meditations for Easter

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!

Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!

Lo! the Sun’s eclipse is over, Alleluia!

Lo! He sets in blood no more, Alleluia!

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia!

Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia!

Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!

Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Christ the Lord is Risen Today, full lyrics here. 

But I'll still believe
though there's cracks you'll see
when I'm on my knees I'll still believe
and when I've hit the ground
neither lost nor found
If you'll believe in me
I'll still believe

Mumford & Sons, Holland Road

The other gods were strong; but thou wast weak;

They rode, but thou didst stumble to a throne;

But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak,

And not a God has wounds, but thou alone.

-Edward Shilito, Jesus of the Scars

And, if you’re lucky, someone in the car will recognize the bravery of the act. If you’re lucky, there will be a moment of holy silence before someone wonders out loud if such a question might put a damper on Easter brunch.

But if you’re not—if the question gets answered too quickly or if the silence goes on too long—please know you are not alone.

There are other people signing words to hymns they’re not sure they believe today, other people digging out dresses from the backs of their closets today, other people ruining Easter brunch today, other people just showing up today.

And sometimes, just showing up - burial spices in hand - is all it takes to witness a miracle.

-Rachel Held Evans, Holy Week for Doubters

               He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, which a woman took and hid in a bushel of wheat flour until the yeast had worked its way through all the dough.”

-Matthew 13:33, Common English Version

He speaks desperation. He dies his body. But he is pregnant

with mystery: he gathers the cosmic collection of every hopeless

sigh, every loss, every hatred formed against another,

every embittered soul, every unloved and unlover.

-Micha Boyett, Daughters of Jerusalem

O God, who made this most holy night to shine with the glory of the Lord’s resurrection: Stir up in your Church that Spirit of adoption which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

-a Collect for Easter, Book of Common Prayer

skipping ahead, for now

As you might imagine, I'm getting pretty behind on my Lent Bible-reading adventure thingy. I'm just up to Ezekiel, should have finished Luke yesterday (and trust me, I really wish I was in the New Testament already.) Realistically, I don't see how I can catch up in six days, so I'm going to skip ahead to the Gospels and focus on those this week, then return to my good friend Ezekiel and 'dem bones (tangent: that was almost Nicky's name, because I thought Zeke would be the cutest nickname ever, but when he was born he looked more like a Nicolas) next week and finish up from there. I really want to keep blogging about it too, but it may be a little slower than before. This whole night shift thing is taking its toll, and in my spare time I like to do things like sit on the couch and stare off into space (and occasionally other stuff like tickle my kids and make food.) And, to be honest, I don't want to spend Holy Week with the Minor Prophets (sorry, Minor Prophets, but I need some Jesus, fast, or I might call the whole thing off.)

So for now, it's on to Matthew. Happy almost Easter :)

Reading the Bible for Lent: Psalms

{I'm attempting to read the whole Bible during Lent this year, and blogging my way through it. The Bible is an old friend, but we fight sometimes. Ever hear of quitting something cold turkey? Well, this is my way of starting something cold turkey, if that makes sense. I'm facing it head on, with my eyes open, and a new way of reading. My hope is to read the entire text through the lens of Jesus (I'm figuring out what this means as I go along) and attempt a balance of honesty and charity, both of which I've lacked in the past. See also: The Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges and Ruth, More on Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, Kings and Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah, Esther, & Job.}

Poetry and Violence (originally posted in November 2012)

Psalm 3. A Psalm of David. When he fled from his son Absalom.

LORD, how many are my foes! How many rise up against me! Many are saying of me, "God will not deliver him." 

But you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the LORD, and he answers me from His holy mountain.

I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me. I will not fear though tens of thousands assail me on every side.

Arise, LORD! Deliver me, my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked.

From the LORD comes deliverance. May your blessing be upon your people. 

In all the years I've been in a relationship with the Bible,  I've often turned to the Psalms for comfort. The words are so beautifully put together, and some so familiar that when I read them, it's like coming across an old friend.

 I lift my eyes up to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.  (Psalm 121) 

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.  (Psalm 23) 

I waited patiently for the LORD, he inclined and heard my cry. (Psalm 40) 

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  (Psalm 91)

and this one:

you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high.

Arguably, some of the most beautiful poetry ever written is contained in the Psalms.

But as anyone who has read them knows, the Psalms are not just a collection of beautiful words. They are a collection of the words of David. Sometimes I get frustrated by all that David in the text.

(Seriously, David, I'm trying to get some comfort here, trying to read some beautiful old words and you have to come along and ruin my morning with your violent Tony Soprano fantasies.) 

What I used to do was just ignore the parts I didn't like, or just employ a little snark to balance them out. I had no use for them; I have no enemies whose heads I wish to dash against a rock.

Of course, he was a man of his time, with his own cultural constraints. If someone was chasing me down I'd probably be praying for some protection too.

I've been looking for the humanity in the Bible, and it's opened up a new richness in the text that I didn't see before. Now, I appreciate seeing all that David in the text. It's the human condition--we are capable of such beauty, such poetry....and also such violence and anger.

David spent so much of his time fleeing from people. He grew up in the country, tending sheep and writing songs, and was thrust into the public eye at a young age. He loved God and wanted to please Him, but messed up  over and over. I look at his story and wonder if he missed the simplicity of his early days. I wonder, in his later years, how often he picked up the harp.

The lesson here for me is this: we're all David. Living in different times, with different ways of solving problems, but with the same fundamental problems of the human heart. Poetry and violence all mixed together, longing for communion with God.

The Bible is so much more interesting with the humanity left in. Maddening too, just as my own humanity is to me at times.

just because

Just because I had an early meeting, and now I'm gathering tax documents and folding laundry, crossing t's and dotting i's, and days behind on my reading,

just because I want to remember how Silas runs with his arms bent up high, a little like Sid the Science Kid,

and because Nicky-boy ran and jumped up on me when I picked up him from school,

and because Silas likes to wear hats,

and because of her lashes, and little yellow dresses, and grass that's starting to turn,

and just because my boys play together so much now,

and because a nice old man gave them a walking stick. Pick one out, hijo, that's right, go ahead! Because honorary grandparents exist all around.

Because it's a windy first day of Spring, and I miss them while I cross things off my list. Just because.

Reading the Bible for Lent: Job

{I'm attempting to read the whole Bible during Lent this year, and blogging my way through it. The Bible is an old friend, but we fight sometimes. Ever hear of quitting something cold turkey? Well, this is my way of starting something cold turkey, if that makes sense. I'm facing it head on, with my eyes open, and a new way of reading. My hope is to read the entire text through the lens of Jesus (I'm figuring out what this means as I go along) and attempt a balance of honesty and charity, both of which I've lacked in the past. See also: The Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges and Ruth, More on Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, Kings and Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah, & Esther.}

This may come as a surprise, but I've come to love the book of Job. It validates the feelings of anyone who has ever suffered and wondered. There's something comforting about finding out that many of your deepest, darkest questions are contained in a book written thousands of years ago; that people were scratching their heads about the same things back then.

The book addresses many of the fundamental questions of the human experience. Why do people suffer? Why some and not others? How should we respond when tragedy falls? And the big one: why do bad things happen to good people?

The book reads like theater, so that's how I like to imagine it. The characters appear, and say their pieces, and an invisible narrator gives insight from a chair in the shadows, to the side of the stage. All the while, an uncomfortable tension hangs in the air, and we're all sitting in the audience biting our fingernails, hearing our internal conflicts voiced by the self-assured, the wounded, the pitiful, the glib, knowing they're getting to a deeper truth about the human condition that we'd rather not dwell on too much. Eerie echos of Ecclesiastes show up in Job's words, or maybe it's the other way around: is everything meaningless, are we chasing after the wind, do we simply work and go to our graves and then.......cease? What can we know? We begin with assurances and end with a big question mark, and the audience shuffles out, unsatisfied. I'll explain why I think that in a bit, but first here's the rundown:

The Characters:

• Job: a "blameless, upright man who fears God and shuns evil" (1:1)
• Job's children: seven sons and three daughters
• The Adversary/Satan ("the adversary" is the literal translation)
• The LORD
• Job's wife
• Job's three friends: Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar
• Elihu: a friend of Job who shows up later in the text

The Events:

• Job is blameless, wealthy, and pious: so much so that he offers sacrifices on behalf of his children in case they sin.
• The Adversary goes before the LORD. The initial reason for his visit isn't clear, but for some reason the LORD asks him if he's considered Job, and describes him to The Adversary, offering him as an example of righteousness. This is the first puzzling moment of the book (why did the LORD offer him up?) but there are plenty more to come. The Adversary responds that Job only worships the LORD because his life is good; if harm comes to him then surely he would curse the LORD. The LORD gives The Adversary permission to do whatever he wants to Job's family and possessions, but not to touch Job. Essentially, this is a bet, with a human plaything.                                                               
• Job's sons, daughters, and livestock are all killed in one day. 
• Job hears of his great loss, falls to the ground and utters these admirable words: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD" (1:21). Then we're told, "in all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong." 
• Unsatisfied, The Adversary returns to the LORD. He argues that Job wouldn't remain faithful if his own health was affected. So, the LORD gives The Adversary permission to afflict Job, with the condition that he spare Job's life.
• Job gets "painful boils from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head", and again responds in a admirable fashion when his incredulous wife (who, interestingly, is also spared) suggests he should just "curse God and die". He responds: "Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?" (2:10) And again, we are told that Job does not sin with his lips.

• Job's three friends come to him, and sit with him in his sorrow. They sit and say nothing for seven days and nights. (I really love this detail.)
• Job starts to talk. He wishes he hadn't been born. He utters poetry; one can imagine his weak gravelly voice raising in sorrow, in shock.
• Job's friends start to talk too. Eliphaz goes first, and tiptoes around the idea that Job must have some un-repented sin in his life to have such calamity fall on him. He asks: do the innocent perish? don't those who sow trouble reap it? can a mortal be more righteous than God? He encourages Job to seek the LORD's forgiveness: "Behold, happy is the man whom God corrects; Therefore do not despise the chastening of the Almighty. For He bruises, but He binds up. He wounds, but His hands make whole" (5:17-18). Bildad follows suit, insisting that Job must need to repent. "If you were pure and upright, surely now He would awake for you", he says (8:6). Repent, and the LORD will restore you, he promises. 
• Job doesn't accept the premise on which his friends are operating: essentially that good things happen to the righteous and bad things happen to the unrepentant.  He insists he's innocent, over and over. We see a shift in Job's tone. Remember how earlier the narrator says Job didn't charge God with wrong? He does now, in no uncertain terms:

• 6:4 For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; My spirit drinks in their poison; The terrors of God are arrayed against me.
• 7:11 Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
• 7:20-21 Have I sinned? What have I done to You, O watcher of men? Why have you set me as your target, so that I am a burden to myself?
• 9:16-19 If I called and He answered me, I would not believe that He was listening to my voice. For He crushes me with a tempest, and multiplies my wounds without cause. He will not allow me to catch my breath, but fills me with bitterness. If it is a matter of strength, indeed He is strong. And if of justice, who will appoint my day in court?

• That last line hits me like a punch in the stomach. Yes, the LORD is powerful, Job says. His friends have been emphasizing this point, and Job agrees with them. But, he wonders, and this is probably the biggest question of the book: is justice possible?
• The idea of a court meeting emerges, and the themes of justice and power come into play. Job wonders how he could approach the LORD without a mediator. He's powerless, and suffering, and oh so aware of the LORD's powers and yet insists he would plead his case before Him. But....how? This is a cry for a Messiah, a wish for a way to approach this LORD who punishes, in this case, to simply prove a point. In chapter ten, Job begins to describe all that he would like to say to the LORD, if he could. He wonders why the LORD would fashion his body only to destroy it. He's wrestling here with whether the LORD is truly good or not. We see a cadence in the text: these are your attributes, show yourself to be good/ but this is what you've done, it doesn't make sense/these are your attributes, show yourself to be good. Back and forth, forth and back. Surely, surely. This is faith: the insistence that something else is going on, something we don't understand.
• Zophar responds, again urging repentance. He introduces another theme: we can't understand everything. He asks, "Can you search out the deep things of God? Can you find the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than heaven--what can you do? Deeper than Sheol--what can you know?" (11:7-8).  What can you do, what can you know?

• And so it goes on. Job acknowledges the mysteries of the universe, the unknowable things of God. He says, I know, but then he asks why again. The cadence continues in rich and descriptive poetry. In chapter thirteen, we see Job come to a stubborn new conclusion (I love how this book shows us his process, his wondering): "Though he slay me, yet I will trust Him. Even so, I will defend my own ways before Him" (13:15). He's not giving up on his faith in the LORD, but he's not admitting to things he hasn't done either, which is baffling to his friends. And so the questions continue, chapter after chapter.
• Elihu enters the scene. He's more harsh with Job than the other three friends, who suggest Job needs to repent in a much more gentle manner. Elihu lays it out bluntly: "What man is like Job, who drinks scorn like water, who goes in company with the workers of iniquity, and walks with wicked men? For he has said, 'It profits a man nothing that he should delight in God'." Job is messing with the beloved ideal that if you follow the law and do right, God will bless you, and Elihu doesn't like it one bit. Because, let's face it: if you have to let go of that ideal, life has a lot less certainty, and you have to face your fears. But this is what Job has managed to do. He's looking his fears in the face, and yet not letting go of his faith.
• Finally, the LORD responds to Job "out of the whirlwind, and [says]: 'Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me" (38:1). I really recommend reading chapters 38 and 39; there's just no way I can do them justice here. The LORD asks Job question after question, like: by what way is light diffused, or the east wind scattered over the earth? Does the hawk fly by your wisdom, and spread its wings toward the south? And the grand finale: Shall the one who contends with the Almighty correct Him? He who rebukes God, let him answer it. Boom.
• The LORD is sounding a lot like Job's friends here. Job answers, meekly, that he is vile and cannot answer. "I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer. Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further." (40:4-5) Then, the LORD goes on to question Job some more.
• Then, something happens that is kind of shocking. Job repents. 

                   I know that You can do everything, 

                  And that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You

                  You asked, 'Who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?'

                  Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,

                  Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.

                  Listen, please, and let me speak;

                  You said, 'I will question you, and you will answer Me.'

                  I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear,

                  But now my eye sees You.

                  Therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. (42:1-6)

• Then, another surprising thing happens: the LORD rebukes Job's friends! He tells them "you have not spoken of Me what is right, as my servant Job has" (42:7) and commands them to offer up sacrifices and have Job pray for them. 
• As the book closes, we learn that the LORD gives Job twice as much as what he had before. He gains more livestock than he lost, and again has seven sons and three daughters. He lives to see them grow and have grandchildren. So Job died, old and full of days. The curtain falls, the actors take a bow.

So we in the audience, what lessons do we take home? Are we meant to? The LORD answers Job's questions with more questions, and Job finds a strange comfort in this. 

                                         ............................................................

I don't find much comfort in the LORD's response; if anything He's even less approachable after His tirade of questions. And to be honest, the hasty happy ending feels contrived and empty. Nevertheless, I find a sacred space between the lines (and I'm finding, as I make my way through the Old Testament, that's often where the sacred space exists.)

Here's my comfort: this book is not the last word on God's character. It is a wondering, a question mark, a universal throwing up of the hands. I see this book as an amazing product of the imagination, a historical treasure, and an incredibly brave statement about how much we don't know. Is it to be taken literally? Are we the playthings of heavenly beings, bound to suffer and then grovel in the dirt when we have the courage to ask why?

That sacred space between the lines whispers no, no, no. Imagine we're living alongside Job. It will be a long time before we meet the God who weeps with us, who bleeds for us. We don't even know He's there yet, and so we cower before this tyrant of our imagination. There's so much we can't explain. We see hints of mercy, but who dares to believe it? Who would ever believe it was Him, unless He showed us?

I've heard plenty of sermons about Job: how it's a lesson to praise God in all circumstances, how God rewards the faithful, how God is God and we are not.....the thing is, I don't think that's what this book is about at all.

When you turn poetry into a formula, you kill it. We used to say jokingly, leave a little room for the Holy Spirit and tsk-tsk about sitting too close in church or slow-dancing at the prom, but isn't that just a good motto for life? Leave a little room for the Holy Spirit; leave the poetry to speak to us as it will. We may hear different things; we carry different burdens to the cross.

This book is a collective wondering; it asks the questions that were bound to come up eventually and have never yet gone away. And I suspect that, like all good art, it's supposed to make us feel something more than it's supposed to make us able to explain something.

When you're hurting, I mean really low, do you want someone to give you a chipper, trite answer or do you want someone to sit with you in your sorrow? Do you want to know why? Absolutely. Will any answer ever really satisfy your grief? No.

Sometimes, poetry is the best we have to offer, because despite what we know or think we know, we still wonder all the time. Even the staunchest fundamentalist wonders, in his or her moments of solitude. Job's friends seem afraid to admit any doubt at all, and so they channel that fear into certainty, while Job asks the deepest questions of his heart and freely admits his fear. That is why I love the book of Job. It is poetry in response to human suffering, and poetry is where I hear Him.

Weekend Reading

Hello! I'm giving thanks today for Benadryl (because I slept last night), this big cup of coffee in front of me (because my body wonders what the heck), and a gorgeous day outside (light! aaaahhhhhhhh!) Lots of adjusting going on around here, still, and our days all together are that much sweeter. We have big plans to find some good food at the farmer's market, but first here are some posts and such that I came across this week. 

A little musical happiness:

Ann Voskamp: The 1 Command that Could Resurrect the Church, Our Hurting Places & the Sisterhood of Women

I got up out of bed. My fingers trembled but wasn’t His command to love one another anyways and I tapped out an email to that person whose words had bled me open. I sent an invitation to dinner. Not a rebuttal, not an explanation, not a defense. I invited their whole family to come over and sit across the table. Instead of having a break down or breaking fellowship – I asked if we could break bread.

Margaret Feinberg: Minor and Major Confusion: 5 Tips for Reading Prophetic Literature --I'm tackling Isaiah at the moment, so tucking this away for reference. And, I'm more than ready for the hero to show up, so I inhaled her post Just Give Me Jesus: 7 Things to Remember When Reading the Gospels.

Simple Mom: How I keep my (natural) beauty routine sane --how to swap your shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer, lip balm and face wash for baking soda, apple cider vinegar, olive and coconut oil, and lanolin--hey I still have 1/2 a tube of that stuff :) I already use olive oil as a face cleanser and it works really well, but I'm curious to try these other things.

Rachel Held Evans: The Bible: It's Just Not That Into You

While this product may be an extreme example, it points to the profound influence of Western individualism on our reading of the biblical text. Passages that were originally written for groups of people, and intended to be read and applied in a community setting (the nation of Israel, the various early churches, the first followers of Jesus), have been manipulated to communicate a personal, individual message…thus leading the reader away from the original corporate intent of the passage to a reaffirmation of the individualistic, me-centered, and consumerist tendencies of American religious culture.

Grow a pretty wheatgrass centerpiece, or Easter garden. What a perfect shade of green :)

Jonathan Martin: On being an ecumenical Pentecostal

There are many reasons I find myself challenging Christians of all traditions to return to the centrality of the table, as we do weekly at our church. It anchors us experientially in the presence of Christ, for whatever else is different about our respective traditions. It delivers us from the tyranny of personality (even for those as large as my own) when it is the Lord’s Supper that is the climax of every Christian celebration. But beyond all of this, it reassembles the Church. Every time we come to the table, we participate in the prayer of John 17 in our unity, not only within our local Church but within our global one.

Sarah Bessey: In which God does not want to use me

May our daily work and our voice and our words and our prayers matter in our homes and our churches and our neighbourhoods (right there is the whole world). But we are not “used” – not that. Instead when we love God, when we are free, when we are walking with, then we are a sign and a foretaste of how it was meant to be in the Garden, perhaps, God’s way of living overflowing organically: the disciple, the friend, the daughter, the son, the brother, the heir, the beloved.

I'm off to plant some wheatgrass, study for the upcoming week at work (still pinching myself), read some major and minor prophets, and soak up some sun with my family. Happy weekending!

Reading the Bible for Lent: Esther

{I'm attempting to read the whole Bible during Lent this year, and blogging my way through it. The Bible is an old friend, but we fight sometimes. Ever hear of quitting something cold turkey? Well, this is my way of starting something cold turkey, if that makes sense. I'm facing it head on, with my eyes open, and a new way of reading. My hope is to read the entire text through the lens of Jesus (I'm figuring out what this means as I go along) and attempt a balance of honesty and charity, both of which I've lacked in the past. See also: The Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges and Ruth, More on Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, Kings and Chronicles, & Ezra and Nehemiah.}

Instead of writing about Esther myself, I'd like to link to a great series on the book: Rachel Held Evans' Esther Actually. I learned quite a lot reading it--about the historical context, details I never noticed before, and the feast of Purim which commemorates Esther's bravery. Esther is a fascinating book. Here's an excerpt from one of the posts in the series, but really, read the whole thing; it's worth it.

As we discussed last week, the book of Esther is a diaspora story. It is meant to help the scattered Jewish people come to terms with their identity and their faith when they are in exile, when they no longer have an independent homeland or temple. What does it mean to be Jewish--to be the people of Yahweh--when the Jews are being ruled by violent, opulant, and godless pagan kings? Is God still on the throne when the fate of his chosen people seems left to the whims of kings like Xerxes? How are the powerless to respond to power?  

This, I believe, is why we encounter that strange juxtaposition between darkness and comedy in the book of Esther, and why, perhaps, we never read God’s name. Power, the author seems to be saying, is ultimately an illusion. Beneath the golden chairs and packed harems and drunken parties and patriarchal edicts are a bunch of sinful, insecure, and weak people...people whose attempts to puff themselves up only make them look silly.  

In fact, you will notice that those with the most power in the story are the ones who behave with the most weakness. Not once in the story of Esther, for example, does Xerxes actually make a decision on his own. He is coaxed and coddled by his advisors, by his eunuchs, by Haman, and ultimately by Esther.  Major decisions in Persia are made not after prayer and fasting, but on whims, in response to petty personal sleights, by the of casting lots. It is an empty, foolish power. 

This would all be terribly frightening were it not for the quiet, and at times hidden, hand of God, working all things together for good. I suspect that this is why the Jews dress up in costume, feast, celebrate, and laugh in response to a story about their near destruction as a people. 

They laugh because they are in on the secret: that they serve a God who uses indentured eunuchs to change the course of history, orphan girls to reverse the decisions of kings, and rebellious pagan queens to put it all in motion. 

They laugh because they know earthly power - be it patriarchy or the Persian Empire -  is just a big show. In the end, it is God who uses the weak to humble the powerful. It is God who makes all things new.