Saint Peter's Confession and Ours

On January 18, we celebrate the confession of Peter, a lesser feast day in many traditions. Peter also plays a part in several other feast days, but here we celebrate one act. If you want to refresh your memory, turn to Matthew 16:13-19. We so rarely have a feast day that celebrates one event in a life that it’s worth considering why it’s so important.

Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter is the one who replies, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.” Peter recognizes Jesus as the one for whom they’ve been waiting.

But why, of all of the moments in Peter’s life, is this one so important that it gets its own feast day?

The standard answer might be that the Church gets its start here. We might throw in some discussion of apostolic succession that is so firmly rooted in this confession. And indeed, these facts might be why the early church decided to devote a feast day to this event. These facts alone might make the church historians happy. But it may puzzle the rest of us.

What does Peter’s confessions mean for us, the believers living so many centuries after the event?

I’m keenly aware that this confessing Simon Peter is the same one who will deny Jesus not many chapters later in Matthew. This feast day is a good one to do some self-assessment. In what ways do we let the world know that Christ is the Messiah? In what ways do we deny Christ?

How could Peter be so sure that Jesus was the Messiah? By the way Christ behaves. How do we travel through the world? Do our travels bear witness to God’s Good News or does our life in the world undercut the Good News?

On this day that celebrates Peter’s confession, let’s look at our attitudes. Are we gloomy people? Or do we bring brightness into the world? Do we focus on the bad news that comes our way? Or do we trust in God’s goodness? Do we live in a fear-based economy or a world drenched in love and generosity?

How do we treat others? Or think of it this way. You may be the only Christian that many people ever meet. What assumptions about Christians will people make based on the way that you behave? Obviously, a mean-spirited Christian isn’t going to make people want to know more about this Savior we call Jesus.

We might look at our finances. What are our priorities? We can tell, and the world can tell, by the way we spend our money. Are we giving enough to the poor and the dispossessed? Do we help fund social justice to the same extent that we fund our retirement accounts?

Many good Lutherans I know would recoil at this idea that our actions are important. They might remind us that we’re completely unable to save ourselves and that God’s grace is the only way to redemption.

True, but we need to consider our post-redemption lives. God saves us, but not so that we can sit on the sofa and feel satisfied. God saves us so that we can help with the ongoing resurrection of creation.

We might think of confession in an old-fashioned way, that we go around witnessing to people about how much we love Jesus. But a much more compelling confession is the way we live our lives. We don’t want stranger to say, “Ugh. One of those Christian types. I can’t stand those people precisely because of that way that behavior.” We want bystanders to say, “What’s her secret?”

It’s no secret; it’s simply Good News that’s several centuries old. Let our very lives sing out in praise of the Messiah. Let our path be a living confession of which the Church will be proud for the next two thousand years.

Remembering to Continue to Arc Towards Justice

 It is strange to be one of the few people I know who is working in an office on this Martin Luther King day holiday, an office in a school no less.  In the past at the school where I currently work, we haven't had classes, but full-time people still had to work.  Today, under new ownership, we have classes.

Most of our programs require a certain amount of hours practicing skills, so if we didn't come to campus today, we'd need to make up the time somewhere else.  But we could do that.

I wish I could tell you that I'm one of those citizens who celebrated the federal MLK holiday with a day of service, back when I worked for schools that observed that holiday.  But usually on that Monday, I treated it as a day off.

I wish we looked to this holiday as a day to dream even bigger than service projects, to dream the way that Martin Luther King dreamed.  Like King,we could change our society. We could make it better, bending towards justice. What would that society look like?

We have to dream that dream before we can achieve it. We have to find the courage to hold tightly to our visions. We have to face down all the fire hoses, both those of our minds which inform us of the impossibility of our dreams and those of our society, that tells us to move more slowly.

But first we have to dream. Dream boldly, today of all days.

And we have to be patient and realistic. We have to realize that the work that we do may not yield results right away--perhaps not in our lifetimes. Years ago, this episode of On Being featured an interview with John Lewis, an old Civil Rights worker and a member of Congress. He ends the interview this way: "Well, I think about it, but you have to believe there may be setbacks, there may be some disappointments, there may be some interruption. But, again, you have to take the long, hard look. With this belief, it's going to be OK; it's going to work out. If it failed to happen during your lifetime, then maybe, not maybe, but it would happen in somebody's lifetime. But you must do all that you can do while you occupy this space during your time. And sometime I feel that I'm not doing enough to try to inspire another generation of people to find a way to get in the way, to make trouble, good trouble. I just make a little noise."

Today is a good day to think about how to make that noise--and to think about the next generation. History will bend in some direction: how can we help it arc towards justice?

Lenny Duncan's Words of Institution and Prayer

Yesterday I came across this Facebook post made by Lenny Duncan.  I loved the poetic version that he created for the part of the liturgy where the eucharistic elements are consecrated and prayers offered. I wanted both to preserve it for myself and to offer it to others.

Lenny Duncan's post:

"Every year I get asked to preach somewhere on this weekend. If they are Lutheran, and I am presiding at the table, this is the version of the of what I use as words of adoration, institution, etc every year based on an ELW setting. I change them slightly every year. Please use freely:

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears,

you have brought us this far along the way.

In times of bitterness you do not abandon us,

but guided us into the path of love and light.

In every age you sent prophets

to make known your loving will for all humanity, like the Rev. Dr King, Malcolm X, Fred Hampton, bell hooks, and the millions who responded to the cry of George Floyd for his mama:

The cry of the poor and the oppressed has become your own cry;

our hunger and thirst for justice is your own desire.

In the fullness of time, you sent your chosen servant

to preach good news to the afflicted,

to break bread with the outcast and despised,

and to ransom those in bondage to white supremacy and sin.

In the night in which he was betrayed,

our friend and protector Jesus took bread, and gave thanks;

broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying:

Take and eat; this is my brown body, given for you.

Do this for the remembrance of me.

Again, after supper, he took the cup, gave thanks,

and gave it for all to drink, saying:

This cup is the new covenant in my brown blood,

shed for you and all people for the forgiveness of sin.

Do this for the remembrance of me.

For as often as we eat of this bread and drink from this cup

we proclaim the Rebel's death until he comes.

Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

Christ will come again.

Remembering, therefore, his death and resurrection,

we await the day when Jesus shall return

to free all the earth from the bonds of slavery and death.

Come, power of Jesus! And let the church say, Amen

Amen.

Send your Holy Spirit, our advocate,

to fill the hearts of all who share this bread and cup ( for online: for those who have bread and cup today)

with courage and wisdom to pursue love and justice in all the world.

Come, Spirit of freedom! And let the church say, Amen

Amen.

Join our prayers and praise with your prophets, rebels, oddballs, poor, displaced, and martyrs of every age, that, rejoicing in the hope of the resurrection,

we might live in the freedom and hope of your Son.

Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Holy Parent, now and forever.

Amen.

Meditation for Racial Reconciliation Sunday

My church will celebrate Racial Reconciliation Sunday tomorrow.  Here's a meditation I wrote for our church newsletter:

On a Sunday devoted to racial reconciliation, it's wise to take a very wide view and to remember that racial reconciliation isn't just about U.S. slavery and its impacts. We live in a world surrounded by the consequences of the disastrous impacts of colonial incursions and conquests. We live in a world that both celebrates history, but often doesn’t learn the harder lessons of history. We live in a world of strange juxtapositions.

Recently, I wrote an essay for my Old Testament class, an essay that looked at the arrival of Israelites to the Promised Land and their interactions with people who already lived there, like Rahab, the prostitute. I worked on this paper in the week before Thanksgiving, a holiday that celebrates the arrival and survival of Europeans in North America. Some see this history as ordained by God while others see as an indigenous genocide. During my Thanksgiving travels, the verdicts of two court cases came back, with one defendant (Kyle Rittenhouse) found innocent of murder during racial unrest and three white defendants who killed Ahmaud Arbery, an African-American jogger, found guilty. These cases that show that our culture still suffers from the aftermath of this colonial conquest that divided the world into insiders and outsiders. These cases show that when we classify the world by way of who belongs and who is outsider, people end up dead. Sadly, it’s a lesson that humanity needs to learn over and over again, as cultures can’t seem to leave behind or heal from the damage that colonialization does.

Some people would argue that the ancient story of Rahab has nothing to do with us in the 21st century. It’s easy to feel that way if we feel like we’re part of the group who controls the story and the resources.
I was reminded of the cyclical nature of these societal conflicts when my Thanksgiving travels took me to the State House grounds of Columbia, South Carolina, grounds which include a statue honoring the women of the Confederacy. Decades ago, when I was in graduate school at the nearby University of South Carolina, I would walk to the State House to visit this monument. Even as I understood the disasters that came from centuries of slavery and the time after the Civil War, I found the statue moving as I contemplated women in wartime helping their communities survive. Courage restored, I would go back to my graduate studies, a setting that wasn’t always welcoming to women.

In much the same way as Confederate women during the Civil War, Rahab is a hero, saving her family and making a way where no way seems to exist, while at the same time, she’s problematic. Like Confederate white women, Rahab enables genocide. How do we process these facts?

As we consider many of the people in the Bible, and people from more recent history, we see a similar mixture of heroic and lesser attributes mingled in one person. We see how in the best of circumstances, that mix can set a people free. In other narratives, we might see a cautionary tale. And since we’re still in need of both inspiration and caution, these story still have value to all of us today as we resist modern powers of colonialization and try to heal the wounds caused by past conquests.

Dream Jobs in a Different Category

 A few days ago, I saw a job posting for Dean of Chapel at Berea College, and I can't stop thinking about it.  I won't apply because I'm not qualified.  It requires an MDiv degree, "Traditional ministerial/chaplaincy credentials (ordination, etc.)," and 10 years of chaplaincy experience.  I do have teaching and higher ed administration experience, which some candidates might not have, but that's not enough to make up for not having the MDiv degree and ordination.

Although I did cherish my time in campus ministry as a college student, I haven't really thought of myself as the best candidate for campus student ministry, so why am I intrigued by this posting?  It might be these parts of the job:

"Provides leadership in the planning of ecumenical worship, convocations, and other special services

Builds relationships with religious professionals assigned to the campus (Intervarsity, FCA, Newman Club, etc.), and together with the President, serves as liaison with local pastors and churches

Regularly offers sermons/homilies/messages during weekly noon worship services and other events on and off-campus

Oversees the daily administration of the Center and its programs, and provides supervision, support and guidance to CCC staff members in their specific roles and areas of focus

Teaches 1-2 courses a year in the area of academic expertise and/or General Studies"

Or is the appeal of this job the fact that it's at Berea College?  I have always found that college so inspiring.  It would be so great to be part of a school like that.

As I think about my trajectory over the past 10-15 years, I remember the times that I wished that I was teaching at a school with a religious focus, so that I could talk about some aspects of faith and literature and regular life without feeling like I need to censor myself.  So it makes sense that this job would appeal.

I also like the idea of developing special kinds of opportunities for students, the kinds of stuff I would do for retreats.  In the pre-pandemic times, that was one of my favorite parts of my job, creating decorate a pumpkin tables and a vision board drop in station.

In some ways, it's a moot point, so you might wonder why I am writing about this at all.  I want to remember the wide range of jobs that are out there.  I often get fixated on a certain type of job, and I forget that there could be other possibilities.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, January 16, 2022:

First Reading: Isaiah 62:1-5

Psalm: Psalm 36:5-10

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Gospel: John 2:1-11


Today's Gospel presents the first miracle of Jesus, the turning of water into wine at a wedding. No doubt that some preachers across the country will take this opportunity to talk about weddings and the sanctity of marriage; they'll see the participation of Jesus as his sanction of this institution. Perhaps others will talk about miracles, while others talk about the proper way to treat one's mother.

I'm less interested in the marriage issue than in the miracle issue. In this Gospel, Jesus resists his mother's urging to help out with the wine. Why does he do that? Does he have a splashier miracle in mind as his announcement that he's arrived? Is it the typical rebellion of the child against the parent?

And then, why does Jesus change his mind?

You might make the argument that Jesus shouldn't care about whether or not the wedding guests had wine. You might argue it's a trivial miracle. But scholars would remind us that to run out of wine at a wedding would be a serious breach of hospitality. The whole extended family would suffer great embarrassment and shame—and there might be rippling effects through a community with strict codes that modern readers can scarcely imagine.

At a Create in Me retreat at Lutheridge, Bishop Gordy, who was then head of the Southeast Synod of the ELCA, led a fascinating study of this text. He sees the this first miracle as showing us that Jesus was not so focused on his own agenda that he couldn’t act on the need for compassion for this couple who is about to experience great humiliation.

Bishop Gordy also pointed us to the abundance in this miracle. Just like the loaves and fishes miracle, Jesus provides more than humans can use—not just enough for the given situation. The wine doesn’t run out. Indeed, they have wine left at the end of the wedding feast.

And it’s good wine. God doesn’t just give out leftovers and lesser quality. We’re the ones who operate out of a scarcity consciousness. The miracles of Jesus, particularly in John’s Gospel, remind us that not only will there be enough, there will be great abundance.

What does Jesus need for this miracle? Water and jars. What could be simpler? Gail O’Day notes that the jars were used for purification. The old forms aren’t destroyed, just filled with newness and new purpose.  Bishop Megan Rohrer says, "The jars used when turning water into wine were used for purification. Once there was wine in them they could no longer be used for that purpose. Christians are not called to purity, we are called to taste and see that God is good."

We often hesitate to ask God for what we truly need and want. We’re afraid of rejection. We’re afraid that the task is too hard. The miracle stories remind us that God can use the materials at hand to give us more abundance than we can use.

Perhaps this could be the year that we rid ourselves of our scarcity thinking. We worship a God of abundance and great giving. Rejoice in this good news.

The Despairs of Mid-January

 I was going to write a cheery "What I Read on My Winter Break" kind of post, but I am feeling a bit of despair this morning.  Let me try to write my way out of it, or at least write my way into making sense of my despair.

I am also feeling a bit of guilt, because I feel like the things causing me despair aren't life shattering, the way a death would be.  But let me get it on the electronic page, for the good of my mental health.  In future years, I'll be happy that I recorded my life with some degree of honesty.

--The main thing causing me despair is that it looks like another contract on our historic house that we are trying to sell has fallen through.  It is a very strange housing market in South Florida.  The presence of so many investors means that it's a hot market.  But it also means that buyers aren't afraid to change their minds or make demands that will make sellers change their minds.  Ugh.

--I remind myself that we've only had the house on the market a total of 2 weeks.  We get an offer, the house is tied up for 4-6 weeks, the deal falls apart, we list it as for sale again, we get a few offers 24 hours later, and the cycle begins again.  Ugh.

--We are lucky, in that we have resources.  We are not desperate.  I do begin to understand why houses in our neighborhood go on the market and then later sell for so much lower than what it seems they should be worth.  It's exhausting, and I see why sellers might settle for a much lower price, rather than face the process again and again.

--I am also feeling despair about the state of the pandemic.  Here, too, I realize I'm fortunate.  I can limit my exposure to other people.  I am vaccinated and boosted.  I have masks.  In the commuter student seminary student housing, I saw an old poster that listed the COVID symptoms, and once again, I realized how futile it seems to know if we might have symptoms or allergies or psychosomatic aches or stress.  Not a day goes by when I don't feel sniffly or headachy or sore throaty.  Even if I could get rapid tests, it doesn't make sense to use them each time I feel this way.

--Part of what's making me feel headachy is the construction at work.  That's also making me feel despair.  I worry that all that made our campus cozy and welcoming is being destroyed.  There's not a thing I can do about it, but try to keep everyone's spirits up.

--I suspect that another underlying part of my despair is post holiday despair.  I've spent the last 8 weeks seeing family and friends in person, which I don't get to do very often these days.  We've had better food, twinkly lights, time to read, time for conversation.  I've used up every scrap of vacation time that I have, and now I need to accrue more.  And in my current job, I will never be able to accrue the amount that I need.

--I hear the voice of my spiritual director asking, "How are you praying about this?"  Let me remember to pray about all of this, the despair and disappointment, the dreams for the future, the restlessness of my soul.