Lenten Devotionals: Supporting the Spiritual and the Physical [Week 5]

Part of my Lenten discipline this year is going through The Thoughtful Christian (TTC)“Pausing on the Road to Jerusalem” Bible study and, as part of that, sharing my thoughts with you all based on the Scripture for the week and the study itself. A lot of this is just personal reflection, but I hope that maybe you can gain a little insight into your own faith and how these themes and ideas may apply to you, the larger community, the Christian church, and the world today. Click the following to see my reflections from Week 1 (Part 1 and Part 2), Week 2 and Weeks 3 & 4.

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This week's reading: John 12:1-8

Perhaps you see what you are looking for, but I found it really crazy (in a good, albeit bizarre, way) that I just pondered over what we are to do about our devotion to holy places in relation to what we do (or, as I have sometimes seen it, what we don’t do) in devotion to holy people...and then I read this study. Yes, it’s week five and I’m a little behind (which you might have noticed with the bombardment of all my Lenten blog posts; but I really did read most of them on the prescribed week, honest) but I’m glad this timing worked out. My previous post, Fleshing out the Temple, primed me to have questions already swimming around in my brain about the whole issue.

On to the study. Before I start, I want to disclaim that with this post, as with the others, most of the thoughts contained are either directly, or indirectly, from the Thoughtful Christian study which I recommend you look at yourself. I’ve tried to make mention at specific ideas that come from the study, and then note where my own thoughts come in, but I fear I may not have done the best job at it. Any plagiarism that may have arisen is completely unintended; I give credit to the study’s author, Michael A. Lindvall, who really has done an excellent job putting together this six part study. I will be looking to see if he’s done any other studies with The Thoughtful Christian company and I’ll let you know, if you’re interested.

Initial thoughts on the Passage

Basically, my initial thoughts when back to the questions I have pondered before about whether or not there are instances in which we should buy the “expensive perfumes” instead of “giving the money to the poor”. Whether or not Judas is genuine in his care about this issue, he raises a question that I would love answered. Not that throwing money at a problem makes it disappear (holy smokes is that a great topic for another post someday; I say that a lot, don’t I?), but I struggle with the idea of giving more money to our “upkeep” than giving it to those places that need it (and it frustrates me a lot when we argue and get so worked up with each other over the issues of the former, too).

On a completely unrelated note, the story made me wonder about Judas. I’m not saying what Judas did was good, but I often feel he gets a really bad rep. I mean, yes, he betrayed Christ and handed him over to get crucified (or, Satan took over his body; this is all so confusing), but I wonder what he was like before that, in the early days. Of course, the Bible paints him out to be a pretty nasty dude, but then again, you can’t really describe him as a nice guy who just “happened” to kill our Savior, our God. Was he really any worse than the other meanies and sinners in the Gospels? Is he any more to blame for what happened that any of us for our sinfulness?

In trying to grab some answers out of the passage (not that answers always come, but I certainly look for them; don’t we all?), I came to the realization that, even though it may not seem to be the most efficient in my eyes, Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet seems to be an extreme act of faith. She anoints, smears with perfumed oil, the one who is the Anointed One. “Messiah” literally translates as, “anointed one”. In one way, Mary is using all of that perfume to proclaim that Jesus is the Messiah.

We Are Kinda Closet-Gnostics

The Thoughtful Christian study begins talking about the early Christian tradition started by the Gnostic community which was refuted by many of our early Church leaders and theologians. Nonetheless, what they had to stay has survived even until today and influences how we view our lives. Based on what TTC study has to say, here is a very simple breakdown of some of what the Gnostics believed and the implications thereof:

-There is a divide between the spiritual and the physical; the spiritual is intrinsically good and the physical is intrinsically bad.

This division leads to some interesting theological conclusions: 

-Since a God that is completely good could not have made something intrinsically bad, some other being, supernatural yet lesser than the Supreme God, must have created the Universe. Physical == bad and God =/= bad; therefore, God cannot make the physical Creation.

-A God that was all good would never come into a physical human body; that’s insulting and against this good God’s nature. Therefore, Jesus was not actually physical, but only appeared to have a physical body.

The Gnostics were SUPER spiritual, but “antimaterial”.

(I find the theological conclusions kind of funny because instead of saying that the physical could be good, the Gnostic tradition would need to bring in the need for a sub-god creator, and explaining away the Incarnation. Then again, I have the benefit of many centuries of theologians preparing these thoughts and context for me.)

The solution is...?

So then, while I don’t believe in theory what the Gnostics said about spiritual=good, physical=bad, sometimes I act like it. The paradox still lingers: How do I incorporate my belief that we should enjoy good food, travel, the five senses, etc. with the belief that others should have those same desires (or, whatever they want that is more needed/desired) met?

Conveniently, Lindquist gives three answers for how we can “deal” with the combination of the material and physical. The first two seem to be nice packages tied up with string but not completely filling. An delicious turkey sans stuffing, if you will.

He says first we can deal with the physical by addressing it in moderation (which, as we can guess, is relative to every person; what is moderate consumption in the top economic tier in the States is different than what is moderate in the lowest economic tier in the States is different than moderate for the middle-class in Afghanistan, etc, etc).

Secondly, we need to remember and acknowledge that the physical won’t fill us completely. There is a part of us that will only be complete when occupied with God. Of course, don’t let the physical become our idol. This is nice, but seems somewhat unhelpful.

The third answer Lindquist offers up is the most helpful place for me in this whole discussion, someplace I may set up a tent and stay for a while: offer up what we have and turn it back towards God. Like Mary, we can use what we have and offer it to God. TTC says, “She uses a material loveliness and sensuous act to give glory to God.”

This answer, while the most satisfying for me, still doesn’t answer it all. Even if we offer it up to God, is that what God wants? Does God want my money to go towards this building I use to worship God in (I pick on the use of buildings, but there are many things this could be) or does God want it to go towards that food pantry?

It reminds me of some recent controversy over a charity organization; there was question into what percentage of their budget went towards staff salary, media and public relations, and what went directly to the people they were trying to help on the ground.

I can imagine church leaders reading this now and hoping their fellow congregants don’t take what I’m saying too strongly and stop giving money to their building funds. I’m not calling for that! I’m just saying we should question how we steward our money, even if it ends up being that we use it in the same way. Obviously, there has to be time and resources put into keeping an organization running if that organization plans to produce anything. It's like pastoral care- as a pastor, you can't always give 100% without taking time to refuel, relax, and fill up your own emotional and physical reserves. It seems a bit similar with money, I suppose: we can't give 100% of it away and then expect it to just keep coming in without any organization behind getting it there.

I’ll end by quoting the study directly, as it explains some ways in which the material can give glory to God:

Do the material things in your life turn you away from the Creator or toward the Creator? Enjoyed in moderation, material things, objects of beauty, art, even the strange fruit of technology--automobiles, computers, toasters, and iPods--can give God glory if you mean that they should. Music, for instance, can glorify the performer, or it can glorify God. Lovely things, objects of art, should not glorify the artist, much less the owner, but should glorify God, the First Artist. Rightly cooked and carefully enjoyed, good food glorifies the God of Earth and Harvest, not the cook. Good architecture glorifies God, the Great Architect. A new organ--all those material pipes and valves and electromagnetic connections--can glorify God, the Music at the Heart of the Universe. Central Park on a glorious day can glorify God. Good design gives God glory. Good coffee glorifies the Creator. Thoughtful office furniture, a whimsical pair of shoes, all rightly fashioned and graciously received, can glorify God. Even sex, faithfully expressed, can glorify the God who seems to have devised it.

What material, physical items or acts do you use to bring glory to God?

Lenten Devotions: Repent, Mercy, and Seeking Each Other Out [Weeks 3 & 4]

Part of my Lenten discipline this year is going through The Thoughtful Christian (TTC)“Pausing on the Road to Jerusalem” Bible study and, as part of that, sharing my thoughts with you all based on the Scripture for the week and the study itself. A lot of this is just personal reflection, but I hope that maybe you can gain a little insight into your own faith and how these themes and ideas may apply to you, the larger community, the Christian church, and the world today. Click the following to see my reflections from Week 1 (Part 1 and Part 2) and Week 2.

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Well, I ended up doing the third and fourth Thoughtful Christian studies around the same time, and prepared to blog about them at the same time, too. Not surprisingly, I confused myself and meshed the ideas together. So the following is actually two studies pushed together. Looking back, they make much more sense to me used right next to each other, but they weren’t intended completely that way. For the sake of space, then, I will give you the links to the two Bible passages (NRSV) and what my Lutheran Study Bible uses for their subtitles:

Luke 13:1-9 (Repent or Perish; The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree)

Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32 (The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother)

Luke 13

At first, I didn’t understand how the first part of this part of Luke 13 fit in with the second half of that passage; or, perhaps it’s more honest to say I didn’t like how I initially fit them together. But we can’t just ignore the passages that make us uncomfortable, can we?

The answer is “no, we can’t.” I saw you thinking about it for a second! Yes, it would be nice and make things much less complicated...but being a Christian isn’t always a stroll down easy street.

Verses 1-5 are a bit of a downer, I think. Some people were talking to Jesus about their current events and how some bad things happened to some people and Jesus wakes us up to let us know that those people who suffered...they deserved it no more than we do. Stop trying to justify why bad things happened to these people, trying to figure out “why” they deserved it, and repent.

Bam. Jesus words. They always get me. Mainly because they are so true. Word to the Word’s words (a little John 1/modern slang humor, there).

The Thoughtful Christian Bible study lays it out pretty convictingly: Can any of us deny that, oftentimes, when we hear about someone getting hurt, maybe in an accident, and the first thing we want to know is whose fault it was? Was the driver speeding? Were they drunk? Were they too young/old? My Dad use to always joke when I was a kid that we have to lay blame and then we can move on. We do it, though, because it gives us some sense of comfort that there is a cause-and-effect pattern that we can use to control our lives. If we follow this set of rules, there will be this outcome. If we don’t smoke we shouldn’t get lung cancer; if you do smoke and get lung cancer, then somehow you had it coming.

But that’s where Jesus steps in and says, nope, we’re all in the same boat. Either we all deserve the bad, or no one does. I am not better than you, and we are not worse than anyone else. Life isn’t fair. If it was, we’d all be in the same boat.

Jesus goes from this first idea into the parable of in which a man tells his vineyard’s caretaker that the vine not bearing fruit should be cut down. Yet the caretaker asks for one more year to see if something can be produced. Mercy.

This last part was what really caught my attention in the passage. As much as I, too, look for control from a cause-and-effect style justice, I am so thankful for the concept of mercy. Probably because I realize how much I have benefitted from merciful friends, family, and co-workers. Imagine if we were to start acting merciful in more areas of our lives? Whoa. Is your mind blown at how much more love there could be going around?

Luke 15 Passage

A few quick points from The Thoughtful Christian study that I won’t elaborate on for the sake of not making this post unbearably long (and also my own attention span writing it), but that I think are worth noting.

--The parable draws some attention “to the unwillingness of ostensibly righteous people to welcome those who they believe to have placed themselves outside the reach of God’s grace.

--We can interpret the younger son’s thoughts upon returning to his father as rather self-serving, although his planned words give a tone of “genuine repentance”.

One of the coolest points, I got out of studying this parable, though was that whether or not the younger son was truly sorry or not (and prepare yourself- this is AWESOME) the father doesn’t even get to hear what his son planned to say. As the study says, “The father is not just waiting; he is apparently searching the horizon, and at the first hint of his lost son’s return, he becomes proactive in unbecoming extreme. Judaism, even Pharisaical Judaism, made plenty of room for those who confessed their sins to be forgiven and welcomed home. But the act of running, the embrace before confession is ever offered, the ring, the robe, and the fatted calf seem overly indulgent.”

What!? I will be the first to admit that when someone hurts or wrongs me, I want an apology, in clear action if not in word. I want some type of tangible repentance at that exact moment, as well as in their actions in the future. I have a feeling I’m not alone, too.

How often have we conditioned someone being welcome (back) in our churches or our view of who is included in Christ’s salvation requires their repentance (even if it is something we  view as a sin, but they do not)? I know, I know-- some of you will refer me to passages such as Acts 2:38, in which Peter says “Repent, and be baptized...so that your sins may be forgiven...” And if we look back to earlier in our readings here to Luke 13, Jesus says “Unless you repent, you too will all perish.” And yet, while we are initially told we all need to repent, a few chapters later we are shown by Jesus that it’s a little more nuanced than what we may imagine: before the son can repent, his father welcomes him back into the fold and celebrates. Not even that but the father is *searching the horizon* to bring back his son. 

WHOA AGAIN! How often have I searched for the person who has hurt me in order to bring them back into community with me? Answer: not nearly as much as I should have. What if, when that person on the church committee you’re on really ticks you off, you sought them out? Maybe give each other some time to cool down, but then actually talk about it, regardless of whether you will agree afterwards.

This all blows my mind. I love it! Go Jesus! These are the ideas that encourage me and get me pumped about the Body of Christ.

Now, I’m not saying there isn’t a need or call for repentance and the act of formally forgiving someone (in fact, I think, ideally, we should repent a lot more with the accountability of our friends and family, but that’s for another post), but I’m saying it’s bigger than that (isn’t it always? But at the same time, it is all so simple: love). It’s all characterized by love.

The study goes on to say that this idea is quite scandalous, it speaks “of a grace too excessive to make sense, the scandal of a God who is beyond ‘fair’.

My study went on to explain that some of the above, and what our natural/cultural/less-than-divine instincts may be telling us is that, like the Older Brother, who stayed by his father the whole time, we have a “desire that our father should love us because we deserve to be loved, our hope that he would love us because we were loyal and worked hard and did the right thing from the beginning.” Our reaction, however grateful for the grace extended to the Young Son, is that it’s not fair. At some point or another we’ve identified with the Older Brother who has seemingly done everything right, only to see someone who put in less work/screwed up major/has bad intentions/[insert how you’ve been hurt here] get the same love or recognition that you deserve, or sometimes more. And we’re right, “it’s not fair; it’s better than fair.”

It reminds me of hearing someone, somewhere explain that we all call for a “just” God, but what we really want, when it comes to ourselves, is a God of mercy and compassion. I think about this in the context of Palestine. I want justice for the Palestinian people, but I pray that justice is tempered with compassion and mercy.

To end, I’ve included the son “If We Are the Body” by Casting Crowns which I thought of while writing parts of this post, particularly about seeking out each other on the horizon to bring us together as one Body of Christ and how we, like the Older Son, sometimes judge who is “worthy” of this family.

Jesus paid much too high a price

for us to pick and choose who should come.

And we are the Body of Christ.