Love, Sheep and Lambs

John 21:15-19

As we go through the Gospels in the Daily Office and the Eucharistic services of the year, we run into the same passages again and again so that even though we may not know exactly where we found them, we know we have heard them. The Eucharistic reading for today, the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, offer us a familiar story that seems so applicable this go-around.

To begin with,  it seems to start as an ordinary day, with Jesus and the disciples having breakfast. Funny, I never really thought about Jesus having breakfast. It certainly wasn’t raisin bran or Cap’n Crunch out-of-the-box, but I wonder what he did have? That’s just an idle question; there’s more serious stuff to be thought about.

Jesus begins to question Peter with the words, “Do you love me…”. Of course, Peter is going to affirm that yes, indeed he does love Jesus more than than the others in the group. Then Jesus tells him to tend his sheep. I wonder if Peter caught the real meaning of that statement. He knew that there weren’t any actual sheep around to be herded, but did he understand that Jesus meant those who were still learning about him and his message.

Jesus asked Peter again if he loved him, and Peter, of course, said a bit more forcefully that of course, he did. Then Jesus said, “Tend my sheep.”

Then Jesus does it a third time, asking again if Peter really loved him. The rating tells us that Peter was hurt. He had told Jesus twice that he loved him, so why did he ask a third time? This time he was a little testier when he replied to Jesus, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” After that, Jesus told Peter to feed his sheep. Jesus then went on to talk about how Peter and the other disciples had passed their youth where they could put on their belts and go where they pleased. The time would come where someone else would put a strap on them and force them to go where they had no desire to be. Of course, Jesus was talking about how the disciples would end up just as he would soon be, in death, probably very painfully. He also wanted to make sure that Peter and the others knew that their mission now was to tend to, feed, and teach as many as possible, both young and old. Death was coming for all of them, and they needed to realize that and be ready.

I think the phrases “Feed/tend my sheep/lambs” are probably as relevant now as they ever have been. We see daily pictures of children forcibly separated from their parents by human jailers rather than armies and rebel groups. We see those children packed into detention centers, many of them mere tents, far from their parents, lost, alone, frightened, dirty, sometimes sickly, and probably hungry. These are lambs, and lambs are supposed to be tended, fed, and cared for because they don’t know how to fight for themselves.  They have been denied soap, toothbrushes, clean clothes and diapers, blankets, warm places to sleep, and so many other things that our own children take for granted. It’s enough to break anyone’s heart, especially those who take the words of Jesus very seriously. These lambs have not been fed and tended. They are lost sheep, lost lambs, who don’t know where they are, or what’s going to happen to them.

Their parents are probably not much better off than their children, although the parents have many more coping skills than someone between the ages of a few months and ten years. Again Jesus has told us to feed/tend those people who have sought green pastures and safety in a land far from their own troubled homelands. We don’t seem to be doing a very good job of following Jesus’s words, and this is not an isolated case. Victims of famine and starvation, warfare and mistreatment around the world face the same problems. Even though the children may not be separated from their parents, the families still have to fight to exist in lands where plenty is a word no one knows.

I wonder what Jesus would say if he came back right now. There would be many who would rush to touch him or to speak to him or to even worship him, but yet who have ignored many of the lessons that he taught us through the Gospels. They may have good excuses, or so people will think, but I don’t imagine Jesus would approve of those excuses. He would recall to them stories of how the Israelites were mistreated in several exiles and to have, in essence, returned the favor with the Palestinians. I think there are a lot of things Jesus would take exception to, especially proclaiming oneself to be Christian but ignoring all the lessons that deal with relations with Gentiles, children, women, aliens, weak, or sick, but especially those who claim to follow Jesus but who do so by mouth only with no heart in it.

Please, God, could we have a week where the children are taken care of in the way they should be, no matter whose children they are? Can they not be warehouse like cattle, or treated like enemies instead of as lambs. Can we feed and tend the sheep and the lambs as we should? Once we try it, we might find our hearts are a little more open, our vision a little more acute, and our brains more filled with thoughts of love and not suspicion and hatred. Please God, help us to tend the sheep and lambs, in Jesus’ name.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, June 28, 2019.

Worry?

Matthew 6:24-34

There are days when things go so well that I kind of look around and say, “Okay,  what’s going to happen now?” I don’t know, maybe everybody has days like that, but I know my really great days don’t happen all that often and more and more of my days seem to be the kind that has at least one disaster, sometimes very small, sometimes very large, for me to get beyond. I had several this week, and it’s enough to make me a little bit itchy.

I had one day where if I could drop something, lose something, break, tear, or forget to do something necessary, it happened. It may not be a huge thing to lose a bit for my electric screwdriver, that is unless I want to use that particular bit to tighten up screws on a piece of furniture that I sit on somewhat regularly. It’s a little more aggravating to try and lift a bag of used cat litter from the back of my truck and stuff it into a neck-high dumpster while holding up the lid with my other hand, only to have the kitty litter bag break halfway between the two. That was enough by itself to make me wonder what else could happen, and create a little bit of worry about what that could be.

Jesus definitely spoke about worry in the passage from Matthew for today. He compared people worrying about receiving daily necessities and more to the birds of the air and flowers of the fields, which have an entirely different perspective. It’s enough to take care of this minute, rather than trying to anticipate what’s going to happen after this. It’s a way of saying take today as it is and go with it. Don’t worry about tomorrow before the next sunrise.

I wonder if flowers worry when they start to droop for lack of water. Probably not, since we don’t consider them sentient beings any more than we believe rocks to have self-knowledge and be capable of feeling pain and. As for trees, we may have some feeling of them having a kind of self-knowledge that we can’t understand but do they worry, do they scream in pain when an ax or chainsaw cuts into their bark and limbs? I hope not, but you know, I’m not sure, and I’m not certain that that is something I should worry about, as much as I love trees. The same goes for the ocean or any body of water, sacred spaces, or maybe a house in which I have happy memories.

Just reading the news even very briefly is enough to give a body cause for worry, at least in my case, it does. I can only take so much news unless it’s about the royal family, a hero, either human or animal or some other kind of uplifting story — those things I can handle. I can’t worry about whether we’re going to get bombed by somebody, or we’re going to attack somebody,  not to mention tear families apart with no plan as to how to reunite them. I feel helpless because it seems there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.  I can vote and encourage others to do the same, but ultimately I have only one vote that can be counted, so I guess I would just have to leave that part of life to God and go on with the rest of my existence.

Jesus said in Matthew, “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today (6:34) .” I wish I could say it’s an easy thing to do, but when the checking account doesn't cover next week’s groceries, or the heating element in the oven burns up, or some other situation arises where I have little or no control, it’s hard not to worry. If I stay in that moment, I will still end up worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow? Well, what can I do about it now? What possible thing could I do to change tomorrow when I don’t know what’s coming?

The 12-step programs have a common prayer, part of which members recite at every group meeting that covers pretty much what Jesus was telling us to do in that verse in Matthew:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can,  and the wisdom to know the difference. – Reinhold Niebuhr

That prayer has been my mantra for many years. It’s the one I say just before I go to sleep, and it comes to mind in times of stress, because of having repeated it so often, I have learned to let it take my worries and rid me of them at least for the moment. If I can’t change something, it reminds me that the serenity and calmness are what I need rather than struggling against inevitability. I’ve learned patience from that prayer. I’ve learned not just to accept things I can’t change but also the guidance to find a way to change what I can, namely myself. The third thing is the wisdom to know the difference, to stop trying to climb mountains that are only small hills or purposefully listening to a friend rather than trying to solve their difficulties through my suggestions of how it should be done.

Today I will work to not worry about things that Jesus and Reinhold Niebuhr warned me about.  I will also use the verse from Matthew and the serenity prayer together to stop being fearful of the future and concentrate on living in the present. It sounds like a pretty good plan to me, and it does work. I know that from experience.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, June 22, 2019.

God's Ambassadors

2 Corinthians 5:14-21

The apostle Paul almost always gives me heartburn. I realize that he never actually met Jesus in the flesh, yet he, of all the apostles and disciples, made as much, if not more, impact on the formation of the church than anyone other than Jesus himself.

For Paul, Jesus is an example for us because he was born of love, and his death was a gift of love as well. He did it for us. He became a human being like we are, yet he could do things that ordinary human beings are unable to do. I think that’s something that may be a little hard to understand, especially given the cruelty of his death, but without his death, there would have been no resurrection, and without the resurrection, there would be no hope for the rest of us.

Paul tells us to not look at one another merely from a human point of view. Then the question arises, how can we look at the human beings in any other way since we are human ourselves. I can’t look at someone like I would at my cat, or even as a totally different person than appears before me. Paul says even though we knew Christ from a human point of view, our view has now changed because we have seen his divinity. We are new creations by merely having been exposed to the stories, miracles, and parables of Jesus. As Jesus told us, we are to see things as God does,  with love since the entire universe and beyond was created out of love.

Jesus preached reconciliation, even if it means seeing it through human eyes. The father of the prodigal son forgave his wayward offspring, much to the anger and dismay of his older sibling who had stayed at home and faithfully worked for his father. From that parable, we learn to see ourselves as the wayward sons (and daughters) of a parent who welcomes us back when we mess up and need to return home to get things sorted out and back on track. Yes, we may be like the older son who had the anger of self-righteousness because he had done what he was told while his brother went off and lived a dissolute life. Still, the father gave the older son a reason to forgive and reassurance that it had cost the elder son nothing except hurt feelings and extra work.

Paul informs us we are ambassadors of Christ.  When ambassadors go out to their new posts, they find themselves facing new people, new situations, new customs. They must tread lightly not to offend or alarm the residents of the city or country to which they were sent. They have a message to bring to them.  As ambassadors of Christ, we are charged to convey the message of love and forgiveness, peace and equality, care for the earth and its people in all its diversity.  It’s a message the world sorely needs to hear now, just as it has been for millennia, and we are the ones charged with spreading it.

So back to Paul, who encourages us to live joyously in Christ, adoration of God, and reverence for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We are not to see them as humans, but instead as what they are, which is God in God’s own manner and way.  Being human is hard enough, and it requires some expansion of the mind and spirit to follow not just Paul’s words with the teachings of Jesus, the commandments of God, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. No matter how good we are, we can always be better. No matter how low we have sunk, we can still grow and rise upward. That’s pretty much Paul’s message, and an excellent topic to ponder.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, June 15, 2019.

Graduations

Looking at the temperature today, at least in this part of Arizona, summer has already arrived. It’s early in June, and it’s just now reaching summer temperatures. Usually, we get it earlier in May, but we had a lovely long spring. That means that probably summer is going to be a real humdinger.

Early June always reminds me of the end of school. When I was growing up, our school year lasted from just after Labor Day to mid-June. A lot of places still observe those dates, but here, we start in mid-August and end in the middle of May at the latest.

Graduation is a significant step. In our school, we didn’t have kindergarten, elementary school, or middle school graduations. We simply ended up one year and the next year went into the next class. Graduation was a big deal because that meant high school was over, and it was time to get on to the next phase of life. I imagine it still is for those who have reached the end point of their first twelve years of education and who are now ready to either extend their educational experience or go out into the world and make lives for themselves.

College graduations are interesting. While the gowns and hats may be the same color, all of a sudden, there are splashes of different colors on the hoods, each denoting a separate area of extended learning. Some will be teachers; some will be business executives. There will be nurses,  doctors, lawyers, or professors.

No matter what specialization a person studied, many of them will not end up working in that particular field. It’s weird, but it happens. The important thing is that the learning has taken place. Employers know that this person has the will and the drive to pursue knowledge and to make that knowledge work for them.

This week, my Education for Ministry (EfM) group online is having their graduation. Some of the class members have completed their four years of education by extension from a program sponsored by the University of the South School of theology. Our group will be losing four valuable members, part of our online community and, surprisingly, people who have become like family to us. We’ve all shared our thoughts, problems, needs, and hopes as well as what we have learned, what amazed us, disturbed us about what we read, confused us, or delighted us about our text and our supplemental readings. The great thing about online is that we meet people from all over, only a few of us have ever met others in the group face-to-face. Our viewpoints are different, beliefs may be a little different, our practices are probably different, but we all joined together to explore the many ways there are to learn to think theologically and to use what we have learned about the Bible, church history, and theology, in our ministries both in and out of the church. We’ve had great discussions, and some odd ones, but in each one of them, at least one person has had an Aha! moment that opened a window in their mind to something they hadn’t considered before. It’s a joyous thing, and even more so when more than one has such a moment.

Graduation is a bittersweet time because many of us will not cross paths again, although many keep in touch with other group members and we enjoy hearing what our former classmates are doing. Still, graduation is a happy event for us, with prayers, shares about the things that our graduates want their classmates to know what they’ve learned from it, how they felt about the group, and what they will take with them as they go about their ministries. Perhaps they will even go into the discernment of new ministries. Will miss them, but we rejoice that we have shared the time with them.

The disciples had a graduation of sorts when Jesus ascended into heaven, capped by Pentecost. They couldn’t go back to Jesus and say, “Could you repeat that lesson again, please?” They were pretty much on their own, but they had their own memories and learning, and they continued to learn as they went out into the world to spread the gospel. Graduation for them was the same as it is for a high school or college graduate today, a doorway into a different world, a world where one uses their ability to think instead of memorizing answers from a book for an exam.

For myself, I had a graduation of sorts this past week. For seven years, I’ve been taking a drug which has a list of side effects about as long as your arm and containing just about every possible thing from aches and pains to possible death. After seven years and three months, I don’t have to take it anymore, and I only have to see my doctor once a year. That feels like a graduation. The door’s open, and I can think a little further ahead now. I’m still aware that another bout of the disease might be around the corner, but somehow my step is a little bit lighter and my a mind is a little more settled so that I can look at each day without thinking to myself, “Is this the day I’m going to get news about that?.

I think God, Jesus, and the Spirit for helping me get through to this graduation. I feel I can now put my tassel on the other side of my mortarboard and walk out the door into a new day with a little more confidence because I feel I have passed my left my final exams, but without precluding further education down the road.

May God bless all the graduates of all the schools and all of the programs and even all of the ones who have been struggling with illnesses and diseases which have, if not having been cured, have been healed, and step out boldly to make the best life that they can.

Happy graduation to all. There are an awful lot of people who are wearing visible, and sometimes invisible, mortarboards for both educational institutions and for real life.  May all of us continue to learn and to grow, for the benefit of ourselves, our families, and our world.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, June 8, 2019