This Christmas could have gone a lot worse. I started feeling puny while operating the A/V booth Wednesday night at church, went home and to bed - and by the middle of the night, was running a 102-degree fever and enduring miserable sinusitis pains. I was too sick to go to work the next day, rallied enough Friday to put Sunday's worship PowerPoints into EasyWorship and to print the orders of worship, then came home and crashed while the rest of my family went out to a Christmas dinner with (and at the treat of) our dear friends, the Rowes.
Saturday morning, Laura discovered that her second mouse Carmel had squeezed out of his cage and into Tuxedo's. Tuxedo is her brother's mouse, who welcomed Carmel pretty visciously. Angi and Laura had to take the poor thing to the vet to be put out of his suffering. Then later in the day, Angi took me to the family clinic for a shot - but I survived it.
Sunday morning I was still too far under the weather to be able to go to worship, but I heard it was wonderful: one service at 9:00 a.m., people packed into pews and folding chairs like subway riders (you thought I'd say "sardines," but sardines don't sit in pews, folding chairs or subways).
But on Christmas morning I felt good enough to lumber downstairs and open gifts, have breakfast, and relax - even entertain a luncheon guest for a while. It was really a very lovely Christmas.
All those nights when I'd be awakened by almost-hourly hacking-and-wheezing fits, I could go back to sleep pretty easily by thinking about my New Year's resolutions.
Until last night, when it suddenly occurred to me that all of my new year's resolutions were about me.
Well, of course they were, you might think; you can't make somebody else's for them (which is sometimes a pity...).
No, I mean they were things about me that I wanted for my own sake: To look better. To be perceived better. To feel better about myself.
I didn't have resolutions that were achievable goals about wanting to become a better listener ... more generous ... more cooperative and collaborative ... more forgiving; less judgmental.
It was good to have achievable goals. But they really need to benefit others and glorify God, first of all.
I have a feeling if I pursue those goals, no one will care greatly whether I'm fourteen pounds overweight or sporadic at blogging or behind on a long-term project or any of those others. Least of all, me.
And 2007 will go better for everybody.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Christmas, The Secular Holiday
I have religious friends and kinfolk who beleive in good conscience that Christmas can be celebrated, but only - as the traditional term in the prayer between the Lord's Supper and collection goes - "separate and apart" from any religious connotation.
It's okay, in other words, to exchange gifts and take your children to sit on Santa's lap at the mall - but it is condemned by the silence of scripture to mention the gifts of the visiting Magi, or to talk about St. Nicholas, bishop of Myra.
The logic of this conclusion simply escapes me.
Jesus celebrated traditions that predated His incarnation. He went to temple ... well, to synagogue. Nowhere in Old Testament scripture is synagogue required, authorized or condemned. Does Jesus stand condemned for violating the silence of scripture?
He also clearly opposed the then-current teaching about keeping the Sabbath - which was, scripturally, to be kept holy to the Lord - in order to heal a man on that day of rest. He even seemed to advocate rescuing an unfortunate animal on the Sabbath; for He is Lord of the Sabbath, and it was made for man - not vice-versa. Does Jesus stand condemned for violating the clear instruction of scripture?
When angels in heavenly host sang so loudly at the birth of the Savior-King that shepherds could hear them in their fields that night, were they in violation of keeping heaven's silence? Or if they had withheld their praise and celebration, would the rocks and stones themselves begun to sing - as Jesus said during his triumphal entry into Jerusalem years later?
And when we give gifts, do we not imitate our Lord Jesus, His Father and His Spirit - who have made an eternal career of gifting mankind with what we need most? Do we not mimic the generosity of the Christ who gave up everything in heaven to be born, live, teach, die and live again among us?
Christmas a merely secular holiday?
Bah.
Humbug.
It's okay, in other words, to exchange gifts and take your children to sit on Santa's lap at the mall - but it is condemned by the silence of scripture to mention the gifts of the visiting Magi, or to talk about St. Nicholas, bishop of Myra.
The logic of this conclusion simply escapes me.
Jesus celebrated traditions that predated His incarnation. He went to temple ... well, to synagogue. Nowhere in Old Testament scripture is synagogue required, authorized or condemned. Does Jesus stand condemned for violating the silence of scripture?
He also clearly opposed the then-current teaching about keeping the Sabbath - which was, scripturally, to be kept holy to the Lord - in order to heal a man on that day of rest. He even seemed to advocate rescuing an unfortunate animal on the Sabbath; for He is Lord of the Sabbath, and it was made for man - not vice-versa. Does Jesus stand condemned for violating the clear instruction of scripture?
When angels in heavenly host sang so loudly at the birth of the Savior-King that shepherds could hear them in their fields that night, were they in violation of keeping heaven's silence? Or if they had withheld their praise and celebration, would the rocks and stones themselves begun to sing - as Jesus said during his triumphal entry into Jerusalem years later?
And when we give gifts, do we not imitate our Lord Jesus, His Father and His Spirit - who have made an eternal career of gifting mankind with what we need most? Do we not mimic the generosity of the Christ who gave up everything in heaven to be born, live, teach, die and live again among us?
Christmas a merely secular holiday?
Bah.
Humbug.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
The Season of Reduced Expectations
Christmas is crunch-time. And I'm not talking about snow.
It's time to hike it all up a notch; time to want less and give more; time to be the wisest shopper and the most generous heart and the most pious Christian. It's time to entertain and be entertained; to party and throw parties; to overextend, overeat, overdo, over-achieve.
All to honor the Baby in the manger.
Because that, of course, is what happened the night He was born. Joseph and Mary invited the Shepherds and the Kings and any other neighbors over and threw a big bash - even though dreadfully tired from travel and improvisation at lodging and probably a few hours of labor.
Then the Kings were, maybe, a couple of years late and almost missed the party heading down to Egypt for a really big time. Their stellar navigation thing evidently had gone out while they were in transit and they had to go ask Herod for directions.
To make up for it, they probably went a bit overboard on the shower gifts, but hey, it's the holidays - and you only get one chance to fete a baby, right?
Even a Baby who has come to give the gift of reduced expectations.
I believe that.
I believe He came so that we wouldn't have to worry about eternal damnation. Or about having too much stuff. About toiling and spinning and spending and having and storing-in-barns and moths and rust and thieves. He came to tell us to ask, and we would receive; to seek, and we would find; to knock, and the door would be opened to us.
Even if it was the door to a stable. Or a prison. Or an arena full of hungry wild animals ringed by horrific wild pagans.
He came to encourage us to give that last mite in the temple treasury; to give without expecting to receive in return; to give of ourselves lavishly and extravagantly to people we barely know, or don't know at all. He came to ask us to sell our possessions and give to the poor, with no expectation that we could ever redistribute so evenly that there would never again be the poor.
He came to give us the expectation that we would be reviled and persecuted and accused falsely.
He came to tell us to expect a cross - and when crunch-time came, He let Himself be nailed to it - all so we could share a crown with Him. Because He would never ask us to do anything He wasn't willing to do Himself.
And He gave us something far more precious than wealth or power or worldly blessings or high expectations.
He gave us hope.
It's time to hike it all up a notch; time to want less and give more; time to be the wisest shopper and the most generous heart and the most pious Christian. It's time to entertain and be entertained; to party and throw parties; to overextend, overeat, overdo, over-achieve.
All to honor the Baby in the manger.
Because that, of course, is what happened the night He was born. Joseph and Mary invited the Shepherds and the Kings and any other neighbors over and threw a big bash - even though dreadfully tired from travel and improvisation at lodging and probably a few hours of labor.
Then the Kings were, maybe, a couple of years late and almost missed the party heading down to Egypt for a really big time. Their stellar navigation thing evidently had gone out while they were in transit and they had to go ask Herod for directions.
To make up for it, they probably went a bit overboard on the shower gifts, but hey, it's the holidays - and you only get one chance to fete a baby, right?
Even a Baby who has come to give the gift of reduced expectations.
I believe that.
I believe He came so that we wouldn't have to worry about eternal damnation. Or about having too much stuff. About toiling and spinning and spending and having and storing-in-barns and moths and rust and thieves. He came to tell us to ask, and we would receive; to seek, and we would find; to knock, and the door would be opened to us.
Even if it was the door to a stable. Or a prison. Or an arena full of hungry wild animals ringed by horrific wild pagans.
He came to encourage us to give that last mite in the temple treasury; to give without expecting to receive in return; to give of ourselves lavishly and extravagantly to people we barely know, or don't know at all. He came to ask us to sell our possessions and give to the poor, with no expectation that we could ever redistribute so evenly that there would never again be the poor.
He came to give us the expectation that we would be reviled and persecuted and accused falsely.
He came to tell us to expect a cross - and when crunch-time came, He let Himself be nailed to it - all so we could share a crown with Him. Because He would never ask us to do anything He wasn't willing to do Himself.
And He gave us something far more precious than wealth or power or worldly blessings or high expectations.
He gave us hope.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Who Trumps Whom?
I'm still struggling with the questions in the previous post.
What if Paul's command explicitly says, "...women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says." (I Corinthians 14:34), but Jesus' example is not to forbid a woman of poor repute from testifying about Him - or even to exaggerate it - so that "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me everything I ever did.' So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers" (John 4:39-41)?
Who trumps whom?
What if Paul's command above seems to contradict his permission for women to pray and prophesy in what seems to be a public worship setting - as long as her head is covered, possibly with long hair; possibly with a veil (I Corinthians 11:5 - a segment sandwiched between two discussions of what is permissible at the Lord's table, and presumably having to do with a worship assembly)?
Does Paul, chapter 14 trump Paul, chapter 11?
Thank heaven the eating of meat sacrificed to idols is not an issue these days. I can't even begin to sort it out. If you eat it in private, it's alright because you know the pagan gods to whom it was sacrificed are nothing and God made everything good in and of itself (I Corinthians 10:25-26, 30). But if someone has a conscience problem about it, you can't eat it in front of them. If someone offers you meat at their table or you buy it in the market, you should not ask if it was sacrificed to an idol (I Corinthians 10:27). But if they do tell you it has been sacrificed to an idol, you can't eat it (I Corinthians 10:28-29). Sort of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy? Yet, the fact remains that meat sacrificed to idols was actually sacrificed to demons, which are real, so you should have no part of it. (I Corinthians 10:19-20). So you're pretty much danged if you do and danged if you don't, so you might as well just do what your conscience suggests and glorify God for having one (I Corinthians 10:31).
But, in so doing, don't cause somebody else to mess up and violate their conscience because of what you did (I Corinthians 10:32). Just try to make everyone happy (I Corinthians 10:33).
I know I'm paraphrasing wildly but ... didn't I get most of that condensed version right?
(Please don't ask me to factor in Romans 14, too.)
Can ANYONE sort that out and make sense of it and figure out what the rules are - and live by them in any given real or hypothetical situation?
My inclination is to say "no."
Maybe because that's not the point.
Maybe Paul is pointing out how pointless it is to bullet-point a bunch of rules. Perhaps the gist of it is that people can disagree on matters of conscience and still eat or worship together without condemning and offending each other if they're willing to respect each other, show a little deference, talk about it - even agree to disagree.
Maybe the point is that we need to struggle with questions of conscience together, and draw closer to God in the process by being transparent, listening, sharing, respecting, seeing the viewpoints of others and being enriched by them.
Or maybe I'm just really awful at turning the Bible into the right rules to live by.
Good thing there's grace, huh?
What if Paul's command explicitly says, "...women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says." (I Corinthians 14:34), but Jesus' example is not to forbid a woman of poor repute from testifying about Him - or even to exaggerate it - so that "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me everything I ever did.' So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers" (John 4:39-41)?
Who trumps whom?
What if Paul's command above seems to contradict his permission for women to pray and prophesy in what seems to be a public worship setting - as long as her head is covered, possibly with long hair; possibly with a veil (I Corinthians 11:5 - a segment sandwiched between two discussions of what is permissible at the Lord's table, and presumably having to do with a worship assembly)?
Does Paul, chapter 14 trump Paul, chapter 11?
Thank heaven the eating of meat sacrificed to idols is not an issue these days. I can't even begin to sort it out. If you eat it in private, it's alright because you know the pagan gods to whom it was sacrificed are nothing and God made everything good in and of itself (I Corinthians 10:25-26, 30). But if someone has a conscience problem about it, you can't eat it in front of them. If someone offers you meat at their table or you buy it in the market, you should not ask if it was sacrificed to an idol (I Corinthians 10:27). But if they do tell you it has been sacrificed to an idol, you can't eat it (I Corinthians 10:28-29). Sort of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy? Yet, the fact remains that meat sacrificed to idols was actually sacrificed to demons, which are real, so you should have no part of it. (I Corinthians 10:19-20). So you're pretty much danged if you do and danged if you don't, so you might as well just do what your conscience suggests and glorify God for having one (I Corinthians 10:31).
But, in so doing, don't cause somebody else to mess up and violate their conscience because of what you did (I Corinthians 10:32). Just try to make everyone happy (I Corinthians 10:33).
I know I'm paraphrasing wildly but ... didn't I get most of that condensed version right?
(Please don't ask me to factor in Romans 14, too.)
Can ANYONE sort that out and make sense of it and figure out what the rules are - and live by them in any given real or hypothetical situation?
My inclination is to say "no."
Maybe because that's not the point.
Maybe Paul is pointing out how pointless it is to bullet-point a bunch of rules. Perhaps the gist of it is that people can disagree on matters of conscience and still eat or worship together without condemning and offending each other if they're willing to respect each other, show a little deference, talk about it - even agree to disagree.
Maybe the point is that we need to struggle with questions of conscience together, and draw closer to God in the process by being transparent, listening, sharing, respecting, seeing the viewpoints of others and being enriched by them.
Or maybe I'm just really awful at turning the Bible into the right rules to live by.
Good thing there's grace, huh?
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Applicability
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so bear with me.
There are some passages of scripture that are meant for all people for all time everywhere. Right?
And there are some that are meant for some people at a certain time and place. Right?
We can't keep a whole lot of the commandments in the old covenant, because 1.) most of us Christians aren't Jews; 2.) there is no temple in Jerusalem where we could sacrifice even if we were; 3.) the Law was a schoolmaster until ....
Okay, how about the new covenant:
"Slaves, obey your masters." Meant for some people at a certain time and place. Or not?
"Love each other deeply, for love covers a multitude of sins." Meant for all people for all time. Or not?
Maybe those seem obvious to you. But there are a lot of things in the new covenant that aren't that clear to me. To whom were they written and meant to benefit? For all time or for a certain time? For every people, race and nation or for a small definite group of people in a nation which perhaps no longer exists?
How do we decide?
If context gives clear clues, are we allowed to ignore those clues if they conflict with what we've been taught - or have otherwise always believed?
If what Paul teaches as command seems to conflict with what Jesus taught by example, who trumps whom?
If some of those teachings are contingent upon a certain event - such as Christ's return and judgment - and I understand that differently from you (and most everybody else!) should I continue to teach something that I do not in my heart believe is applicable to us and now and everywhere and forever?
Like I said, I don't really know where I'm going with this. I really don't have these answers.
And I really, really do want to know them.
There are some passages of scripture that are meant for all people for all time everywhere. Right?
And there are some that are meant for some people at a certain time and place. Right?
We can't keep a whole lot of the commandments in the old covenant, because 1.) most of us Christians aren't Jews; 2.) there is no temple in Jerusalem where we could sacrifice even if we were; 3.) the Law was a schoolmaster until ....
Okay, how about the new covenant:
"Slaves, obey your masters." Meant for some people at a certain time and place. Or not?
"Love each other deeply, for love covers a multitude of sins." Meant for all people for all time. Or not?
Maybe those seem obvious to you. But there are a lot of things in the new covenant that aren't that clear to me. To whom were they written and meant to benefit? For all time or for a certain time? For every people, race and nation or for a small definite group of people in a nation which perhaps no longer exists?
How do we decide?
If context gives clear clues, are we allowed to ignore those clues if they conflict with what we've been taught - or have otherwise always believed?
If what Paul teaches as command seems to conflict with what Jesus taught by example, who trumps whom?
If some of those teachings are contingent upon a certain event - such as Christ's return and judgment - and I understand that differently from you (and most everybody else!) should I continue to teach something that I do not in my heart believe is applicable to us and now and everywhere and forever?
Like I said, I don't really know where I'm going with this. I really don't have these answers.
And I really, really do want to know them.
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