deal every day with things that most of us don’t have to think about very often: mortality, death, the meaning and purpose of life. And if you’ve read any Updike you know that those are the very themes he deals with on a regular basis.
So Lent has become an important part of my year, not only because there’s so much tradition behind it, but also because it’s the best way to get to Easter. As Shelley wrote, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”
By seminary I was well aware of Lent, largely I think through the Methodist church we attended after college, but again not a lot was made of Lent at my non-denominational, evangelical seminary, though there were plenty of students and faculty members from liturgical churches. I think Lent really began to be important to me as I got into the parish and began to settle into the rhythm of the church year.
Now, while Lent is important to me, it’s not a season of personal focus so much as a time of corporate discipline. We add Wednesday services during Lent, so my preaching preparation is doubled. I don’t usually give up anything for Lent, though you can ask me about the time I fasted from coffee for 40 days (I almost made it the whole time). One year, in response to a suggestion from a colleague, I added something for Lent, volunteering at a local elementary school. I enjoyed that so much that I continued it long after Lent was over, which may prompt the question: should we be doing something during Lent that we enjoy, or are spiritual disciplines by definition painful?
Preaching twice a week in Lent is more work, but it’s work I enjoy. Paying more attention to prayer takes more effort, but it’s rewarding. Nobody likes thinking about sin and death, but they are the biggest realities of our lives, and any thoughts about sin draw us inevitably to Jesus Christ: his death, his resurrection, his intercession. There’s a reason it’s called Good Friday. Several years ago I saw a TV interview with the novelist John Updike, who had just published Roger’s Version. The interviewer noted that the central character of the novel was a minister, and that ministers had figured prominently in several of Updike’s stories; why was that? Updike’s answer went something like this: ministers are interestingly people [!] because they deal every day with things that most of us don’t have to think about very often: mortality, death, the meaning and purpose of life. And if you’ve read any Updike you know that those are the very themes he deals with on a regular basis.
So Lent has become an important part of my year, not only because there’s so much tradition behind it, but also because it’s the best way to get to Easter. As Shelley wrote, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”
Monday, February 15, 2010
Anticipating Adversity
I was a bit surprised this morning to discover that gospel in today’s Daily Lectionary is John 18:15-18, 25-27, Peter’s denial of Jesus. Lent doesn’t start for another two days, and Good Friday is more than a month off. Why this passage today?
I often find myself wondering about the choices made by both the Daily and the Sunday Lectionary, which is probably a good thing. If the choices were obvious to me, I wouldn’t have to think about them. I have noticed, for example that the Sunday Lectionary begins some Advent themes in the weeks leading up to Advent, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the Daily Lectionary would introduce Lenten themes before Lent.
Unlike the other gospel writers, John narrates Peter’s denial matter-of-factly, with no reference to Peter’s breaking down and weeping. We are left to draw our own conclusions about Peter’s state of mind at this point. Calvin’s comments are typically trenchant:
I can find myself in this gospel story, and in Calvin’s comments on it. I can imagine myself far more courageous than I am, or than I turn out to when I am actually in the situation I had imagined. Yet the act of imagining is not useless. I have come to believe that one of the purposes of worship, of hearing and reading Scripture is to ask ourselves “what if?” What would I do in this situation? How could I prepare for it?
I read once about a man who volunteered to be a courier of sensitive documents at the beginning of the Second World War, when of course such documents had to be carried by ship. His supervisor was sceptical of the man’s ability to undertake this kind of challenge; after all, the German U-Boats had been extremely successful in sinking Allied shipping, and it was likely that the young man would either drown or succumb to the icy waters of the North Atlantic. The man replied that he had for the past month been soaking himself daily in tub of ice water, increasing the time each day until he was able to tolerate the bitter cold. His offer to serve as a courier was accepted, his ship was in fact torpedoed, and he survived the frigid waters with his precious documents intact.
Of course none of us knows what we will actually do in an extreme situation; that’s why Peter’s example is worth keeping before us, and Calvin’s counsel that we learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord is good advice. But the “what if” question is still a good one, as John Baillie prays: “do Thou enable me so to discipline my will that in hours of stress I may honestly seek after those things for which I have prayed in hours of peace.” (Diary of Private Prayer, p.135)
Amen.
I often find myself wondering about the choices made by both the Daily and the Sunday Lectionary, which is probably a good thing. If the choices were obvious to me, I wouldn’t have to think about them. I have noticed, for example that the Sunday Lectionary begins some Advent themes in the weeks leading up to Advent, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the Daily Lectionary would introduce Lenten themes before Lent.
Unlike the other gospel writers, John narrates Peter’s denial matter-of-factly, with no reference to Peter’s breaking down and weeping. We are left to draw our own conclusions about Peter’s state of mind at this point. Calvin’s comments are typically trenchant:
Peter is introduced into the high priest’s hall; but it cost him very dear, for, as soon as he sets his foot within it, he is constrained to deny Christ. When he stumbles so shamefully at the first step, the foolishness of his boasting is exposed. He had boasted that he would prove to be a valiant champion, and able to meet death with firmness; and now, at the voice of a single maid, and that voice unaccompanied by threatening, he is confounded and throws down his arms. Such is a demonstration of the power of man. Certainly, all the strength that appears to be in men is smoke, which a breath immediately drives away. When we are out of the battle, we are too courageous; but experience shows that our lofty talk is foolish and groundless; and, even when Satan makes no attacks, we contrive for ourselves idle alarms which disturb us before the time. The voice of a feeble woman terrified Peter: and what is the case with us? Do we not continually tremble at the rustling of a falling leaf? A false appearance of danger, which was still distant, made Peter tremble: and are we not every day led away from Christ by childish absurdities? In short, our courage is of such a nature, that, of its own accord, it gives way where there is no enemy; and thus does God revenge the arrogance of men by reducing fierce minds to a state of weakness. A man, filled not with fortitude but with wind, promises that he will obtain an easy victory over the whole world; and yet, no sooner does he see the shadow of a thistle, than he immediately trembles. Let us therefore learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord. (from Calvin’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, my emphasis)
I can find myself in this gospel story, and in Calvin’s comments on it. I can imagine myself far more courageous than I am, or than I turn out to when I am actually in the situation I had imagined. Yet the act of imagining is not useless. I have come to believe that one of the purposes of worship, of hearing and reading Scripture is to ask ourselves “what if?” What would I do in this situation? How could I prepare for it?
I read once about a man who volunteered to be a courier of sensitive documents at the beginning of the Second World War, when of course such documents had to be carried by ship. His supervisor was sceptical of the man’s ability to undertake this kind of challenge; after all, the German U-Boats had been extremely successful in sinking Allied shipping, and it was likely that the young man would either drown or succumb to the icy waters of the North Atlantic. The man replied that he had for the past month been soaking himself daily in tub of ice water, increasing the time each day until he was able to tolerate the bitter cold. His offer to serve as a courier was accepted, his ship was in fact torpedoed, and he survived the frigid waters with his precious documents intact.
Of course none of us knows what we will actually do in an extreme situation; that’s why Peter’s example is worth keeping before us, and Calvin’s counsel that we learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord is good advice. But the “what if” question is still a good one, as John Baillie prays: “do Thou enable me so to discipline my will that in hours of stress I may honestly seek after those things for which I have prayed in hours of peace.” (Diary of Private Prayer, p.135)
Amen.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Correction to Previous Post
In my last post about Parkersburg I misidentified the source. It was actually from Lesleigh Wiese in the church at Lake Park. Sorry Lesleigh; that's what I get for not checking my e-mail return addresses!
Prayers for Parkersburg
Just got this from Lesleigh in the Iowa Conference UCC office, and thought I'd pass it along:
First Congregational Church in Parkersburg is asking for prayer for their families, and their community. Many of the high school kids witnessed the horrific murder of Coach Thomas in the AP weight room. Also, Mark Becker's trial is beginning on Feb. 8 with the jury selection. They are asking for much needed prayer for the trial as it will be a very public trial – getting national media attention. Amazingly, they really, really are asking that their community and their churches would be used as a light for Christ for God's eternal kingdom (so cool)! They are a tired community, just exhausted from all the destruction, grief, tragedy, and sorrow but want Jesus to be uplifted and glorified through it all. They are asking for people to pray for them - their stamina, perseverance, and Christ-like witness. Please forward this e-mail on to your family and friends so hopefully as many people in our nation will be praying as possible.
First Congregational Church in Parkersburg is asking for prayer for their families, and their community. Many of the high school kids witnessed the horrific murder of Coach Thomas in the AP weight room. Also, Mark Becker's trial is beginning on Feb. 8 with the jury selection. They are asking for much needed prayer for the trial as it will be a very public trial – getting national media attention. Amazingly, they really, really are asking that their community and their churches would be used as a light for Christ for God's eternal kingdom (so cool)! They are a tired community, just exhausted from all the destruction, grief, tragedy, and sorrow but want Jesus to be uplifted and glorified through it all. They are asking for people to pray for them - their stamina, perseverance, and Christ-like witness. Please forward this e-mail on to your family and friends so hopefully as many people in our nation will be praying as possible.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Calvin on Love
Here's a Calvin quotation suitable for Valentine's Day:
For such is the nature of true love, that one prefers to weep with his brother, rather than to look at a distance on his grief, and to live in pleasure or ease. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 12:15
For such is the nature of true love, that one prefers to weep with his brother, rather than to look at a distance on his grief, and to live in pleasure or ease. - John Calvin, commenting on Romans 12:15
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