The “bookends” of this week’s lectionary readings, from Exodus and Matthew, reintroduce us to the economy of grace characteristic of God’s now-but-not-yet reign of shalom. These texts also poke at our raw spots by challenging us to recognize ourselves in them, confronting some of our deepest anxieties, and exposing our bent toward greed, envy, and pride. In reading them, and allowing them to “read us,” we are reminded of the vastness of the expanse separating God’s kingdom from the kingdoms of this world; yet we are also given hope, that God remains at work, healing Creation and transforming us, its broken members. Read more
Preachers tend to tell big forgiveness stories about people who wrestle with the devastating effects of war, murder, and stupendous acts of unfaithfulness. I am more comfortable talking about penny-ante examples of forgiveness. Jesus covered the entire spectrum with one story. When Peter asked Jesus to define the limits of forgiveness, Jesus told a tale about settling accounts. It’s easy to find ourselves in Jesus’ stories. Jesus never said, “I’m going to tell you a story about two builders, but it’s really about you.” He didn’t have to. In a good story we recognize ourselves instantly. Jesus’ parables are mirrors into which we are invited to take a hard look. Read more
In today’s second reading, Paul writes, “Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another….Love is the fulfilling of the law.” To say that Christianity is about love is, of course, right. But if we mistake love for niceness, the same statement becomes terribly wrong. Dostoyevsky had his wise spiritual leader Fr. Zossima comment, when a woman came to him disappointed and embittered by her attempts to be charitable, “Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.” Our reading from Matthew’s gospel today calls us to a harsh and dreadful love, one that speaks words we would rather not speak and hears words we would rather not hear. Read more
13th Sunday after Pentecost
How do your prayers usually begin? Chances are there is a phrase, a title, an address that is more natural to you than all the others. I begin with “Loving God” about nine out of ten times—which undoubtedly says as much about my needs as it does about God’s character. All the other adjectives are left fighting for space in my remaining prayers: gracious, merciful, living, everlasting, and perhaps least of all, holy. These days, holy is a word reserved for the covers of Bibles, or to pair with the occasional expletive; holy is a word with far less popular appeal than love. And yet, holy is a word with deep roots in our faith—used consistently across the church’s history and throughout Scripture. So why has it all but dropped it from my/our language for God? Read more
I am starting to write this as the eclipse happens, after getting a chance to safely see some of the action through proper viewing glasses being passed around at the market. Earlier this summer we took in a local astronomy night with larger telescopes that gave us a chance to view Jupiter with three of its moons visible and Saturn, tilted at just the right angle to see its magnificent rings. I have always loved the perspective these events provide—we are gifted with the reminder, if we take the time to ponder it, of our tiny stature and brief sojourn upon the Earth against the backdrop of Creation’s majesty. None of us controls this, or owns it, and many of us can experience it together, uniting us in our life here on this blue jewel of a planet.
Brother Guy Consolmagno S.J., Pope Francis’ official astronomer, reflected to journalist Elizabeth Diaz last week that the eclipse “reminds us of the immense beauty in the universe that occurs outside of our own petty set of concerns. It pulls us out of ourselves and makes us remember that we are part of a big and glorious and beautiful universe.” Read more
Due to recent tragic events, offering reflections on the lectionary texts for this week is a daunting task, perhaps only eclipsed by the pastoral task of ascending into the pulpit last Sunday to name the powers and declare the fullness of the gospel. In times like these, we can often struggle to find the words to say. It seems to me that this is the beauty of the lectionary, though. When our words struggle to take shape and emerge, the lectionary calls us back to the story of God’s work in the world, a story that we must continually recount and rehearse because we will not find it anywhere else. These texts call us to remember and embrace that story. Read more
Chapters 12-50 of Genesis contain the stories of four generations of ancestors: Abraham/Sarah (chapters 12-24); Isaac/Rebekah (25-26); Jacob/Rachel and Leah (27-36); and Joseph (37-50). Walter Brueggemann raises a startling, but obvious question: given the four sets of ancestral stories in Genesis, why is God revealed, for example, in Exodus 3 as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”? Why does the shorter version, “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” remain throughout the Scriptures as Israel’s theological summary? Where is Joseph in this list? Read more
God is serving up some experiential learning this week. I have wrestled with how to put this reflection together, re-writing the start of it ad nauseam. I even woke up in the middle of a few nights thinking on it. #iseeyougod
If you’ll limp along with me and Jacob, I’d like to offer some disjointed observations and reflections. I’ll follow the lead of the Psalmist and Matthew’s crowd of 5000+, trusting that God will confront us with blessing in this exercise, even if – like Paul – I struggle to understand exactly how that’s going to work. Read more
I’ll be honest – I didn’t have a clue how to go about understanding this week’s readings. There are multiple parables about everything from mustard seeds to rotten fish and burning lakes – and that’s just in the Gospel. The Genesis text is about a tricky man who gets tricked into marrying the wrong sister, the Romans text gets into predestination, and the Psalm is all “Praise God! She’s got a good memory!”
The case of Charlie Gard, an eleven-month-old infant in the UK suffering from a rare inherited disease, has garnered worldwide attention in recent months. When Charlie’s parents tried to bring him to the US for an experimental treatment, hospital officials intervened to stop them, and the courts became involved, setting off an extended legal battle for Charlie’s family and their supporters.
Predictably, Charlie’s situation led to much debate on matters such as family rights, the value of life, and government overreach. Figures as varied as Pope Francis and Donald Trump weighed in, as did numerous authorities in the field of Medical Ethics. On Monday, July 24th, Charlie’s parents decided to retract their request in the courts, bringing an end to the legal saga, but not to the questions that Charlie’s case raised. In a recent article written for Religion and Ethics, Jeffrey Bishop discussed the way that the Charlie Gard case prompted reflection on the question of the ethical goods of medicine, and the ways that Western liberalism can sometimes confuse or obscure these goods. Because such questions are bound up with the mission of Ekklesia Project, we share this article here.
(Photo Credit: BBC.Com)