I'm Thirsty -- A Lectionary Meditation

Exodus 17:1-7



Romans 5:1-11


John 4:5-42

I’m Thirsty

Water is essential to life. The human body is somewhere between 55% and 78% water, and water covers about 70% of the earth’s surface. Although we can go a while without water, eventually we’ll die without water. Water and life – they go hand in hand.

Two of the texts for this Third Sunday of Lent focus on water. Moses has to deal with a people who complain vociferously because they don’t have water to drink, while Jesus finds himself tired and thirsty and sitting next to Jacob’s well. He doesn’t complain, but he does ask for water! As we think about water and thirst we might want to look ahead for a moment to Jesus’s cry from the cross – I Thirst (John 19:28). Paul’s not quite ready to get to the water (Baptism appears in Romans 6), but he deals with the issue of suffering and hope, ideas that are present in the other two texts. Each of these scriptures remind us that no matter how difficult the journey, God is present and faithful.

In the Exodus story, the people have again grown cantankerous. Although God provided food for the journey – not that they enjoyed the menu – now they’re thirsty. This leads to quarreling and complaining to Moses – why, they ask, have you led us out here into the wilderness so that we might die of thirst. You would have thought that they preferred slavery in Egypt, and perhaps they did. We often prefer the misery we know to the potential misery that might face us in the unknown. With all the harping and complaining, Moses grows frustrated with this people God had entrusted to his care. They were never satisfied, no matter what God did – whether it was the rescue from the clutches of Pharaoh’s army or the manna from heaven – they weren’t satisfied. Wanting water they begin to quarrel amongst themselves, and Moses cries to God – “What am I to do with this people? They’re ready to stone me.” As I read this, I’m reminded of political leaders, especially Presidents, who find that they can never satisfy the populace, no matter what they do. It’s never enough!

But God is gracious and hears Moses, telling him to gather the Elders and then go out ahead of the people. God tells Moses to meet at the Rock at Horeb, and there in front of the Elders, Moses does as God commanded. He strikes the rock with the staff he had used to strike the Nile, and from that rock sprang water to quench the thirst of the people. God had provided, but in a bit of frustration, Moses calls this place Masseh and Meribah, because the Israelites “quarreled and tested the Lord saying - “is the Lord among us.” I sense that the word we need to hear in this story concerns typical human behavior – even in the church – in spite of our complaining and insolence, God is faithful. So instead of complaining, let us give thanks to God.

Before we turn to story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well, we must heed Paul’s discourse in Romans 5. The chapter begins familiarly – “Since we are justified we have peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to the grace in which we stand.” In Christ we’re justified, saved, and reconciled. I’m afraid it’s easy to read this passage in a very transactional way. We’re sinners who face the wrath of God, and Jesus’ blood substitutes for our blood. For centuries theologians have interpreted the cross in a quid pro quo fashion – the life of Jesus for my life. But why does God need blood to be satisfied? What is it that I have done that requires the death of another, especially one who is innocent of all changes? I struggle with the idea of divine wrath. I don’t have space to delve into this question here in this place, but perhaps there is another way of reading this text. Maybe the issue is one of separation between Jew and Gentile – in the cross a way has been created that brings the two together. I don’t know, but what I do hear in this text is a promise that no matter what happens there is hope. Suffering, which we all experience, produces endurance, and endurance leads to character, and character builds hope, and as Paul says – this hope doesn’t disappoint. That is because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. That is the message we need to hear – not that we’re miserable sinners who need someone to suffer our due punishment so that God will accept us. No the word we should hear in this text is that God’s love will transform our lives in ways that lead to hope. That is a word of salvation.

Finally we come to the story Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well. According to John, Jesus is sitting by the well because he’s tired. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, where he will taste suffering The disciples have gone into town to get some food. It’s about noon when a woman comes to the well to draw water, and so Jesus asks her to draw him some water to drink, because he’s thirsty. This woman is caught off guard because Jesus is a Jew and she’s a Samaritan (and a woman) so why is he asking her for water? My guess is that he’s thirsty and she has the means to get him a cup of water, but that’s too simple an explanation. The point isn’t the physical thirst, but the spiritual thirst that lies within. The request for water leads to a theological discussion, but first Jesus has to overcome the woman’s literalist mind set, just as he had to do in John 3 with regard to Nicodemus. That’s just the way we are – we think literally first and only later are we able to move onto something more spiritual in nature.

Having asked the woman for a cup of water, Jesus in turn offers the woman living water. At first she can’t comprehend what he’s saying. How can Jesus offer her living water when he doesn’t have a bucket to draw water with. But, when Jesus says that once she drinks this living water she’ll never thirst again, she becomes intrigued. How does this happen? But, besides that, this well belonged to Jacob. How could any other water exceed it in value? Still, water that fulfilled thirst eternally, that was worth pursuing. Having such water would eliminate the need to come to the well. As she’s contemplating this reality, Jesus tells her to go and get her husband. Of course, she’s not married, but apparently he already knows this. In fact, although she’s been married five times, the man she’s with whom she now lives isn’t her husband. Not only is she a woman and a Samaritan, but it would appear that she’s also a sinner, but Jesus doesn’t make anything of that. He seems to understand that she has lived a life of suffering – probably at the hands of the men who have been in her life. Perhaps she has become ostracized, which is why she was at the well at the height of the noon day sun. I don’t know any of this for sure, but it does appear that Jesus has pricked her heart. His revelation of her life causes her to move from her focus on getting water to understanding whom Jesus is.

How do you know this about me? You must be a prophet of God, but then there’s this theological problem. We worship here on this mountain, and you worship in Jerusalem. We’re divided, separated from each other by our theologies of worship. We think God is present here in this place, you think God is some place else. And yet he has spoken truth to her and so she’s intrigued. But Jesus has a surprise for her – place doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s Sychar or Jerusalem, Wittenberg or Rome, the point is that God is Spirit and those who would worship God must worship in Spirit and truth. What a freeing thing this word must be, though still she’s not ready to receive it. How often do we resist a word of liberation and freedom? We stay locked within the box that we’ve built for ourselves. The box may have its use once, but now its time to move on, to grasp that God is bigger than the box. The woman who is now a theologian says to Jesus, well when the Messiah comes, then we’ll know what to do. Yes, when the prophet comes who we’re expecting, that person will make this all clear. And Jesus says – “I am he.” I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.

As Jesus makes this claim, the Disciples return to find him deep in conversation with this woman. They’re surprised at all of this. I’m not sure whether this is because the conversation partner is a woman or a Samaritan, but they’re not prepared. This interruption gives the woman an opportunity to return to the village, where she spreads the news about the one who revealed her life to her, and her testimony draws out the people to the well. While she’s doing her evangelistic effort, the Disciples talk to Jesus about the food they’ve procured, but Jesus says – “I have food you know nothing about.” Yes, once again it’s a question of literal versus spiritual. And the Disciples are confused – where did he get the food, but the food he has to offer is spiritual food. As they discuss what to eat, the Samaritans gather around Jesus and invite him to stay a few days and teach them. Afterwards they say to the woman: We no longer have to rely on your testimony, we’ve heard enough to know that he is the savior of the world.

Our thirst is physical, even as our hunger is physical. We are physical beings and we need food and water – whether we’re in the desert of Sinai or at Jacob’s Well. But we’re more than physical beings who need food and water. We’re spiritual beings, who need spiritual food and spiritual drink. Each week, at least in my tradition, we gather at the table of the Lord and take bread and cup. It’s not enough to stave off our physical hunger and thirst, but it is a reminder that our hope is found in the one whom we worship in spirit and in truth, the one who is faithful and who provides what we need, so that we might grow into people of hope.

A Revolution Continues in Egypt

As is true of many people around the world, I watch the unfolding Egyptian Revolution with hope, fear, trepidation, and hope again.  As an American who lives in a country born of revolution, I often take for granted the freedoms I possess.  I want the Egyptian people to have the same freedoms that I have, the same opportunities, and I grieve that these aspirations have been stifled by forces of fear and authoritarianism.  Last night Tom Friedman appeared on Charlie Rose's show, and he spoke of the missed chances that Egypt has had.  They could have been the Taiwan of the Middle East -- becoming a manufacturing sector on the Eastern Mediterranean.  Egypt isn't an oil producer, so it depends on the Suez Canal, the Nile, Tourism, and history.  It has the potential to become an economic power, but as Friedman noted, corruption, mismanagement, etc. have put the Egyptians at a disadvantage.  It's not Islam that holds Egypt and the Arab world back.  It is a fear of embracing the future that is holding them back.

So, we wait to see what comes next on what has been deemed "Departure Day."  The crowds continue to stream into the central square in Cairo.  The "pro-Mubarak" crowd has essentially dissipated, and the more joyous feeling that was seen earlier has returned.  Mubarak seems willing to wait it out, and he may well be able to do so.  Or, the Army may step in and create an interim government.  The protesters are not in a position to take power.  There is no one figure who can gather everyone together.  At this point even the Muslim Brotherhood is ceding the stage to others -- could be a ploy or it could be a realization that despite their organization prowess, they don't have a majority of the people on their side.  Yes, Iran wants to claim an Islamic style revolution similar to theirs, but there is no sign of this.  Indeed, what is interesting is that there is almost no anti-American or anti-Western sentiment being expressed.  No one is burning Uncle Sam in effigy.  Indeed, you don't even seem much anti-Israeli sentiment.  People want to live free, normal, lives.  They want their government to be responsive to their needs.  (Sound familiar?)

It is unfortunate that President Mubarak has gotten it in his mind that he is the sole buttress against chaos.  It is clear that he has been in power too long and that he believes his own myths.  The buttress against chaos isn't Mubarak, it's likely the Army.  The Army has been the one institution in Egyptian life that has continued to have the respect of the people.  My sense (and I have no proof) is that the Generals are looking at the situation and deciding whether to stay with Mubarak or not.  If they think their future is better off without Mubarak, Mubarak is gone. 

So, we wait, wondering what will happen next.  Hoping that this revolution ends better than most -- either in failure or radicalization.

An "N" of 1

I ran across this reflection today, in a Chicago Tribune article, from breast-cancer survivor Catherine Drew Gilpin Faust, President of Harvard University:

"I [remember] my meeting with my physician after the results of the exploratory biopsy. He was telling me what they found and what his thoughts were about what I ought to do.... I'm trying to digest this news, and I start peppering him with questions. What are the percentage chances of this? What are the percentage chances of that? And he answered all my questions, then he said, 'But just remember, whatever you have you have at 100 percent.' And that was such an important comment for me, because I realized, you know, whatever I learned, I was an 'N' of 1, and I had to figure out what that meant within this larger framework of all this information. I also thought it was an interesting thing to have a physician [who was] in a research medical center who was obviously a doctor doing clinical work as well as treatment to be able to remember that, that a patient is an 'N' of 1, not just one in a whole line of statistics. I've often thought of that as I've faced health challenges."

That's a rather perceptive comment on the part of her physician: "Whatever you have you have at 100 percent." Lots of us get stymied by statistics. We get preoccupied by the question, "What are my chances, Doc?" - and by whatever percentage answer the doctor may be so bold as to give us.

I don't fully understand the "N of 1" business. That's mathematics-speak, and I'm not so fluent in that language. I take it to mean, though, that each case is unique. There's no sense buying trouble by assuming someone else's cancer experience will turn out to be our own. Our experience is bound to be different in some way or another, because we're different.

I remember meeting with a friend not long ago, days before he succumbed to his cancer. He was recalling some of the treatment decisions he and his doctors had made along the way. Before deciding on some rather invasive surgery, the doctor had said he felt obliged to tell him that the chances of the surgery being successful were only about 5 percent.

"That's OK, Doc," my friend told him. "I figure I'm going to be in the 5 percent." (He wasn't, as it turned out, but he exercised his prerogative to think that way.)

That was his decision. Other patients in similar situations may decide differently, and I figure that's OK, it's their road they're traveling and no one else's. Yet, my friend chose to exercise his freedom of choice and not let statistics rule him.

He intuitively understood what President Faust is talking about. He knew he was an "N of 1."

The same would go for someone making the opposite choice, even if the odds looked very much better. I've known older patients who declined surgery or treatment when the chances of success were as high as 50 percent. The explanation went something like this: "I've lived long enough, and at my age, I can't expect to live much longer. I choose not to accept the harsh side effects and long recovery the doctors are talking about. Quality of life is important to me. I want to enjoy the days I have left."

According to "N of 1" thinking, that's OK, too.

Yes, there's a lot of science involved in the treatment of cancer. But there's also an art to it.

It's the art of living.

"If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast."

- Psalm 139:9-10

January 3, 2011 - Just the Facts

Today, I run across an updated fact sheet on Relapsed/ Refractory Follicular Lymphoma from the Lymphoma Research Foundation.

Although my initial staging was "B-cell, diffuse mixed large and small cell," the assumption Dr. Lerner and I have been making is that the relapsed cancer we've been monitoring for the past four and a half years is follicular lymphoma (a small-cell variety). It seems to be behaving in the indolent fashion typical of follicular lymphoma, anyway. After making its first appearance 8 months after my final round of R-CHOP chemotherapy, it's been snoozing.

We've still not been able to get an excisional biopsy of the relapsed cancer. The affected lymph nodes that keep showing up on my scans are not in an easy place to access surgically. There was one attempt to do so, with a swollen lymph node at the base of my neck. That brought me all the way to the operating table, but was called off at the last minute when the surgeon could no longer feel the affected lymph node.

Based on what I've learned about the disease, I'd say the fact sheet is a good one. It reflects some of the latest developments in research. It doesn't mention idiopathic vaccine treatments, though, that are still being researched.

The fact sheet communicates some wonderful news: that, thanks to the energetic researchers working in this field, there is now a range of possible treatments to choose from.

Here's another write-up, from the National Cancer Institute website. One line from that summary of recent research that catches my eye is this one: "For patients randomly assigned to watchful waiting, the median time to require therapy was 2 to 3 years and one-third of patients never required treatment with watchful waiting (half died of other causes and half remained progression-free after 10 years)."

I'm already past the 2 or 3 year median, and have a pretty good chance of landing in the one-third of patients that never require further treatment.

At such time as further treatment may be called for, I think I'd lean in the direction of radioimmu- notherapy (a single dose of Bexxar or Zevalin). Either of those medications seems to me to strike a good balance between effectiveness and quality-of-life issues. I'd rely heavily on Dr. Lerner's recommendation, of course, and would also go for a second opinion with Dr. Portlock, as I did before.

Stem-cell transplant is potentially the most effective treatment of all - but that's riskier, involves multiple side-effects and presupposes that a compatible donor could be found (we've already discovered that neither of my two brothers are a good match, so I'd have to depend on the national donor registry).

So, those are the facts (at this point in time).

December 2, 2010 – 5-Year Cancerversary

Hard to believe it’s been five years already, but it has. Five years ago today, I was diagnosed with cancer.

So much has happened since then. Those early days of uncertainty and fear, knowing that life would never be the same again. Telling the kids. Telling the church. Arranging for time off, to coincide with the predictable valleys in the chemo cycle. Persistent thoughts of dying, even though Drs. Lerner and Portlock and everyone else in the know kept assuring me I have one of those so-called "good" cancers - one that usually responds to treatment.

Once the treatment train had left the station, it picked up speed incredibly fast – or so it seemed. One day, I was given the news. The next, I was being wheeled into an operating room to get my port implanted.

My story didn’t unfold quite that fast, of course. That was just the way it felt to me. There was actually about a month between diagnosis and my first dose of chemo. I can’t recall much of what I did during that time. Once cancer enters your life, it’s hard to think of anything else. I felt numb.

Used to be, patients who reached their five year cancerversary without recurrence were considered cured. I still run into people who think that’s the case. In reality, cancer is such a multifaceted phenomenon that it’s impossible to generalize.

In my case, remission only lasted eight months – although, in truth, the cancer was probably there all along, lurking below the radar of those high-tech scans. “Watch and wait” was Dr. Lerner’s recommendation, confirmed by Dr. Portlock. Just sit tight. No need to shoot any arrows from the quiver until we absolutely have to. You have no symptoms. So, just sit tight. Trust us. This really is a sensible approach, even though it sounds like lunacy.

So, here I am today. Still watching and waiting. I’ve no idea how long it will be before the burgeoning population of cancer cells will reach umpteen million (or whatever the magic number is) and we’ll be discussing which treatment to try next.

Already, there are NHL treatments out there that weren’t available at the time I was diagnosed. Most aren’t quite ready for prime time, but it won’t be long now. Chances are, by the time we’ll be thinking seriously about treatment again, there will be some options available that weren’t even conceived at the time I was first setting out, five years ago.

There’s reason for hope, to be sure. Lord willing and the blood counts don’t rise, I’ll be here to observe quite a number of cancerversaries yet to come.

A Candle of Hope -- Advent Lectionary Meditation

Isaiah 2:1-5



Romans 13:11-14


Matthew 24:36-44

A Candle of Hope

We begin the Advent journey by lighting a candle of hope, and hope is in the biblical scheme of things more than wishful thinking. The hope that the season of Advent holds out to us as we light this first candle is rooted in the promises of the God who is ever faithful. It is rooted in the covenant relationship that exists between God and humanity. Therefore, we can gather and sing with a sense of purpose the final stanza of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel":  "O come, Desire of nations, bind all peoples in one heart and mind; bid envy, strife and quarrels cease; fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!” (Chalice Hymnal, 119). And so as we begin the journey we do so in the company of Isaiah, Paul, and Matthew’s Jesus. Each of these texts for the first Sunday of Advent speak to the hope that is present in us, and reminds us that we should continue to stay awake and live according to the promises of God.

The journey begins in Isaiah, where the prophet speaks in wondrous terms of the day that will come when the nations will stream to Zion, to God’s holy mountain, so that they might encounter the Lord, the God of Jacob. And the reason they will come is so that they might receive instruction (Torah). Yes, they’ll come in the hope that will learn of the ways of God so that they might walk in his paths of righteousness. Upon this basis God will judge, that is, God will rule over the nations. And as a result, the nations will commit themselves to peace. The fourth verse of Isaiah 2 is one of the most beautiful and promising of all texts of scripture, for it promises a war torn world a vision of peace. When God rules over the nations and therefore is the one who will arbitrate among them, then the nations will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks. That is, in the days to come, instead of devoting our time, our energy, and our resources on keeping afloat a “military industrial complex,” the people will devote themselves to more productive work, such as providing food for their tables. It may sound utopian, and yet it stands before us as God’s promise, and it is a promise in which we have been called upon to place our hopes – not wishful thinking, but trusting our futures to the covenant-making God. Our lection ends with verse 5, which calls upon the house of Jacob to “walk in the Light of the Lord.”

Isaiah’s wondrous vision is paired with two texts that lack the grandeur of the Old Testament lesson, and yet they too speak to us in our day. Both remind us of the importance of being awake and living as people of the light. In his letter to the Romans, Paul rings the alarm and reminds the recipients of his letter that their salvation is nearer to them than when they first believed. The night is drawing to a close and day is at hand. Therefore, they are now to live as in the light, laying aside the works of darkness. The image here is clear, the criminal does his or her work under the cover of darkness so that they will not be seen, and such, the implication here is, once this was true for them. But now the light has dawned, the candle is lit, and so they’re to live honorably, putting aside the works of darkness including revelry, drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness, quarreling (remember that in Isaiah, as a result of the Lord’s instruction in Zion the nations will cease their quarreling), and jealousy. Instead, they (us) are to put on Jesus Christ and make “no provision for the flesh.” There is in this word to us, that our hope in Christ should affect the way we live, especially as we move into God’s future.

Finally we come to the Gospel. With Advent we begin a new lectionary cycle, one that focuses on the Gospel of Matthew. And in this first gospel lesson of the new church year we find ourselves near the end of the Gospel, in Jesus’ eschatological discourse that comes near the end of his own earthly journey. It is a rather strong and even harsh word, one that even speaks in terms of eternal punishment. In this word about the future, Jesus lets the disciples know that the time and place of God’s judgment is known only to the Father – neither Angels nor the Son of Man know this information. And just as a word of warning, in case they get complacent (remember that Matthew is writing a half century following the death/resurrection of Jesus), on the day of his revealing, the people will be living rather normally. Indeed, the people will be eating and drinking (not necessarily in excess, just normally) and they’ll be planning weddings, just like normal. That’s the way it was when the flood hit in the days of Noah. Since they didn’t heed Noah’s warnings, they were caught unawares, and were swept away. The moral – you don’t want this to happen to you. To reinforce this message Jesus speaks enigmatically of pairs of individuals, one of whom will be taken and the other left doing their normal work – men in the field and women at the grinding stone. As to who is the one receiving judgment – that’s unclear. A recent book series might suggest that it’s the ones left behind, but it could easily be that the ones who suffer judgment are the ones being pulled out. There’s really way to know for sure. What is for sure, Jesus says, is that if a thief were planning to break into the house, and the owner knew the time of his coming, he would have been awake and would have foiled the attempt. Be awake at all times, Jesus says, for you never know when the thief is coming.

There is hope to be found in this life. We can live into the vision of God that Isaiah lays out for us, but we must be awake and attentive to the movement of God, and then live in ways that are in tune with this vision of the future. Therefore, we can affirm that Christian eschatology, that vision of God’s future, does have ethical implications, and so does the candle of hope that we light this first Sunday of Advent.

Reposted from [D]mergent

Reframing Hope -- Review

REFRAMING HOPE: Vital Ministry in a New Generation.  By Carol Howard Merritt.  Foreword by Diana Butler Bass.  Herndon, VA: Alban, 2010.  x + 147 pp.

    It’s probably unnecessary for me to repeat the canard that Mainline Protestantism is an aging religious tradition.  It’s true, the Mainline has been aging, and in many of our churches the elderly far outnumber the younger ones, but the Mainline isn’t simply a spiritual retirement home for hidebound traditionalists.  There are many signs of renewed life, which give hope for the future.  This is especially true if we pay attention to the younger adults who have either chosen to stay home in the Mainline, or found in the Mainline the spiritual home they had been seeking.  The reasons for staying or joining vary.  They range from the greater openness to the leadership of women to the presence of gays.   It could also be the intellectual openness that is found in these traditions.   And while it’s true that the preponderance of clergy is graying, there are a growing number of eloquent younger leaders whose voices have begun to ring out in the church.  Among this group is  the Rev. Carol Howard Merritt, a Presbyterian pastor, author, and broadcaster, who by her own self-description is a “loyal radical.”   That self-description is an important note, because it signals a desire to be part of a tradition, but willing to challenge it when it becomes sedentary and moribund.  There is a recognition that the church needs more than simply chaplains, but prophetic and visionary voices that point us into the future. 

    In this, her second book (the first being Tribal Church), Carol Howard Merritt offers us a portal through which we can look at the church as it stands today and then begin to see a trajectory upon which a renewed and revisioned church can begin taking its journey into the future.  In days of yore, we looked to the elders of the community for sage advice, but now is a time to hear valuable words of wisdom from those who are agile and adept in their participation in the turbulence that marks the present era.  Leaders, like Merritt, have their finger on the pulse on the current situation and have an understanding of the way in which these changes are affecting the church as it maneuvers in the early decades of the  21st century.  If we’re willing to listen, we’ll discover that these changes make for a ministry that is both more difficult and more exciting. 

    The world we inhabit is marked by technological, generational, environmental, and political changes and challenges, changes that affect not only the old Mainline Churches like Carol’s (PCUSA) or mine (Disciples of Christ), but also the evangelical megachurches that seemed so adept at adapting to the cultural changes just a few years ago.  Alas, the tide may have turned once again, and it’s possible, though by no means assured, that the Mainline churches, many of which inhabit the old urban centers, may have a new opportunity, especially since as Merritt suggests: “worship as entertainment seems to be losing its luster” (p. 1).   So perhaps it’s time to do a bit of “reframing,” so that vital ministry might take place in a new generation.   

    A frame allows us to focus and describe something, and as Merritt writes, “the way we frame our situation has an impact on our current attitudes, our cognitive abilities, and our future behavior” (p. 3).  So, how do we go about this “reframing” project so that we might experience hope and vitality (not just among the younger set, but among all who inhabit our churches)?  Merritt offers several items to consider.  The first warms my heart, because I am by training a historian, and that it is impossible to ignore history.  Whatever its nature, the church has a history and that history can’t be ignored, because we can’t understand the context without understanding where the church has come from.  Second, as we consider our histories, we must acknowledge the dark sides of our past.  Third, we must seek to understand why mistrust exists in our congregations.  Fourth, if we don’t understand the past, we can’t understand the present.  She writes: “we can begin to imagine vital church ministry in a new generation only by remembering that we have emerged from somewhere specific” (p. 6).   Finally, it is important to recognize the strengths of our traditions.  God maybe doing something new, but God hasn’t thrown out everything old (despite what we preachers quoting Paul might suggest). 

    By engaging in the act of reframing our world and its history we have a better opportunity to discern the meaning of the present, and Merritt notes that due to the date of her birth she has never lived in a church-centered world.  She doesn’t remember when Mainline Protestantism dominated the national conversation, and change has always been part of her vocabulary, but at a time when the religious institutions continue to lose market share, an opportunity is presenting itself where hope can once again be rekindled and a new vitality can emerge within the church.  This is occurring in a context where young adults are returning to the city, demonstrating concern fro social-justice issues, and looking for more meaningful and participatory forms of worship, where lay people are empowered to engage in leadership and ministry.  That is, people are looking for things that may lie buried in our denominational churches. 

    In the course of seven chapters Merritt explores such concepts as the redistribution of authority, the re-formation of community, the reexamination of our mediums of communication (read internet, blogs, social networking sites), the retelling of  the message (a new day for evangelism), the reinvention of activism (more than simply marches), engaging in the renewal of creation (a commitment to environmentalism), and a retraditioning of spirituality (rediscovering old practices and resources from the history of the church).  There is a strong sense of reengaging tradition, but there is also in this discussion a strong reminder that the church today and tomorrow will be linked closely to the web, especially social networking sites, which are evolving quickly.  This offers new opportunities for collaboration and accessing resources for knowledge.  At the same time, there is a caution, for the virtual world is not a replacement for the flesh and blood engagement. 

    One of the words that sticks out in this reframing of hope for the church is that of centralization.  Because of the technology that is present, we’re not nearly as dependent on centralized institutions.  Indeed, many have become skeptical and distrustful of these institutions, seeing them as moribund.  While there is a resistance to centralization, there remains a powerful movement toward consolidation.  Thus, it seems as if there are two competing visions – one that suggests bigger is better and the other that small is good.  But, while the bigger is better continues to have its say, the alternative is gaining ground.  Ultimately, we must recognize that in the church vitality is not defined by brand but by what’s happening in the local community of faith.

    We’ve heard it before.  You need to revision for tomorrow.  And that is true, but simply changing the words and the nomenclature won’t move us forward.  Times have changed and a new way living together as people of faith is required.  Our context is no longer culturally or ethnically homogeneous.  Younger people don’t necessarily know the stories or the language of faith.  Merritt writes:
   

    Today, our neighborhoods are filled with people from a wide array of religious backgrounds and expressions. We struggle to communicate our faith in the midst of such pluralism and, in our worst expressions, we avoid or discriminate against those who are not Christians (p. 131).

She goes on to note that in our old frameworks we could depend on social conditioning and denominational loyalty to “drive people to church.”  That’s no longer true.  We have to be intentional, and our reach must be compassionate.  The way we communicate must adapt as well. Consider Merritt reminds us that even as the younger members of our communities are fluent in social media, many of our churches struggle to put together a basic website.  There is hope, nonetheless, for the Mainline church, even as it struggles to stay afloat amidst this sea of change, to be a transformative presence.  If we’re to respond to the context, we need to understand that even in the midst of rampant individualism there is a crying need for community.  There is a desire among the younger members of our society to communicate prayerfully, and there is a desire for social justice.   Social justice has been at the core of Mainline Protestant life, and there is in this a point of connection. 

    Writers such as Diana Butler Bass, the author of the foreword to this book, and Eric Elnes (a UCC pastor in Arizona), have been reminding us that there is life in the Mainline churches.  Carol Howard Merritt adds her voice to this series of testimonials, offering to us a word of hope from the younger side of our community of faith, a reminder that God is still present and at work in our midst.  For this reason alone, this book is a worthy read.  It is, also well written and insightful, making this another must read for the year 2010 and beyond.

Stand Firm -- A Lectionary Meditation

Isaiah 65:17-25


2 Thessalonians 3:6-13


Luke 21:5-19

Stand Firm

We hear complaints here and there that Christians in the United States face persecution. Usually the complaints center on rules prohibiting crèches or Ten Commandment monuments on civic property, or maybe the inability to have Christian prayers at high school football games. Most of these complaints have to do with loss of power and market share. Rarely, if ever, do Americans face true persecution. That is, their lives are not on the line, in the way that, for instance, the Chaldean Christians of Iraq are facing persecution at this very moment. In the lectionary texts for this week, believers are called upon to stand firm and to keep true to their faith in the midst of difficult circumstances. The passage from Isaiah speaks to post-exilic Jews who are facing difficult prospects for the future, while both the epistle and gospel speak directly to the reality of persecution. Where then does faith fit in this equation?

We start with the message from Isaiah – or more precisely – the third prophetic voice in the book of Isaiah. The Jewish people are living in the midst of ruin and despair. Their city lies in ruins and their Temple is no more. They build homes only to see others move in and farm land to see others eat of it. But a new day is coming; a day of new creation, when the old will be gone and the people will again rejoice and be a delight to God. In that day they will not “labor in vain” or bear children only to see them face calamity. Their days will be long in the land and they will prosper. Indeed, in that day the lion and the lamb will lie down together in peace, for in that day the lion will eat straw like the ox. Don’t give up hope, the prophet says to the people, a new day is coming. Live out the dream – build homes and plant vineyards, because a new day is coming. It is a beautiful vision, one we should grab hold of. It is a message of God’s blessings, for which we may give thanks.

But, even as we seek to live out the vision of God, we must remember that there are forces that would seek to prevent this vision from being implemented. In both the New Testament passages the topic of persecution is front and center. In the passage from 2 Thessalonians, which may or may not be written by Paul we hear encouraging news – the Thessalonians are faithful and loving. They long to see Paul, even as he longs to see them. As they face opposition and persecution, they draw strength from the fortitude that the Thessalonians have shown in the face of their own experiences of opposition. They have stood firm and therefore, Paul can rejoice in this. At the same time, Paul prays day and night for them, hoping to be with them face to face so that he can encourage them in their times of troubles. At the same time, Paul prays that they would increase in their love for one another and be strengthened in holiness, so that in the end, they will blameless before God, when Jesus comes with all the saints. This would seem to be a reminder that even as we stand firm in faith, we would not lose sight of our relationships with another.

If the Thessalonian letter encourages us to stand firm in the face of persecution, even as we are encouraged to increase in love and holiness, the Gospel text reminds us that this call to stand firm may not just be for a season, but be a perennial issue. Don’t be led astray, Jesus tells the disciples if you hear someone come in my name and say “I am he” or “The time is near.” Don’t follow them. If you hear about wars and earthquakes, famines and such, don’t be too concerned, such things will happen. There is this strong appeal to an apocalyptic sense – things are likely to get worse not better, but God will, in God’s time, intervene to bring order to disorder. So don’t be too concerned about what you see and hear – that’s just the way life is.

But, the word you need to hear is that when you face persecution – when you get hauled before religious and secular authorities because of my name, take the opportunity to testify. Give your testimony – tell the authorities about your faith – stand firm in the face of persecution. As I read this, I picture Martin Luther, standing before the authorities, both religious and secular, saying to them in those famous words: “Here I stand, I can do no other.” Jesus tells us in this text not to prepare a defense, but to trust him for the words. Let the Spirit move, because in doing so, the testimony will be all the more powerful.

As I read these texts, I hear in them both a vision of God’s future and a warning. God’s future won’t come into existence without a struggle. There are forces that would seek to prevent God’s reign from coming into existence. Like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, we may have to follow this path to our deaths, giving witness to the ways of God, knowing that in God’s time God’s realm will break through and there will be a new creation and the lion and the lamb will lie down together in peace.

Reposted from [D]mergent.

Lt. Sulu says -- It Gets Better

The "It Gets Better" project has been sharing videos on YouTube letting young Gay and Lesbians that it will get better.  In this video by George Takei, better known to us Star Trek fans as Lt. Sulu, responds to a former Arkansas School Board Member, who apparently encouraged Gay teens to kill themselves.  Let's here it from George Takei.

October 5, 2010 - This Is the Day

This excerpt from a Presbyterian News Service release tells the story of the death several days ago of singer/songwriter David M. Bailey:

"David M. Bailey, a singer/songwriter who moved audiences as much with his story of personal courage in the face of terminal cancer as with his music, succumbed to Glioblastoma on Oct. 2 in hospice care near his home in Charlottesville, Va. He was 44.

The son of Presbyterian missionaries, Kenneth E. and Ethel Bailey, Bailey was raised in Beirut, Lebanon. He spent some of his youth in Germany — where he learned to play the guitar and began writing songs — before returning to the United States....

In July 1996, he was diagnosed with Glioblastoma, a particularly virulent form of brain cancer. He then quit his corporate job and turned to songwriting and performing full-time.

'They told me I had six months. They were wrong,' Bailey said. 'Despite what you might hear, hope is a very real thing, and with every passing day, there are more and more reasons to hope.'

For 14 years he defied that diagnosis, writing and performing virtually non-stop, covering 45 states and 21 countries. His concerts were deeply personal, brutally honest accounts — rendered in a musical style that has been compared to James Taylor and Cat Stevens — of his struggles with his illness and his determination to make the most of whatever time God gave him.

His signature tune was 'One More Day.' The chorus goes:

'One more day when you can hold your children
One more day you can hold your wife
One more day when you can watch the grass grow
One more day when you can live your life.'"

It calls to mind the familiar scripture verse: "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118:24)

It's a lesson David taught us: how to live in the now, praising God for all good gifts. His music - and that lesson - will live on, through his recordings.

Prayers and good wishes go out to his family.

Seeking the Balm of Gilead -- A Sermon

Jeremiah 8:18-9:1

Last week we heard a word from the Gospel of Luke about a risk-taking and extravagantly-loving God, who will do everything and anything to restore humanity to fellowship with God and with one’s neighbor. It’s also a word about a God who likes to celebrate this fact with a party. It’s a pretty powerful and wonderful word. But there’s another word to be found in Scripture, and it also needs to be heard. That word is found in today’s lesson from Jeremiah.

1. The Cry of the Wounded Heart

Nine years ago, on the second Sunday after September 11th, I preached from this very text. Like today, it was the lectionary reading from the Old Testament, but it spoke directly to the shock that our nation was still experiencing. It offered a word of consolation to people, trying to make sense of the horrific events of the previous week. As I took to the pulpit that day and preached my sermon, I tried to wrestle with the grief and the anger people were feeling. I reflected on the angry calls for vengeance that I was reading and hearing. These feelings were understandable, but to my mind they were contrary to the gospel of Jesus. I tried to offer a different perspective, one that reflected the nature and character of the God we know and love in Jesus Christ, using this passage from Jeremiah as a lens through which we could look at our situation and make sense of it. What Jeremiah does for us is give voice to the despair that so many were feeling. But, giving voice to our despair isn’t enough. There has to be a voice of hope and consolation as well, and despite the heaviness of this passage there’s also a glimmer of hope and a promise of healing, even in the midst of a word of judgment on a wayward people.

As we have seen in recent weeks, the shadow of September 11th still hangs over our nation. The anger, the despair, and the fear engendered by the events of that day remain with us. But it’s not just 9-11 that casts a shadow over our lives. There are the continuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, Katrina, confessions of moral failure on the part of religious and political leaders, the continuing legacy of racism in our land, a catastrophic oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, a lingering economic downturn that has cost millions of people their jobs and even their life savings. And these are just the events that touch American lives. As we reflect on our situation in life, the cry of Jeremiah seems to express the feelings of the moment: “My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick.” (Jer. 8:18). This cry of the heart isn’t just found in Jeremiah. The Psalmist also cries out:

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all day long?” (Psalm 13:1-2a).

Then there’s that cry of dereliction from the Psalmist that’s found then on the lips of Jesus as he hung on the cross. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1).

These aren’t joyous words, and yet they reflect the absence of hope that stands over our lives like a cloud that won’t go away. Sometimes we think we have to put on a smiley face before God and our neighbors, and pretend that nothing is happening to us. But these texts give us permission to cry out to God and ask why.

2. Hearing Words of Judgment

Now, when Jeremiah spoke these words the Babylonians were bearing down on Jerusalem. We don’t hear the full word of judgment that Jeremiah levels against the people in this passage, but it’s there in the broader context. Jeremiah essentially told the people of Judah that since they had broken things, they now owned what they’d broken. They’d gone against God’s word, and so now they were suffering the consequences. The sufferings of the day were the result of God’s judgment on the spiritual sickness that afflicted the nation.

The darkness that’s present in this passage of Scripture should make us uncomfortable. It’s good to remember that while the Scriptures bring us good news, the biblical writers were realistic about the world in which we live. Sometimes we need to be reminded that what we say and do can have a negative effect on our lives and the lives of others. While I don’t believe God sent those planes into the towers of Manhattan, or sent Katrina as a sign of judgment on New Orleans, or the earthquake that hit Haiti, or the floods in Pakistan, events such as these can be a wake-up call of sorts. They catch our attention and cause us stop and consider the presence of darkness in our lives. That may be why many churches saw an increase in attendance after 9-11. Even if this attendance increase was short-lived, it represented the human need to find a word of healing, balm of Gilead that would heal a sin-sick soul.

3. The Balm of Gilead

We come to church hoping to hear a positive word, a healing word. Although there are those who enjoy fire and brimstone, most of us will take a pass on words like that. There’s a reason why preachers like Norman Vincent Peale, Robert Schuller, and Joel Osteen are so popular, they preach a positive message. Unfortunately, their message is too often a partial gospel. Although it’s not my habit to criticize other preachers, at least not in my sermons, I find it enlightening to read that the primary cause of the break between Robert Schuller and his son, which led to the dismissal of the son as pastor of the Crystal Cathedral, was the father’s concern that his son talked too much about the Bible and about Jesus. Apparently, if the Bible and Jesus are the focus, then the message might not be as positive as some people want it to be.

Now, I’m more an optimist than I a pessimist, more Winnie the Pooh than Eeyore, but I’m not naive. I know about the dark side of life, and so if we’re to hear the whole gospel, we need to hear the dark side as well as the bright side of life. Although we might wish things to be different, there is truth in the words of Ecclesiastes: There is a time to be born and a time to die, a time to rejoice and a time to grieve (Eccles. 3:1-8). That’s just the way life is. Still, even as Jeremiah brings a word of judgment on his people, he also cries out for healing.

"Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored?" "O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people!"

Jeremiah recognizes that we can’t go on forever living on the dark side of life. We can’t dwell in the darkness forever, even if the cloud doesn’t want to dissipate. And so, we must go looking for the balm of Gilead, which brings healing to “our sin-sick souls.” The question is – where can we find this balm of Gilead? Where does the physician for our souls reside?

The passage for the day doesn’t give us an immediate answer. We have to continue reading, past the point where the people go into exile. Then and only then do we hear a word of hope. In his letter to the exiles in Babylon, Jeremiah writes:

For thus says the Lord: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill my promise and bring you back to this place. For surely I know the plans I have made for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile. (Jer. 29:10-14).

There is, as they say, light at the end of the tunnel, so keep on searching for God. Keep looking for the balm of Gilead.

And as we seek a word of healing, we’re led to Jesus, who is the great physician and the healer of our lives. If we read the gospels, we know that healing stood at the center of his ministry. Wherever he went, he reached out and he touched people’s lives. He restored hope to those who lived without hope. He restored broken bodies and broken lives. We see this promise of healing in his own death and resurrection. Hanging on the cross as he did that day, Jesus tasted the bitterness, the pain, and the despair of humanity. He bore on his body the blows of human anger and hatred, and he offered forgiveness in return. When we hear the cry “Is there no balm in Gilead?” the answer that we hear is that it’s Jesus who brings God’s healing presence to us.

Whether we grieve the loss of one we hold dear or a person we don’t even know who dies as a victim of violence in Afghanistan, Darfur, Congo, Detroit, or even own neighborhoods, the good news is that God is present with us and that God has tasted our sorrow in Jesus. As we hear this message of hope we also discover that we’re to be the agents of that hope. And so in the words of that old spiritual we sing out:

"There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul."

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, MI
17th Sunday after Pentecost
September 19, 2010

Lost and Found -- A Lectionary Meditation

Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28
1 Timothy 1:12-17
Luke 15:1-10

Is there any hope for me? For the world? Or, is all lost? Has a word of judgment been written that cannot be undone? Or, is there the possibility of a second chance? It always grieves me when I hear stories about a young person – usually a teenager – who has committed a gross and heinous crime, and thus deserving a severe sentence, receives the sentence of life without parole. To think of this young person, usually a young man, sitting in prison for the rest of his life is mind-boggling. Surely there has to be some word of hope, some opportunity to be set free?

As I read the lectionary texts this week I hear two very different voices speaking from the text of Scripture. One voice, that of Jeremiah, points to the strong and severe wind that is designed not to winnow or cleanse, but to bring judgment against a foolish and childish people who are without knowledge of God or understanding, a people skilled at evil, but not in doing good. The vision laid out by Jeremiah is one of destruction and desolation – so that the fruitful land is now desert and even the skies are devoid of life. This word of judgment is especially severe, a sort of scorched earth policy. But, what is especially disconcerting is the final word:

“Because of this the earth shall mourn; and the heavens above grow black;

For I have spoken, I have purposed; I have not relented nor will I turn back. (Jer. 4:28).

This word is reminiscent of the sentence handed down by the judge on that young man – life without parole. There is no hope of freedom, for the judge has spoken and will not relent.

The word of Jeremiah may be appalling to some, but it is a word that will ring true in the sentiments of many of our neighbors. If you do the crime, then do the time.

There is, of course, another word emerging from these texts. That this word emerges from the New Testament should not lead us to conclude that the New Testament is more gracious than the Old. One can find strong words of grace in the Hebrew Bible as well as in the New Testament. But in this week’s lection the words of hope appear in the two New Testament readings.

The first word comes from the 1 Letter to Timothy. The presumed author of this letter is Paul, though historical scholarship questions the Pauline authorship of the letter. For this reflection, it may be useful to indulge this presumption, for the story that is present in this first chapter looks back to Paul’s conversion experience. Here he was a strong and severe opponent of the church. He had opposed this new message with all of his might, and yet he had experienced the full force of God’s grace and mercy, so that although he was the chief among all sinners, he had been set free from this sin and now stands as a model to others who would believe. The message is simple, and one “deserving full acceptance: ‘Christ came into the world to save sinners’” (1 Tim. 1:15).

As for the sinners, among whom the author of the letter to Timothy was numbered as the greatest, they are the friends of Jesus. The critics of Jesus pointed out that he kept company with the wrong crowd – tax collectors (who got no respect then either) and sinners.

In response to the grumbling among the more upright citizens, Jesus tells three parables, two of which are found in this week’s lection – the third, the parable of the Prodigal Son must wait for another day to be explored. Two parables, one the describes the efforts undertaken by the shepherd to find the missing lamb, and when the shepherd finds the missing lamb – having essentially abandoned the 99 for the sake of the 1 – he throws a party to celebrate. There is no greater joy in heaven, says Jesus, than when the one who is lost returns to the fold. The second parable tells of a woman who loses a coin, and then after madly looking finds it, and then throws a party – using the rest of her money to celebrate the discovery of the one coin.

The message of Jesus is simple – God’s grace and mercy is extravagant. God will do whatever God must do to bring that which is lost back into the fold, and when the one who is lost is found, there will be a party.

Two words – one of judgment and one of mercy. Both are needed. The first word reminds us that God is concerned about that which is right and good. There are consequences of our actions. At the same time, if that is the last word, then there is no hope for us. This is the good news that emerges from the letter to Timothy and the gospel – “Christ came into the world to save sinners” and the chief among sinners is me. Oh, my, it is good to know that God’s love and mercy are so extravagant that I can find hope for my life. There is parole after all!

 

Reposted from [D]mergent (a Disciples blog)

September 6, 2010 - His Music Lives On

In some earlier posts, I've written about a musician, David M. Bailey, who's been an inspiration to me. David's a brain cancer survivor who, after undergoing treatment the first time, reinvented his life as a singer-songwriter. Except for the times when he's been undergoing further treatment, he's been traveling the country, sharing his musical message of faith, hope and love in the midst of adversity.

Today, I received this e-mail, sent out to those on David's mailing list, presumably by a friend or relative:

"David was moved to hospice on Friday, September 3, following nearly a week in the hospital. He has been surrounded by family, friends and loving caregivers and has been pretty comfortable.

There’s a day to be filled with music
and a day for all melody to cease
there’s a day to arm yourself for battle
and a day to calm your heart for peace"

dmb 1996

Back in the 1990s, they told David his glioblastoma brain tumor was supposed to have killed him in 6 months. He beat the odds, obviously, by a considerable amount of time. Now that it appears his final days are upon him, let's remember him in prayer, asking God for comfort and expressing gratitude for his remarkable witness of faith.

I regret that I never got to hear David perform live. I do cherish those of his CDs I own, though, and I know many others do, too.

There may be a day for "all melody to cease," but it will only be for the briefest time. David's music will live on.

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Shaken and Stirred Up -- A Lectionary Meditation

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Hebrews 12:18-29

Luke 13:10-17

Shaken and Stirred Up

We don’t have much patience for people who stir the pot and shake our foundations. If you make statements that don’t sit well with the “majority” you could find yourself in a difficult situation. Such is the role of the prophet, a role that few preachers dare to take up. But in each of this week’s lectionary passages we have a word that shakes and stirs things up.

If ever there was a rabble-rouser, that person was Jeremiah. He rarely offered a politically expedient word. It’s no wonder his opponents stuffed him in a jar and sent him packing to Egypt. But this was what he was born to do – it was his destiny. The text from Jeremiah gives an account of Jeremiah’s calling. Only a boy, God called him to deliver a message of judgment. God told him that this calling had been placed upon him before he had been conceived in the womb. Indeed, God had commissioned him prior to his birth. Jeremiah’s protests about his youth and the fact that no one would pay attention didn’t deter God, who told him not to fear and then touched his mouth and put in his moth the words of God. Not only would he bear the words of God to the world, but God also appointed him to rule over the nations, to pluck up and pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, and then to build and to plant. All of this was in his calling. Here he stood, for he could do no other. Are we ready to hear his word?

As we consider whether we’re ready to hear the word of Jeremiah, a word that has the power to pluck up and pull down nations, to destroy or overthrow the powers that be, and then in the aftermath engage in a bit of nation building, we can attend to the word given in Hebrews. Hebrews is a rather enigmatic document. It is at heart a combination of Midrash and allegory, pulling from and adapting not only the Jewish scriptures and stories, but also taking from Jewish liturgical practice, and redefining it all for the author’s own purposes. This particular text is not easily traversed. We begin with a conversation about whether or not the holy mountain can be touched, lest human or animal die. Yes, when it comes to the mountain of God, even Moses trembles with fear. If we can wade through all of this we come to this part of the passage that seems to fit perfectly in our conversation this week. After being told not to refuse to hear the one speaking, we’re treated to a voice that shakes not merely the earth, but the heavens as well. And, what is shaken is removed – sort of as if speaking of sifting things. In the end, after everything is shaken and sifted, what remains is the realm of God. This we are called upon to take hold of, for it alone remains after the shaking and the sifting ends. And after we take hold of this gift, then we are invited to give thanks and offer to God worship that is reverent and acceptable. What is the picture here? Is it little more than the visit to the Wizard of Oz? There was shaking in the boots then too, but of course, the “wizard” was a mere front. Surely the one we’ve been to worship is more than a projection thrown up on a screen by one who is clever.

Keeping to this train of thought, about shaking and stirring things up, we must deal with Jesus and his tendency to stir up trouble. When we think about pastoral calls, it’s clear that Jesus, like Jeremiah, would never fit in. He had a tendency to upturn traditions and practices that got in the way of what God is up to in the world. In this case it’s a matter of healing a woman who has been bent over in pain for nearly two decades. Jesus sees her, invites her over, and sets her free. The leader of the synagogue complains that he has done work on the Sabbath. Now, surely Jesus could have waited another day. After all it had been eighteen years, what did a few more hours mean to the woman? Jesus’ response was to point out that his critics would untie their oxen and their donkeys and take them to water. Surely, this woman was of more value to God than oxen and donkeys (not to say that these animals don’t have value). The point being – don’t let your traditions, even if they were meant for a good purpose, get in the way of a greater good.

Yes, the message that we find in the biblical story often is a challenging one. It’s not always politically expedient or popular. Yes, even we who consider ourselves to be open minded can find that the message is unsettling to us. As we prepare for the weekend, whether we’re preaching, or teaching, or simply meditating on the things of God, let us prepare ourselves to be shaken and stirred up!

Reposted from [D]mergent, a Disciples of Christ oriented blog

August 3, 2010 - Clinging to the Tail of Possibility

On vacation in the Adirondacks, I read a remarkable article from the August 2 New Yorker magazine. I was tipped to the article by my brother, Jim – though I later learned from Claire that members of her hospice team have been passing it amongst themselves, causing lively discussion in their weekly staff meeting.

I think “Letting Go: What should medicine do when it can’t save your life,” by Atul Gawande, may set off at least as much debate as his June 1, 2009 article, “The Cost Conundrum: What a Texas town can teach us about health care.” (which I discussed in a July 20, 2009 blog entry, “Where Not to Get Sick.”)

Gawande is a general surgeon who practices at Boston’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital, and who teaches at Harvard Medical School. He’s operated on a lot of cancer patients. Some benefitted mightily from his expertise, and others’ last days would likely have been more tolerable without the invasive procedures. Yet, hindsight is always 20/02, and ahead of time it’s always a tough call.

It’s his physician’s perspective that leads Dr. Gawande to question the lack of agreed-upon procedures for end-of-life decision-making in America. For a country with some of the most advanced medical care in the world, our practices in this area are remarkably haphazard.

Gawande points out that the financial costs of successful cancer treatment can typically be graphed as a bell curve: there’s a steep climb from the time of diagnosis to a sort of plateau, as very expensive scans and treatments are deployed. Then, there’s a drop-off in costs as the patient recovers. In the case of patients whose treatment is unsuccessful, the frequent result is half a bell curve. We throw some very big money at solving problems that are – statistically speaking – unlikely to be solved, sending the line of the graph soaring upwards. Because it’s a human life at stake, doctors typically follow the lead of patients and their families, ordering such last-ditch treatments if that’s what they want. In many such cases, the patient dies anyway, often after many days, or even weeks, of intensive care. If the ICU stay is long, those days can end up costing as much as – sometimes even more than – the cancer treatment itself.

These are agonizingly difficult decisions, some of the toughest in medicine. When to pursue extraordinary, experimental treatment? When to throw in the towel and admit that maintaining a reasonable quality of life for the patient whose health is in a tailspin is more important than the increasingly quixotic search for a cure?

Gawande remarks that nearly all categories of dying patients and their families – with one exception – are ill-prepared to wrestle with such complex, emotionally fraught decisions. When, as too often happens, everyone’s energies are single-mindedly fixed on the search for a cure, doctors fail to raise the what-if question of death at all. It seems to them premature. Yet, when that likelihood suddenly looms large, and quick decisions have to be made about such interventions as feeding tubes and ventilators, patients and families scramble to wrap their minds around the new state of affairs. Unable to achieve unanimity, a great many families fall back to the default position, which is to press on relentlessly in search of a cure – even though the doctors may know, full well, that chances of extending such patients’ lives by more than a few weeks are slim.

Granted – as Claire reminds me, based on her hospice ministry experience – there are some cultural and ethnic traditions that inform this process. Orthodox Jews, for example, typically make decisions within a moral framework that nearly always opts for treatment, no matter what the chances of success. African-Americans and Hispanics, bearing cultural memories of parents and grandparents to whom the system too often denied advanced care, are more likely than others to press for it, even against medical advice.

Referring to science writer Stephen Jay Gould’s oft-quoted 1985 essay, “The Median Isn’t the Message” – in which Gould tells the story of how, upon learning he had mesothelioma, he decided to take his place among the tiny percentage of patients who survive, and did – Gawande speaks of the “tail” of the statistical curve. That’s the narrow portion that stretches a good distance into the future, and includes the fortunate few patients who manage to beat the odds and survive a deadly cancer. It’s good to remember, when faced with such stories, that the statistical median is just that – a median. Always, there are some who do better than clinical expectations, others worse. An awful lot of people, though, are trying to ride the tail of statistical probability – far more than will end up actually being on it. Gawande writes:

“I think of Gould and his essay every time I have a patient with a terminal illness. There is almost always a long tail of possibility, however thin. What’s wrong with looking for it? Nothing, it seems to me, unless it means we have failed to prepare for the outcome that’s vastly more probable. The problem is that we’ve built our medical system and our culture around the long tail. We’ve created a multimillion-dollar edifice for dispensing the medical equivalent of lottery tickets – and have only the rudiments of a system to prepare patients for the near-certainty that those tickets will not win. Hope is not a plan, but hope is our plan.”

I mentioned above that Gawande identifies one category of patients and their families who are better prepared for end-of-life decision-making. He’s talking about those who have received hospice services. Alone among the specialties of modern medicine, the hospice movement is not afraid to face death head-on and talk about it with patients – well before the anxious moment in the little family waiting room just off the ICU, when a doctor (or, just as likely, a critical-care nurse) sits down on the vinyl-covered furniture with the family and informs them a decision needs to be made about discontinuing life-support.

Patients who have signed on for hospice care have already decided they’re not going to cling to the slim tail of possibility any longer. They’re going to strive for the best quality of life they can construct in the here-and-now, placing their hope somewhere other than joining the tiny percentage who defy medical expectations.

I can’t begin to recall the number of grieving family members I’ve spoken with who told me they wished their loved one had gone on hospice earlier. Claire confirms for me, from her experience working with bereaved family members, that this is a nearly-universal comment. Curiously, the vast majority of hospice patients live no longer than a few days. That’s not because hospice care is somehow bad for them – quite the opposite. It’s because, by the time most patients make this decision, they’re already so far gone that hospice functions as little more than a transfer-station between the hospital and the funeral home.

It’s not meant to be that way. The hospice ideal is for weeks or even months of active, but mostly palliative, treatment. The hope is that the hospice experience will provide a gracious space for patients and their families to work through the full range of issues – medical, emotional, spiritual – they need to deal with at the end of life. Surprising as it may seem, there are even some patients who go on hospice for a time, then go off it – their improvement has been such that the “six months or less to live” criterion of hospice admission no longer applies to them.

So, signing up for hospice care is not giving up, as some fear. Far from it.

The key to a higher quality of life for the dying, Gawande points out, is communication. One of the things hospice team members do exceptionally well is to encourage patients and their families to share their thoughts and feelings about dying, then to listen attentively and respectfully to what they say. Next, they help them think through what goals they have for the rest of their lives, and do whatever they can to help them attain them. “You don’t ask, ‘What do you want when you are dying?’” explains one expert. “You ask, ‘If time becomes short, what is most important to you?’” Gawande observes:

“People die only once. They have no experience to draw upon. They need doctors and nurses who are willing to have the hard discussions and to say what they have seen, who will help people to prepare for what is to come – and to escape a warehoused oblivion that few really want.”

The asking of such questions was meant to be a central part of the new health-care legislation recently passed by Congress, but politics blocked it. The Tea Party mob ignorantly slapped the label “death panels”on the funding for these vital conversations, then pressured Congressional leaders to excise it from the bill – which they did, so as not to lose the bigger battle. This is a terrible miscarriage of justice for the dying: the sacrifice of a proven care approach that offered real promise for enhanced quality of life.

When the only goal worth talking about is to beat the disease, Gawande concludes – no matter what that may mean in terms of unproven, experimental treatments – the statistical outcome in nearly every case is going to be disastrous. Which general would you rather have leading the troops into battle? George Armstrong Custer or Robert E. Lee?

“Death is the enemy. But the enemy has superior forces. Eventually, it wins. And, in a war that you cannot win, you don’t want a general who fights to the point of total annihilation. You don’t want Custer. You want Robert E. Lee, someone who knew how to fight for territory when he could and how to surrender when you couldn’t, someone who understood that the damage is greatest if all you do is fight to the bitter end.”

This article is a good read, for anyone whose life has been touched by cancer – either their own or that of a loved one.

There's Still Hope -- A Lectionary Meditation

Hosea 1:2-10


Colossians 2:6-15

Luke 11:1-13

There’s Still Hope

Persistence – that is the message of Jesus’ parable in Luke 11. Just after teaching the disciples an abridged form of what we know as the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus tells a parable about a man who wakes up his neighbor at midnight so he can feed a friend who has dropped by unexpectedly – in the middle of the night – and is now hungry. In that culture, if someone drops by, you feed them, but what do you do when the cupboard is bare? You go knock on your neighbor’s door – sort of like Sheldon knocking on Leonard’s or Penny’s door (Big Bang Theory). The neighbor might not get up and help out from friendship, but if you knock long enough, well then perhaps the neighbor will give in, get up, and get the bread. Of course, God isn’t like that neighbor who has to be pestered into helping.

One of the stanzas of the Lord’s Prayer speaks of forgiveness – something that we often approach God desiring. The concern that is present in the minds of many is whether God will be receptive, and what that will require of us. In the parable, the suggestion is – if we ask, it will be given to us – so there is still hope.

Hope is something that appears absent from the Hosea passage. It’s the 8th century, Jehu is on the throne of Israel, and the situation is not good. The people of Israel have been playing the whore and have flirted with the gods of their neighbors, choosing to reject God’s ways. So, God sends another prophet into their midst – Hosea – and God decides to illustrate the troubles Israel faces by directing Hosea to marry a prostitute. Being the obedient one that he is, Hosea marries Gomer and with her he has three children (though since she is a prostitute you can never be sure that the children are his). Each child has a name that reflects God’s displeasure with the northern kingdom of Israel. The first is Jezreel, a son whose name reflects God’s decision to take the kingdom of Israel at the valley of Jezreel. The second child is a daughter named Lo-Rahama, whose name suggests that there will be no pity or forgiveness for Israel (though God will forgive Judah – at least for now). Finally, there is a son, Lo-Ammi, whose name signifies God’s judgment — “You are not my people, and I am not your God.”

The Hosea passage is so full of hopelessness and judgment. God has decided that enough is enough. Having acted as a prostitute, the nation has followed after other gods and lords, and so God will allow them to suffer the consequence. Having had enough, God is casting them off on their own. Only the prophet offers a sliver of hope in verse ten. We hear this word of restoration, this promise that Israel will be like the sand of the sea – too many to count – and though once called “Not My People,” now they will be called “Children of God.” The hope lies in the restoration of the whole people, as Judah and Israel are gathered together, taking possession of the land once more under one head (vs. 11). There is hope yes, but difficult times remain. Perhaps then the key is in Jesus’ parable – be persistent – persevere – hold on to the one who gives good things to God’s children.

The Colossian passage draws everything together. It is a call for the children of God to hold fast to Christ, in whom we are to be rooted and built up. There is a warning here – reminiscent of the word to/through Hosea. Be careful about whom you listen to – philosophy, empty deceit, human tradition. You can see from this list that the author of this letter is writing to Gentile Christians who are struggling to make sense of the differences between the gospel and the theologies of those outside the faith. Instead of attending to these other voices, listen for Christ. Listen to him because it is in him that the fullness of deity dwells bodily, and it is he who reigns over all rule and authority. Again we see the echoes of Hosea – there is hope, but you must put your trust in God who is revealed in Christ.

In Christ, we are circumcised spiritually, putting off the flesh – the way of the world. It is in baptism that we identify ourselves with Christ, our sins and trespasses being buried with him, and then raised again, the power of death no longer hanging over us, as we embrace God’s purpose through faith. In Christ, the legal record that has hung over our heads is cleared, having been nailed to the cross.

What do we make of this message? Especially we who take a more progressive view of God and God’s relationship with creation? We may be troubled with Hosea’s use of his marriage as prophetic example – and God’s command that he do so. We may like the promise that if we ask God, then God will respond because God has to be a better parent than any human parent – but does that mean that God is like a vending machine, giving us whatever we want without any discernment? And then there is Colossians, which could be taken in an anti-Jewish way.

But however you deal with the particulars, there is a promise here, a promise that there is hope of reconciliation and restoration. God is good and faithful and will make a way for us to experience a restored relationship with God and creation. Central to the promise is the statement that in Christ the legal slate is wiped clean. It may be that we must first repent – turning from the way of “whoredom.” In another passage from Luke, we get the idea that repentance is involved in this process (Luke 17:1-4). Repentance, of course, is not groveling before God, grinding our knees into the gravel. Instead, it is a decision to walk faithfully with the God who offers us peace and reconciliation. It is a decision to live differently – even if we stumble and require forgiveness time after time. Still, there is that word of hope!

Reposted from:  [D]mergent -- a new Disciples oriented blog, for which I write this weekly reflection