"Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil." Lk 4:1
Twice in Luke's gospel there is an Epiphany, a moment of enlightenment and clarity for Jesus and all of us, his followers. The first occurs as Jesus emerges, newly baptized, from the waters of the Jordan and hears God's words, "You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased"(Lk 3:22) This is an Epiphany of a kind we all enjoy and seek. It is an affirmation, a light come to us from afar, a confirmation of our identity as God's child.
The second Epiphany, about which we read today, follows in the fourth chapter, but it is an Epiphany of a very different kind. Jesus is in the desert, the place of terrible cold at night and unbearable heat during the day, and he remains there for forty days and nights. This is a dark Epiphany, a time of affirmation surely, but accomplished in the shadows. Though Jesus is ministered to by angels, he is also among wild beasts. His life is being threatened and his integrity is being challenged. Today's Epiphany is daunting, one which most of us would rather avoid.
The challenge of the Gospel is clear. Are we willing to look for and find God both in the cleansing waters of new life, and in the desert darkness of fear and uncertainty? While it is natural and understandable that we would hope to find God in all the obvious places and situations, in a loving family, in a supportive community and in friends who know us inside and out, it is not enough for the Christian. Our task is more difficult, but also clearer. We must encounter God in the light and the dark!
Today, return to an unhealed place within your heart and let God be with you.
Recount a time when you discovered God in the "desert."
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Friday, February 12, 2016
Taking Lenten Sabbaths
"If you call the Sabbath a delight, and the LORD's holy day honorable; If you honor it by not following your ways,...then you shall delight in the LORD." Is 58:13-14
For the Jews of old Sabbath was both an obligation and a privilege. Jews were obligated to slow down, to spend time with family, to honor God by letting go of the events of the week in order to pray, listen and celebrate all that God did among them. Sabbath was also a privilege because it reminded the community that God wanted to be close to them, to dwell among them, and to animate them for the works of justice.
Many years ago, while a student at Boston University, I asked an orthodox Jewish friend why it was forbidden to play the shofar on the Sabbath. His answer has remained with me for more than forty years. Because, he said, God wants even the air itself to rest on the Sabbath. To change the natural flow of air by forcing it through a shofar with one's breath dishonors the God who wants everyone and everything to rest one day a week and turn their thoughts and prayers to God.
Lent is a good time to reexamine our own Sabbath practices. Do we take time to rest, to listen to others intentionally and completely with our hearts as well as our ears? Do we pause to think about how God was present to us each week even when we failed to listen to God? AND, do we do this everyday?
For the Jews of old Sabbath was both an obligation and a privilege. Jews were obligated to slow down, to spend time with family, to honor God by letting go of the events of the week in order to pray, listen and celebrate all that God did among them. Sabbath was also a privilege because it reminded the community that God wanted to be close to them, to dwell among them, and to animate them for the works of justice.
Many years ago, while a student at Boston University, I asked an orthodox Jewish friend why it was forbidden to play the shofar on the Sabbath. His answer has remained with me for more than forty years. Because, he said, God wants even the air itself to rest on the Sabbath. To change the natural flow of air by forcing it through a shofar with one's breath dishonors the God who wants everyone and everything to rest one day a week and turn their thoughts and prayers to God.
Lent is a good time to reexamine our own Sabbath practices. Do we take time to rest, to listen to others intentionally and completely with our hearts as well as our ears? Do we pause to think about how God was present to us each week even when we failed to listen to God? AND, do we do this everyday?
Take a few deep breaths today and be grateful for God's presence within you and among us.
Do you live a "sabbath" life? Do you rest each day in the presence of God?
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Sharing with the Hungry and Homeless
"This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; Clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own." Is 58: 6-7
It did not take the church long to place before us a telling and important reminder about our Lenten practices. Fasting is not a subtle way to lose weight. Neither it is a practice to give us personal satisfaction or assure us that we are close to God. Fasting, and every other Lenten practice, has only one purpose, to draw us into the heart of God for God's purposes, and its value will be known by its fruits.
Are we more just, are we more open to the stories of those who struggle with life and life's most basic demands? Are we slower to judge others? Are we content being God's servants? God's yoke, as Jesus reminds us, is easy. When an ox goes in a straight path, it does not even know it is saddled with a yoke. It simply goes where it is directed. Though a harsh image, imagining God putting the yoke of the gospel around us at Baptism can help us not to struggle against any correction or instruction we receive.
Today, yoke yourself to God and let God lead you.
What is your most difficult "yoke?"
It did not take the church long to place before us a telling and important reminder about our Lenten practices. Fasting is not a subtle way to lose weight. Neither it is a practice to give us personal satisfaction or assure us that we are close to God. Fasting, and every other Lenten practice, has only one purpose, to draw us into the heart of God for God's purposes, and its value will be known by its fruits.
Are we more just, are we more open to the stories of those who struggle with life and life's most basic demands? Are we slower to judge others? Are we content being God's servants? God's yoke, as Jesus reminds us, is easy. When an ox goes in a straight path, it does not even know it is saddled with a yoke. It simply goes where it is directed. Though a harsh image, imagining God putting the yoke of the gospel around us at Baptism can help us not to struggle against any correction or instruction we receive.
Today, yoke yourself to God and let God lead you.
What is your most difficult "yoke?"
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Losing our Lives to Save Ourselves
"For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it." Lk 9:24
We often do things to save ourselves. We lie, we deceive and manipulate others and situations, all to protect our reputation. Of course, we know that when we act in this way we are being dishonest, but the alternative seems uncomfortable at best and impossible at worst. Although we know that lies follow us around like a bad penny, we get trapped in our pride and embarrassment. Literature is full of stories that grow from a simple dishonesty into a terrible tragedy.
Is anyone in literature a more heinous liar than Iago in Shakespeare's Othello? While clever and insightful, Iago schemes, deceives, and manipulates others for his own gain. Eventually his lies result not only in Desdemona and Othello's death, but his own. Lies kill our spirits by diminishing both the liar and anyone who welcomes the liar's deceit for his or her own gain.
In today's gospel Jesus not only warns his disciples that he will be killed for telling the truth, he teaches them that wealth and power are unworthy goals for the believer. The only way to gain life, he insists, is to lose it, to let go, to put aside the mask of invincibility and put on the clothes of compassion and justice. Lent is about facing the lies we tell ourselves and examining the lies our culture promotes.
Today ask for the courage to face the truth about yourself.
What are the biggest lies our culture teaches us?
We often do things to save ourselves. We lie, we deceive and manipulate others and situations, all to protect our reputation. Of course, we know that when we act in this way we are being dishonest, but the alternative seems uncomfortable at best and impossible at worst. Although we know that lies follow us around like a bad penny, we get trapped in our pride and embarrassment. Literature is full of stories that grow from a simple dishonesty into a terrible tragedy.
Is anyone in literature a more heinous liar than Iago in Shakespeare's Othello? While clever and insightful, Iago schemes, deceives, and manipulates others for his own gain. Eventually his lies result not only in Desdemona and Othello's death, but his own. Lies kill our spirits by diminishing both the liar and anyone who welcomes the liar's deceit for his or her own gain.
In today's gospel Jesus not only warns his disciples that he will be killed for telling the truth, he teaches them that wealth and power are unworthy goals for the believer. The only way to gain life, he insists, is to lose it, to let go, to put aside the mask of invincibility and put on the clothes of compassion and justice. Lent is about facing the lies we tell ourselves and examining the lies our culture promotes.
Today ask for the courage to face the truth about yourself.
What are the biggest lies our culture teaches us?
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