Knowing the Truth

 

We’ve had a lot of memorable weeks lately, whether for good or far from satisfactory.  We had almost gotten used to it until the election kicked things up a big notch, and it rose from there. Tuesday was almost unbearable. But then, Wednesday, it seemed like whatever the cloud cover of the sky, whatever the temperature, whatever the extremely high figures of COVID-19 victims, it seemed like there was sunshine, warmth, and a resurgence of hope, beginning early in the morning but peaking about 12:45 pm. The sight of an African-Asian female and a white-haired man standing on a platform in turn, and, with hands on religious texts, swore oaths to serve the people of this country, uphold, protect, and defend the Constitution. Suddenly it was easier to breathe – and to hope.

We heard a lot about truth in the words of various speakers, including the newly-sworn-in President of the United States. He didn’t give a sermon, nor did he give a disorganized, self-congratulatory praise-fest. He spoke simply and honestly, talking to the hundreds watching in person and millions via video, radio, and delayed feed. He swore to us, the people of this country and the world, that he would do the best he possibly could to be a president for all of us.

Before the inauguration, President Biden and his family attended Mass at a church where they had worshipped over the years of his political life in Washington. It wasn’t a show of attending church but rather a real desire to be present in that sacred space, most probably after having made a good confession and preparation to receive the Sacrament. He probably wasn’t the first incoming President to act similarly, whether Roman Catholic, Protestant, or Anglican. Still, it was reassuring and served as a signal that this President took faith seriously.

The word I heard most clearly from his inaugural address was the word “Truth.” Over the past few years, that word has become almost a joke. When we swear an oath: “I swear (or affirm) that the evidence I am about to give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (oath only: So help me God),” we think about the convictions of people who have not told the truth under oath, usually with a prison sentence as punishment. Judges, justices, senators, Congressional members, and others swear an oath to tell the truth and preserve, protect, and defend the country, the Constitution, or both. In all cases, truth is paramount.

“Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, ‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free’ ”(John 8:31-2).  We hear the last part of that passage quite often, but many don’t recognize the source or that Jesus said it to Jewish believers. To the Jews, Torah is truth. We know that the Pentateuch (and the accompanying Tanakh) is the story of the people of God from the beginning of time. Many Christians accept these writings as 100% factual, but the Jews never considered them in the same way. They aren’t facts but rather have profound truths that go beyond mere stories or sayings.  Truth matters – whether it is truth in facts, transparency in communications, teachings, or anything else.

I think Jesus would have enjoyed the saying attributed to Mark Twain, “If you tell the truth you never have to remember anything.”  Many times over the past few years, we’ve heard something only to have it retracted or declared a fabrication of the media (or some other group) within a short period. Repeat a lie often enough, and people will begin to believe it, no matter how improbable it seems. Eventually, that repeated lie will take on a life of its own – which can be injurious or even fatal.  Jesus and Mark Twain encouraged honesty and transparency as a preventative for untruth and potential disaster.

I have a much lighter feeling about this country and hope for a better future than I had a few days ago. A man standing on a podium on a sunny but windy day spoke words that rang with truth and conviction, something we haven’t heard in a long time. We need the optimism, determination, and belief we heard on Wednesday. Maybe it will be as contagious as COVID-19 but in a life-sustaining and positive way. Perhaps too, we might be able to believe what we are told and be unified rather than splintered. I think Jesus would honestly like that.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, January 23, 2021.

Jesus and the Law

 

Mark 2:23-3:6

 

Another week of 2021 has passed. We are still cringing from the raid on the Capitol building last Wednesday and the promise of more of the same to come if the insurgents have their way. Hopefully, things will calm down somewhat, but there’s no cast-in-stone guarantee.  It seems almost humorous that we were so eager to see the beginning of 2021 and a rising hope of things getting better. So far, we’re still waiting for the better. Oh, well, change comes slowly, no matter how much we wish it to be otherwise.

Reading the gospel for Saturday’s Daily Office, it seems Jesus may have been getting the same kind of vibes from the time, place, and religious-governmental groups of his day. The first part (23-28) tells of the hungry disciples walking through some cornfields on the sabbath. As they walked, they broke off some heads of grain to eat. Simultaneously, the Pharisees began to question Jesus as to why his disciples were disobeying the sabbath law regarding doing no work on that day. Jesus reminded them that the great David and his men had once eaten the bread of the Presence from the house of God. Jesus considered that supplying food for hungry people was more important than making them wait until the sabbath was over to eat. “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath,” (27b) he told them. Caring for the hungry was more crucial than merely rigorously following the law.

The second story speaks of Jesus entering the synagogue and meeting a man with a withered hand. A withered or missing hand was a serious matter. Each hand had a specific function to perform; one was for eating (usually done with the right hand), while the other was used for personal hygiene only. The Pharisees who had followed him were waiting to see what Jesus would do. Jesus called the disabled man to him before turning to the Pharisees, asking, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save a life or to kill?” It wasn’t a question the Pharisees wanted to answer. Jesus then healed the man’s hand as the Pharisees scuttled out to meet with the Herodians and form a conspiracy to destroy Jesus.

The stories reminded me of some things that we’ve been going through for some time. More people have been going hungry, homeless, sick, and held back. In contrast, others have gathered together to conspire against those who have tried to help the less fortunate. The rich have gotten richer while the middle class has shrunk, and the group called lower-income have grown larger and larger in numbers.  It doesn’t seem like things have changed all that much, have they?

Seeing pictures of guards and police battered by fire extinguishers, sticks, flagstaffs and other implements, office doors breached, and personal and governmental property carted away makes me wonder. If Jesus had been standing in the Capitol, would the mob, especially those who claimed to be “Christians,” have been so full of hatred that they would have attacked him too? Would they even have noticed he was there? Jesus was ruthlessly beaten himself before his crucifixion and didn’t fight back. I feel, though, had he seen been there in the Capitol building, he would have done what he could to save and comfort the victims off the crowd’s wrath or even submitted himself to the mob’s anger to save others. Maybe he would have stood with Capitol Police Officer Eugene Goodman, diverting the rioters away from the Senate, undoubtedly saving many from injury or worse.

Undoubtedly, the Pharisees of Jesus’ day were convinced of their own rightness and righteousness. I’m sure they were confident they were doing the right thing in God’s eyes. I wish I could feel the rioters in DC had the same motivation rather than just fighting to preserve a status quo against those who are not of a certain race, color, creed, ethnicity, orientation, and political persuasion.

Perhaps looking at the Markan stories through the lenses of what life was like then and comparing it to what I see now makes me draw the comparisons I make, unfair though they might be. I hope that those who seek to live as Jesus taught will continue in that mission of living. I also hope that those who sought to do evil and damage might see what their actions have brought about and repent. Maybe then we can join in reconciliation and unity to bring about the Kingdom of God.

I can dream that this happens, as well as hope and pray that it does. I know for sure that I’m praying for a peaceful week, a safe transition, and the beginning of a new period of kindness, love, and helpfulness.

I’m putting in prayers for safety, sensibility, and also for those impacted by the violence we’ve seen. I will remember those who have been affected by the pandemic and its offshoots, and for those who help the rest of us stay safe and healthy, even at the risk of their lives.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, January 16, 2021.

A Year and Vision

 

We’ve reached 2021, finally and with hope. We groaned, suffered, despaired, and grieved our way through 2020 with all its trials, tribulations, wrong turns, a pandemic outbreak still with us, and increasing violence. For almost everyone, it was a disaster in one way or another. 

My optometrist reminded me the other day that I need to make an appointment for my annual examination. Given my age and a couple of medical issues that could potentially damage my vision, I have to be careful with my eyes. I’m too fond of reading, needlework, and television, and I don’t want to go blind. Although I might see in a normal range with remedial lenses, I notice each year, I see a little less well. Even with new prescriptions, I doubt I will ever be able to see 20/20 again for longer than a few months at a time. Still, I am grateful for even slightly impaired vision most of the time, that is except when trying to read street signs further away than half a hundred feet.

This week I somehow began thinking of the contrast between the two numbers representing last year and perfect vision. If I were to gauge the past year (in my own opinion, of course), and if I were to put that gauge onto a Snellen opthalmological scale, I’d put it at about 20/200. I’d practically have to put my nose to the mirror to be able to see a clear reflection. Anything else would be a blur.

We seemed to have had a lot of prophets last year. Many people listened to those prophets that spoke from whatever point of view most closely reflected their own. For some, the year went pretty well, and by well, I mean their jobs were secure, their taxes neutral or decreased, their stock portfolios solid, and their health solid (with access to the best healthcare). Others were not quite so well off, but at least they were working, could put food on the table, and could access health services when they needed. Still more were at the margin. Their salary might provide the most basic needs but not medical care, vacations, repairs to houses, vehicles, and appliances.

Last year’s prophets did not prophesy a pandemic that would turn the world upside down. With the unexpected pandemic, life suddenly became restrictive and frightening. Not many disasters are predictable – pandemics, hurricanes, fires. Just when 20/20 vision is needed most, it fails us, or so it seems. Or, do we simply live in a world where our status quo is enough, but everyone else needs to look out for themselves?

I don’t think Jesus wouldn’t have cared for that approach. He talked about caring for one another, paying attention to God’s commandments, tending the earth and its creatures, and the like. We read various stories about his life and teachings, even if taught through the lenses of different times, locations, languages, and translations, and try to follow them as best we can. Still, we see through our own experiences, education, and beliefs, the lenses through which we see and judge life for ourselves. 

We can look back and perhaps gain some objectivity concerning the impact last year had on our lives, and try to look ahead to this new year to see how the past now influences the present and probably at least some of the future. Hopefully, we can see where we’ve gone astray, mainly from being too long- or short-sighted concerning trends and possibilities. 

Perhaps we might recollect and return to the General Confession of the Book of Common Prayer, “…[W]e confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.”*  Perhaps if we confess enough, our field of vision might change. It might not give us clarity in advance regarding pandemics and other natural disasters, but it might help us live in love with our neighbors and our world. It might encourage us to see through the eyes of others and try to understand their perspectives – and their needs. 

We can’t re-live 2020, and I doubt we would want to. I can hope, try my best, see 2021 as a chance to do better, and try to look beyond the surface, what “they” say, and see only what I want to see. I think that might go a long way to making it less of a “2020” year and more of a “20/20” one. We can all pray for that, can’t we?

God bless. 

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, January 9, 2021.  Edited by Rob Gieselman.