Famished

March 9, 2025 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Famished” Luke 4:1-13

On February 28, our Muslim neighbors around the world began Ramadan, a month of fasting, prayer, and reflection. Fasting is one of the five essential practices (pillars) of Islam. During Ramadan, adults of sound health fast daily from sun up until sunset—no food or drink—and their early morning and after dark meals are simple. Ramadan reminds them of the needs of hungry neighbors and our personal dependence upon God.

In my last church, my senior pastor Michael Winters and I were a part of an interfaith ministry group with the local reformed rabbi and the Muslim Imam. Each year at the end of Ramadan, our faith communities would gather for Eid, a celebratory feast, kind of like the ultimate, most delicious potluck that you can imagine. Each year, my colleague Michael, the Imam, and the rabbi would give a little talk at the feast, briefly teaching about a spiritual practice. I’ll never forget the meeting when they decided to talk about fasting in their respective churches. Michael looked mildly alarmed.

Later, in the car on the way back to the church, I turned to Michael.

“Fasting?”

“Not high on the list for Presbyterians,” he glumly replied.

I thought about my time as a Presbyterian, from young adult to seminarian to clergy person. Never once had a congregation that I served ever discussed, let alone practiced, fasting. I commiserated with Michael, “Ugh. I’m guessing that you got nothing. Am I right?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Tell me about it.”

As the season of Lent begins, our gospel reading takes us to the wilderness with Jesus. According to Luke, no sooner had Jesus been baptized than the Holy Spirit swept him into the Judean desert in preparation for his ministry. There, Jesus spent forty days fasting and praying to seek insight, wisdom, and guidance from his heavenly Father. It was a spiritual journey that left him famished.

Thinking that Jesus’ long fast would leave him vulnerable to temptation, the evil one showed up to put the Lord to the test. Jesus was invited to use his power in self-serving ways: first, to relieve his overwhelming hunger by transforming stones to loaves of bread, next to gain worldly authority by changing his allegiance, and finally to put God to the test with a death-defying leap. Each temptation was deftly defeated by Jesus with a short but sweet quote from scripture. Clearly, Jesus’ time of prayer and fasting had equipped him to meet the challenges that were to come.

When Jesus fasted for those forty days, he was part of a long tradition of fasting observed by his ancestors. Leviticus 28 required the Hebrew people to fast each year on the Day of Atonement to seek God’s forgiveness for sin. Also, in times of national crisis, Israel’s kings called for a day of fasting and prayer. For example, when a large army from Edom threatened to invade Judah, King Jehosophat and his people fasted and prayed to avert the catastrophe. The Israelites also refrained from food and drink to deepen their prayer and draw near to God, like Moses—while on the mountaintop with God, he fasted for forty days.

Jesus expected his followers to fast and gave them instructions that suggested some people made a big, self-aggrandizing show of their pious restraint when it came to food. Jesus said, “Whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen—not by others—but by your heavenly Father….” First century Jews fasted twice weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. That means they refrained from food on those days until the ninth hour—three o-clock in the afternoon. As Jesus’ followers took the gospel out into the world, fasting went with them. When the Apostle Paul and his home church in Antioch prepared for the Gentile mission, they did so with fasting and prayer.

Jesus knew that our deepest, most existential, hunger is for God. We look for poor substitutes, trying to fill our lives with food, social media, an over-commitment to work, a passion for politics, shopping until we drop, addictions. You name it. The practice of fasting makes room within us for God. You might even say that fasting is a soul feast, an intentional time to rest in God and meet that deep hunger we have for the sacred. Augustine taught that our hearts are always restless until they find their rest in God alone.

Between the sixth and eighth centuries the role of fasting expanded in Christianity. In addition to fasting until the ninth hour twice weekly, Christians were expected to similarly fast for the forty days of Lent, for three days before the Festival of Ascension, one day every month (except in July and August), on Good Friday, and the day before Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, and Pentecost. If you add all that up, Christians engaged in some form of fasting about 140 days each year.

So how did we as Protestants get from fasting for 140 days to me and Michael Winters feeling like we had nothing to say as we joined our Muslim and Jewish neighbors for Eid? We can blame it on the Reformation. By the 16^th century, fasting had lost its spiritual significance. Instead of fasting to draw near to God in prayer, or say “no” to the flesh, or seek divine help in times of crisis, our ancestors were fasting because they considered it a requirement for getting into heaven. John Calvin and other Reformers said that smacked of works righteousness, as if we could manipulate God into opening the pearly gates. This would never do.

In his effort to rethink fasting, Calvin taught that we should think about time, quantity, and quality. Christians should fast at self-chosen times for a prescribed period, like a day or a week; and fasting should always be accompanied by prayer and confession. Fasting did not mean total abstinence from food but to eat sparingly and content ourselves with humble fare. No “dainties” as Calvin called them. In Calvin’s church in Geneva, a simple fast was expected before partaking of the Lord’s Supper, before baptism, and before being ordained to a ministry of the church.

Calvin’s ideas seem reasonable, but when we are left to our own devices to determine our time, quantity, and quality of restraint from food, we opt out. Most of us do not consider fasting to be a core practice of the life of faith. So, how on this first Sunday in Lent, are we to reclaim the ancient practice of fasting in ways that are meaningful and beneficial? And do we really want to?

The late author and editor Harvey Smit suggested that fasting can be a powerful reminder that we do not live by bread alone. In this world where ego is king, fasting reminds us of our utter dependence upon God. Fasting also places us in solidarity with the world’s hungry people—malnourished children in Afghanistan, the starving women and children of Yemen, and working-class families right here in the United States who feel the pinch of inflation and skip meals so that their children can eat. Smit also argued that fasting is useful because it teaches us to postpone gratification. In a world where we want it and we want it now, fasting teaches us to say no to the flesh, no to the selfish impulse, no to the desire for more, more, more. And we shouldn’t forget that fasting functions much as it has for eons: to focus our attention and our prayers upon God, trusting that Jesus, who fasted in the wilderness, is with us.

What might Presbyterian fasting look like? We could try substituting prayer time for a meal, or we could consider simplifying our diets, only having one substantial meal a day and two small snacks that are accompanied by prayer or scripture reading. We could follow the example of the early church and pick a day to fast until the ninth hour (three o’clock). Instead of working through the breakfast and lunch that we miss, we could read a devotional book, sing hymns, play spiritual music, or listen to a sermon. Although fasting is not prescribed for us for Lent, a day of fasting during Lent could serve to focus our attention on Jesus and his journey to the cross. As we ponder the Lord’s words, humility, and self-sacrifice, we draw near to God with gratitude for all that God has done for us.

If the thought of refraining from food makes your blood sugar drop and your knees feel weak, you’ll be relieved that Martin Lloyd-Jones, one of the most influential Calvinist preachers of the twentieth century, taught that, “fasting should really be made to include abstinence from anything. . .for the sake of some special spiritual purpose.” That opens us to a world of possibilities. Could we fast from social media? Instead of doom scrolling, we could try a time of prayer. Could we turn off the television and spend the evening in meditation and divine reading? Could we step back from sweets? Alcohol? Indulgent purchases? Could we then donate the money we save to One Great Hour of Sharing or a favorite charitable concern? The possibilities are truly limitless and up to us.

Back in Morton Grove all those year’s ago, my friend Michael cobbled together a talk on Presbyterian fasting. He spoke last after the Imam told us all about Ramadan and the rabbi impressed us with Yom Kippur and weekly fasts. Later, I took a seat next to Michael after helping myself to a second (or was it third?) plate of tasty treats from the potluck buffet.

“How are you?” I asked my friend. I looked down at his plate, which was just as full as mine.

Michael looked around the room at Jewish, Christian, and Muslim neighbors chatting, eating, and comparing recipes. He smiled, “I may not be an expert in fasting, but this,” he gestured to the beautiful interfaith fellowship and overflowing plates, “this looks like the beautiful feast in the Kingdom of God.”

He couldn’t be more right.

Resources:

William H. Shea. “Fast, Fasting” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 2, D-G. Doubleday, 1992, pp. 773-776.

David S. Jacobsen. “Commentary on Luke 4:1-13” in Preaching This Week, March 10, 2019. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/first-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-luke-41-13-4

Richard W. Swanson. “Commentary on Luke 4:1-13” in Preaching This Week, March 9, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/first-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-luke-41-13-6

Thomas A. Tarrantson. “The Place of Fasting in the Christian Life” in Knowing and Doing, Knowing and Doing, Summer 2018.

James A. Strong and John McClintock. “Fasting in the Christian Church” in The Encyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesial Literature. New York: Harper Bros, 1880.

David Mathis. “Fasting for Beginners” in Desiring God, August 26, 2015. Accessed online at https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/fasting-for-beginners

Harvey Albert Smit. “Fasting Guidelines for Reformed Christians” in Reformed Worship, December 1987. Accessed online at https://www.reformedworship.org/article/december-1987/fasting-guidelines-reformed-christians

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, ²where for forty days he was tested by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over he was famished. ³The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” ⁴Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’ ”

⁵Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. ⁶And the devil said to him, “To you I will give all this authority and their glory, for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. ⁷If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” ⁸Jesus answered him, “It is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him.’ ”

⁹Then the devil led him to Jerusalem and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, ¹⁰for it is written,

‘He will command his angels concerning you,
to protect you,’

¹¹and

‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ”

¹²Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” ¹³When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Photo by u0412u043eu043bu043eu0434u0438u043cu0438u0440 u041eu043bu0435u0439u043du0456u043au043eu0432 on Pexels.com

Extravagant Love

March 24, 2024June 16, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Extravagant Love” Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

There are many ways to express love. In Japan, where public displays of affection are frowned upon, you might show your love for your husband by preparing an elaborate lunch and carefully packing it into a bento box to be unpacked later in the break room at work. In Fiji, if you are looking to make a special connection with your father-in-law or seek the forgiveness of someone whom you have wronged, then you would present them with the gift of a tabua—the ivory tooth of a sperm whale. In India, your love for someone and your hope that they might have good health and longevity is expressed in fasting on their behalf. In Alaska, the Tlingit people say that you know someone really loves you when they bring you dried fish.

We have our own ways of expressing love. When someone takes the time to learn our best-loved recipes and cook our favorite meal, we know we are loved. When a doting grandma plies her knitting needles or handpieces a quilt for us, we know we are loved. When a devoted dad spends hours teaching us how to play catch, build models, or tackle quadratic equations, we know we are loved. When someone proposes to us on the jumbotron at Yankee stadium in front of all those baseball fans, we know we are loved.

I suspect each of us has warm memories of feeling specially loved. Those loving moments can bring a smile to our worst day or feel like a lighthouse, guiding us through a storm. Love expressed at the right time, in the right way, may be just what we need to persevere and prevail over the hardship and sorrow that touch every life.

Our reading from Mark’s gospel describes a remarkable and timely act of love.

Jesus and his friends came to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. The week began with a parade. On Palm Sunday, Jesus, humble and riding on a donkey like the long-promised Prince of Peace (Zech 9:9), traveled up to the Holy City. The pilgrims that surrounded Jesus celebrated, rejoicing with psalms of praise and waving palm branches as if Jesus were one of the Maccabees, newly returned from vanquishing their enemies. They spread their cloaks upon the road, like Israel’s old-time generals pledging allegiance to the new king.

But that week, Jesus would be plagued by the challenge and critique of powerful enemies. Scribes and Pharisees, chief priests and elders, all did their best to discredit and shame Jesus in front of the crowds that seemed to love him so. Soon the city’s mood would turn murderous. Soon his opponents would plot his death. As the week drew to a close, there would be another parade. Jesus, broken and bloodied, would drag a crossbeam through the streets of Jerusalem to his execution. The fans who had welcomed him with pleas of “Hosanna! Save us!” would utterly reject him, shouting “Crucify him!”

Between the Palm Sunday and Good Friday parades, a beautiful thing happened. As Jesus and his friends dined at the house of Simon the Leper in Bethany, their dinner party was interrupted by an uninvited guest: an unnamed woman. She broke open an alabaster jar and poured anointing oil on Jesus. The spikenard was pressed from plants that grew in the foothills of the Himalayas. It had been transported 4,000 miles overland by caravan to Israel. So valuable was this oil that a laborer would need to work 300 days to cover the expense. In today’s economy, where a day laborer might earn $15 an hour, the oil would cost $36,000. Poured out in a single, wildly generous stream, the oil flowed down upon Jesus’ head and over the collar of his robe. The conversation fell silent as the room filled with the sweet fragrance of unimaginable love and generosity.

In first-century Israel, anointing with oil was a gesture of love. In welcoming a guest, a host would offer water for the washing of hands and feet and a few drops of oil to bless the head. In the history of Israel, anointing with oil was a sign of God’s love and blessing for a chosen ruler. When the Prophet Samuel laid eyes on David, he broke out the anointing oil and poured it out on the boy who would one day be king. And, as Jesus indicated, oil was used to anoint the body of a beloved one, purifying and preparing the dead for the grave.

Mark tells us that the men who broke bread with Jesus were outraged by the woman’s action. Indeed, they scolded and shamed her like a bad child or a simpleton. But I suspect that their anger flared less from any genuine concern for the poor and more from the realization that she had done without a single word what they had not. She acted as host, extending a courtesy that Simon the Leper failed to practice. She took on the historically male role of prophet and proclaimed Jesus the Messiah. And she named the elephant in the room: the week would end in death. In the verses leading up to this story, Jesus’ enemies plotted his arrest and execution. In the verses following this story, Judas would accept a bribe to bring about betrayal. In three days, in the time of crisis, not one of the men reclining around the dinner table would come to Jesus’ defense.

Jesus came to the woman’s defense. He spends four verses praising the appropriateness and the timeliness of what she did. Jesus knew the dark truth that he’d soon be hanging from a cross. As the precious oil flowed down, I imagine that Jesus felt extravagantly loved. Like a Japanese husband opening his carefully packed lunchbox. Like a Tlingit person, feasting on the gift of dried fish. Like a child wrapped in Grammy’s homemade quilt. In the darkness of that night, Jesus might have felt as if the sun were shining on him. Perhaps it was the last time in his earthly life that Jesus felt truly loved—special, safe, treasured, appreciated, and understood.

We instinctively know that there is nothing better than extravagant love. We seize it in the moment and wrap it around us like a fiery mantle of glory. We hold it in our hearts as a remedy for the days when we are bullied at school or our best friend decides they’re not going to talk to us anymore or the boss is expecting the impossible or the nightly news leaves us shaking in our boots. Extravagant love is our lifeline in a world where folks want to set limits and attach strings, like the dinner guests buzzing like a nest of angry hornets about the foolishness and waste of what the woman did for Jesus.

Our world tends to limit love, to mete it out in tablespoons, to reserve it for those who “earn” it or “deserve” it, to lavish it upon the successful and the popular and the beautiful. But the unnamed woman with her alabaster jar of costly nard reminds us that God doesn’t work that way. Jesus didn’t work that way. Jesus lavished his love upon six-year-olds and sinners. He poured out his love upon unnamed women and Judas. He lavished his love upon the blind and lame, the deaf and demented, the paralyzed and possessed. Jesus poured out his life in extravagant love for you and for me. Jesus taught us that our highest and only calling in life is to love God and neighbor and self with all that we have and all that we are.

When we get right down to it, the woman with the alabaster jar knew, Jesus knew, we know that our essential calling is to love extravagantly. It’s only our brokenness that makes us want to turn away from the invitation to love. It’s only our sinfulness that prompts us to attach the strings, break out the tape measure, turn a harsh eye of judgment to the world around us, and debate who is really worthy of our generous and loving intent. But we, my friends, are called to love without counting the cost.

The woman with the alabaster jar disappears from the pages of scripture. We never see or hear from her again. Although all four gospels report that a woman anointed Jesus, they don’t agree upon who she was or why she did it or even what part of his body got anointed. Was it the head or was it the feet? But we remember her and the rightness and timeliness of her love. I like to imagine that after she left the home of Simon the Leper, with cheeks flushed by the shame heaped upon her by the men, she shook off the criticism. She held in her heart the words of Jesus. She knew that she had done a beautiful thing. Later, she imagined that as Jesus hung upon the cross, he held onto her love, that it guided him like a lighthouse through the storm, like a lifeline amid the pain and unfathomable sorrow. She continued to love with body, mind, spirit, and every last denarii, despite what the critics had to say.

Let us love extravagantly.

Resources:

Jouette Basler. “Exegetical Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Paul S. Berge, “Commentary on Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9” in Preaching This Week: Narrative Lectionary, April 1, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 11:1-10, Mark 14:3-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9” in Preaching This Week: Narrative Lectionary, March 20, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 11:1-11 or Mark 14:3-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Thomas Currie. “Theological Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Carmen Nanko-Fernandez. “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Editorial Team. “Exploring Affection: How Different Cultures Show Love” in Better Help, March 21, 2024.

Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

11When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples ²and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. ³If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” ⁴They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, ⁵some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” ⁶They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. ⁷Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. ⁸Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. ⁹Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
¹⁰Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

¹¹Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

³While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. ⁴But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? ⁵For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. ⁶But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. ⁷For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. ⁸She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. ⁹Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

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The End Is the Beginning

March 17, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The End Is the Beginning” Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Sometimes the end is the beginning.

Glenn was a young boy when he was terribly injured by a fire at school. Doctors warned his parents that Glenn would likely die, and even if he did survive, the burns to his lower body were so significant that he would be severely handicapped. When he was eventually discharged from the hospital, Glenn had no motor function in his lower body. He was confined to a wheelchair, his thin legs unable to walk.

Kris was a successful thirty-one-year-old actress and photographer, with a growing portfolio of film, advertising, and stage acting credits. She was living her dream when she woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck. The doctor thought she was having gallbladder trouble—too much rich food and good wine, but tests said otherwise. On Valentine’s Day 2003, Kris was diagnosed with a rare, incurable sarcoma, stage four cancer that was attacking her liver and lungs.

Edward grew up loving the outdoors. His earliest memories were of hiking, rock climbing, and sailing with his father, who was an avid adventurer. By the time he was a teenager, Edward had learned to sky dive and earned a blackbelt in Shotokan karate. After college, he climbed big mountains in Nepal, before enlisting in the military as a paratrooper. In 1996, while on a training mission in Kenya, Edward’s parachute failed to fully open. He survived the fall by landing on the pack on his back, but three vertebrae were crushed by the impact, ending his career as a paratrooper.

Jesus knew his ministry was coming to an end. It was his final week in Jerusalem. The critics attacked him daily, seeking to discredit his teaching. The Romans, always concerned by the threat of insurrection at Passover, were looking for an excuse to set a public example of what happens to dissidents. The chief priests and scribes were plotting Jesus’ arrest and execution. Before the week was out, Jesus would be dead. His followers would scatter, mourning their dashed dreams and failed hopes.

The words that Jesus spoke in today’s lesson from Mark have long been called the little apocalypse. Those frightening images of war, earthquake, famine, the sun going dark, the stars falling from the sky, sound like the end of the world. They sound like the inner chaos and the outer tumult that would soon engulf Jesus’ friends. Their hopes and dreams and messianic expectations were coming to an end. But according to Jesus, God wasn’t finished with them yet. Amid the chaos, uncertainty, and fear, the Kingdom would come. The Son of Man drew near. Indeed, the fearful events of the coming days would be but the birth pangs of a new creation.

We’ve all had times when we felt we were at the end. A marriage begun with the greatest of love grows cold, distant, and dissolves in divorce. The workplace that brought us professional fulfillment and put food on the table hands us a pink slip. Our kid makes some bad choices and winds up alienated from us and in a world of trouble. The doctor gives us that difficult diagnosis, the one that makes our heart skip a beat. No one escapes those unexpected and unwanted “ends” that leave us mourning our dashed dreams and failed expectations. When we are at the end, it is hard to have hope for tomorrow. It’s hard to know what to do. With our plans for the future on permanent hold, we cannot return to the way things used to be, and we cannot imagine how we might move ahead.

Jesus knew that his followers would need words of encouragement to guide them through the days to come when his arrest and crucifixion would feel like the worst end imaginable to their beautiful dream of discipleship. So, he told them the parable of a man going on a journey, who left his slaves in charge of the household. Not knowing the date or time of their master’s homecoming, the servants were called to live with vigilance, as if their master were returning tomorrow. In the years to come, the disciples would need to keep hope alive by working together, encouraging and supporting one another, trusting that although the beautiful dream of Jesus’ earthly ministry had come to an end, God was up to something new and they could be a part of it, showing up each day and doing what was expected of them.

Fred Rogers was notorious for saving quips and quotes that he found inspiring. His wife Joanne said that he clipped them out of newspapers or magazines or copied them from books and kept them in his wallet, next to his neatly folded bills, or in the pages of his planner. After Fred’s death, Joanne and his friends at their production company Family Communications Incorporated were asked to compile a volume of their favorite quotes from Fred, the words that had made them sit up and pay attention or that had struck a chord with Fred’s viewers on “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood.” The resulting book, The World According to Mr. Rogers, was an instant bestseller, filled with the sort of practical wisdom and kindness that Fred so embodied. One of my favorite quotes from Fred is “Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else. I’ve felt that many times. My hope for all of us is that the ‘miles we go before we sleep’ will be filled with all the feelings that come from deep caring—delight, sadness, joy, wisdom—and that in all the endings of our life, we will be able to see the new beginnings.” It reminds me of Jesus with his disciples on the Mount of Olives, knowing that his friends’ world was about to end, hoping that they would understand that God would make a new beginning.

The disciples did, indeed, learn that the end can be the beginning. On the far side of Good Friday, there was an Easter Sunday miracle. Jesus rose. He sent his friends forth into the world with the good news of a love that is stronger than death. Yes, life brings endings, but sometimes the end can be the beginning.

I want to circle back to the people I mentioned at the beginning of this message, people who experienced lifechanging, unwanted endings. Glenn, who was terribly injured by a fire at school, decided that he didn’t want to live his life in a wheelchair. One day, left alone in the yard, he overturned his chair, dragged himself over to the fence, pulled himself up, and tried to walk. He did this every day, slowly regaining the ability to stand and walk haltingly. He began to walk to school and eventually to run. He went to college and made the track team. In February 1934, in Madison Square Garden, Glenn Cunningham ran the world’s fastest mile.

Kris Carr, who received that frightening cancer diagnosis, decided that even if her disease was incurable, she would learn to live with it to the best of her ability. She read up on the power of healthy nutrition, exercise, a good support network, clean living, meditation and prayer to help in treating cancer. In fact, she became an expert in the lifestyle that physicians now understand is essential in fighting cancer. Kris decided to share that learning with others. She has written nine NY Times bestselling books and been the subject of the documentary “Crazy Sexy Cancer.” Kris says that her most treasured accomplishment is being able to help people take back their health and feel more empowered. Two decades after her diagnosis, Kris is still going strong.

Edward, who crushed three vertebrae in a parachuting accident, spent eighteen months in intensive rehabilitation. He recovered and went on to become one of the youngest climbers ever to reach the summit of Mount Everest. Better known by his family knick-name “Bear,” he went on to star in seven seasons of the Discovery Channel’s series “Man vs. Wild,” which became one of the most-watched shows on the planet, reaching an estimated 1.2 billion viewers. Bear Grylls describes his Christian faith as the “backbone” of his life, saying, “You can’t keep God out. He’s all around us, if we’re just still enough to listen.”

Just as the disciples—and Glenn, Kris, and Bear—learned, I trust that we, too, will see that our ends just may be beginnings. On the far side of our loss and chaos, on the far side of our dashed dreams and withered hopes, new life stirs. It may not be easy. It may feel slow in coming. But even now God is at work. God is always up to something new, and we can be a part of it. May it be so.

Resources

–. “He suffered severe leg burns as a kid but that didn’t stop Cunningham from winning an Olympic medal” in Scroll, June 15, 2020. Accessed online at https://scroll.in/field/964606/he-suffered-severe-leg-burns-as-a-kid-but-that-didnt-stop-cunningham-from-winning-an-olympic-medal

Glenn Cunningham, the child who was told would never walk again (youtube.com)

Kris Carr. “Celebrating a Decade Thriving with Cancer” in HuffPost, Feb. 21, 2013. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/living-with-cancer_b_2663548

https://kriscarr.com/about#

John Cole. “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 13:1-8” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Mark 13:1-8, 24-37” in Preaching This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 17, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/narrative-lectionary/end-of-the-age-2/commentary-on-mark-131-8-24-37-3

Bear Grylls. Mud Sweat and Tears. London and New York: William Morrow, 2013.

About Bear Grylls

Fred Rogers. The World According to Mr. Rogers. New York: Hyperion, 2004.

Lisa Stein. “Living with Cancer: Kris Carr’s Story” in Scientific American, July 16, 2008. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/living-with-cancer-kris-carr/

Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

13As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” ²Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

³When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴“Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” ⁵Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. ⁶Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. ⁷When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. ⁸For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.

²⁴“But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,and the moon will not give its light,
²⁵and the stars will be falling from heaven,and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

²⁶Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. ²⁷Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

²⁸“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. ²⁹So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. ³⁰Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. ³¹Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

³²“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³³Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. ³⁴It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. ³⁵Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, ³⁶or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. ³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Wholehearted Love

March 10, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Wholehearted Love” Mark 12:28-44

Progressive Insurance has been having some fun at the expense of young home owners. Have you seen the ads? Dr. Rick “coaches” young adults in letting go of the behaviors that are turning them into their parents. In one ad, he stands next to a dumpster with a young woman who introduces her peers to her tissue box covers. You know the kind made from plastic mesh that has been embroidered with yarn. Dr. Rick reminds her that tissues come in their own boxes, and the tissue box covers go into the dumpster.

Next up is a young man who has been holding onto odd pieces of wooden crown molding because you never know when you might need them.

“I do,” quips Dr. Rick, “Never.” Into the dumpster the crown molding goes.

Another man is next. He proudly displays the automobile floor mats that he has saved.

“Do you still own that car?” Dr. Rick asks. The answer is no and into the dumpster the floor mats go.

Finally, a woman bravely stands next to Dr. Rick. She is holding a large stack of plastic tubs, the kind that margarine comes in. She bravely says, “I know now that plastic is meant for recycling, not for saving my leftovers.”

“This is a big moment, people,” Dr. Rick celebrates.

The tag line on the ad is that Progressive can’t save us from becoming our parents, but they can save us a bundle on our home owner’s insurance. I can’t vouch for the truth of that claim—I’m not a Progressive customer. But I do know that I’ve laughed at the ad and its ability to call into question our assumptions and ways of doing things that may not be the best.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus calls into question the assumptions of his followers. It’s a lengthy teaching that begins as a scribe, impressed by Jesus’ teaching in the Temple courts, challenged the Lord to name which of the 613 laws of the Torah was the most important to observe. We all know Jesus’ answer by heart. We are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength; and we are to love our neighbor as ourselves. As our gospel lesson continues, we are given a glimpse of life in the Temple during that Passover week. Some worshippers have gotten the imperative to love right. They embody that greatest commandment. While others have fallen short.

Jesus first considered the scribes. For first century Israel, they were models of faithfulness as experts in the Torah. As the scribes enter the courts of the Temple, wearing beautiful, flowing, fringed robes, a way cleared before them. In a sign of respect, other worshippers lowered their voices and bowed their heads. Every so often a scribe would pause in his self-importance to offer a perfunctory prayer. Flowery, empty phrases were heaped up, without heart or soul. The disciples, with their secret longing for greatness, would have been impressed by the scribes, but Jesus saw that they had gotten it all wrong.

With their long years of study, the scribes knew what God required of them: wholehearted love for God and neighbor, especially their most vulnerable of neighbors, especially widows. Because they were unable to inherit, widows were dependent upon the guardianship of others. It was not uncommon for a first century husband to appoint in his will a Jewish legal expert—a scribe—to be the executor of his estate. This gave the executor authority to oversee the widow’s financial well-being. A corrupt scribe found legal ways to swindle a widow out of the provision that had been made for her. According to Jesus, the scribes were devouring for their own benefit the meager means left to the widow. At the heart of it, they loved neither God nor neighbor.

Jesus then wandered into the outer courts and took a seat opposite the treasury and watched the people. The Mishnah tells us that the treasury consisted of thirteen large metal boxes outside the Court of the Women. Those metal boxes had an unusual shape, broad at the bottom and very small at the top, so no one could reach a hand down in and take money out. A large gift made a loud noise as it was dropped, coin by coin, into the funnel and clinked to the bottom. A small gift to the treasury made very little noise.

Of all the gifts made, Jesus saw one as the most extraordinary, but his praise must have sounded ridiculous to the disciples. To begin with, the gift was made by a lowly and vulnerable widow, and the gift this widow made was very, very small. She gave two lepton, two tiny copper coins. Added together, those coins were worth 1/64th of the daily wage for a laborer. In light of today’s minimum wage for New York state of $15 an hour. The woman’s gift would have been $1.88. In the grand scheme of Temple economics, the widow’s gift was practically worthless.

Yet, as only Jesus could, he saw into the widow’s heart and realized that she had made an extraordinary gift—everything she had to live on. The words Jesus used for her offering are holon ton bion autaes, it literally means that she gave, “her whole life.” She alone, of all the worshippers in the Temple, truly loved God with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength.

It isn’t a Progressive ad, but as example stories go, Jesus couldn’t be any clearer. Don’t be like the scribes, whose piety is a big show, whose care for the vulnerable is a sham. Be like the widow, who gives her all for God, even when she has so little. From our twenty-first century vantage point, it’s hard to imagine how counter-cultural—even offensive—this teaching would have been. Instead of patterning themselves after some of the most powerful and spiritually influential people in the nation, the disciples were to identify with someone who was marginal and lowly. This extended example story about the scribes and the widow would have felt like a slap in the face, designed to reorient the disciples to the way of God’s Kingdom.

For those who were poor and vulnerable, however, Jesus’ words would have felt like a treasured affirmation. God wants our whole selves. We can give that, even if we are little, at-risk, even worthless in the eyes of the world. It’s an invitation to live wholeheartedly for God, which according to Jesus also demands that we live wholeheartedly for others.

Rufus M. Jones, one of the most influential Quaker thinkers of the 20^th century, taught that, “God’s life and our lives are bound together, as a vine with branches, as a body with members, so corporate are we that no one can give a cup of cold water to the least person in the world without giving it to God.” Our love and care for neighbors flows from our love for God. Indeed, love is the moral debt we owe to our neighbors, no matter how unworthy we may perceive them to be, because they bear the image of God—male and female, young and old, rich and poor, sinner and saint, widows or even young home owners who are becoming their parents. All are deserving of our love. All are an opportunity to put into action our love for God Almighty.

I imagine that as Jesus called his friends over with praise for the poor widow, he was thinking of another gift soon to be made. The widow’s gift anticipated the offering that the Jesus himself would make. Within days, Jesus would be arrested, unjustly tried, tortured, and condemned to death. Within days, Jesus would carry the cross through the streets of Jerusalem. Within days, he would hang on the cross, flanked by criminals, jeered at by spectators. Within days, Jesus would pour out his very life for the redemption of our world. Jesus would give his whole life—holon ton bion autaes—for us. It’s humbling and reorienting to realize that God has given it all for us.

Every Sunday—especially during the season of Lent when we reflect upon the cross—offers us the chance to be renewed in the way of love. We find the courage to make the counter-cultural choice for love when we begin to consider the enormity of God’s self-giving love for us, a love that was revealed in our Lord Jesus. We turn away from the ways that our piety has become like that of the scribes: showy, perfunctory, empty hearted, empty-headed, and empty handed. On our good days, we may even dare, like that poor widow to give our whole selves—holon ton bion autaes—in love for the Lord, who has given so much for us, who comes to us in the guise of our neighbors.

May we go forth to love wholeheartedly.

Resources:

N. Clayton Croy. “Commentary on Mark 12:28-44” in Preach This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 6, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:28-44 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Mark 12:28-44” in Preach This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 10, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:28-44 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ashley Fetters Maloy. “Afraid of becoming your parents? Dr. Rick comes to the rescue, smartly satirizing a generational divide” in The Washington Post, March 16, 2021. Accessed online at The story behind Dr. Rick of the Progressive insurance ads – The Washington Post

Victor McCracken. “Theological Perspective on Mark 12:28-34” in Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Progressive Insurance ad Bing Videos

Mark 12:28-44

²⁸One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” ²⁹Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; ³⁰you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ ³¹The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” ³²Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; ³³and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” ³⁴When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any question.

³⁵While Jesus was teaching in the temple, he said, “How can the scribes say that the Messiah is the son of David? ³⁶David himself, by the Holy Spirit, declared,

‘The Lord said to my Lord,
“Sit at my right hand,until I put your enemies under your feet.”’

³⁷David himself calls him Lord; so how can he be his son?” And the large crowd was listening to him with delight.

³⁸As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, ³⁹and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! ⁴⁰They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

⁴¹He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. ⁴²A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. ⁴³Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. ⁴⁴For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Give It Your All

February 18, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Give It Your All” Mark 10:17-31

Our mission focus during the season of Lent turns to One Great Hour of Sharing. This ecumenical offering was first observed in 1946. In the wake of World War II, the world was hungry and displaced. War had devastated farmland and disrupted supply chains. Hunger had been used as a weapon of war with German occupied lands from Holland to Russia experiencing mass starvation. There were fifty-five million refugees in Europe alone. In response to the global humanitarian crisis, the first One Great Hour of Sharing offering was received in 1946 with a goal of raising $1 million in the one hour, from 11AM until noon, when most American churches gathered for worship.

In 1949, a national radio broadcast on the Saturday evening before Easter promoted One Great Hour of Sharing. A host of famous people appeared on the program, including President Harry Truman and actors Gregory Peck and Ida Lupino. In his radio address, Truman tugged at the nation’s heartstrings saying, “There are thousands of children in foreign lands today who have no memory of their parents, no knowledge of the meaning of the words ‘home and family,’ and who have forgotten what it feels like to have enough to eat. There are hopeless thousands who wander among the shattered towns seeking a place to rest, seeking security and a chance to begin their lives anew. There are many who pray to God only in secret, fearing persecution if they profess their beliefs openly. It is hard for us to comprehend grief and distress such as this, because we in America are so much more fortunate.” This church participated in that 1949 offering. Members were invited to listen to their radios from 8-9PM on Holy Saturday and come to church to celebrate Easter and make a contribution the following morning.

Seventy-five years later, One Great Hour of Sharing is still going strong. The offering that we collect on Easter will benefit three programs of the denomination—Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, the Presbyterian Hunger Program, and Self-Development of People, initiatives that make a difference in the lives of vulnerable neighbors in the United States and around the world. Nowadays, we don’t have the President, or the likes of Gregory Peck, encouraging us to give. Instead, we have fish banks that the children, and those of us who feel a little childlike, will fill in the coming weeks to remember our at-risk global neighbors throughout the Lenten season.

In our lesson from Mark’s gospel, Jesus encouraged a “rich man” to consider parting with his affluence to help his hurting neighbors. We can imagine it. Breathless after his run, kneeling in the dust of the road at Jesus’ feet, the rich man wanted to know what he must do to inherit eternal life. I bet he was relieved to hear Jesus recite the instructions of the Torah – no murder, adultery, stealing, lying, or defrauding. Be sure to honor your parents. This man had been observing all those commandments from his youth, and he must have done so with great earnestness and integrity, because Jesus loved him for it.

There was only one thing lacking. Although the man was expert in keeping the Torah, he seemed to have fallen short in tzedakah or almsgiving, one of the most essential principles of Jewish piety. Our Jewish ancestors believed that, ultimately, everything belongs to God. While God could have created a world where everyone had exactly the same distribution of God’s bounty, God chose not to do so. Instead, some, like the rich man, were given much, while others had little. This uneven distribution of resources was how God invited faithful people to join their purpose to God’s purpose. They could live lovingly and generously so that God’s goodness could abound for all. Faced with Jesus’ invitation to sell what he owned for the blessing of his impoverished neighbors, the rich man balked. He turned his back on a life with Jesus and went away grieving.

I don’t know if many of us would consider ourselves rich, certainly not rich enough to be labeled by our neighbors “the rich man” or “the rich woman.” But when we see ourselves through the eyes of the world, we are truly blessed. The average daily wage for New York state is about $202. Compare that to the average global daily wage of $7.56. We earn twenty-seven times what our global neighbors earn. Those who live in the five poorest nations—Burundi, Afghanistan, Somalia, South Sudan, and Mozambique—survive on less than $1 a day. We earn two-hundred times what the world’s poorest neighbors are able to earn. We are rich!

Each day we make choices about how we are going to spend our relative affluence. I’ll share some examples from the Department of Labor’s latest report on consumer expenditures. The average gross household income in our country for 2022 was $72,961. We dedicated about 33% of that household income to shelter—paying the mortgage or rent, utilities, home improvements, and furnishings. We spent about 17% of our household income on transportation—car payments, maintenance, fuel, and insurance. Those seem like pretty essential expenditures to me. We are blessed to have homes and cars. Aren’t we?

We also choose to spend our household income on some less essential things. Our average household expense for eating meals out was $3,639. That was followed closely by our average annual household expense for entertainment—$3,429 for things like music, movies, apps, games, vacations, and sporting events. We like to look sharp while we are being entertained and eating out because the average household spent $1,970 on clothes, which far outpaced what we spent on reading $117. How fortunate we are to not only cover our basic expenses but to enrich our lives with vacations, special meals, new clothes, and good books.

We work hard to earn what we have. We may spend long years striving in tough jobs to give our families the sort of home life that we wish them to have. But I wonder if our spending patterns, especially for discretionary income, might shift if we thought of our relative wealth in the same way that Jesus invited the rich man to think of his money. Our relative affluence is a generous gift from God to bless our lives and to bless the lives of our impoverished neighbors. I wonder if our spending patterns might alter if we thought it was just as important to care for the well-being of our needy neighbor as it is to honor our fathers and mothers and to keep all those other commandments. I wonder what our household expenditures might look like if Jesus were writing the checks.

I think that Jesus would approve of the way our One Great Hour of Sharing Offering was used last year to help those who aren’t quite as blessed as we are. Presbyterian Disaster Assistance provided $3.1 million in grants to twenty-seven communities in the US and thirty-five countries around the world. We helped people like Bernadette, whose home began to crumble beneath her very feet when a 7.8 magnitude earthquake hit Aleppo, Syria a year ago. With help from PDA, her home was stabilized and rehabilitated. Bernadette says, “We offer our thanks to all who have given so generously. Our prayers likewise go out to all who stand by us and receive the Offering to ease our economic burdens and encourage us to stay in our country and continue witnessing to our Christian faith.”

That isn’t the only way our gifts made a difference. Through the Presbyterian Hunger Program, 525,000 pounds of seeds and seedlings were distributed to farmers around the globe. 875 chickens went to households in Guatemala and Colombia to provide an ongoing resource for eggs and meat. 105 women became self-employed in Malawi as they developed a bakery to serve rural communities. One Great Hour of Sharing doesn’t ask us to sell all we have and give the money to the poor, but it does invite us to consider how our thoughtful gifts can make a world-changing difference for our local and global neighbors.

In the last image that Mark’s gospel grants us of the “rich man,” he was shocked. Reeling from what Jesus had asked of him, he turned his back and walked away. We don’t know what happened after that. But I like to imagine that the rich man spent some time thinking about what he possessed, and he began to wonder if what he owned really owned him. He began to notice his neighbors more, especially the ones who suffered, who didn’t have enough food, who couldn’t afford to pay a daughter’s dowry, whose disability forced them to beg, whose hearts trembled every time the tax collector knocked at their door. As the rich man opened his heart to those in need, he saw that Jesus was right. He could help. He opened his hands, he loosened his purse strings, and everyone got blessed.

Resources:

Bureau of Labor and Statistics. “Consumer Expenditures—2022,” USDL-23-1943, September 8, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.bls.gov/cex

Claudio Carvalhaes, “Commentary on Mark 10:17-31” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 18, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 10:17-31 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Pat Cole. “Presbyterians celebrate 70 years of One Great Hour of Sharing” in Presbyterian News Service, March 6, 2019. Accessed online at https://www.presbyterianmission.org/story/presbyterians-celebrate-70-years-of-one-great-hour-of-sharing/

Jack Flynn. “Average Global Income [2023]: What Is the Median Income Worldwide?” in Zippia, April 13, 2023. Accessed online at https://ww.zippia.com.

Gloria Guzman and Melissa Kolar. “Income in the U.S.: 2022.” US Census Bureau, Sept. 12, 2023.

Raquel Lettsome. “Commentary on Mark 10:17-31” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 14, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 10:17-31 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

–. “Living on the Brink of Disaster” in Presbyterian News Service, February 13, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.presbyterianmission.org/weekly-offerings/2024/02/13/oghs-presbyterian-disaster-assistance/

Harry Truman. “Radio Address as Part of Interdenominational Program, ‘One Great Hour’” in the National Archives: Harry S. Truman Library Museum, March 26, 1949. Accessed online at https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/library/public-papers/62/radio-address-part-interdenominational-program-one-great-hour

Mark 10:17-31

¹⁷As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” ¹⁸Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. ¹⁹You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” ²⁰He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” ²¹Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” ²²When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

²³Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” ²⁴And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! ²⁵It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” ²⁶They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” ²⁷Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

²⁸Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” ²⁹Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, ³⁰who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. ³¹But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

By Heinrich Hofmann – Purchased by John D Rockefeller Jr, now residing at Riverside Church, New York, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14265296

Thirsty

March 12, 2023April 2, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Thirsty” Exodus 17:1-7

We all fall into catastrophic thinking from time to time. Something doesn’t seem right and worst-case scenarios play out in our minds, over and over again, provoking anxiety and sending us into a panic. When I lived in Washington, DC, snow in the forecast sent the entire metro area into a frenzy of catastrophic thought. Neighbors rushed out to the grocery stores to buy up every loaf of bread, every gallon of water, and every roll of toilet paper. Then, as snow began to fall and streets turned slick, drivers would give up and abandon their vehicles, leaving cars haphazardly parked along the shoulder while they hoofed it home.

Our catastrophic thinking may not be nearly so apocalyptic. When our teen is late in getting home from a date, we imagine them lying in a ditch or pulled over by the police. When the doctor’s office calls to schedule an appointment to follow up on our test results, we think the worst – we must have a serious illness or they want to put us on a diet. When our employer announces that it’s time to reorganize at work, we’re ready to head for the unemployment line.

Catastrophic thinking preoccupies us, saps our emotional and rational energy. It’s tough on our bodies, boosting our blood pressure and respiration, and flooding our system with stress hormones. Catastrophic thinking doesn’t feel good. Our tummies churn, our thoughts race, and we can’t sleep. Catastrophic thinking is especially hard on those we live with. We may take our anxiety out on our beloved ones with a short temper and sharp tongue. We may even infect them with our catastrophic thinking; soon they are imagining the worst, right along with us.

Our reading from the Book of Exodus tells us that the Israelites were doing some catastrophic thinking. In fairness to them, their circumstances were truly stress-inducing. They were in the Sinai Wilderness, a desert landscape where temperatures could soar over 100 degrees and rainfall was infrequent. For the month of December, the rainiest month of the year, the average rainfall in the Sinai is a whopping two-tenths of an inch. The Israelites in that desert were dependent upon springs and oases to sustain them and their livestock, but at the end of a long day of travel, they arrived at Rephidim, where they expected to find a spring and instead found no water. No water for drinking. No water for their flocks. No water for their children. No water for cooking. No water for bathing. No water at all.

The human body can last about 100 hours without water in normal circumstances, but in a hot and sunny spot like the Sinai, they might be fortunate to last about half that time. Their tongues felt swollen and dry, clinging to the roofs of their mouths. The children began to cry. The sheep began to bleat. Even the camels were looking ornery. The catastrophic thinking kicked in.

“Our water reserves won’t last the night. The sun is going to roast us. We’ll never find water in this wasteland. We’ll have to set the flocks free to fend for themselves. We’ll have to resort to drinking our urine. We’ll cradle our dying children. Someday they’ll find our bleached bones and tell the terrible tale of what happens to foolish people who turn their back on the Nile.”

They took all their angry anxiety, aggression, and stress to Moses, and soon he was doing some of his own catastrophic thinking. “How am I supposed to find water in the desert? I’ve got a mutiny on my hands. They’re sharpening their knives. They’re gathering stones. I won’t last the night. They’re coming for me.”

Our catastrophic thinking can be problematic. It can undermine our workplaces. One manager complained to the Harvard Business Review that every time she tried to delegate to her employees, things went sideways. She was sure they would fail to deliver, or they might miss deadlines, or they could do things the wrong way. Rather than mentoring her workers as they learned new skills and allowing them to make mistakes, her catastrophic thinking would kick in. Imagining the poor sales that would ensue and the criticism she would face from her boss and the possibility of taking a hit to her reputation, she would take back all the work she had shared in an endless cycle of overwork and anxiety.

Catastrophic thinking can impact our relationships. We put off returning the phone call to our friend who is always imagining the worst and foretelling gloom and doom. We start editing what we share with the parent who spirals into a frenzy of anxiety at the sort of everyday setback that happens to everyone. If a spouse goes catastrophic every time that we try to share our feelings, we learn to keep them to ourselves.

Catastrophic thinking can even affect churches. I’ve known churches that refuse to host healing groups like NA and AA because something at church might get dirty or broken or stolen. I’ve known churches that refuse to try new programs for fear that it could demand too much work, take too much time, or bring too much change. And then, there is the catastrophic thinking that surrounds the introduction of new music—often rejected with the insistence that it’s too hard to sing, makes us uncomfortable, and will surely cause a mass stampede for the exit with worshippers vowing never to return.

It probably shouldn’t surprise us that when the Israelites got so anxious about water, it wasn’t the first time they went catastrophic. When Pharaoh’s army had pursued them to the shores of the Reed Sea, they all thought they were goners. Then, when the water at Mara was bitter and undrinkable, they thought that was it. When provisions got scarce and their bellies growled, they were certain they would starve to death. But those things didn’t happen.

Instead, each of those scary and overwhelming circumstances had turned into an opportunity for them to know the presence and the goodness of God. On the shores of the Reed Sea, God had interceded, standing between Pharoah’s forces and the people while Moses raised his staff above the waters—which parted, allowing the Israelites to escape. Then, when the water was so bitter, God had told Moses how to make it sweet. And when the people were hungry, God had brought quails into the camp in the evening and rained down manna every morning. All that adversity wasn’t easy or fun or pleasant or wanted, but again and again, the people had learned that they were not alone in the wilderness. They had a holy traveling companion, who cared and provided and would not abandon them, even when catastrophe struck.

One of my favorite memes that I have posted more than once on my Facebook page goes like this: “On particularly rough days, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100%, and that’s pretty good.” I believe that, like the Israelites, we have a holy traveling companion, who is with us in the midst of those moments that make us want to call our friend and start complaining. We have a holy friend, who walks us through those experiences that make us infect our spouse with our anxiety. We are not alone on those days that make us want to stay in bed with the covers over our heads. Life does bring adversity, there’s no questioning that, but our track record for getting through it so far is pretty good, because we are not alone. We may not have manna showering us from the heavens, or water springing from a rock, or quails flying into the soup pot, but we can trust that God is with us because in Jesus, God chose to walk this lonesome valley and face head-on the catastrophe of the cross.

God’s goodness and grace find us in the middle of our catastrophic thinking. Sometimes it is a feeling of peace that surpasses all understanding. Sometimes it is in the comfort of scripture. Sometimes it is in the caring person who simply sits with us and holds our hand. Sometimes it is in the deacon who shows up with a hot dish. Sometimes it is in the people who pray for us, sending out a holy hotline to the Almighty. Sometimes it is in the leader who casts the hopeful vision for life on the far side of our woe. Sometimes it is in the family member who talks us off the ledge. We all get thirsty. We all go catastrophic from time to time, but God is with us and there is water.

When God sent Moses to Horeb to find water to ease the people’s thirst, God instructed him to take along some of the elders of Israel. On the mountain, in the presence of those witnesses, water gushed forth from the rock, and the crisis was averted. The people drank, the children drank, the flocks drank. There was water for cooking. There was water for bathing. There was water enough for all.

I like to think that those elders, who watched the water spring forth, never forgot that moment. When times were tough and disaster loomed, they took a deep breath and nipped their catastrophic thinking in the bud. They remembered the goodness of God. Then, they turned to their anxious people, and pointed to the presence of God, who brings water in the desert. May we, who have witnessed the goodness of God, do the same.

Resources:

Julianna Claasens. “Commentary on Exodus 17:1-7” in Preaching This Week, March 23, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Anathea Portier-Young. “Commentary on Exodus 17:1-7” in Preaching This Week, October 1, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Callie Plunkett-Brewton. “Commentary on Exodus 17:1-7” in Preaching This Week, September 28, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Ron Carucci. “Stress Leads to Bad Decisions” in The Harvard Business Review, August 29, 2017.

Ron Breazeale. “Catastrophic Thinking” in Psychology Today, March 25, 2011. Accessed online at http://www.psychologytoday.com.

Exodus 17:1-7

17 From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. 2 The people quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” 3 But the people thirsted there for water, and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” 4 So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do for this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” 5 The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile and go. 6 I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. 7 He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Late Night Questions

March 5, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Late Night Questions” John 3:1-17

We all have late-night questions. They keep us from falling asleep and leave us tossing and turning for hours. They wake us from a sound sleep, with hearts drumming and thoughts racing. Late-night questions lead to bleary-eyed mornings when we feel sleep-deprived and irritable.

Our late-night questions may be about work. How do we handle our boss? How do we manage our workers? Is what we are doing meaningful, worthwhile, the best use of our abilities?

Our late-night questions may be about our loved ones. How do we heal the breach with our spouse or sibling or child? What can we do about that diagnosis? How do we respond to a loved one’s crisis?

Our late-night questions may be about the world community. What about homelessness and hunger? Climate change? World peace? What happens if that Republican or Democrat or Libertarian or Progressive gets elected?

Our late-night questions can be existential. Does God love us? What happens when we die? How do we find forgiveness?

Does any of this sound familiar?

We aren’t the only ones with late-night questions. Our gospel reading relates the story of Nicodemus, who came to Jesus at night filled with big questions. Nicodemus was a Pharisee. He practiced an ultra-observant form of Judaism, which demanded of him the same requirements for holiness that were applied to priests during their active service in the Temple. For a Pharisee like Nicodemus, careful observance of all 613 commandments of the Torah rendered him holy, as God is holy. In fact, Nicodemus was an expert in the Torah, both a rabbi and an active elder serving on the Sanhedrin, which was a lot like Israel’s supreme court. The seventy-one elders of the Sanhedrin came from families of priests, legal scholars, and the most politically powerful families in the land. They met every day, except on the sabbath and the holy days, gathering in the Hall of Hewn Stones, a courtroom built into the outer wall of the Temple. There they listened to cases referred to them from lower courts, determining righteous judgments based upon their understanding of the Torah. Nicodemus was respected, scholarly, influential, powerful, and wealthy.

But Nicodemus wasn’t feeling so comfortable in his role as elder, judge, and Torah-expert. He was troubled by Jesus. This Jesus was neither priest nor scribe nor member of an elite family, but Jesus had worked miracles and taught with an authority that could only come from God. Jesus had blessed a poor family and saved their wedding feast from shame by changing the water into the finest wine. Jesus had denounced the profiteering and exploitation of the poor that was going on in the Temple, turning over the tables of the money changers and driving out the animals and their vendors. Jesus had been teaching and healing in the Temple, bringing life-changing understanding and wholeness to people. Nicodemus was no fool. His gut told him that this Jesus was the real deal, sent by God to bless the people. But if Jesus had it right, then was it possible that he (Nicodemus) had it wrong? What if honoring God wasn’t about rote obedience to 613 commands? What if God wasn’t an angry judge waiting to condemn Israel for the slightest infraction? What if God wanted something different from Israel? Nicodemus needed answers.

John’s gospel allows us to listen in on a snippet of what must have been a free-wheeling, intense, late-night conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus. Nicodemus had his rabbi’s hat on. He was parrying Jesus’s assertions with questions, in fine rabbinic form. “Can anyone truly be born anew, Jesus? Are we talking about the physical or the spiritual realm? Give me the details, Jesus, how can this be?” It was a late-night disputation that ended with the best-known of Jesus’s words, “For God loved the world in this way: God gave God’s One and Only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him” (Holman translation).

Can you imagine it? Jesus and Nicodemus, sit with heads close in intense conversation in the warm glow of the oil lamp. The supreme court justice learns with a shock of deep knowing that God isn’t about judgment and condemnation. God is all about love, mercy, life. Jesus tells the Pharisee, “God wants to save you, not condemn you, Nicodemus. You are loved.”

As Jesus challenged Nicodemus to change, to be spiritually reborn into the Kingdom of God—the Kingdom of Love, Nicodemus struggled to imagine what that might mean. It would mean that God didn’t want his blind obedience; rather, God was looking for a relationship with him. It meant the Torah should be read through the lens of love—love for God and love for neighbor. It would require him to love the petitioners who came through his high court, both vulnerable plaintiffs and ruthless scoundrels. If Nicodemus started to preach and teach like that, it could make him seventy powerful enemies on the Sanhedrin. It could threaten his standing, compromise his power, and even have a negative impact on his bottom line—his pocketbook. We don’t get to hear Nicodemus’s response to Jesus. Nicodemus seems to slip back into the darkness, perhaps filled with more questions than when he knocked on Jesus’s door in search of easy answers.

We are a lot more like Nicodemus than we care to admit. We want easy answers to our late-night questions. We want answers that will not challenge our assumptions or demand a change in our thinking or conduct. We want answers that won’t cost us anything—not a big commitment of our time, not a dent in our bottom line, not a hit to our reputation, not a rethinking of our self-understanding, not a revision of our world view. We want Jesus to pitch us easy answers that make us feel good and assure us of a healthy seven to eight hours of sleep every night. But what if the answer isn’t easy? What if Jesus’s answer will change us in ways that feel scary, new, and a little out-of-control. What if what we are always and ultimately called to do is love more, to love like God does—like Jesus does—wholeheartedly, without strings attached, for the good of this flawed and fallen world?

If the answer to our late-night questions is a spiritual rebirth to the Way of Love, then we will be changed and so will the way that we relate to our families. We’ll mend the breach of our broken relationships with the resolve to love, a love that listens and stays in relationship even when we want to walk away, a love that forgives and seeks to be forgiven. We’ll choose to face those difficult diagnoses with love that supports, encourages, and accompanies others in times of fear and uncertainty. We’ll stop trying to fix other people’s crises and simply commit to loving them through the mess.

If the answer to our late-night questions is a spiritual rebirth to the Way of Love, then we will be changed, and so will the ways that we relate to our workplace. We could resolve to love our boss, our colleagues, our workers, not with the mushy, entangled love that we feel for our families, but the sort of love that calls forth the best in one another. It’s a love that trusts in the power of shared vision and teamwork, a love that believes that when we work well together, what we achieve is always better than what we do on our own. We could ask loving questions of our employers, like, “How can what we do better serve the common good?”

If the answer to our late-night questions is a spiritual rebirth to the Way of Love, then we will be changed, and so will the ways that we relate to the world around us. We’ll love our vulnerable neighbors with vital ministries like the Food Pantry, Samaritan House, and One Great Hour of Sharing. We’ll love God’s good creation in ways that leave no trace and protect precious resources and creatures. We’ll advocate for peace, everywhere. All that love might even send us to the ballot box, where we’ll cast our votes for those whom we perceive can best translate love into political action. Wouldn’t that shake things up?

In the end, because the answer to our late-night questions is a spiritual rebirth to the Way of Love, we will be changed, and so will the way that we relate to God. We will trust that God is love. We’ll build our relationship with God on that rock. We will know that we are loved in life and in death, even when we wrestle in the late, late hours with the big, big questions.

Our last glimpse of Nicodemus in John’s gospel is on Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion. There, Nicodemus with Joseph of Arimathea demanded the body of Jesus from his Roman executioners. Then, those powerful and influential elders of the Sanhedrin did women’s work. They anointed Jesus’s body with a king’s ransom in costly oils and aloes, wrapped him in linen, and laid him in the tomb. It was a bold and risky task. It was quiet and humble evidence of that spiritual rebirth to the Way of Love.

Resources:

Robert Hoch. “Commentary on John 3:1-17” in Preaching This Week, March 16, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Osvaldo Vena. “Commentary on John 3:1-17” in Preaching This Week, March 12, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Ronald J. Allen. “Commentary on John 3:1-17” in Preaching This Week, March 5, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Judith Jones. “Commentary on John 3:1-17” in Preaching This Week, May 27, 2018. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

John 3:1-17

1 Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2 He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with that person.” 3 Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” 4 Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” 5 Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6 What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ 8 The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” 9 Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” 10 Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

11 “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen, yet you do not receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

17 “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.

Put to the Test

February 26, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Put to the Test” Matthew 4:1-11

It had seemed like the natural thing to do. After all, Moses had spent forty days and nights fasting on the mountain of God before he had returned with the stone tablets of the ten commandments. Elijah had humbled himself for forty days in the wilderness after battling the prophets of Baal. He had come away with a new vision for his prophetic work. If it had been right for Moses and Elijah, why not him? No sooner had God’s voice stopped ringing from the heavens above the waters of his baptism, than he felt it—the tug of the Spirit, leading him away from the Jordan’s banks and guiding him high into the hills of the Judean desert.

It hadn’t been easy. The sun was brutal, and even though the grotto was sheltered, the days were far hotter there than in the Galilee, and the nights were surprisingly cold. Some days, the wind blew in from the Transjordan with the harsh whirl of stinging sand. There were snakes and scorpions. One night, jackals howled nearby, dreaming of an easy meal. He saw a sand cat, warily trotting with belly low and enormous ears swiveling for sounds of threat. She paused and blinked at him with amber eyes, a dead lizard dangling from her mouth. “Have you brought me a gift?” he asked before she scuttled away to a hidden den.

He wasn’t sure when he first realized that he was not truly alone. The first temptation seemed so innocuous. “Jesus, I’m famished. When was the last time we ate, anyway? Don’t you need a little something to renew your strength and reinvigorate your prayers? Even the Israelites found a little manna in the desert. Why not turn this stone to bread and relieve our hunger?”

His stomach growled at the suggestion. It would be easy. Anyone who would one day turn five loaves and two fish into a feast for thousands could certainly whip up a tasty treat for two from a stone. Who would know anyway?

But then he thought about his ancestors: the Israelites in Sinai nourished with bread from heaven; Elijah under the broom tree, fed by an angel; Moses on the mountaintop, sustained by God only knows what. He sighed. If there were to be an end to his fast there in the wilderness, it would be up to God and not the rumbling of his belly or the wiles of the Adversary.

The answer to the question, when he found it, came from the Torah, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” He suspected that it would not be the last time that he would be hungry, but he trusted that God would provide. He returned to his prayers.

It didn’t stop. In a dizzy disorienting whirl of color and light, he found that, although he was still way up high, the wilderness was far behind. He looked out over a busy city. A crowded labyrinth of streets marched down a hill, crammed with shops and vendors and pedestrians. A haze of dust and the smoke of cooking fires hung upon the air. On one side, a steep valley fell away to a deep wadi, water-filled and gleaming. Below him were giant flagstones, marble columns, and people, many, many people: pilgrims in travel-worn cloaks, proud scribes in fine robes, threadbare beggars crying out for alms, lordly priests with bejeweled breastplates.

He sat down with a thump, his legs dangling over the edge of the parapet, knowing exactly where he was. He had been dedicated here at 8 days old, the priest wielding a small, sharp, curved knife to mark him as a child of Abraham. He had camped out here when he was only twelve, sitting among the teachers for days, filled with questions and an eagerness to learn and teach. Year after year, he had made pilgrimage here, to remember the Passover, to pay the tax, to offer an acceptable sacrifice. Jesus was in his Father’s House, the Temple in Jerusalem. He had just never seen it from this vantage before, from the very pinnacle.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” his companion asked with sincere admiration. “You are the Messiah, God’s beloved one. All this is yours by right. Let’s get the party started. Reveal yourself right now in power and glory. Let’s humble those scribes and priests. Let’s liberate those people. Let’s heal those beggars. Let’s clean house. Step out and claim your rightful place. You know what the Psalmist said, ‘God will lift you up.’”

Jesus thought. Below him in the court of the Gentiles, he heard the shouts of moneylenders and the cries of animals to be sacrificed. A display of holy power and protection here and now would do more to affirm his identity as the Messiah than years of preaching and teaching and healing in the hinterlands. Why not put these arrogant priests and self-centered scribes in their places? Why not claim what was rightfully his and restore righteousness to the Father’s House? He could see it.

But as Jesus looked out over Jerusalem’s narrow streets, he remembered the story of his forefather David. The King of Israel, sweat-soaked, half-naked, and exhausted, had sung and danced before the Lord with all his might, bringing the Ark of the Covenant up to the holy city, limping and leaping before God and all the people. Surely, the way of the Messiah was like that, one of complete devotion and absolute humility, not power and pride. The way of God’s Son would be to do God’s bidding and not the other way around. “No,” Jesus answered with a rueful shake of his head, “I’ll not put God to the test.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t over. “Come with me,” his Adversary invited. They were back in the wilderness where his companion was leaning in the shade at the mouth of the grotto. With a quick upward jerk of his chin, he pointed to the trail that threaded up the hillside to the very top of the mountain. Jesus rose on wobbly legs, stepped out, and stood blinking in the harsh sun. The air was clear and super-heated, rippling out at the brim of the world. The stones were hot beneath his sandals. ‘Let’s climb,” his friend smiled. Together they threaded their way to the summit, where a broad flat boulder waited like a throne. With a bow and a sweep of his arm, his companion invited him to climb on high. He did.

Jesus caught his breath and took in the world around him. In the distance, the Jordan was a muddy snake winding across the landscape, cutting a narrow green swath through the valley. Clouds on the far western horizon hinted at the presence of the great sea, where the merchants sailed and Leviathan swam. To the north, he caught sight of the silver-blue Sea of Galilee, harp-shaped, nestled beneath the Golan Heights. Far beyond that, the mountains of Lebanon rose with their snow-covered caps glinting in the midday sun. To the south, the salt wastes stepped down to the Dead Sea. Beyond that, yawned the Sinai desert, its saw-toothed peaks and barren sands stretching all the way to Africa. Jesus drank deep the desert air and looked with awe at his Father’s world.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” It was his companion, at his elbow now. “But there is so much grief and poverty, hunger and heartlessness out there. And the Romans, ugh. Why not make it yours? Why not change the way things are? Free the captives, feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, heal the sick. It is all yours for the taking. All that is required is just one small thing: a little bending of the knees, the slightest bowing of the head, a few prayers, a little incense burned. Worship me. What are we waiting for?”

Jesus looked out over the beautiful broken world at his feet. He thought about the hurting people he had seen everywhere—hungry, fearful, dirt poor, ground down. What was he waiting for? Why not rise to his friend’s charge and set things straight? Couldn’t the end justify the means?

But as Jesus looked over the Promised Land, gleaming like a green and tan jewel, he remembered that God alone had the power to create this world. God alone had the authority to give this land as a blessing to the people. God alone would be the architect of its salvation, and God alone would determine that path. Whatever it might be.

Unbidden, the words of Moses were on his tongue, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” With an uneasy sense of hard things yet to come, Jesus waved off his tempter. “Enough. Away with you. Get behind me.”

Jesus stood strong in the noonday sun on the summit, his shadow so small that it flitted out only as the wind surged through his linen robe. The sand cat crouched in the shade of a boulder, dozing in the heat with whiskers twitching. Jesus felt clear as the five springs at Jericho, bubbling up from the depths below the sand. He felt empty and open as new amphorae, awaiting the first pressing of the finest grapes from the new harvest. He felt like Moses astride Sinai with two stone tablets. He felt like Elijah stalking off to trouble the Northern Kingdom. He felt ready for what would come.

Resources:

Audrey West. “Commentary on Matthew 4:1-11” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 10, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

David Lose. “Commentary on Matthew 4:1-11” in Preaching This Week, March 13, 2011. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Judith James. “Commentary on Matthew 4:1-11” in Preaching This Week, March 9, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. 3The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” 4But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” 5Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 7Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; 9and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 11Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Photo Credit: Dennis Jarvis, accessed online at https://www.flickr.com/photos/archer10/34955863901/

“Sloth”

April 14, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Matthew 26: 17-30, 36-46

April 24^this the Day of Remembrance for the Armenian Genocide. Beginning in 1915, inspired by nationalism and government scapegoating, Ottoman Turks drove ethnic Armenians from their homes and massacred them. Outside observers at the time described what was happening as “a massacre like none other,” “a massacre that changes the meaning of massacre.” Historians suggest that one million Armenian people were killed, often in unspeakably cruel ways. Those who weren’t murdered, were forcibly deported and marched to their deaths in the deserts of Syria. At the time, a number of influential people spoke out against these atrocities, including the British poet William Watson, who publicly decried England’s failure to come to the aid of the Armenian people. In his poem, “The Plague of Apathy,” Watson wrote,

“No tears are left; we have quickly spent that store!

Indifference like a dewless night hath come.

From wintry sea to sea the land lies numb.

With palsy of the spirit stricken sore,

The land lies numb from iron shore to shore.

The unconcerned, they flourish: loud are some,

And without shame. The multitude stand dumb.

The England that we vaunted is no more.

Only the witling’s sneer, the worldling’s smile,

The weakling’s tremors, fail him not who fain

Would rouse to heroic deed. And all the while,

A homeless people, in their mortal pain,

Toward one far and famous ocean isle

Stretch hands of prayer, and stretch those hands in vain.”

The willingness to passively stand by while mass murder is committed is endemic of the seventh deadly sin: sloth.

Sloth has been traditionally known in the Christian tradition as acedia, from the Greek word for failure to care. According to Thomas Aquinas, sloth is a “facetiousness” or “sluggishness” of the mind that keeps us from loving God and neighbor. Prayer and worship are too toilsome. Deeds of lovingkindness toward others are too much bother. While the other six deadly sins are sins of commission, sloth is a sin of omission. We fail to do what we know is right and best. Poet Dante Alighieri envisioned those who are slothful in the fourth circle of his inferno. There, in endless punishment for their failure to act in life, they are made to run eternally in death.

Nowadays, the word sloth is more likely to prompt images of a slow-moving South American mammal than a deadly sin. Better words for our contemporary understanding of sloth are apathy, laziness, procrastination, distraction, idleness, and “I don’t feel like it.” In her essay on sloth, English author Dorothy Sayer said, “It is the sin which believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, loves nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and only remains alive because there is nothing it would die for.” When we are in the grip of sloth, we do not use our God-given gifts, and we fail to pursue God’s purpose. All our talent, all the difference that we could make in this world, simply goes to waste. C.S. Lewis in The Screwtape Letters wrote that sloth is “the safest way to Hell—the gradual, gentle slope, soft underfoot without sudden turnings, milestones, or signposts.”

Editor and theologian Brad Littlejohn warns that we live in the age of acedia, the age of sloth. Our love for God and neighbor has been usurped by “momentary pleasures, distractions, and stimulations.” We surf the internet rather than read a good book. We check our smartphones instead of enjoying the company of a friend or beloved one. On Sunday morning, we’d much rather sleep in than worship God. In the age of apathy, vulnerable minorities are stripped of voting rights without a public outcry, refugees languish in the no-man’s-land of camps, domestic violence goes unreported, and we lack the political will to stop school shootings.

Our scriptural paradigm of sloth takes place on the night of Jesus’ arrest. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus, grieved and agitated, anticipates the evil that will soon befall him. He implores his most trusted of friends—Peter, James, and John. He asks them to watch with him, to pray for him in his distress. Yet, again and again and again, the disciples sleep. They leave Jesus to face his darkest hour on his own. They fail in empathy, care and even the most basic of courtesies. How lonely Jesus must have felt!

The remedy for our sloth is the virtue of diligence. We are diligent when we practice careful and persistent effort. Diligence is tenacity, consistency, perseverance, commitment, and dedication. When we are diligent, we make a constant and earnest effort to accomplish whatever we undertake, regardless of the circumstance. Diligence is the resolve to live each day with love for God and love for neighbor, not just as a spiritual disposition but as a course of action. We work toward what is right in the right way for the right reason. The mantra of the diligent person is, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

We all know diligent people. They may be scrappy, like paralegal Erin Brokovich, who learned about groundwater contamination in a California town, and built a winning legal case against Pacific Gas and Electric. Diligent students may not have the highest IQ, but they often get the best grades because they are willing to work hard to learn and excel. Diligent workers are the kind of people we can entrust with a project and know that they will see it through to completion, even if they encounter big obstacles along the way.

Jesus believed in the importance of diligence, especially in our spiritual life. His Parable of the Widow and the Unjust Judge (Luke 18:1-8) is a lesson in diligence. Jesus described a vulnerable widow who had been denied justice. While most women would walk away, Jesus’ widow wouldn’t give up the fight. Her judge was thoroughly corrupt, but the widow was so relentlessly persistent that he eventually gave in, just to shut her up. Justice was served, only because the widow insisted. Jesus suggests that we need to bring that same relentless effort to our relationship with God.

We build diligence when we reignite our love for God with worship, prayer, spiritual reading, and meditation. We can also take time for appreciation and gratitude. Take a few moments each day to savor God’s blessings for us: the beauty of creation and the goodness of friends and family. We can ask the Holy Spirit to be at work within us, to kindle our hearts and imaginations, to give us eyes to see the neighbors whom Jesus would have us love.

Educators have learned that mutual support is vital for the formation of diligence. Students, who have the support, encouragement, and positive expectations of teachers, parents, and classmates, grow in diligence and excel in the school and beyond. Likewise, we can seek out the people we need in our corner, people who will help us to stick with it and hang tough.

Perhaps the most essential way to grow in diligence is to notice what distracts us and do something about it. Does too much nightly news shut you down and make you throw up your hands? Then limit what you watch and explore some different media outlets. Does your cellphone get in the way of quality time with family? Turn it off. Is social media driving your bus? Try fasting from your favorite apps for a day, a week, maybe even a month. When all else fails, we can simply pray that greatest of commandments: “Lord, show me how you would have me love you, love my neighbors, and maybe even love myself.”

Researchers say that diligence, when practiced consistently, is rewarding. When we use our God-given gifts and we pursue God’s call for our lives, we experience joy. We believe we have a purpose, and we feel that we are making a difference. That joy finds us, even when we encounter difficulties. In fact, as we meet and beat those challenges, we grow in our gifts and purpose. We feel more connected to God, and more connected to others. I want to get me some of that. How about you?

To circle back to the start of my message and William Watson’s condemnation of his nation’s sloth at the genocide of the Armenian people, I suspect that the next mass murder of humanity is going on even as I speak to you on this Maundy Thursday evening. It’s happening in the Tigray region of Ethiopia. It’s befalling the Karenni people in Myanmar. It could be happening in Ukraine. Perhaps it is unfolding on our city streets and in our public schools as we numbly hear news of yet another mass shooting. Let’s not let sloth get the better of us. Be diligent, my friends.

Matthew 26: 17-30, 36-46

17 On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” 18 He said, “Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’” 19 So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal.

20 When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; 21 and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” 22 And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” 23 He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. 24 The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” 25 Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

26 While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” 27 Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; 28 for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. 29 I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” 30 When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. 36 Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” 37 He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. 38 Then he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.” 39 And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” 40 Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? 41 Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 42 Again he went away for the second time and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” 43 Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. 44 So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words. 45 Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. 46 Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”

Greed

April 10, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Greed” John 12:1-8

Monsignor Charles Pope leads a weekly Bible Study at the White House for President Biden. In more than thirty years of parish ministry, Charles Pope has spent a lot of time in the confessional, hearing sins and prescribing penance. Father Pope says that greed is the most under-reported of sins. We tend to think that everyone else is greedy, but we never think that we make too much money or have too much stuff. Faith leaders in the Protestant tradition say the same thing. Rev. Tim Keller, the well-known author and longtime pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, relates that he once led a weekly Bible Study on the Seven Deadly Sins. The week that the study was least attended was the one when he taught about greed. Keller says, “Maybe the best sign of greed is that you aren’t willing to even admit the possibility that you are enslaved to it.”

Greed is the artificial, rapacious desire for and pursuit of wealth and possessions. Two of the Ten Commandments speak to greed: the prohibitions on stealing and covetousness. In the gospels, greed is the sin that Jesus most frequently spoke against, from his warning to tax collectors against collecting more than authorized (Lk 3:13) to his Parable of the Rich Fool, which reminds us that we can’t take it with us and we are truly fools if our worldly goods are more important than our relationship with God (Lk 12:13-21). Indeed, Jesus saw wealth as an idol, cautioning that we cannot serve God and Mammon.

Throughout the Christian tradition, we have been warned about the dangers of greed. Thomas Aquinas believed that greed is a three-fold sin. Greed is a sin against neighbor because one man’s riches cannot over-bound without another man being in need. Greed is a sin against the self because our “affections are disordered” by loving and delighting in material things. And greed is a sin against God because we scorn the eternal for our love of the temporal. Dante’s Inferno places greedy souls in the fourth Circle of Hell, where misers, hoarders, and spendthrifts eternally battle one another. Martin Luther was especially concerned with greed, calling those who are avaricious “money gluttons.” According to Luther, the greedy man “would have the whole world perish of hunger and thirst, misery and want, so far as in him lies, so that he may have all to himself, and everyone may receive from him as from God, and be his serfs forever.”

Our contemporary understanding of greed takes into account its destructive nature, as well as its acceptance. Psychologist Erich Fromm saw greed as “a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.” We may be blind to our own greed and the greed of others, thanks to our cultural context. We are constantly barraged by marketing that tells us that love is revealed in the gift of a diamond that is forever or a brand-new car with a big bow on top delivered on Christmas morning. Who doesn’t want to be loving? Only 2% of Americans think we are wealthy “upper class” people, but on a world stage, we are wealthy beyond the imagining of most.

We also tend to confuse our wants with our needs, and so the more we earn, the more we spend. Not many of us are like billionaire Warren Buffet who still lives in the same home in Omaha that he bought in 1958. Instead, more money means more expense, whether we are socking it away in our retirement nest egg, driving a better car, or moving into that nicer neighborhood. Our growing affluence isn’t necessarily good for others. A shocking 2008 study discovered the radical generosity of the poor. Researchers found that 60% of Americans who live in poverty give their money and time to help others while only 32% of people who live above the poverty line are willing to share. Author, editor, and theologian Brad Littlejohn teaches that greed is spiritually dangerous because it leads to a false sense of security and an inward-focused self-absorption that allows us to ignore the needs of others.

Our biblical paradigm for greed is Judas. In today’s gospel reading, the Lord would soon be arrested, tortured, and executed. But that night, Mary of Bethany did something beautiful. She anointed Jesus with precious oil of nard, all the way from the Himalayas, purchased at great price. It was a decadent act of generous love. The indignant Judas denounced Mary before the disciples. Although he claimed he was advocating on behalf of the poor, Luke tells us that Judas was greedy. The money spent on that costly anointing could have lined his pockets. Within the week, Judas would betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. He is the poster child for greed, alienated from his better self, robbing the poor, rejecting the love of Christ, and denying the authority of God.

We’ll be relieved to hear that the remedy for greed is not poverty. It’s generosity, the virtue of being liberal in giving. Jesus expected his followers to be generous. He instructed them to sell their possessions and give to the poor (Lk 12:33-34). Aristotle taught that generosity is the noble and appropriate mean between two opposing extremes—stinginess and wastefulness. Aquinas saw generosity as a dimension of agape (charitas), the generous love that Jesus taught us, the love that always gives in the best interest of the other. Martin Luther encouraged generosity, saying, “Possessions belong in your hands, not in your heart.”

Our biblical example of generosity is the poor widow. You may remember that during Holy Week, Jesus took a seat in the Temple to watch folks deposit their offering in the treasury. Many costly gifts were given, yet the gift that excited Jesus the most was two small coins (copper mites or leptons), given by an impoverished widow. The Lord praised her generosity, because it was an offering of all she had and all she was—her whole self (Lk 21:1-4). We remember that Jesus was likewise unfailingly generous, sharing freely of himself to heal, help, and feed his neighbors. Truly, Holy Week reminds us that Jesus made the greatest gift of all, laying down his life in the ultimate object lesson of God’s generous love for us.

The bad news is that Americans are not as generous as we like to think. 2/3 of us believe that it is important to be generous, yet about half of us give nothing at all to charity. Only 17% of Americans give habitually, building it into their budget. Only 16% of Americans make generosity part of their long-term plans, like estate planning and legacy gifts. The definitive survey on Christian giving by sociologists Smith, Emerson, and Herzog learned that adults who do not witness generosity as children, do not practice generosity as grown-ups. They also found that if American Christians gave in keeping with their income, they would give between $46-85 billion more each year—a generosity that could forever change our communities, where churches remain at the heart of helping vulnerable neighbors and transforming lives.

The good news is that generosity can be learned, cultivated, and grown. Sociologists point out that being consistently generous involves planning. It’s a habit that we can intentionally build into busy lives. This could involve making a formal financial pledge to the charitable concerns that we wish to support, or it could also look like putting dates for volunteering on the calendar. Studies have found that giving, both in treasure and time, grows when it is routinized and becomes a habit.

The social scientists say that we are in the right place to become more generous: church. Local churches are consistent “climates of giving,” places where financial gifts meet known community needs. We get personally involved in ministries, missions, and volunteer opportunities that reinforce the “virtuous cycle” of generosity. We find that being generous is rewarding because we see the difference that we make in the world, and we become part of a supportive, giving-oriented web of relationships that grows with time. Within churches, our teamwork builds caring, friendship, and generosity.

Generosity is also grown when we practice it in families and teach it to our children and grandchildren. Generous parents make for generous kids. The family that talks about the importance of generosity and practices it together by using those fish banks for OGHS or participating in the Souper Bowl of Caring or walking together in the CROP Walk, these families create a home environment where generosity becomes part of our mental make-up. Those generous kids grow up to believe that they can and will make a caring difference that can transform the world through their personal generosity.

When we get the better of our greed by growing our generosity, not only does the world become a better and more equitable place, we also return to right relationship with God and with neighbor. Prof. Will Mari of Louisiana State University, reminds us that it’s not just our stuff that is not our own, it’s our whole lives. Truly, all we have and all we are is God’s gracious gift. We find ultimate meaning when we devote ourselves to a generosity and service that is “good, godly, and healthy.” Generosity poises us to live the life that God would have us live — open to what may come. C.S. Lewis in a letter to his dear friend Arthur Greeves in Dec. 1943 wrote, “The great thing about life is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things [that come along] as interruptions of life. The truth is that what I call interruptions are real life—the life God is sending me day by day.” What is the life that God is sending to us?

God is so generous to us, my friends. May we live with open hands, open hearts, and open hours, sharing generously of ourselves to the glory of God and for the good of our neighbor.

Resources:

Will Mari. “The Only Bright Spot in American Giving” in Christianity Today, Nov. 30, 2017. Accessed online at christianitytoday.com.

Marika Suval. “Just How Generous Are Americans Really?” on Wisconsin Public Radio, March 9, 2016. Accessed online at www.wpr.org/listen/892341

W. Bradford Littlejohn. “The 7 Deadly Sins in a Digital Age: 3. Greed” in Reformation 21, Nov. 24, 2014. Accessed online at www.reformation21.org.

Charles Pope. “The Seven Deadly Sins: Greed” in Community in Mission, April 2, 2019. Accessed online at blog.adw.org

Doug Ponder. “Seven Deadly Sins: Greed,” Jan. 14, 2016. Accessed online at www.remnantresource.org.

John 12:1-8

12 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Joann White

writer, pastor, spiritual director, and enthusiast of wild places

Lenten Sermon Series

Famished

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Famished” Luke 4:1-13

Luke 4:1-13

Extravagant Love

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Extravagant Love” Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

The End Is the Beginning

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The End Is the Beginning” Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Wholehearted Love

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Wholehearted Love” Mark 12:28-44

Mark 12:28-44

Thirsty

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Thirsty” Exodus 17:1-7

Exodus 17:1-7

Late Night Questions

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Late Night Questions” John 3:1-17

John 3:1-17

Put to the Test

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Put to the Test” Matthew 4:1-11

Matthew 4:1-11

“Sloth”

Matthew 26: 17-30, 36-46

Greed

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Greed” John 12:1-8

John 12:1-8