Proper 28A: Enough

Coins-in-a-jarOLD TESTAMENT: Judges 4: 1-7

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

The Book of Judges portrays a major transition in the Biblical history of Israel. Prior to this, Israel was under the leadership of Moses in the wilderness and then Joshua in the conquest of the land in Canaan. After the Book of Judges, Israel was ruled by kings, beginning with Saul, David, and Solomon. This is the time in between, a time of twelve warrior rulers, called judges, who led Israel for brief periods in times of military emergency. Most scholars think that many of these passages do not represent true accounts but have rather been reshaped and edited (redacted) and so cannot be necessarily reconstructed into a succinct historical account.

This passage begins with the first phase of the story of the beginning of the decline of Israel and the decline in the effectiveness of the individual rulers. The repeating pattern throughout judges is present here: (1) The Israelites do evil, (2) The Lord turns them over to their enemy, (3) Israel cries out to the Lord, and (4) The Lord raises up a new judge who delivers them (for a period of time). We are not really clear here who the actual judge is. The three characters here are Deborah, who is a female prophetess who acts as a sort of arbitrating judge, Barak, a military general, and Jael, a non-Israelite woman who kills the enemy Canaanite general Sisera when he comes to her tent for refuge. The Jewish legends depict Sisera as a giant of a man who could destroy the walls of an enemy’s city with a single shout. In some ways, it is another “David and Goliath” story. Enter Deborah…sitting under her palm tree proclaiming words of wisdom, she calls Barak, an experienced military general (but probably nothing like the great Sisera!). And she calls him to go against this great army.

Interestingly enough, the Book of Judges contains the largest number of female characters of any book in the Bible—nineteen in all. But Deborah is probably looked upon as at least one of the most influential female leaders in the Old Testament if not in the whole Bible. It is actually a little unclear whether the “wife of Lappidoth” reference was referring to the name of her husband or if it means that she was “fiery” or “spirited”. It could be either. Regardless, though, nothing is said about her husband if there was one. So Deborah is depicted as strong and level-headed, a true leader who advised generals and led troops into battle. In a day when woman were considered property or chattle, when women did not speak and it was assumed they had nothing to say, when women were only there to produce children and heirs, Deborah stepped forward and led.

Deborah is often depicted as sitting under a palm—just sitting. Perhaps that is as powerful a statement as the fact that she advised generals and led troops into battle. Maybe that was her way of centering, of filling her life with much-needed peace. Maybe sitting was the way she gained inner strength to do what needed to be done. Maybe she was in prayer. It doesn’t really say. She just sat.

I don’t think that this story is meant to compel us to focus on one hero. After all, Deborah called Barak to lead and he led armies defending Israel against Sisera’s troops. And Jael drove the peg into Sisera’s temple. They all worked together. This passage shows that God can work through even complex power systems with multiple leaders. God does not command one system or structure. God’s grace is always at work. So, if you’re looking for a hero, maybe God is the one.

We don’t read it as part of this lection, but Judges 5 includes what we call the “Song of Deborah”. It is a song of remembrance of what God had done through these rather unlikely people, a reminder that things don’t always go as expected, and a reminder that violence is never the ending. Violence is still part of us today. Surely God does not call us to violence. Is there a way to use it for good?

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. How do you see God at work in this passage?
  3. In what ways do you see God at work in the midst of our own social and political circumstances?
  4. What significance does the depiction of Deborah “just sitting” mean for you?
  5. Do you think that it is ever possible to use violence for good, to turn it around into something else?

  

NEW TESTAMENT: 1 Thessalonians 5: 1-11

http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=282056269

The Thessalonian letters are witnesses to the church’s struggle with the sufferings of its members, due to separation from leaders, alienation from friends and family, and threats of persecution and even death. The passage that we read speaks, obviously, of the coming “Day of the Lord”. Here, Paul claims that on this Day of the Lord, God will separate the believers from the unbelievers and for this reason, the believers can celebrate even now. But Paul continues to claim that the full consummation of the new age has not occurred and that, for this reason, believers must continue to be vigilante in the faith.

I don’t think that this is as much a “hold on, Friday’s coming”, as it is a reminder to not let the mire of difficulties and defeat get in the way of one’s true calling—the pursuit of holiness. In fact, rather than letting them get you down, perhaps they are part of that journey itself. And on that journey, we are called to encourage each other and help each other. After all, we are “children of the light”.

Much of this same imagery has been used in songs (such as the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) and in a lot of slave songs, describing a future hope even in the face of darkness and persecution. The images here are apocalyptic. They are visions and revelations that remind us that our future is secure in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. The future coming of the Lord is not something to be feared. It is now. Rather than living in fear of what is to come, we are called to live in hopeful expectation for the glorious Kingdom that is breaking into our lives even as we speak. The “Day of the Lord” is now. Paul is not holding out something in the future but is instead trying to depict what a life pursuing holiness really looks like.

In Feasting on the Word, John E. Cole says that Jurgen Moltmann “declares that the coming of God should make believers “impatient” with the way the world is today.” That’s probably what Paul was trying to depict. He was not trying to scare people into repentance (in spite of what some modern-day tele-evangelists declare!); rather, he was trying to get them to see a different way and want it so badly, hold to it so tightly in hopeful expectation, that they could do nothing else but live into it, that they could do nothing else but walk in holiness.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. Why are these images sometimes uncomfortable for us?
  3. What changes when you look upon them as “hopeful expectation” rather than fear?
  4. What would it mean for us to want God’s vision to come to fulfillment so badly that we could do nothing else?

 

GOSPEL: Matthew 25: 14-30

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

The passage that we read is the familiar “Parable of the Talents.” Here, though, a “talent” is a monetary unit. Yes, my friends, here Jesus is talking about money. Did you know that if we took all of Jesus’ teachings about money out of the Gospels, we would reduce them by more than one third? Did you know that sixteen of the thirty-eight parables attributed to Jesus are about money? Did you know that one of every seven verses in the first three Gospels in some way deals with money? In fact, Jesus spoke more often about money than about any other subject except the Kingdom of God itself? Now, my take on this is not that money is more important than other things. My take on it is that even in first-century society, money and people’s view of money was a problem—not because it’s bad or evil, but because it is so easy for we humans to fall into the trap of letting it reshape our lives into something that it’s not supposed to be, allowing it to rise to the top of our view, clouding our judgment, getting in the way of how we see each other, and somehow convincing ourselves that there is never enough to go around.

And in this parable, Jesus reminds us that, whether or not we receive equal shares of Creation’s bounty, God entrusts all of the resources that we have at our disposal to us. And, as stewards of these resources, we are called not to hoard them, not to let a fear of scarcity dig holes in our lives that we attempt to fill with material things, and not to let what we have deflect from the light we have been shown, pushing us out into the darkness. We are, rather, called to a life of abundance, recognizing that everything that we have comes from God and is given to us to use in the building of the Kingdom of God.

But if we don’t talk about money, how will we know that?   Jesus knew this and he knew the difficulties that we have. He knew that money and, specifically, the lack thereof, scares us. But he also knew that if we lose perspective of our money as a God-given resource, as a God-shared part of Creation, as a God-entrusted tool that we are called to use to build the Kingdom brick by brick, talent by talent, and dollar by dollar, we would lose that image of the one that God is calling us to be.

How much more applicable could a passage be for us today? We live in a world riddled with misuse of resources, saturated with greed, and filled with fear of what our economic future holds. You don’t have to go any farther than the front page of the paper, your living room, or access to the internet to see how bad it is. Apparently, what we need is a hero, of sorts. (Where is that wise woman sitting under the palm tree when you need her?) The truth is that the world around us probably makes this parable even more uncomfortable for us. Well, it has often been said that if a parable does not make you a little uncomfortable, you have probably not gotten its point. Several years ago at the height of our country’s economic collapse, CNN’s Anderson Cooper did a breakdown of the “top ten culprits of the collapse”—according to him the blame went to Congress, the White House, the banks, Goldman Sachs, Wall Street…I don’t know, I don’t remember the order. The point is, it’s not important. Because, in case you missed it, the number one culprit in Anderson Cooper’s countdown was you; in other words, it was all of us. And that third servant in the parable? That’s the one that hits a little too close to home. Thinking our voices too weak and our offering too meager, we are often guilty of burying those things that God has provided us. We are guilty of being afraid to use what God has given us. We instead hold onto what we think is “ours” a little too tightly until we literally suck the life out of it.

We do forget that everything that we have was God’s first and will be God’s when it is all said and done. In that respect, we are middle managers, stewards of that which is God’s. And the question then becomes, how do we as good managers invest God’s resources? How do we use our time, our talents, and our money? What do we do with those things with which God has entrusted us to further God’s kingdom? That is the whole reason why we have been entrusted to be stewards of these things. God knows that we are capable of getting it right, even if we haven’t yet convinced ourselves. God has given us resources beyond what we can count; indeed we are dealing in what could be termed heroic measures and all we’ve been asked to do is to be who God calls us to be.

John Westerhoff defines stewardship as “nothing less than a complete life-style, a total accountability and responsibility before God. Stewardship [he says] is what we do after we say we believe, that is, after we give our love, loyalty, and trust to God, from whom each and every aspect of our lives comes as a gift. As members of God’s household, we are subject to God’s economy or stewardship, that is, God’s plan to reconcile the whole world and bring creation to its proper end.” (John H. Westerhoff, III, Building God’s People in a Materialistic Society (New York: Seabury Press, 1983), 23, (as quoted by Ronald E. Vallet, Stepping Stones of the Steward (Grand Rapids: Eerdman’s Publishing, 1989), 2)

So, being good managers of God’s economy means that all that God has given us is ours to use. It means that everything that we are should be used for God’s glory—our prayers, our presence, our monetary gifts, and our time and talents—all are used as witnesses to who God is and what God is doing in the world. Giving back of those resources, then, is something that we are indeed called to do. But it is more than that. It is an act of faith. It is the way that we prayerfully and faithfully offer ourselves to God. It is the way that we participate in the building of the Kingdom of God. So, what part of the Kingdom is ours to build? There…whatever you see is the part that is yours to build. Martin Luther said that “I have held many things in my hands and I have lost them all. But whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess.”

But, obviously, there is something more here than money, something more than gifts. The point is that everything is of God. We are of God. We are called to offer ourselves to God. Our lives are lives of holiness. What is God calling us to do? What is it that give you life?

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. Why are we so uncomfortable talking about money, especially in church?
  3. What message does this hold for our society in light of our current economic times?
  4. How are we called to “invest” God’s resources?
  5. What part of God’s Kingdom is yours to build?
  6. How does this passage speak to that “hopeful expectation” that we talked about before?

 

 Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

Every noble life leaves its fiber interwoven forever in the work of the world. (John Ruskin)

 

Try, with God’s help, to perceive the connection—even physical and natural—which binds your labor with the building of the Kingdom of Heaven; try to realize that heaven itself smiles upon you and, through your works, draws you to itself; then, as you leave church for the noisy streets, you will remain with only one feeling, that of continuing to immerse yourself in God. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

 

If my hands are fully occupied in holding on to something, I can neither give nor receive. (Dorothee Soelle) 

 

Closing

 

Behold a broken world, we pray, where want and war increase, and grant us, Lord, in this our day, the ancient dream of peace.

 

A dream of swords to sickles bent, of spears to scythe and space, the weapons of our warfare spent, a world of peace remade.

 

Bring, Lord, your better world to birth, your kingdom, love’s domain, where peace with God, and peace on earth, and peace eternal reign. Amen.

 

(Timothy Dudley-Smith, The United Methodist Hymnal, # 426)

Proper 27A: Awakening Chorus

Keep Lamp LitOLD TESTAMENT: Joshua 24: 1-3a, 14-25

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

This is a familiar passage. It’s the stuff of which plaques all over gift stores are made. “As for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord.” Well, of course we will serve the Lord! Isn’t that what it’s all about? But, here, Joshua is pressing it a bit. Really? Is that really what you mean? Are you going to give up all this (with a broad sweep of his hand as he motions to all that is important). Well, of course. God is the god that we love; God is the god that we will worship. We have made our choice.

The problem is that with that choice, the hard part begins. You see, at this point, the Israelites were victors. We are no longer talking about exiled people trying to find their way back home. They had returned and had reclaimed their land from those who had been living there. The Book of Joshua refers to these now displaced people as the Amorites, which is not really a good indication of who they were. But, apparently, they were a people who worshipped other gods other than the one true YHWH. So, this notion of preaching to the victors, to those who were now a people of conquest rather than a people of exile brings about new questions and new meaning.

So, Joshua says, choose God. Choose THIS God, the God of your ancestors, the God of your conquests, the God who has brought you out on top, so to speak. God has fulfilled the promise to you. Now it’s your turn. What will be your response? No longer is this a God who is dragging you across the desert into the Promised Land. Instead, when your choice is THIS God, you have to change. You not only worship God; you follow God; you go toward God; you become who God envisions you to be.

If you read the passage, Joshua knows that their talk is shallow. They are promising obedience and devotion but it’s as if they have their fingers crossed behind them, as if they are still holding on to the gods that they have imagined just for good measure, these gods who offer beautiful and easy things, these gods who offer security and safety.

The people are asked to let go, to let go of the other gods. We are no different. What gods do we need to reject? What gods do we claim that are not the one true God? Under what authority do we place ourselves? You see, choosing God does not allow what Bonhoeffer would have talked “cheap grace”. The choice comes with a price. One is not just promising God one’s household; one is responding with one’s life. In other words, what do you do with that one precious life God has given you? Do you worship God and hold onto to other allegiances, to other gods, perhaps the god of comfort or the god of wealth or the god of career? Does God come before your need for security, before your need for recognition, or even, or even, your allegiance to your own household, to your own family? You see, this God of Israel, the one true God, was not requiring worship. Choosing God means that God gets it all, that your life, your breath, everything that is you responds to God’s call for justice, for mercy, for compassion. No longer is their room to hold back; no longer can you stock part of yourself away and give God what you can spare. Choosing God means choosing Life, a different Life, a Life that God envisions.

So Joshua made a covenant, a promise that day at Shechem. Joshua knows, and warns the people, that the choice will bring them trouble. The choice will bring about a reversal of sorts, will turn your world upside down. It’s a world of abundance—for every one. But you have to be willing to let go of that to which you hold onto so tightly.

He had real grit, that Joshua. When his fellow spies felt like grasshoppers and the Canaanites looked like giants, Joshua and his friend Caleb urged the Hebrews to take them on even when their compatriots threatened to stone them for their advice. After Moses died and Joshua assumed command, he showed his mettle by trusting God to bring down the walls of Jericho with only the sound of the trumpet and the shouts of the people.

But I think Joshua’s greatest moment came in his farewell speech to the Israelites, when he told them the truth about their covenant with God. He and his family had chosen to follow the Lord, Joshua proclaimed. The people roared enthusiastically. They would do the same. But Joshua didn’t accept their initial response. Instead he reminded them not once but three times of the cost of that covenant and the consequences of breaking it. If they dealt falsely with their God, Joshua warned, God would do them harm and consume them. Probably the Hebrews were ready to stone him for being so demandingly honest.

As a parish minister, I assume Joshua’s role when I invite people to affirm their covenant with God and one another. But I seldom have his courage in the follow-through. If I did, when parents brought their child for baptism, I would ask more than the generic “Do you promise to grow with this child in the Christian faith and offer him or her the nurture of the Christian church?”

Instead I’d ask, in front of God and the whole congregation, “Do you promise to get him or her out of bed, dressed and here every Sunday morning for the next 18 years, even when you’ve had a long week or you’d rather sleep in or there’s a soccer match or when this darling infant has grown into a surly, tatooed teenager who thinks church is ‘dumb’?”

I’ve never been that honest about baptismal vows. I bet Joshua would have been. When people join the church, Joshua would have asked more than a rote “Do you renounce the powers of evil and seek the freedom of new life in Christ?” After the unsuspecting new member said yes, Joshua would have followed with, “So when you buy your next car, will you resist all the commercial hype that encourages you to overspend on something that eats up resources and pollutes the air?”

Had Joshua presided at my ordination, I doubt he would have let me get by with a simple vow to study, pray, teach and preach. He probably would have demanded, “Will you give up your personal gods of procrastination, perfectionism and the pursuit of trivia?”

As a pastor, of course I’d like to beef up the traditional vows of baptism or membership. But then I’d need more assurance in dealing with Joshua’s dire consequences of covenant-breaking. For many people in my congregation, the primary experience of covenants — marriage, family, church affiliation or job — has been their endings. How do I capture Joshua’s passion for keeping covenant with God without sounding judgmental and damning of persons whose human covenants have been broken, either by design or default?…

I resonate with Joshua’s willingness to affirm what he believed, but I want to do it without damning other faiths. How do I retain the essence of his covenant without its exclusivity?

A chance encounter with Martin Marty taught me how. In 1989 Marty was speaking on religious pluralism at the University of New Mexico. I almost didn’t go — I’d had my fill of spiritual “options.” But I’d enjoyed his columns in the CENTURY for years, so I made the two-hour trip. What Marty said that night has been a plumb line for my ministry. When I asked, “What advice do you have for a United Church of Christ pastor serving a church that isn’t sure it wants to be a Christian church in the New Age capital of Santa Fe?” He paused. “The United Church of Christ?” he asked. I nodded. “You have the blood of the Puritans in you! Claim your inheritance.” But then he said, “If you go deep enough into any faith tradition, you find the common ground with all other traditions. That’s why a Baptist preacher like Martin Luther King could learn from Gandhi the Hindu, or why a Capuchin like Thomas Merton was in conversation with Buddhist monks.”

“I think that’s what all of us are seeking,” he continued. “We want that common ground. But we have to go deep into our own tradition to find it. You need to tell your people that.”

It’s been almost 15 years since that night, but there’s seldom a day I don’t remember Marty’s words. “Go deep,” he said. It sounds like Joshua’s “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Either way, it takes grit. Either way it leads to life and to God.

(From “True Grit”, by Talith Arnold, available at http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=2621

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What are those gods that you need to reject in your life?
  3. What does grace cost you in your life?
  4. What, then, does it mean to serve God, to choose God?

  

NEW TESTAMENT: 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18

To read the Lectionary Epistle text, click here

These words are probably written in response to deep and profound grief at the loss of one of the members of this fledgling new community of believers at Thessalonica. For us, it is a comfort. We have all experienced loss and grief. But this community has been a promise. Jesus was going to return. They believed that it would be soon and they worked toward that day. This wasn’t what they had planned. Surely Jesus was going to return before any of them were gone.

And so Paul offers them comfort and consolation. If you say you believe that Jesus was raised, that Jesus was resurrected, why can’t you believe in your own and that of those who have departed this life? Paul did not offer empty words of comfort. We’ve all heard things like “well, she’s in a better place now” or “God needed another angel in heaven” or “you know, we just can’t understand it right now” (I think that’s the one I usually use.) Grief is, at its best, hard to swallow.

We live in a world with a lot of “fixes”. We think we’re supposed to “fix” things and I would bet that pastors are some of the worst culprits. But Paul is not offering to “fix” death or even “fix” grief. Paul is exhorting his hearers to believe, to have faith, to know that God’s promise rings true, that Life will conquer death forever. But Paul’s words hold a reminder that it is not what we know now; it is not we think; it is not the way we imagine that things will be fixed. Imagining our own resurrection, our own rising to Life, means that we must die. We must die to this life little by little so that God can raise us up. It’s more than just comfort; it’s Truth. Our hope is in what we know to be true, not what we understand, not what we think will happen, but in what we know to be Truth. Our hope lies in what we take unto ourselves, that to which God calls us, and through which God will give us Life.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What does it mean to believe in our own resurrection?
  3. What gets in the way of us holding onto that Truth?

 

 GOSPEL: Matthew 25: 1-13

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

First of all, it’s probably important to note that most interpreters would describe this as an allegory, rather than a parable. In other words, rather than something based on realistic details that weave together a point, this is a passage that is contrived to fit a particular and a somewhat abstract theological meaning. I mean, think about it, if it were to be taken at face value, where is the bride? The bride is never mentioned. You can’t have a wedding without a bride. And why are the shops open at midnight? This is not Las Vegas. And, in true Kingdom fashion, don’t you think the bridesmaids that had oil would have shared with the others? But the fact that some of the “literal” meanings don’t fit doesn’t diminish the importance that this passage holds for us.

Right at the beginning of it, Jesus tells us that five of the characters were foolish and five of them were wise. The reason he tells us this is because when we look at them, we can’t tell the difference. All ten have come to the wedding, their lamps aglow with expectation. All ten are dressed for what is to come. You see, it’s not their looks; it’s not how they act or dress or when they arrive. It is rather about readiness. For the writer of Matthew’s Gospel, “readiness” means living the life of the Kingdom throughout your life. It has nothing to do with making sure that your metaphorical lamp happens to be one of the ones lit when the Kingdom comes.

In the spirit of this allegory, which is found only in Matthew’s Gospel, the bridesmaids represent the future church, those who are ready to receive Christ into their lives. And the bridegroom for whom they are preparing is Christ in full glory as the Kingdom of God comes to be. And the oil with which the light is fueled is love, and compassion, and justice, and mercy—those things that are so much a part of what it means to live out the Gospel. But, as the passage indicates, a life of faith is not an easy one to sustain. Being a peacemaker, being merciful is easy for a day or two. It is deep into the night when one’s faith truly becomes that which sustains. Those who live lives of peacemaking and mercy-giving do so no matter what life brings them. They do it in the face of hardships and persecution as well as rewards. It is a much deeper meaning than merely “keeping awake”, as our interpretation suggests. If one truly lives a life of faith, it is not one of sleeplessness but, rather of living one’s life out with the confidence that one does abide in Christ. It means living a life ready to receive what Christ offers.

So what does that mean, to be “ready”? Contrary to what many do with this passage, it doesn’t mean to whip up expectations that a second coming is just around the corner so you can look busy. I mean, it’s been 2,000 years! It means just being who you are called to be and following the road down which God leads you. And, in the language of this allegory, it means keeping your lamp full enough that you can see where you’re going.

The oil, here, is not a commodity that we buy and sell, or even lend to each other, as we saw in the passage. There are some things that we have to do for ourselves. There are some reserves in our life that no one else can build for us. We have to figure out what it is that fills us up. What fills you up spiritually when you run dry? What replenishes your oil? Where in your life do you go to be with God? Because it is a fact that each of us from time to time runs dry. And when that happens, we can’t be a light for ourselves or anyone else.

You know, there’s a reason why flight attendants tell you that in the event that there is an emergency on an airplane and the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling, you are supposed to secure your own mask before assisting others. It’s essentially the same principal. Filling yourself up spiritually, indeed, filling yourself up with God, is not to guarantee you a place in heaven; it is to sustain you through this life until the Kingdom comes.

But we all know a simple law of physics. Before you can fill something up, you first have to empty it out. This is no different. Before one can fill their life with Kingdom things, fill their life with God, you have to get rid of those things that stand in the way. Looking back at the Scripture passage, there’s a piece of this that we risk missing because of our translation. Most modern English translations of this allegory have translated the Greek parthenoi as “girls” or, here, “bridesmaids”. But the literal translation of the word is probably more likely “virgins”. And, in case the significance of this is lost on us, Kathleen Norris’ depiction of the Virgin Mary can help. She points out that one who is virgin is one who is empty, open to receive and she says that from that standpoint, we are all called to be virgin, open to receiving God into our midst. To be a virgin is to have room. The Orthodox Christians call the Virgin Mary, “Theotokos”. We usually sort of loosely translate that as “Mother of God”. But the actual meaning of it is “God-bearer” or “one who gives birth to God”. And the only way to bear God, to give birth to God in your own life, is to empty yourself of other things. We are all called to be “God-bearers”. That is the oil that sustains us through this life and the next.

We are still looking toward that great wedding feast, the celebration of life at its fullest. And yet, it is possible even now for us to experience and glimpse what is to come. But, like Joshua told the people so long ago, we have to put away the foreign gods, we have to put away those things that we desperately hold onto that fill up that God-space in our lives and, like the Old Testament passage says, “incline our hearts to God.” We have to let go of the part of ourselves that we have created so that we will have room for the image of God that we were created to be.

In his book, The Sabbath, Abraham Heschel portrays the seventh day of Creation as a palace in time. He depicts it as God’s gift to us, a glimpse of a world to come, a glimpse of what it means to be God-filled. He says that “unless one learns how to relish the taste of the Sabbath, [the taste of the world to come], while still in this world,…one will be unable to [fully] enjoy the taste of eternity. Sad is the lot of [the ones] who arrive inexperienced and when led to heaven have no power to perceive [its] beauty.”[i]

You see, it’s not a question of who gets there and who doesn’t. It’s a question of how soon you get to see it and how prepared you are for the incredible beauty in its fullness. So, open yourself up and fill your life with God. And you will be ready to know the incredible things to come.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. How would describe this “readiness”, this “awakeness”?
  3. What does it mean for you to be a God-bearer?
  4. Of what do you need, then, to empty your life in order to be ready to be filled?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

Faith isn’t faith until it’s all you’re holding onto. (Unknown)

 

The parts of the Christian story that had drawn me into the Church were not the believing parts but the beholding parts. (Barbara Brown Taylor)

 

The whole future of the Earth, as of religion, seems to me to depend on the awakening of our faith in the future. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

 

 

Closing

 

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life: such a way as gives us breath, such a truth as ends all strife, such a life as killeth death.

 

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength: such a light as shows a feast, such a feast as mends in length, such a strength as makes his guest.

 

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart: such a joy as none can move, such a love as none can part, such a heart as joys in love.

 

(George Herbert, 1633, “The United Methodist Hymnal”, # 164) 

[i] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath, (New York, NY: Farrar, Straus, and Girous, 1951), 74.