A Week of Sundays: Week 17

Week 17: The Second Sunday of Lent

Fasting is one of those Christian traditions that are hard to swallow, pun intended. If food is good for our body, so why would God want us to go without it?

I can't answer that.  But I know that fasting was an early command to the believers, first mentioned in the Bible when Moses fasted in Exodus 34.  Jesus also fasted, as referenced in Matthew 4. And Jesus highlighted the importance of it as a spiritual discipline in Mark 9:29.

The church I work at encourages members to fast breakfast and lunch on Wednesdays during Lent.  This 24-hour fast is broken together at a worship service.  We sing, listen to God, and then break our fast with good wine (or Martinelli's) and fresh bread.  After the service we share a soup and salad dinner.

The first week, the fast was not difficult until late in the evening.  That week, I had class Wednesday night, so I didn't have dinner until about 9pm.  While the hunger pangs were undeniable, they mostly subsided when I drank water.

The second week, the fast was terrible.  Early in the day, I became hungry. By the afternoon, I felt a pain in my upper abdomen that would not go away. And by the time we came to communion, I leaned over to ask my husband if it would be acceptable for me to push people out of the way so I could eat first. "That's how bad I want Jesus," I joked to him.

As I awaited communion I realized, that IS how much I should want Jesus.

Like the burning in my belly, there should be an undeniable, inescapable desire to get to Jesus, to know Him, and to enjoy Him.

Maybe this is one of the reasons God wants us to fast. So we learn with our bodies what He wants our spirits to know.

A Week of Sundays: Mardi Gras

On more than one occasion, I have had to explain the Christian heritage associated with Mardi Gras.  Even long-time Christians who have solid understanding of church history do not realize this day has religious roots. And there is literally no judgment in this because I, too, before beginning to work at a Lutheran church did not understand it.

In as few words as I can summarize it: In the 600s the Pope declared that the church abstain from rich foods during Lent - meat, eggs, butter, etc. In order to use up the milk and eggs that they had, believers would make pancakes on the day before Lent starts. In Europe, they are more likely to celebrate Pancake Day, but Americans have stuck with the French name, Mardi Gras meaning Fat Tuesday.  The “church name” for the day is Shrove Tuesday because believers would also attempt to be absolved (or "shrived") of their sin before going into the Lenten season.

When we think of Mardi Gras, it's no surprise that we think of New Orleans and not church. It's big and loud and exciting. Perhaps the church's loss of this celebration speaks to a larger issue in the church.

Let's not forget, Jesus knew how to celebrate. His first public miracle was at a wedding where He created wine. Although there is no record of Him drinking that wine, we know He was Jewish, so He would have participated in the traditional religious feasts which included drinking wine. Christ's last communal act before going to the cross was participating in the Passover at which He said,

...He took His place at the table, and the apostles with Him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God." (Luke 22:14-16, NRSV)

Too often we expect believers to walk through the valleys of the church calendar without giving them equal opportunity to dance on the mountaintops. And then we wonder why Christians develop a reputation for being a certain way. Mardi Gras is an opportunity to be the other way - big, loud, and filled with joy - eagerly desiring to participate in a feast before we suffer for a little while.

A Week of Sundays: Week 11

Sunday 11: The Fifth Sunday After Epiphany

Nearly thirty years later, these words still take me back to the place where I first heard them:

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8, NIV)

It was a church with too tall ceilings and walls that were too curved. I can remember the half sheets of paper that we were given to take notes and the Bible in which I kept them. I was eager to go and curious of where I’d be sent. It turns out the less distance you travel, the farther it feels. Somehow the other side of the planet would have made sense, but across town feels funny.

I’ve often overlooked that there are two questions asked in this passage. I have not studied this passage enough to know if it is simply a literary device, as repetition often is. To me, it is a sorrowful reminder that the person He sends is not always the same as the person who will go.

Going is hard.

Sometimes we go physically. Sometimes we go through a season.

Sometimes we go with clear understanding, and sometimes in blind faith.

Sometimes we go alone, and sometimes together.

Sometimes we come back.  Sometimes we don’t.

Today I understand this in a new way. Going and not knowing is better than not leaving and perceiving.

A Week of Sundays: Week 10

Sunday 10: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

What does it mean to be a church on a mission?

Mission isn’t always about going.

Sometimes it’s about being.

We all have spiritual gifts, but we don’t always have opportunity to use them. The most gifted speaker does not preach at all times. A prophet does not exclusively live in his visions; he spends his time in the ordinariness of life. Even a missionary, who has dedicated his life to a particular type of living on mission, does not do his work without stop.

However, at all times, we have the opportunity to love.

"Suppose I speak in the languages of human beings or of angels. If I don’t have love, I am only a loud gong or a noisy cymbal. Suppose I have the gift of prophecy. Suppose I can understand all the secret things of God and know everything about him. And suppose I have enough faith to move mountains. If I don’t have love, I am nothing at all. Suppose I give everything I have to poor people. And suppose I give myself over to a difficult life so I can brag. If I don’t have love, I get nothing at all... Love never fails. But prophecy will pass away. Speaking in languages that had not been known before will end. And knowledge will pass away. What we know now is not complete. What we prophesy now is not perfect. But when what is complete comes, the things that are not complete will pass away." (1 Corinthians 13:1-9, NIrV)

A day will come when spiritual gifts as we know them will no longer be necessary. There is no need to preach in heaven because all will already know the full goodness of God. There will be no prophecy because we will see and understand in a new way. But love will remain because God is love.

And today, also, we can always love.

A Week of Sundays: Week 8

Sunday 8: The Second Sunday after Epiphany

Epiphany is a season of going. Magi went to the manger (Read Matthew 2:1-12). Jesus went to the water to be baptized (Read Matthew 3:15-22). The disciples went with Jesus (Read Luke 5:1-11) . And if I may take some liberty, Jesus’ mother went to Him at a wedding (Read John 2:1-11).

But what is the point of all this going?

A phrase caught my attention as I listened to Scripture today:

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” (1 Corinthians 12:4-7, NRSV)

Common good.

The common good is hard to define. It is conceptually understood, even desired, without the full ability to articulate it. The struggle to define the common good is not limited to Christian thought, or even philosophy.  In fact, just this very week I sat amongst a group of graduate students at the University of Southern California and tried to give definition to this idea. Each small group landed on a good - but perhaps incomplete – definition.  One common thread was the idea of benefit to others; whether that was articulated as a “majority” or “all people” or “society,” it was understood that the common in common good was a challenging modifier.

So it is, too, in the Corinthians passage above. Later in the chapter, the author compares the common good to parts of a body working together, each with a unique part that serves the collective body. The ear may enjoy music from time to time, but primarily it does not hear for its own benefit, but rather to learn or warn the body. The feet may enjoy the pleasure of a pedicure from time to time, but mostly it carries and moves the body. It is the same with eyes and elbows, hips and hearts, armpits and even the appendix.

Using our gifts for the common good is not always easy, but it is important.

If I am a leg, let me stand.
If I am an arm, let me carry the hand.
If I am knee, let me bend.
If I am hand, let me extend.
If I am an eye, let me see.
If I am a bladder, let me pee.
If I am heart, let me beat.
If I am a butt, let me take a seat.
If I am a stomach, let me digest.
If I am a brain, let me know what is best.