New World Order

When I'm on the road by myself, I usually have NPR on, and when I travel on Friday, as I did yesterday, many of the NPR shows are doing news of the week retrospectives.  In the morning, all the commentators expected the afternoon meeting between Trump and Zelensky to end in a minerals deal and perhaps a vision for a path to a peace treaty.

By afternoon, it was not to be.  I first heard about the contentious meeting on a BBC show carried by an NPR station.  It was oddly comforting to hear the discussion in clipped, British accents, even as the subject of the discussion was so catastrophic.

As I listened to Trump and Vance shouting and Zelensky try to get a word in edgewise, I felt that careening disbelief that I've felt so often in the last few weeks.  Really?  Grown ups talk like this?  And then I wondered how we came to have audio.  I imagined some brave White House employee sneaking a recording to a British reporter.

Nope--it was all televised, and later, when I watched the footage, it seemed like a pre-planned spectacle.

It's an astonishing moment that I would never have imagined.  A Republican president embracing . . . Russia???  I came of age during the reign of Ronald Reagan, who must be spinning in his grave.  It's hard for me to imagine how any of this ends well.  I already miss the peace and prosperity slipping through our fingers.  I know, I know, it was peace and prosperity for Europe and the U.S., with proxy wars fought around the globe.

I can imagine any number of scenarios about where the world lurches from here, and none of them are good.  As I was driving, my apocalyptic brain kicked into overdrive yesterday, and I sang "Dona Nobis Pacem" to quiet it.  I'm amazed by how well that works.  This video offers a beautiful rendition, with footage from a cathedral.

I switched over from NPR to a classic rock station just as one song ended and the next started:  "Cult of Personality."  I smirked, but as the afternoon wore on, I did wonder if the d.j. was being deliberate.  I heard "Highway to Hell" and "Sunday Bloody Sunday" in short order.  Hmmm.  I realize that my English major brain makes all kinds of connections that might not have been intentional.

Last night we went outside to see if we could view the planetary alliance.  I think that we saw it, but as with the playlist that might be making a statement about political struggles, I wasn't sure.  Still, it was good to look up at the sky and to remember how brief our geopolitical struggles are in the long term--still not a comfort when I think of what those geopolitical struggles likely mean for the rest of my life and those who come after, but a cold, planetary comfort nonetheless.

Having the Answers vs. Living Faithfully

Last night, my seminary class on Christmas and Easter discussed the non-canonical texts that tell about Mary and Joseph and the birth/childhood of Jesus.  They are bizarre texts, the Proto-Gospel of James and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas.  One thing that I wondered was whether or not the canonical Gospel stories would seem just as bizarre, had we not spent our lifetimes hearing them and watching them and acting them out in childhood pageants.  I think they would.

My professor finished by saying that we can see how the non-canonical texts are trying to fill in the gaps, that they are harmonizing with the canonical texts not competing with them.

She reminded us that it's good to have gaps in the texts.  The gaps remind us, as do the texts (both canonical and non), that having the answers is not the same as living well and living faithfully.  Her closing thoughts seem so essential to me in this time of deep division.

Reweaving My Frazzled Threads

This morning is one of those mornings when I feel a bit frazzled and overextended.  Let me collect some threads and see what I can weave together.

--I have turned in midterm grades for Spartanburg Methodist College.  Hurrah!  I am trying something new this term, frontloading the more intensive assignments, the research assignments, to the front half of the class.  I think it's better for students, but it has meant a tiring few weeks for me.

--I go to an audiologist this morning.  I have had my hearing checked before, but it was around 2009 or so.  I have already found out that my health insurance doesn't cover hearing aids, but that wasn't a surprise to me.  I may make the investment.  After all, we've invested in vision aids and teeth--why not hearing?  These are the decisions that might mean we have a healthier old age.

--My audiologist appointment was for next week, when SMC is on spring break, but they called to offer me this morning's spot because someone had cancelled.  I am glad I was able to say yes--perhaps next Friday will now feel more spacious.

--For one of my seminary classes, we have to choose five weeks where we'll do a more intense thinking about the week's texts.  Tonight we study the non-canonical birth narratives.  I decided not to do the more intense engagement.  I am not likely to ever preach or teach on those texts, so I'll save my intense thinking for later.

--I was sad to hear of the death of Martin E. Marty, a prominent theologian and a Lutheran.  In recent years, I haven't read as much of his work, but there were times when I read his short articles on a regular basis and found his voice one of sanity and compassion. 

--I was sad, and yet the man was 97 years old, so I'm also happy that he lived a long and fruitful life.

--I was happy to read this article in The Washington Post about an unexpected benefit of drinking tea.  When I clicked on the link, I expected that the benefit would have something to do with vitamin absorption or hydration.  Lo and behold, steeping tea can lead to reducing toxins like lead that might be in the water.  The tea leaves attract the toxins and hold them, while releasing their own benefits.  Hurrah!

--I think about the years when I worried about my tea consumption, worried that the tannins might be doing something to my stomach, the way that they discolored tea pitchers.  But through the decades, we've found more and more benefits to tea drinking.

--I am also thinking of past years and my fabric buying.  This week, Joann Fabric announced it will close all stores.  That store used to be one I went to much more regularly, back in the days when they had cheaper alternatives to the fancier cloth/quilt shops, back when I was making more baby quilts.

--And then my brain went to the going out of business sales that they might have.  I probably have more fabric than I can use in the lifetime that I have left--but I do have some quilts that will need some backing fabric.  I wonder how much time is left for those stores and when the sales will start.

Well, let me shift gears and think about a sunrise walk.  Yesterday I even did a bit of jogging.  I am relieved to be getting out of my chair this week.  Last week was tough, with cold and ice and wind.

Refuges and Dwellings in This Time of Trouble

I am always intrigued when images coalesce across meditation spaces.  This morning, this line from Psalm 57 spoke to me.  I wrote it in my sketchbook, putting it into a different line form:

Be merciful to me, O God,

be merciful

for I have taken refuge

in you; in the shadow of your wings

will I take refuge

until this time of trouble

has gone by. (Psalm 57: 1)

The language is from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours, which uses the New Jerusalem Bible translation.  Other translations use words like storm, danger, and catastrophe, but I love the way "time of trouble" sounds, and the verb choice, "has gone by" instead of "pass by" or "dies down."

I was thinking about this passage as I made the morning oatmeal, and I thought about a text that is bringing a friend comfort, the idea of the soul making a dwelling with God.  Was it dwelling?  shelter?  home?  It's slightly different than my soul rests in God.

And then I thought about the similarities:  refuge and dwelling.  In some ways it's like being rooted in God, but in other ways it's different.  Rootedness reminds me of dirt and growing things.  A shelter, a home, a refuge, a dwelling is less organic, more structural, perhaps more sturdy and protected.

No mystery why these passages are speaking to me in the perilous times we live in.  And of course, the times are always perilous, but I'm not always so aware as I have been recently.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel, Transfiguration Sunday

The readings for Sunday, March 2, 2025:

First Reading: Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm: Psalm 99

Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 3:12--4:2

Gospel: Luke 9:28-36 [37-43a]



Here we are, the final Sunday before Lent begins. Transfiguration Sunday gives us a chance to wrestle with an essential question: who is this Christ? Why worship this guy?

Do we worship Christ because of his glory? The mystical elements of Transfiguration Sunday dazzle us and threaten to overshadow the rest of the story. What a magnificent tale! Moses and Elijah appear and along with Christ, they are transformed into glowing creatures. A voice booms down reminding us of Christ's chosen and elevated status.

It's easy to understand Peter's response: we'll stay on the mountain, we'll build booths! It's easy to understand why the disciples stay quiet about this mystical experience.

Jesus then heals a child; he's a success where his disciples have failed.

Do we worship God in the hopes of harnessing this kind of transfiguring power? It's easy to understand this impulse. But much of the Bible warns us against this impulse.

Jesus know that he's on a collision course with the powers that rule the world. The disciples argue about who is greatest, and Jesus reminds him of the nature of his ministry: to be least.

For those of us who worship Christ because we want transfiguration, it's important to remember what kind of transfiguration we're going to get. We're not likely to get worldly power, money, or fame because we're Christians--in fact, it will be just the opposite.

Will we get healing? Maybe. Will we be creatures that glow with an otherworldly light? Metaphorically. Can we charge admission and get rich from our spiritual beliefs? Go back and reread the Gospels, and see what Jesus has to say about wealth.

Ah, Transfiguration Sunday which leads us to Mardi Gras, a few last hurrahs before the serious season of Lent, that season of ash and penitence. Let us stay here in this glow.

But let us not forget the path before us, the path that brings us off the mountain and into service. Let us not confuse the mountain top for the true relationship that God offers us.

The Feast Day of Saint Matthias

Today is the traditional feast day of St. Matthias. In the 1960's, the Roman Catholic church moved his feast day to May 14, so that we're celebrating his life in a month that makes more chronological sense--Matthias was the apostle chosen to replace Judas Iscariot, who committed suicide after he realized what his betrayal had wrought, so it makes sense to celebrate his life after Easter. Of course, traditionalists will celebrate today. And Eastern Orthodox believers will observe his feast day on August 9.

I've recently become a bit fascinated with this saint. I've done a smidge of research, and I can't tell what, exactly, he's the patron saint of.

If I was in charge, I'd make him the patron saint of people who must wait for recognition. Would I make him the patron saint of people who must wait for recognition in the workplace only, or in any situation? Is that process of waiting so different?

I have this on the brain because I have worked in places where the local job ladder is very short with lots of folks who have been working for the organization for ten years or more--when there's a job opening, they couldn't all be promoted. And if they wanted further promotions, again, long wait times.

I imagine that the circle of Jesus was similar. There's the inner circle, the twelve, chosen early. Then there's a massive outer circle. Who would have dreamed of the incidents that led to a job opening in the inner circle?

Of course, as a woman, I will always wonder at what Gospel revisions went on in the early church. Was the inner circle really that tight? Was it really only twelve? Was it really only men? We know that Jesus had a sympathy towards women that was uncommon for his time period. Would he really have excluded them from the inner circle?

Then I think of the logistics of being one of the twelve--all that travel, all those difficult circumstances. Maybe it was kinder of Jesus not to call women to be part of the inner circle. If you go back to the sayings of Jesus, it's clear that he doesn't see hierarchy in the same way that humans do--he clearly mocked the idea that some disciples are more chosen than other.

So, would Matthias have even seen his appointment as a promotion? Maybe it's just our later proclivity to make lists that sees this development as a promotion. Of course, there is that passage in Acts that seems to show that the disciples shared our proclivities toward hierarchy and list making.

I think of Matthias, patiently waiting, following Christ, never knowing the outcome. In that way, he's the patron saint of us all. We follow Christ, not knowing whether we'll be chosen for some superhuman greatness, or whether we'll be called to stay put, quietly ministering the people around us. Some of us believe that God has a plan for us, while others believe that God will use us where we are, like a master weaver. Some of us believe that the universe is essentially chaotic, but we are not excused from God's mission of Kingdom building. Some of us know that we cannot possibly comprehend any of this, and we know that we are lucky that God does not depend on our puny imaginations.

Sermon for Sunday, February 23, 2025

February 23, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott

Luke 6:  27-38

You have probably heard the words in today’s Gospel used to justify a pacifist approach to the question of violence.  Perhaps worse, you might have heard people use this text to tell us that we must endure violence on earth so that we can get our reward in the afterlife.

But you might not have thought of these texts as resistance texts, texts that show us how to resist the world we live in, a culture which has never been a turn the other cheek kind of place.

In his book Engaging the Powers:  Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination, Walter Wink explains this text in the context of the honor culture of the time of Jesus.  There would have been strikes to the cheek in a particular way, with a particular hand, the hand used when hitting an inferior, and the purpose would be to put a person in his or her place.  If I offer the other cheek, then my attacker would have to hit me with the other hand, which would be the hand used when one is an equal.  It is a way of asserting one’s dignity.

Similarly, if ordered to give a coat, and I strip naked by giving my tunic as well, that would be an act of dishonor, and not only would I bring dishonor on myself, as I stripped naked, but I’d also bring greater dishonor on the one who set these events into motion.  In Matthew’s version, we get the sentence about being forced to go a mile and going an additional mile.  People who heard Jesus say this would know that he was referring to Roman soldiers, who could force people to walk a mile, carrying a pack.  A Roman soldier who ordered someone to go more than a mile would be in trouble, so walking an additional mile while carrying a pack is a way of sending a message to that soldier.

Of course, resisting in this way carries a risk.  It’s not as passive as it seems, and it risks enraging the one who seeks to remind us of our place in the social caste.  In the time of Jesus, in many cases, the enraged person could have one flogged or put to death for impudence.  It’s important to remember that the culture of Jesus was a vastly different culture in many ways than our own.  Very few people had the kind of human rights that we say are important, that we can go to court to protect.  In the time of Jesus, there was very little in the way of recourse if one was wronged.  It was a culture based on social hierarchy, with very little movement between class and caste. It was also a culture ruled by Romans who were not going to tolerate social unrest, Romans who would not hesitate to slaughter dissenters.  The Romans liked to remind those whom they conquered of the inferiority of the conquered.

But in some ways, the culture of the empire was not so different than ours:  people pitted against each other in a quest for scarce resources, a few people lifted up while masses of others faced a variety of oppression.

The rest of today’s Gospel gives us additional instruction in how to resist a culture that seeks to distract us by turning us on each other.  Some of the instructions make sense.  We can give to those who beg—that seems like an easy task, one that many of us do already.  If our goods are taken or repossessed, we can let them go—that’s not far from other instruction we’ve gotten from Jesus.

We can love our enemies, but what does that mean exactly?  Jesus gives us one concrete command:  we can pray for those who abuse us, whether the abuse is physical or emotional or monetary or any other form.  As we pray for those who oppress us, we keep our hearts soft.  We remind ourselves of the humanity of us all.  We pray not just for the transformation of the abuser, but we also pray to keep ourselves from being transformed.

At the very least, we can pray. We can pray for those people who are doing the heavy lifting of resistance. We can pray for those who are transforming their societies for good, whether they live in our country or on the other side of the planet. We can pray for the softening of the hearts of the hard ones. We can pray that we have the wisdom to recognize evil when we see it. We can pray that we have the courage to resist evil in whatever forms it comes to us.

These are texts that show us how to resist evil in such a way that evil elements will not turn around and destroy us. Likewise, these are texts that show us how to resist evil in such a way that we don’t become the evil that we are resisting.

Jesus shows us how to live in this world, how to resist evil without being destroyed by evil, and our world certainly has plenty of evil that needs resisting.  So how do we do it?  Love is the answer, and it has continued to be the answer.  We’ve had great religious and moral thinkers through the ages return to this principle of loving our enemies as a tool of transformation.

And it’s not just transformation on a personal level.  Let us not forget that nonviolent resistance can change governments and countries.  Think of the changes that we’ve seen in our lifetime.  I would call our attention to 1989, when the wall between the two Germanys came down.  Did you know that this moment in time was sparked by weeks of prayer services and candlelit marches?  Did you know that a Lutheran church played a key role?

In October of 1989, a Lutheran pastor in Leipzig, East Germany started holding Monday night prayer meetings.  At the same time, there were evening protest marches, with tens of thousands of people coming into the village square, holding candles.   One Communist official in Leipzig said, “we were prepared for everything except the prayers and candles.”  There were rumors that people would be allowed across the border, so people went to the border crossing.  The guards there hadn’t gotten any official notice.  They were outnumbered, and they knew that they had a choice:  they could start shooting and commit mass murder or they could lift the gates and allow reconciliation.  They lifted the gates, and the world was changed.

It could have gone differently, and for every example I give, there are others which have not ended well, like Tiananmen Square.  And yet, just because liberation hasn’t come yet, it doesn’t mean that it won’t come.

Walter Wink, writing in 1993, notes, “In 1989 alone, there were thirteen nations that underwent non-violent revolutions. All of them successful except one, China. That year 1.7 billion people were engaged in national non-violent revolutions. That is a third of humanity. If you throw in all of the other non-violent revolutions in all the other nations in this century [the 20th], you get the astonishing figure of 3.34 billion people involved in non-violent revolutions. That is two-thirds of the human race. No one can ever again say that non-violence doesn't work.”

You might be tempted to say that we’re talking about events from 1989, which is getting to be a long time ago.  You might look across the globe in despair at how little evidence of nonviolence or nonviolent resistance you see.  But rest assured that resisting despair, resisting violence, and praying for our enemies is much wider spread than we might think.  This process is like the flower bulbs that many of us planted months ago.  Even though the larger world seems frozen and dark, those bulbs have started their work, and soon they will burst forth in glorious colors to brighten the drab world.  Likewise, our prayers for peace, our prayers for justice will do their work—and 40 years from now, we won’t recognize the landscape we live in, a landscape we changed through our resistance to the culture that offers violence as the only solution.