Details

John 4:1-26

When we think of the stories of Jesus, we think of some different things, such as the setting, the characters, and the lesson that it is designed to teach us. All of those are ways of teaching about Jesus and his place in our human world, as well as his teachings about God’s kingdom, but sometimes we overlook something small yet important. We remember the general story, but we tend to forget the details.

Writers are taught that details are what make a story more believable and more effective. If a traditional story contains small details, we are more likely to look at them as truthful and factual than if those details were not present.

In the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, the first detail that we notice is the Pharisees hearing that there was a competition of sorts between Jesus and John as to which man baptized more people and made more disciples. Jesus didn’t baptize people, but his disciples did, but to the Pharisees, it didn’t matter. Jesus and John were both troublemakers in their eyes.

Jesus then left Judea and started back to his base in Galilee, but to get there, he had to go through Samaria which was not exactly a friendly place for Jews. The Jews and the Samaritans had been at odds for generations, one of the main points being that the Jews worshiped at the temple in Jerusalem while the Samaritans held that Mount Gerizim was the sacred mountain where worship took place. Be that as it may, Jesus sent off his disciples to buy food as he sat down by a well, much as his remote ancestor Jacob had come to a well and met Rachel. We even notice that noon is the time of the encounter, roughly the same time that Jacob’s meeting with Rachel had taken place, a time when most women were not at the well.

Jesus told the Samaritan woman to bring her husband, and she responded that she had no husband. Jesus then informed her that he knew that she had had five husbands and the man with whom she was living at present was not her husband. History has branded her as an adulteress, but was she? Divorce among Jews was a male prerogative, and the same could be said among the Samaritan population. A man could divorce for many reasons, but the only one that was singled out was adultery, hence the idea that the Samaritan woman was an adulteress.

But what if those five husbands had died? If we think of the story of Onan (Genesis 38), who was supposed to take his sister-in-law as a wife after each of his brothers had married her in turn and then died without having a child. Onan was not willing to be the latest of a procession of dead husbands, and so he disobeyed custom and ended up paying a rather severe price. Levirate marriages, where the wife bears a child for her dead husband through the sperm of his brothers, was a way of continuing and maintaining a direct bloodline.

The well at which Jesus and the woman met was one dug by Jacob and given to his son Joseph. That’s a detail that anchors the story in a historical context. Jesus then asked for water, and the woman remarked that he had no bucket. Then Jesus tells her that had she asked him for water he would have given her living water, water which would quench her thirst forever. What did that mean? What was living water? Why was it different than regular water? And how could she, and in turn, us, obtain it?

As Jesus told her about the living water, she came to understand that he was a prophet and remarked that Samaritans had worshipped on this mountain for generations. Jesus then told her that the time was coming when it didn’t matter whether they worshiped, in Jerusalem or on Mount Gerizim, but that God would be worshiped throughout the land and all of its sacred places.

The world has many sacred places: Stonehenge, Iona, Mecca, the Ganges River, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and many other places around the world where people gather to worship and to touch the spirituality of the site.  The important thing is that God is greater than any thing or any place, and can be worshiped either by our physical presence in a church or in spirit, which can take place anywhere. That’s a detail that we sometimes forget. We attend church on Sunday, and that’s the last contact with God that we have until the next Sunday.

Perhaps we need to remind ourselves that the details are important. To live the Christian way is to surrender oneself to God throughout every hour of every day and to follow the teachings of Jesus even when they seem to be impossible to follow. Perhaps we need the faith of the Samaritan woman, running back to her people to proclaim that she had seen the Messiah because he knew the details of her life and more.

I need to consider the details of my daily life. Did I make sure that I incorporated Jesus in those details? It’s something to work on.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 16, 2019.

Making Decisions

John 1:43-51

“The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee.” That first sentence grabbed me and kept me reading throughout the entire passage, wanting to know what had drawn Jesus to Galilee. Had he not planned to go there all along? Did he just suddenly made up his mind to go there? It’s fascinating to think that Jesus could wake up one morning and say, “We’re going to Galilee,” and his disciples went along. That’s like me deciding one morning to get up and go to Payson or Tucson or even downtown Phoenix. It’s not likely to happen, but it could.

That one statement makes me think more intently on Jesus the human being. Making decisions is something that people do multiple times every day. They may decide to go here or there. They may choose to buy this or that. They may determine that this is a correct assumption or proposition and that one is not. Sometimes I wonder how I came to some of the decisions that I have made, some of which didn’t turn out quite so well. I’m glad Jesus’s decision did turn out to be a good one.

I make decisions based on information that I have available at any given time. If I want to buy a new car, I research it. Perhaps I saw a model that I liked and decided to investigate one like it. In the end, I’m working at determining something which has long-term effects rather than whether I am going to the movie tonight or stay home and watch Netflix. Jesus was making a decision that would ultimately lead him to increase his followers both by direct invitation and also word-of-mouth. He found Philip and just said, “Follow me.” Philip, in turn, found Nathaniel and overcoming Nathaniel’s comment, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathaniel became part of Jesus’s band of disciples.

I wonder on what Philip and Nathaniel based their decisions to come with Jesus. Were they undergoing a great logical problem, “If I do this then that,” or was it a tug somewhere inside that made up their minds almost instantly that this was the thing to do? There was no doubt as to Jesus’s charism but was that enough to cause grown men to drop what they were doing walk away from family, friends, and home to become wanderers following an itinerant preacher?

Whatever it was, it seemed to work. Both men saw the Jesus that we have learned to see through our own experiences.

I remember the time that I felt a tug in my heart to say yes to Jesus and to walk down the side aisle from my pew to the front, to act on my profession of faith. It was not a blinding experience or even terrifically exciting. It was just something that I needed to do, and I did it. There have been times in my life when I have been or felt pulled to do one thing or another, some of which turned out to be excellent things and some of them which turned out to be disasters. The profession of faith that I made turned out to be a good thing, something that has been with me almost every single day of the rest of my life.

Like some of the disciples, there have been periods of doubt, and moments of fogginess that I could not seem to see through. At times like that, I had to walk step-by-step until I achieved some type of clarity as to what I was doing or not doing and what I should be doing or not doing. I’m sure Nathaniel and Philip, like James, John, and especially Peter, had the same moments from time to time. But they made that initial acceptance, that initial decision to follow Jesus and even if things were tough from time to time, they stayed faithful.

I think this week I’m going to be intentional about the decisions that I make. Not just little things like do I clean the house or sit or read a captivating British thriller. The house needs cleaning, no matter how interesting the book that calls to me. Do I need to spend the gas going somewhere in my truck or can it wait until I have one or two more errands that I need to run and save the gas for that? Is that good stewardship? That’s a decision I have to make. It’s one of 100 that I will probably have to make today, tomorrow, and perhaps the next day. But I have the option of making the decision, and in that way, I can be like Jesus. I can make a decision.

I invite you to join me in being thoughtful about the choices we make, and not just for personal convenience or preference, but about the consequences to not only ourselves but to others and the entire world. I must consider how one decision on my part can affect global warming when it’s no more than a matter of deciding not to drive someplace today to do one errand when I can wait a day or two and run several. I may use the same amount of gas to do one trip or two, but at least I will have given the earth a day to breathe before I add more pollution to it. I think Jesus would approve of that decision.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café

Praising God

Psalm 148  - Laudate Dominum

On the last Sunday of Epiphany, we are already looking around the corner to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. The church can usually turn itself on a dime when going from one season to another. For example, Advent begins around the first of December and runs through Christmas Eve. During that time things are quiet, hopeful, and with a low-key busyness beneath the surface (usually focused on making the “perfect” Christmas). But come Christmas Eve and the first service of Christmas, all that changes and the service is one of the most glorious times of the liturgical year.  Ash Wednesday is somewhat the same. Shrove Tuesday, the day before, it’s eat, drink, and be merry, but come midnight, all of it changes, even on the wild streets of New Orleans. The end of Mardi Gras is the beginning of Lent, and with the ringing of church bells at midnight, the merriment stops.

One of the things about the beginning of Lent is that regular attendees and sometimes newcomers, find themselves tripping over one small word in the liturgy. For the first several weeks, it’s not uncommon to hear someone say “Al-” before they recollect that we don’t say “Alleluia” during Lent any more than we do during Advent. The church doesn’t use joyful expressions like “Alleluia” or “Hallelujah” during those two seasons of expectation and repentance. Still, when someone forgets, and the first syllable or two comes out loud in church, people smile and remember that sometime in the past they have probably done the same thing.

I think it’s appropriate on this last Sunday of Epiphany to have three songs of praise on the Daily Office. Psalm 148 is one of my favorites and is one that both begins and ends with the word “Hallelujah!” with an exclamation point. It’s meant to be emphasized and to be shouted joyfully, not mumbled or glossed over. Following the Alleluia in the Psalm, lists begin with hierarchies of the creation, from the angels and the heavenly host, moving down through various classes of those who should praise God.

Praise should come from the sun and the moon, shining stars, and the waters above the heavens. It’s no secret that for many, observing celestial bodies are causes for awe and wonder, amazement and reverence, especially now since we have very powerful telescopes and satellites who expand the vistas of the cosmos in all their immensity and splendor.

The earth should praise the Lord, from the sea monsters and everything in the deeps beyond which even we with our modern and highly technical abilities have not yet been able to reach. Phenomena like fire and hail, snow and fog, storms and winds doing his will are enjoined to praise the Lord. I know it’s hard for some people who have been snowbound in trains and buildings and cars and who wonder when it is going to stop. For those who experienced the devastation of wildfires this past summer might not see the fire as something to praise the Lord, but it is possible to consider looking at the power of the flames and realize that it’s only a tiny fraction of the power of God.

The Psalm goes on to the wild beasts and cattle, creeping things and winged birds, kings of the earth and all peoples, young men and maidens, old and young, with the injunction to let them praise the Lord for God’s name only is exalted and God’s splendor is over the earth and heaven. The psalmist does not include a lot of categories that we in modern times classify people or animals. But regardless, all of us are all children of God, irrespective of the name which we give to God. We don’t consider the whales who sing or the elephants who communicate over long distances and whose sense of community is almost unparalleled. Kings often consider themselves gods, but they only fool themselves. Ordinary people are not always paragons of virtue either, but they should recognize that the love of God extends to all people regardless of race, creed, orientation, ethnicity, or any other box into which other humans would put them. God’s kingdom doesn’t have boxes.

The Psalm ends with another Hallelujah! as if gathering up all of the names and characteristics that have been spelled out in the Psalm itself and readies them for a final shout of glory. It’s an invitation to praise and to acknowledge that there is a being who cares for us and loves us and wants us to love in return. So on this final Sunday of Alleluia, at least for the next six weeks or so, let’s put the auditory Alleluia away and keep it in our hearts. We can pray and praise without them, but we should never forget they are waiting just around the corner. The spirit that Alleluia represents should always be present whether spoken or unspoken.

So goodbye, Alleluia, at least for a while. Welcome Lent, that reminder of Jesus’s humanity and revelation of his glory so that his teachings would spread throughout all the earth.

May you have a blessed Lent.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Sunday, March 3, 2019.

Practicing Piety

Matthew 6:1-16

Lent is almost here, and you know what that means. It means a season of giving up things, especially indulgences like chocolate, or movies, or any other action that involves deprivation of favorite activities or foods. I’m always wary of people who give up coffee because I know that not only is it extraordinarily difficult for them, but it can make others’ lives a little touchy to be around them. Still, it’s the old way of doing things, to give up stuff for Lent that can be enjoyed again after Easter.

Deprivation is never fun. The lesson from Matthew addresses a part of this process. If it’s deliberate giving up, usually it’s a little easier to bear than if someone ordered it. If the doctor said that I had to give up things like pizza, fried foods, and just about everything that a good Southern girl would like to eat, that’s deprivation for me, although for someone else it might not be. I notice, though, no one ever asks that we give up things like carrots or cauliflower.  For me, those would be no problem to give up at all.

With the coming of Lent, we first celebrate Ash Wednesday by going to church and having the mark of ashes put on our foreheads to remind us that we are just human, particles of dust that come together to form a living, functioning body until death and decay take over, and we become dust again. The imposition of ashes as part of our Ash Wednesday service is preparation for the time when all of us will cease to exist on this earthly plane, and it forces us to think about that. It’s something we don’t like to think about very often. Typically,  we usually put off thinking about our deaths as long as possible.

When we come to Ash Wednesday, we have ashes on our foreheads; then we come to the annual problem: what to do for the rest of the day. Jesus told us to beware of practicing our piety before others. Isn’t wearing ashes out after church a form of practicing our piety before others? Isn’t it a mark that will seem to be outwardly religious, even if it’s just for that one day that we are very obvious about it? What about the number of times someone will come up and say, “Excuse me, but you have dirt on your forehead.” How do we respond to that? Do we go to a restroom immediately after church and wash it off so that we aren’t challenged about the dirt? Another choice is to leave it on and use it as a device to explain to others why we have it and what it means to us.

What exactly did Jesus mean about not practicing piety before others? My thinking is that it is walking around with a pleasant face rather than look like one like I am enduring some acute pain or agony so that people will offer me sympathy. It isn’t about trying to look like it’s a substantial inward struggle to wear ashes, or even to give up coffee.  Observant Jewish males walk around with yarmulkes, and hardly anyone ever says anything about it if they note it at all. Why would ashes once a year be any different?

I notice that there are folks who do like to make themselves look miserable.  They do it partly so that they could explain that they are observing the beginning of Lent with a reminder of our mortality.  Is that the right way of opening a conversation about the Good  News of Jesus?  Likewise, people who know of our religious backgrounds may ask what we’re giving up for Lent. If we put on a miserable face, some of those questioners might ask themselves if we’re following something painful or extreme, like self-flagellation or hours spent on our knees in prayer and repentance when it’s only abstaining from chocolate or meat on Fridays.

It’s like being on the second week of a new diet. The novelty of wearing the ashes is over and the giving up (or taking on) the Lenten practices where the struggle genuinely begins. The battle isn’t whether or not to wear ashes during the day after church on Ash Wednesday; it’s what we do as a form of penance without making ourselves so obvious to the rest of the world that we’re doing it.

Jesus fasted for 40 days in the desert. Did he leave the experience with deep wrinkles on his face or did he forget how to smile at the end of it? There was no one to give him sympathy. There was only one to offer him temptations which would appeal to a need or desire of most humans. The response to the temptation is the difference between the practice being a performance or being a reality, and there’s where our Lenten problem comes in. Are we doing this for the right reasons?

This week, on Ash Wednesday, it is every individual’s choice as to how they proceed. Do they wash off the ashes or do they wear them? If they wear them, what do their faces say about the fact that they have a mark of dirt on their face that may cause comment? Are they doing it for the right reason, as a profession of faith, a sincerely held belief, or only to attract attention? It is a tough choice.

What would Jesus decide to do?

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 2, 2019.