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My homiletics professors in seminary exhorted us as future ministers that when we prepare to preach on Sunday morning we craft our sermons with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.  They said our people, the ones who have come to worship with us, will be impacted by the week’s news, by the cultural shifts or the natural disasters, or by the more local stories less widely broadcast but no less significant to the lives of a community.  And, we were reminded, the news of the day will impact parishioners differently, so keep them all in view when you write.

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It’s obvious that whoever wrote Proverbs 31 was a man.  “A capable wife, who can find,” the writer asks, and then gives us a litany of what the perfect woman looks like which sounds an awful lot like an Old Testament Martha Stewart.  She collects wool and flax and spins them.  She gets up while it is still dark to get food for the household.  She goes out and buys a field in order to plant a vineyard herself, and her garden produces a magnificent bounty.  She’s strong, getting in her daily workout, and also is a businesswoman with a savvy knack for buying goods.  She stays up later than the rest of her household keeping busy with her many tasks.  She’s generous.  She’s a planner, having winter coats prepared before it gets cold.  She’s an expert seamstress, creating luxurious clothes for her family, and her husband is a mover and a shaker himself, known at the city gates.  She’s got enough time to make extra fashions, selling them at the marketplace. She has an air of dignity yet erupts in joyous laughter too.  She’s wise and kind and is never idle.  Her children praise her as does her husband, telling her she’s the best among all the women.  

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Jesus was tired.

Mark tells us that Jesus set out and went away into a different region—the area of the Gentiles—to get away. He’d just had that long conversation with the religious leaders about his disciples not washing their hands. He’d been teaching and healing and feeding people all over the region of Galilee, and he set out to a place where he might escape notice. But that didn’t happen.

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Whenever you hear the gospelers making a comment about the Pharisees and scribes, you should pay attention.  You should do so not because they’re portrayed as the foil for Jesus, as the “bad guys,” but because of what they represent.  Far too often we think of them as these mythic villains in Jesus’ stories and then conflate them with all Jewish people, ignoring the reality that Jesus and his followers were also Jewish too.  It would be far better to describe them simply as religious leaders or even the religious elite. 

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I need to begin today with a few words on current events.  We heard from our Attorney General this week that there is a biblical injunction from St. Paul in Romans 13 to follow all the laws of the ruling government.  Therefore, the recent policy to separate families at our southwestern border is endorsed by God.  The Press Secretary when asked about it doubled down by saying, “Enforcing laws is biblical.”

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So let’s take a look at what Paul wrote in context within his letter to the Romans.  In the verses leading up to chapter 13 Paul exhorts the Roman Church to do this, “Let [your] love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.  Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord.  Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.”  He continues in that train of thought about empathizing with others and doing good and then he gets to the verses referenced by our political leaders. 

Continue reading The Profound Love Seen in Seeds

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We’re back in that Upper Room.  The candles on the table have burned down considerably.  The smell of the bread, and the roasted meat still linger in the air.  In the corner lie the basin and the bowl Jesus had used to wash their feet.

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Judas has gone out from that place to begin the plan he has cobbled together in his mind hoping for God knows what, and, our Gospeler tells us, “It is night.”  The sun has gone down, and in Jewish custom even now, the day has changed. It is now Good Friday.

Continue reading Jesus Prays for You

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If you thought our reading from Mark detailing the resurrection story fell a bit flat this morning, you’re in good company. No, we did not somehow cut it short to create more drama; this is exactly how Mark’s gospel ends as it was handed down by the oldest and most reliable manuscripts. “So the women went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Period. It bothered biblical scribes so much along the way, that they tacked on not one but two different endings to try clean it up.

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In the Greek it’s even more troubling ending with the literal phrase, “they were afraid for…”  and that’s it.  Imagine those first hearers of Mark’s gospel gathered in a house church, meeting under the cover of night in Ancient Rome anxious about their own lives and hoping that the authorities wouldn’t discover them.  “Wait, is that it?  What does Mark mean ‘They were afraid for…’  For what? Are you sure that’s how it ends?  Is there really nothing more? Did the women say anything?  Where’s Jesus?  Isn’t he supposed to be resurrected? I thought this was ‘Good News,’ but it doesn’t make sense.  Reread those last couple of verses again.” And so they did.

Continue reading Hope in the Darkest of Times

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If you asked me on any given day who my favorite author happens to be, I’d say it’s Frederick Buechner.  Mr. Buechner is a Presbyterian minister whose vocation has been to write.  His books range from collected sermons and memoirs to reflections on faith and novels.  Sometimes he writes about his craft and how it works both in his art and also in his life.  This week I’ve been reflecting on something he wrote in his collection of essays entitles, The Clown in the Belfry.

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He writes, “The word fiction comes from a Latin verb meaning ‘to shape, fashion, feign.’ That is what fiction does, and in many ways it is what faith does too. You fashion your story, as you fashion your faith, out of the great hodgepodge of your life—the things that have happened to you and the things you have dreamed of happening. They are the raw material of both.

Continue reading The Importance of Minor Characters

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John tells us that some Greeks—some foreign born practicers of Judaism—have made their way to Jerusalem to take part in the upcoming feast of the Passover.  While there, they seem to have heard about Jesus and his teachings and the miracles he has done.  Maybe they saw him when he came into the city riding the donkey amid the shouts of “Hosanna!”  Perhaps they overheard someone at the local coffee shop talking about Jesus raising of Lazarus from the dead, which happened just couple of days before.  Regardless of how they found out about him, these people know they want to meet Jesus in person.  So they seek out Philip, the most Greek sounding name out of the lot, and make their request.  “Sir,” they say, “we wish to see Jesus.”

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Philip finds Andrew, and they in turn go and speak to Jesus. Instead of replying to their request—John doesn’t tell us if those Jewish Greeks met with him—we hear Jesus respond that the hour has come for him to be glorified.  He then uses a metaphor from agriculture to tell us what he means, describing how a grain of wheat—a single seed—gets buried in the earth and dies.  If we stop and think about it, we know this about seeds in general.  Seeds of any kind—be they apple, sunflower, or pumpkin—dry out and are useless, unless, of course, they get planted into the ground.  And once they get planted something miraculous happens.  With moisture and sunlight, a single pumpkin seed can produce a whole vine full of new pumpkins—anywhere from six to twelve per seed.  In turn, each of these pumpkins themselves will produce about 450-500 more seeds. Through the single seed dying, a tremendous amount of new life results.

Continue reading Love Rather Than Violence

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A couple of years ago I awoke in a tent in the Pemi Wilderness in the heart of the White Mountains National Forest.  I had spent the previous two days hiking in the area—the first day I made it to an AMC hut near Galehead Mountain, a good 6 miles from the trailhead.  The second day I ascended South Twin Mountain and continued on to Bondcliff, where I met a couple of friends who hiked in from the other direction.  Together we made our way to the Guyot Campsite for the night.

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On that cold morning, I was both excited to be there—my first overnight backpacking trip in a tent—and also pretty beat. We all had done a significant amount of hiking with heavy backpacks the previous day, and so talked briefly about skipping West Bond—one of the 4000 footers—and just heading out to my car. But after some coffee and a hearty breakfast, we decided to leave our packs near the trail and did the mile to the peak.  Mist hung around in patches that morning, and the trail to the summit became tight with bushes and tree branches. Just as we got close to the summit we encountered a steep incline up rocks for the final push.  My toe began to hurt, and the exhaustion from the previous days hit me hard. I wasn’t sure this would be worth the effort.

Continue reading The Power of Thin Places

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