REFLECTIONS ON THE “PARABLE OF THE DISHONEST MANAGER”*
Luke 16:1-13
About the “dishonest manager…”
WE are the “Dishonest Manager”, just as we are the “Rich Young Man”, the Good Samaritan, Lazarus, etc. ALL wealth is dishonest. There is NO “parable of the righteous Manager.” Even the Good Samaritan is in need of forgiveness. We all partake of what the older translations call “Mammon,” even if we avoid the flagrant wheeling & dealing of the Dishonest Manager.
So then, some will ask, “what’s the point of trying to be honest? A legitimate question, and one that has been addressed by St. Paul, St. Augustine, Martin Luther, and many others… but not by me at this moment. I leave the issue of “antinomianism” for another day.
“The Master commended the Dishonest Manager. There is a clue! What “Master” would do that? The beginning of the parable paints a picture of the Master as a typical boss-man. The Dishonest Manager does not go to the Master and say, “I figure you’d be impressed if I doctored the books to my own advantage.” He had to be as astonished as we are at this unexpected twist in the plot.
So does that mean we will be commended if we act shrewdly on behalf of the kingdom? “Make friends for yourselves”, he says (and so did Pastor Manisha in her sermon yesterday) using “dishonest wealth” (is there any other kind?). Nothing is said about how the Dishonest Manager RESPONDED to the Master’s equanimity. Chances are, he saw it as a sign of weakness and became more corrupt than ever.
The kingdom of God is a Retirement Community for unsuccessful swindlers and inside-traders. “How did I get here?” asks Bernie Mahdoff. “Beats me”, responds the head of ENRON Corp., “you must have done somebody a favor back in the day. As for me, I can’t stand this place, all these big wedding parties with riff raff as guests of honor. I’m trying to arrange for a transfer to some other kingdom.” “There’s only one other alternative that I know of.” says Bernie. “It’s hard to get used to this forgiveness thing, but I find that it’s growing on me.”
Good News. Great News. We are forgiven for our participation in the Kingdom of Mammon. We are like Jonah, swallowed by the Monster but vomited safely back on shore by virtue of the grace of God. Our part is to stop fighting it, but even if we can’t stop (and no one can, if they eat), the Mischievous Master keeps pulling the rug out from under both our sins and our virtues. It’s also our responsibility to accept the essential kinship between ourselves and the Dishonest Manager types.
* From henceforth I shall refer to this passage as “The Parable of the Mischievous Master.”
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Cranbrook Philosophy Students: Existentialism & God
http://www.blogger.com/posts.g?blogID=2297937018350238193
Existentialism & God
I. Sartre
A. “When we conceive God as the Creator, He is generally thought of as a superior sort of artisan… God produces man, just as the artisan…makes [whatever…]”(“Existentialism and Human Emotion”, Marino, p.34)
B. “…the atheistic existentialists, among whom I class Heidigger, and then the French existentialists and myself… have in common …that they think existence precedes essence, or, if you prefer, that subjectivity must be the starting point.” (p. 342)
C. “Atheistic existentialism…states that if God does not exist, there is at least one being in whom existence precedes essence, a being who exists before he can be defined by any concept, and that being is man…” (p.345)
D. “Dostoyevsky said, ‘If God didn’t exist, everything would be possible.’ That is the very starting point of existentialism. Indeed, everything is permissible if God does not exist, and as a result man is forlorn…” (p. 349)
E. Existentialism isn’t so atheistic that it wears itself out showing that God doesn’t exist. Rather, it declares that even if God did exist, that would change nothing. There you’ve got our point of view. Not that we believe that God exists, but we think that the problem of His existence is not the issue.” (p. 367)
II. Camus
A. “Our aim is to shed light upon the step taken by the mind when, starting from a philosophy of the world’s lack of meaning, it ends up by finding a meaning and depth in it.” (Camus, “The Myth of Sisyphus”, Marino, p.471
B. “I can refute everything in this world surrounding me that offends or enraptures me, except this chaos, this sovereign chance, and this divine equivalence which springs from anarchy. I don’t know whether this world has a meaning that transcends it. But I know that I do not know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it” (p.477)
III. John Macquarrie, Principles of Christian Theology, Chas. Scribner’s Sons, NY, 1966
A. Proposes to speak and think of “God,” not as a being, not even a “supreme” being, but as “Being.”
B. The “Meaning of Being” cannot be approached in a detached, speculative fashion. “For we began by asking about ourselves…with the confrontation with the nothingness in our own existence that opened our eyes to the being which contrasts with nothing.” (Macquarrie, p. 97)
C. Being is NOT…\
1. “itself a being, that is to say, something that is.” (p.98)
2. “a property, i.e. “white, hard, round…etc.”(p. 98)
3. “a class”… (among other “classes” of existing things) (p.99)
4. a “substance” or “substratum…supposed to underlie the phenomenal characteristics of beings.” ( p.99)
5. “the absolute. If there were a …supreme being, we would still have to inquire about the being of this being…[which would be] more ultimate than our supposed absolute…” (p. 100)
D. Distinctions Between “Being” and “Becoming”
1. “we can talk about being and distinguish it from nothing only in so far as it includes becoming.” (p. 101)
2. “becoming is unintelligible apart from some conception of being.”
E. Distinction Between “Being” and “Appearance”
1. “Being gives itself in and through its appearances and nowhere else.” (p. 102)
2. Appearances also conceal being.
F. Conclusions
1. “Being”= “incomparable.” It is the condition that there may be any beings or properties of beings.” P.103
2. “Being” = “Letting be”
3. “We become aware of the presence of being…of what lets the beings be and mediates itself through them.” p. 104
4. “Being, which is transecendent of every particular being and thus ‘wholly other’ and the furthest from us, is also the closest because it is present in every being, including our own…” (p.104)
5. “Strictly speaking, however, once cannot say, that God “exists”…for if God is being and not a being, then one can no more say that God is than that being is. God (or being) is not, but rather lets be. “ (p.108)
Existentialism & God
I. Sartre
A. “When we conceive God as the Creator, He is generally thought of as a superior sort of artisan… God produces man, just as the artisan…makes [whatever…]”(“Existentialism and Human Emotion”, Marino, p.34)
B. “…the atheistic existentialists, among whom I class Heidigger, and then the French existentialists and myself… have in common …that they think existence precedes essence, or, if you prefer, that subjectivity must be the starting point.” (p. 342)
C. “Atheistic existentialism…states that if God does not exist, there is at least one being in whom existence precedes essence, a being who exists before he can be defined by any concept, and that being is man…” (p.345)
D. “Dostoyevsky said, ‘If God didn’t exist, everything would be possible.’ That is the very starting point of existentialism. Indeed, everything is permissible if God does not exist, and as a result man is forlorn…” (p. 349)
E. Existentialism isn’t so atheistic that it wears itself out showing that God doesn’t exist. Rather, it declares that even if God did exist, that would change nothing. There you’ve got our point of view. Not that we believe that God exists, but we think that the problem of His existence is not the issue.” (p. 367)
II. Camus
A. “Our aim is to shed light upon the step taken by the mind when, starting from a philosophy of the world’s lack of meaning, it ends up by finding a meaning and depth in it.” (Camus, “The Myth of Sisyphus”, Marino, p.471
B. “I can refute everything in this world surrounding me that offends or enraptures me, except this chaos, this sovereign chance, and this divine equivalence which springs from anarchy. I don’t know whether this world has a meaning that transcends it. But I know that I do not know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it” (p.477)
III. John Macquarrie, Principles of Christian Theology, Chas. Scribner’s Sons, NY, 1966
A. Proposes to speak and think of “God,” not as a being, not even a “supreme” being, but as “Being.”
B. The “Meaning of Being” cannot be approached in a detached, speculative fashion. “For we began by asking about ourselves…with the confrontation with the nothingness in our own existence that opened our eyes to the being which contrasts with nothing.” (Macquarrie, p. 97)
C. Being is NOT…\
1. “itself a being, that is to say, something that is.” (p.98)
2. “a property, i.e. “white, hard, round…etc.”(p. 98)
3. “a class”… (among other “classes” of existing things) (p.99)
4. a “substance” or “substratum…supposed to underlie the phenomenal characteristics of beings.” ( p.99)
5. “the absolute. If there were a …supreme being, we would still have to inquire about the being of this being…[which would be] more ultimate than our supposed absolute…” (p. 100)
D. Distinctions Between “Being” and “Becoming”
1. “we can talk about being and distinguish it from nothing only in so far as it includes becoming.” (p. 101)
2. “becoming is unintelligible apart from some conception of being.”
E. Distinction Between “Being” and “Appearance”
1. “Being gives itself in and through its appearances and nowhere else.” (p. 102)
2. Appearances also conceal being.
F. Conclusions
1. “Being”= “incomparable.” It is the condition that there may be any beings or properties of beings.” P.103
2. “Being” = “Letting be”
3. “We become aware of the presence of being…of what lets the beings be and mediates itself through them.” p. 104
4. “Being, which is transecendent of every particular being and thus ‘wholly other’ and the furthest from us, is also the closest because it is present in every being, including our own…” (p.104)
5. “Strictly speaking, however, once cannot say, that God “exists”…for if God is being and not a being, then one can no more say that God is than that being is. God (or being) is not, but rather lets be. “ (p.108)
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Philosophy Students...
How does the following passage relate to existentialism?
"It was as if the boy had already divined what his senses and intellect had not encompassed yet: that doomed wilderness whose edges were being constantly and punily gnawed at by men with plows and axes who feared it because it was wilderness, men myriad and nameless even to one another in the land where the old bear had earned a name, and through which ran not even a mortal beast but an anachronism indomitable and invincible out of an old dead time, a phantom, epitome and apotheosis of the old wild life which the little puny humans swarmed and hacked at in a fury of abhorrence and fear like pygmies about the ankles of a drowsing elephant;- the old bear, solitary, indomitable, and alone; widowered childless and absolved of all mortality- old Priam reft of his old wife and outlived all his sons." THE BEAR, by William Faulkner
"It was as if the boy had already divined what his senses and intellect had not encompassed yet: that doomed wilderness whose edges were being constantly and punily gnawed at by men with plows and axes who feared it because it was wilderness, men myriad and nameless even to one another in the land where the old bear had earned a name, and through which ran not even a mortal beast but an anachronism indomitable and invincible out of an old dead time, a phantom, epitome and apotheosis of the old wild life which the little puny humans swarmed and hacked at in a fury of abhorrence and fear like pygmies about the ankles of a drowsing elephant;- the old bear, solitary, indomitable, and alone; widowered childless and absolved of all mortality- old Priam reft of his old wife and outlived all his sons." THE BEAR, by William Faulkner
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Grassroots Existentialism: APRIL 20, 2010
"Life is here, we live it, we endure it, and we do so without any knowledge of how we have become." From "The Revolting Test", April 19, 2010
For more reflections on the Meaningfully Absurd read the following poem and comment regarding its use of existentialist ideas...
Under the Sun
I have yet to find myself
For I was born under the sun.
Amongst every living creature
I have no sense of purpose.
Alive in awe of wind and fire
I have yet to prove myself
For I am a new born.
The worn out burden of the planet
The existential put to the test.
Destruction of life proves much easier than creation
I have yet to end myself
For I have too much pride.
Look down at the sea of creation
And know it was me.
Gaze at the power of nature harnessed
And know it was me.
See the extermination of my worldly brethren
And know it was me.
For I was born under the sun
And I’m here to stay
For more reflections on the Meaningfully Absurd read the following poem and comment regarding its use of existentialist ideas...
Under the Sun
I have yet to find myself
For I was born under the sun.
Amongst every living creature
I have no sense of purpose.
Alive in awe of wind and fire
I have yet to prove myself
For I am a new born.
The worn out burden of the planet
The existential put to the test.
Destruction of life proves much easier than creation
I have yet to end myself
For I have too much pride.
Look down at the sea of creation
And know it was me.
Gaze at the power of nature harnessed
And know it was me.
See the extermination of my worldly brethren
And know it was me.
For I was born under the sun
And I’m here to stay
Friday, July 17, 2009
Quotations from Wendell Berry
• We have lived by the assumption that what was good for us would be good for the world. We have been wrong. We must change our lives, so that it will be possible to live by the contrary assumption that what is good for the world will be good for us. . . We must recover the sense of the majesty of the creation and the ability to be worshipful in its presence. For it is only on the condition of humility and reverence before the world that our species will be able to remain in it.
o "A Native Hill"
I AM NOT SUGGESTING, of course, that everybody ought to be a farmer or a forester. Heaven forbid! I am suggesting that most people now are living on the far side of a broken connection, and that this is potentially catastrophic. Most people are now fed, clothed and sheltered from sources toward which they feel no gratitude and exercise no responsibility. There is no significant urban constituency, no formidable consumer lobby, no noticeable political leadership, for good land-use practices, for good farming and good forestry, for restoration of abused land, or for halting the destruction of land by so-called “development”.
We are involved now in a profound failure of imagination. Most of us cannot imagine the wheat beyond the bread, or the farmer beyond the wheat, or the farm beyond the farmer, or the history beyond the farm. Most people cannot imagine the forest and the forest economy that produced their houses and furniture and paper; or the landscapes, the streams and the weather that fill their pitchers and bathtubs and swimming pools with water. Most people appear to assume that when they have paid their money for these things they have entirely met their obligations.
Money does not bring forth food. Neither does the technology of the food system. Food comes from nature and from the work of people. If the supply of food is to be continuous for a long time, then people must work in harmony with nature.
o "A Native Hill"
I AM NOT SUGGESTING, of course, that everybody ought to be a farmer or a forester. Heaven forbid! I am suggesting that most people now are living on the far side of a broken connection, and that this is potentially catastrophic. Most people are now fed, clothed and sheltered from sources toward which they feel no gratitude and exercise no responsibility. There is no significant urban constituency, no formidable consumer lobby, no noticeable political leadership, for good land-use practices, for good farming and good forestry, for restoration of abused land, or for halting the destruction of land by so-called “development”.
We are involved now in a profound failure of imagination. Most of us cannot imagine the wheat beyond the bread, or the farmer beyond the wheat, or the farm beyond the farmer, or the history beyond the farm. Most people cannot imagine the forest and the forest economy that produced their houses and furniture and paper; or the landscapes, the streams and the weather that fill their pitchers and bathtubs and swimming pools with water. Most people appear to assume that when they have paid their money for these things they have entirely met their obligations.
Money does not bring forth food. Neither does the technology of the food system. Food comes from nature and from the work of people. If the supply of food is to be continuous for a long time, then people must work in harmony with nature.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Heraklitean River: Thomas Merton, Henry Sams, & Mary Ellen Chase
At St. Augustine’s House: June 29, 2009
I am sitting under a gazebo at this monastery, having taken shelter here from the intermittent rain. Not far away, two men are speaking in very un-monastic tones about vegetables in the garden. They have big hats, and are interested in everything they see. They walk on under the tall trees with the wind tossing the high branches and unsettling the big hats.
Earlier, among the musty volumes in the monastery’s library, I discovered a book, The Psalms for the Common Reader, by Mary Ellen Chase. That patrician-sounding name rang a bell for me… my father’s collaborator on a college text book? Could it be the same person? I thought Dad’s book was published in the 1950’s, and the one in my hands came out in 1962, so it is plausible she is one and the same. In it she quotes Heraclitus as saying, “God is winter and summer, war and peace, light and darkness, bread and hunger.” This, she writes, could be understood as summarizing the psalms.
Oddly, Heraclitus is also mentioned in the other book I had picked up in the monastic library, this one by Thomas Merton and titled, Raids on the Unspeakable. It is in the form of a daily journal, and the entry for June 26 reads as follows:
“The Heraklitean River
In the Republic of Plato there was already no place for poets and musicians, still less for dervishes and monks. As for the technological Platos who think they now run the world we live in, they imagine they can tempt us with banalities and abstractions. But we can elude them merely by stepping into the Heraklitean river, which is never crossed twice.
When the poet steps into that ever-moving river, poetry itself is born out of the flashing water. In that unique instant, the truth is manifest to all who are able to receive it.
No one can come near the river unless he walks on his own feet. He cannot come there carried in a vehicle.
No one can enter the river wearing the garments of public and collective ideas. He must feel the water on his skin. He must know that immediacy is for naked minds only, and for the innocent.
Come, dervishes: here is the water of life: Dance in it.”
Earlier, Father Richard had related an improbable anecdote concerning some store bought minnows that he had been given to “keep in the refrigerator.” Fearful for their survival, he carried the container of minnows through the woods to a small pond on the edge of the monastery property, and there released them. This was told as prelude to a lament regarding the number of mosquitoes he had encountered along the way.
The Heraklitean river is carried, precariously, by the bug-beset monk through a world of flux and change to its rendezvous with a wetland.
The minnows rejoice at their deliverance.
Dad- I am a minnow, born along by currents barely understood. Have I brushed against your academic colleague with the solemn-sounding name? Would she be interested in these thoughts and written words? You, she, Thomas Merton- are all gone, carried off by the current along with the displaced minnows.
I am seeing it all as one- you, she, Merton- a Heraklitean river sweeping us all along- I, perhaps, no longer a minnow but a momentary point of reference, a semi-solid object under this gazebo, like the twelve stones piled up in the Jordan at Joshua’s command, something for the river to come up against and flow around, a place of encounter, consciousness, and commentary- is this anything significant, noteworthy, intelligible? Or is it just random, flakey, the ringing in the ears of an aging man who misses his dad, his sons, his rivers?
Jonathan: go ahead and lament the lost moments and lost loves, the red sunset on Lake Chaplain with James and David in the boat, the red air and water, the red and black river you are stepping into even now, rowing through, carried forward with the surge of oar-strokes, writing, breathing, with Henry Sams and Mary Ellen Chase- did either of them ever hear of Thomas Merton?
Perhaps not- but they all knew of Heraclitus, and of the Psalms.
And now we have all heard these rumors, spread by minnows, and released by monks.
I am sitting under a gazebo at this monastery, having taken shelter here from the intermittent rain. Not far away, two men are speaking in very un-monastic tones about vegetables in the garden. They have big hats, and are interested in everything they see. They walk on under the tall trees with the wind tossing the high branches and unsettling the big hats.
Earlier, among the musty volumes in the monastery’s library, I discovered a book, The Psalms for the Common Reader, by Mary Ellen Chase. That patrician-sounding name rang a bell for me… my father’s collaborator on a college text book? Could it be the same person? I thought Dad’s book was published in the 1950’s, and the one in my hands came out in 1962, so it is plausible she is one and the same. In it she quotes Heraclitus as saying, “God is winter and summer, war and peace, light and darkness, bread and hunger.” This, she writes, could be understood as summarizing the psalms.
Oddly, Heraclitus is also mentioned in the other book I had picked up in the monastic library, this one by Thomas Merton and titled, Raids on the Unspeakable. It is in the form of a daily journal, and the entry for June 26 reads as follows:
“The Heraklitean River
In the Republic of Plato there was already no place for poets and musicians, still less for dervishes and monks. As for the technological Platos who think they now run the world we live in, they imagine they can tempt us with banalities and abstractions. But we can elude them merely by stepping into the Heraklitean river, which is never crossed twice.
When the poet steps into that ever-moving river, poetry itself is born out of the flashing water. In that unique instant, the truth is manifest to all who are able to receive it.
No one can come near the river unless he walks on his own feet. He cannot come there carried in a vehicle.
No one can enter the river wearing the garments of public and collective ideas. He must feel the water on his skin. He must know that immediacy is for naked minds only, and for the innocent.
Come, dervishes: here is the water of life: Dance in it.”
Earlier, Father Richard had related an improbable anecdote concerning some store bought minnows that he had been given to “keep in the refrigerator.” Fearful for their survival, he carried the container of minnows through the woods to a small pond on the edge of the monastery property, and there released them. This was told as prelude to a lament regarding the number of mosquitoes he had encountered along the way.
The Heraklitean river is carried, precariously, by the bug-beset monk through a world of flux and change to its rendezvous with a wetland.
The minnows rejoice at their deliverance.
Dad- I am a minnow, born along by currents barely understood. Have I brushed against your academic colleague with the solemn-sounding name? Would she be interested in these thoughts and written words? You, she, Thomas Merton- are all gone, carried off by the current along with the displaced minnows.
I am seeing it all as one- you, she, Merton- a Heraklitean river sweeping us all along- I, perhaps, no longer a minnow but a momentary point of reference, a semi-solid object under this gazebo, like the twelve stones piled up in the Jordan at Joshua’s command, something for the river to come up against and flow around, a place of encounter, consciousness, and commentary- is this anything significant, noteworthy, intelligible? Or is it just random, flakey, the ringing in the ears of an aging man who misses his dad, his sons, his rivers?
Jonathan: go ahead and lament the lost moments and lost loves, the red sunset on Lake Chaplain with James and David in the boat, the red air and water, the red and black river you are stepping into even now, rowing through, carried forward with the surge of oar-strokes, writing, breathing, with Henry Sams and Mary Ellen Chase- did either of them ever hear of Thomas Merton?
Perhaps not- but they all knew of Heraclitus, and of the Psalms.
And now we have all heard these rumors, spread by minnows, and released by monks.
Ramblings re Holy Week, 2009
MAUNDY THURSDAY…Pastor Manisha’s sermon speaks of the drastic intimacy Jesus seeks with us…she urges us not to shy away as he draws near to us to wash our feet… as I kneel to wash the feet of my two companions I am aware that these are not just random feet here in front of me, they come with stories I know well… the first pair belongs to one of our youth with whom I went to New York on the J2A Pilgrimage last summer… I remember how these feet could not walk by any homeless street person without stopping while a conversation took place and some of their owner’s small amount of money shared… the other feet are attached to a young man who, a few years ago, was suffering from an ominous blood disorder that defied diagnosis or prognosis…I help to wash their feet and the familiar music washes over me…
When we sing to God in heaven/We shall make such harmony/Born of all we’ve known together/Of Christ’s love, and agony.
GOOD FRIDAY- music, once again, with Colin Davis’ group singing Lift me up/ Turn me around/ I was lost/ Now I’m found… our own parishioners speak with humanity and humor about their own experience of Christ’s suffering and death… one speaks of an uncle who lost his wife and two daughters over a very short period of time, yet found the strength to keep his faith and hope alive in spite of it… another speaker talked about his uncles, father, and grandmother, and their self-giving love taken for granted by those on whom it was bestowed… “giants”, he called them… “giants” in gentleness, generosity, and faith…as I look around, I behold a churchful of such giants… yet this awareness does not make me feel small, it makes me feel lifted up, as if invisible uncles were supporting me on either side.
EASTER VIGIL… The Gospel read in darkness, lit only by two small candles…“And very early on the first day of the week…the [three women] went to the tomb…” and what they found there fills us with dread and amazement and an abiding hopefulness that we can barely put into words, so we just whack on bells and gongs until our arms grow tired and lights in the church all come on at once to reveal a dazzling panorama of flowers and candles and gleaming silver… and Chase, three years old, comes forward to present himself for baptism… “Do you renounce Satan,” inquires Pastor Manisha, “and all the powers of wickedness that rebel against God.” “I eenoss them,” Chase replies. “Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?” Chase is obviously thinking about something else, and there is a pause as he gazes up at the ceiling before looking Pastor Manisha in the eye and saying, “I do.”
EASTER SUNDAY… Trumpets! Beethoven! Throngs of small children! More trumpets! I move to the pulpit to the tones of a majestic fanfare… What can I possibly say to fulfill such grand expectations? Nothing… it has already been said, and sung, and acted out, and lived.
You and I are the sermon, the promise, and the hope. We are also the roadblock, the detour, and the heavy stone rolled against the tomb. But God’s love perseveres in loving us and teaching us to love. Christ has risen! And so have we.
Love,
Jonathan+
When we sing to God in heaven/We shall make such harmony/Born of all we’ve known together/Of Christ’s love, and agony.
GOOD FRIDAY- music, once again, with Colin Davis’ group singing Lift me up/ Turn me around/ I was lost/ Now I’m found… our own parishioners speak with humanity and humor about their own experience of Christ’s suffering and death… one speaks of an uncle who lost his wife and two daughters over a very short period of time, yet found the strength to keep his faith and hope alive in spite of it… another speaker talked about his uncles, father, and grandmother, and their self-giving love taken for granted by those on whom it was bestowed… “giants”, he called them… “giants” in gentleness, generosity, and faith…as I look around, I behold a churchful of such giants… yet this awareness does not make me feel small, it makes me feel lifted up, as if invisible uncles were supporting me on either side.
EASTER VIGIL… The Gospel read in darkness, lit only by two small candles…“And very early on the first day of the week…the [three women] went to the tomb…” and what they found there fills us with dread and amazement and an abiding hopefulness that we can barely put into words, so we just whack on bells and gongs until our arms grow tired and lights in the church all come on at once to reveal a dazzling panorama of flowers and candles and gleaming silver… and Chase, three years old, comes forward to present himself for baptism… “Do you renounce Satan,” inquires Pastor Manisha, “and all the powers of wickedness that rebel against God.” “I eenoss them,” Chase replies. “Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?” Chase is obviously thinking about something else, and there is a pause as he gazes up at the ceiling before looking Pastor Manisha in the eye and saying, “I do.”
EASTER SUNDAY… Trumpets! Beethoven! Throngs of small children! More trumpets! I move to the pulpit to the tones of a majestic fanfare… What can I possibly say to fulfill such grand expectations? Nothing… it has already been said, and sung, and acted out, and lived.
You and I are the sermon, the promise, and the hope. We are also the roadblock, the detour, and the heavy stone rolled against the tomb. But God’s love perseveres in loving us and teaching us to love. Christ has risen! And so have we.
Love,
Jonathan+
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