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Immanuel people

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

Immanuel people are those who remind us that “God is with us.”

1600 years ago a child went missing, a sign child went missing, and  is still missing today for most folks.

Child 1: Shear… “A remnant will return”

When God gave the faithless king Ahas a sign through the prophet Isaiah, he said, “The ‘almah is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him ‘Immanuel’—God with us.” (Isaiah 7.14).

Isaiah and his wife the prophetess already had a child Shear-jashub (’A remnant shall return.’)

God instructed the prophet to take his son Shear-jashub with him to meet the king (who sacrificed his son to pagan gods). As prophet and king talked, perhaps the child ran around, as children do.

The prophet called out to his child: “Shear-jashub! Shear-jashub!”

Each time he proclaimed God’s message to the king: “A few will return.”

This means either “only a few of the enemies you fear will survive to go home” or “only a few Israelite exiles will return from Babylon.” Or maybe it means both.

The exiles returned from Babylon in 538 BCE about 200 years after Isaiah confronted the king. We know the date because in that year Cyrus issued an edict allowing exiles to go home.

Child 2: Maher…. “The spoils speeds, the prey hastens”

Isaiah 8 tells us of the child we miss.

Isaiah has a legal document drawn up and witnessed which says: “Belonging to Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz” (The spoil speeds, the prey hastens.)

Then Isaiah makes love to the prophetess (presumably his wife), and nine months later his second child Maher… is born.

The young woman, the ‘almah, of 7.14 has to be first the prophetess (700 years later, another maiden, a virgin named Mary fulfills the prophet’s word again. Matthew leaves no question about Mary’s being a virgin.)

Isaiah makes his point to king Ahaz twice (Isaiah 7.16 and 8.4). Before Maher is old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, the small neighboring kingdoms who are bullying Ahaz will be destroyed by Assyria, the mighty empire to the northeast.

What’s the big deal?

Prophecy is first fulfilled in the near future in the prophet’s time. Then, sometimes it may have another fulfillment later. This is true of Isaiah 7.14.

Suppose you go God and say, “Lord, I’m hurting, I need your help.”

“Fine,” God answers, “in 1000 years I’ll do something miraculous.”

How does that help you in the immediate time frame?

God doesn’t leave us hanging for long periods. The answer comes soon. Maybe not as soon as we’d like.

And yes, 1000 years is like a day.

Nevertheless, and especially in the case of Isaiah 7.14, God’s answer came in nine months. And again in 700 years, nine months.

Child 3… Jesus

When Mary’s child was born, not that many people noticed.

Historians did not notice. Three kings from the East noticed; they alerted Herod, tragically.

An innkeeper didn’t notice. Most of Bethlehem didn’t notice.

A few ecstatic shepherds told of a sky full of angels singing “Glory!”

When Mary and Joseph took him to the Jerusalem temple, most overlooked the little boy they brought to be circumcized.

Except an old man Simeon, and an old woman Anna.

They saw the Light of heaven nestled in Mary’s arms.

Two lessons

Our neighborhood Bible study group saw two lessons at least in Isaiah 7-8.

1. If we open our eyes, we can see God with us all around. Especially, there are Immanuel people, who remind us of God’s presence.

2. We as followers of Mary’s child are called to be Immanuel people, carrying the Light with us to everyone we encounter every day.

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Active and passive moves in prayer

Tuesday, September 15th, 2009

If you find these reflections useful to you, that’s my goal. I’d love to hear from you. Thank you for stopping by.

Loss of pastoral care and counseling centers and training programs

I first encountered Gerald May through his book Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology, (1982). At the time I was a full-time resident at the Virginia Institute of Pastoral Care (VIPCare), one of pastoral care and counseling’s premier institutions. We didn’t know then, but only one resident would come after me. Economics would slowly squeeze the educational program, until today it is a faint shadow of what it was.

Although almost nobody noticed, we lost one of the most valuable assets in the field, and not only at VIPCare. Across the nation pastoral counseling centers themselves are going out of business, and training and certification has been handed off to the university and the state.

Pastoral counseling uniquely focuses on the personhood of the counselor and her spiritual and professional formation. Secular training programs, modeled on the university, train the intellect and barely nod at the person, whose own largely unexamined unconscious and spirit will drive her counseling practice.

Active and passive praying

Anyway. Back to G. May and his writing. Gerald May’s The Dark Night of the Soul is deceptively simple. (G. May, of course, is distinct from Rollo May, also an outstanding psychologist and author.)

He gives an overview of the lives and writings of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, 16th century religious geniuses. John also is Spain’s national poet.

I’ve never had much success reading either of these people.

May defines “meditation” as primarily all the exercises and forms of prayer that we do, whereas “contemplation” is God’s sheer gift. All we can do with regard to the latter is “to welcome it with open arms.” These definitions vary with different writers. The definitions I’m more familiar with are:

  • meditation, the first stage of praying, active, characterized by use of methods, images, thought.
  • contemplation, a usually more “advanced” stage of praying, passive (receptive, welcoming with open arms), open, imageless, thoughtless.

I”m sorry to use the word “advanced” because it brings in all kinds of unwanted associations. But I can’t think of a better term.

May says prayer is active and passive. The two intermingle. You go back and forth from beginning to “advanced” phases. (There is no such thing as “advanced”; in prayer we’re all beginners.)

I like the image of God and soul as dance partners. (The “soul” is the deepest part of yourself, where you are most truly you, where God also is.) In active praying the human partner’s movement is more in view; in passive, God’s movement is. But both are interactive in both.

The human activity in the “passive” phase, however, is being receptive, welcoming with open arms. This is what Buddhists and others call “mindfulness,” a relaxed state of loving attentiveness to all that is.

(continued)

 Your feedback will be especially valuable to me. I hope you find these explorations of use in your daily walk with God.

 

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A Spiritual Treasure

Saturday, September 12th, 2009

The following is from a spiritual treasure I became aware of while a pastor in rurban Virginia. We had folks who were committed AA members, who invited me to attend an AA meeting at our church because they needed another warm body. It was a small meeting.

It was the closest I’ve ever been to an ideal “church.”

The book (now online here) is As Bill Sees It, selections from the writing of AA’s founder Bill W. Organized topically, it addresses nitty gritty issues of personal spiritual growth.

38

Pipeline to God

“I am a firm believer in both guidance and prayer. But I am fully aware, and humble enough, I hope, to see there may be nothing infallible about my guidance.

“The minute I figure I have got a perfectly clear pipeline to God, I have become egotistical enough to get into real trouble. Nobody can cause more needless grief than a power-driver who thinks he has got it straight from God.”

(LETTER, 1950)

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Gerald G. May, died 2005

Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009

I didn’t know until yesterday that Gerald G. May of the Shalem Institute died in 2005.

May wrote on contemplative prayer and psychology. His best are Will and Spirit (which will stretch you if mysticism is new) and Addiction and Grace. The latter is about “attachment” and grace, but the marketng department of his publisher thought “addiction” would attract more attention.

I haven’t read yet his book on the Dark Night of the Soul, on suffering. (Don’t have the title exact.) But I soon will.

His books helped me a lot when I did my major research project at VIPCare.

I’m always fascinated by the interface of psychology and contemplation.

Anyway: here’s to you, Jerry. As you dwell in unveiled light of the One you loved so well in this life, may you be joy. And I hope you’re still writing.

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Heating and Cooling 101

Friday, August 28th, 2009

We’re back in faith basic training. Now, just as the first hospital and medical bills begin to roll in, our heating and A/C has gone out.

Paul writes

I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Phil 4:11-13 (NRSV)

I’m struggling to learn how to be content. I’ve never had to go without essentials and many extras.

 The Gk word autarkes means “self contained.” I heard Professor Glenn Hinson, our great saint, give a talk on it once that I’ll never forget. It’s self-sufficient, self-contented, in a very positive way. Paul had learned to be independent of his circumstances.

That famous verse Phil 4.13 really means “I can face all things…” It’s not the “master of my fate” activist self-confidence, so often based on it.

Rather, it means “I can deal with whatever comes; in the strength of Christ, I can handle it.”

So we are learning. And we abide in gratitude because

God will fully satisfy every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

Phil 4:19 (NRSV)

Not a blank check!

I downloaded budgeting software, and I’m learning about HVAC systems and EnergyStar standards.

All the houses in our neighborhood are the same age, so we have good references from neighbors.

Most important, Sandy’s feeling a little more stable these days. As she transfers from the dialysis center to home dialysis, it may still have ups and downs.

But it feels better.

It’s funny, you know, I’ve done so much thinking and reading about the two thirds world, the standard of living abroad.

The dollar figure for the new HVAC system translates into hours Sandy has to work, children that could be fed, pure water needed.

I find myself praying for God’s eyes, God’s wisdom.

We do have to live in North America. The new system will also meet the special requirements of home dialysis, which are stringent.

But it’s so clear to me, that in Africa priorities would be very different.

As I pray to be a world citizen, and to care about all the billions of people affected by our global economy; as I pray for liberation from North American white apartheid outlooks—at the same time, I’m checking out home loan interest rates and repayment schedules.

I wonder what Jesus would do.

Guilt is not an adequate response. It can be nothing more than  a way to assuage the rumblings of conscience without righteous change.

But, as we shelter in the climate of our new system in a few weeks,  I am thankful for God’s infinite bounty, and I  pray that our heart and home will be open to all humankind, at least in spirit, and whenever possible in person.

For now, perhaps, that will be enough.

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Thunder in the night

Monday, August 24th, 2009

The A/C picked tonight to konk out. So we opened windows and the doors leading out on to the deck.

I looked up the number of the guys who’ve come over the years to fix the A/C, so that it’ll be ready in the morning.

And I remembered what they said the last time. “Your system’s old, it’ll crash sometime in the next year or two.”

Great! A new heat pump. Just what we need at this time.

So it’s 3:45 a.m. It’s been thundering and raining for several hours.

I remember when the ground was saturated and we had a cloud burst. Water rose to the front step. Our Camry was totaled.

Fear in my gut.

Almost always in scripture, when angels or the Christ confront someone, they begin, “Don’t be afraid.”

There is a religious awe that’s healthy and positive. The religion of the Old Testament often is called “the fear of the Lord”—the beginning of wisdom. People responded in fear to many of the miracles, a kind of awe recognizing God at work.

A book entitled The Gift of Fear points out the healthy fear that keeps us safe.

It’s a primitive physical response to perceived and actual danger. Humans survived because, when fear alerted them to danger, they took flight or rallied their defenses and fought.

A worn out A/C isn’t a grizzly. Hospital bills won’t thrust a spear through you.

But the body sometimes reacts as it did for thousands of years to such primal threats.

Fear, angst, that paralyzes, that isolates, that fixates on and magnifies negative and harmful aspects of your situation and your future, however, isn’t positive.

Chuck Swindoll (way more conservative than me) has a dynamite series on Acts. His sermon on Paul in Corinth, Acts 17, blessed my life.

We moved to Virginia 20 years ago with much trepidation, leaving a position with limits, a conflicted small town congregation, and going into the unknown, Sandy’s position as pastoral counselor.

As we did the final check of our house before locking the door and driving off in our U-Haul, I found on the floor of the empty bedroom, Swindoll’s tape about making a risky move in faith.

It was a message from God: “Don’t be afraid.” We listened to that tape again and again as we trekked across country.

 One night the Lord said to Paul in a vision, “Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you.”

Acts 18:9-10 (NRSV)

So, tonight, doors and windows open, thunder pounding at the sky, rain falling at times gentle, at times hard—there’s my old friend fear.

Dorothee Sölle (way more liberal feminist than Swindoll) writes about her divorce as a kind of death. She reports going into a church and crying out to God.

A Bible verse came to mind: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor 12:9). But, at first, it felt to her as though God were slapping her down, refusing to help her.

Over time her response changed. She realized that not even death can separate us from the love of God. (Essential Writings, pp. 187-188)

What struck me about this passage in Sölle is how the process resembles the way God comforts-strengthens me, by bringing a verse to mind, for example.

“Here I am, Lord, doors and windows open in the cool of the morning before dawn.

May my heart be open to you.

Calm the fear, stoke the God-courage and God-confidence within me to face the challenge of the coming days.

Why don’t we have a glass of milk together, warmed physically in the microwave, spiritually by your presence!”

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Not your gift, but You the giver!

Saturday, August 22nd, 2009

God never gives, nor did he ever give a gift, merely that [humanity] might have it and be content with it. No, all gifts which he ever gave in heaven or on earth, he gave with one sole purpose—to make one single gift: himself. With all his gifts he desires only to prepare us for the one gift, which is himself.

—Meister Eckhart (1260-1328), quoted in Sölle, The Silent Cry, p. 21.

I can tell, having read
the Introducton, the Afterword,
and a few pages of chapter 1,
that Sölle’s major work is going to be a joy.
She begins with an effort to strip mysticism
of its aura of the exclusive.
Mysticism is not for the elite few,
but for the many, for us all.
Mysticism, put simply, is
everyday Oneness with God
that the scientific mindset,
following the Enlightenment,
seeks to strip away.

No, you don’t need to be an adept
of some esoteric eastern cult,
or a psycho-spiritually gifted genius,
to walk with God.

You simply must open your heart,
open your eyes, 
to know that God is with you,
in you, outside of you,
above you, beneath you,
ahead of you, behind you,
beside you, beyond you,
in your past, in your future, and with you now.

Christ is the Man of Galilee,
who grew up there in a peasant’s home,
who learned the carpenter’s trade
from Joseph his earthly father,
who entrusted his mother
and her children his siblings
to God’s providential care,
and set out to be
an itinerant preacher-teacher-healer,
who brought wholeness and holiness,
freedom and justice,
self-acceptance and beloved community,

who challenged the principalities and powers,
the spiritual wickedness in high places
so that they nailed him to a cross
and hid his corpse in a tomb,
hoping to be rid of him;
but who spent Friday night and Saturday
in darkness,
and Sunday was raised
by the Easter power of God
which is ours
that we may leave
the I-centered zombie life behind
and walk with him in newness of life,

and one with all those
whose names are written
in the Lamb’s book of life
be raised and gathered before the throne
of God’s everlasting splendour,
where with all the saints and angels
we will forever sing,

“Holy! Holy!Holy!
Blessing and glory and wisdom and might
and power and beauty and truth
be yours,
Most High, Most lovely God,
forever and ever!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Amen!”

Thanks be to God who gives us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ!

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It’s not easy being green

Friday, April 3rd, 2009

meadow

 Thanks to: PD photo.org

Kermit the Frog sings here.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures,” Psalms 23:2 (NRSV).

 As an adult, I’ve had to learn to walk twice.

 My spine is kinky, and I grow a lot of bone, which means I tend to squeeze off the spinal cord every few years.

 In addition, arthritis has destroyed most of the big joints — shoulders, knees.

 So I’ve racked up a lot of surgery and a lot of sack time.  I quarrel with the verse, “he makes me lie down in green pastures.”

Then there’s pain.

“On a scale of 1-10, 1 being no pain, 10 being the worst pain you can imagine, what’s your pain level now?”

That nurse (all business, having to log her/his own functions on computer, may be out of work tomorrow because the public hospital is cutting a fourth of its staff, has three kids, an out of work partner and a minivan with stale coke open in the cupholders) qualifies for my instant dislike winner.

On a scale of 1-10, pain is … not a number.

It’s a groan nobody hears, a burn nobody feels. It’s anger that has no place to go.

 I’ve had to lie down a lot more than I want to.  When I gripe about it, the Almighty says, “Green pastures, John, green pastures!”

 ”You’re the boss,” I say.

 I’ve learned from experience that God wins arguments.

 Enforced idleness—green?

 How?

 Well, there’s the psalms.  I read them aloud often. Every ten, I read 16 verses of 119, which all at once is mind numbing.

 There is a sense in which their voice is my voice, or mine theirs. Even the hateful psalms.

 Hate is human. When God gets it out of me, I’ll leave it out of the psalms.

 I wish I had some deep, deep, deep insight into prayer.  I don’t.

 Prayer is listening, prayer is talking.

 Prayer is being face to face with God, not in seclusion, not removed from life, but in the give and get of it.

 When I was offering spiritual direction for a brief time, I imagined God sitting just behind my fellow struggler.  I’d focus on God, while listening to the other person with my heart, my eyes, and any other faculty at hand.

 That’s prayer: focusing on God.

 Enforced idleness also gives me time to read.  During my years of active ministry I never had time to read a book like Les Miserables. 

 Green pastures?  I dunno.

 On a beautiful spring morning I’d rather be out for a run with my beautiful lab Cinnamon.

 But then I don’t have a lab.

 And I don’t run.

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Of Mother Mary

Saturday, January 31st, 2009

Sub tuum praesidium

Beneath your compassion,
We take refuge, O Mother of God:
do not despise our petitions in time of trouble:
but rescue us from dangers,
only pure, only blessed one.

(Oldest prayer to the Virgin Mary, dating from about 250 AD)

For a couple of months Tuesday nights at my house have been about Mary, Mother of Jesus. Since the group is all female except me, I’ve learned a lot.

One statement especially strikes me: Mary and Jesus shared a heartbeat.

No other human being has the distinction of being so close to God. Luke carefully presents Mary as an exemplary servant of the Lord.

She’s there at the beginning, there at the cross, there in the Upper Room before Pentecost.

She ponders all she experiences, all she hears. Sometimes it isn’t pretty: a sword pierces her heart.

Mary in Revelation

But it’s the Johannine pictures of Mary that intrigue me.

First, Revelation 12. Here a woman clothed with the sun gives birth to a son who will rule the nations with a rod of iron. This is a messianic reference from Psalm 2.9.

God spirits the woman away from the dragon’s wrath on eagle’s wings, sheltering her in the desert for a brief time. The dragon goes off to make war on the rest of her children, who keep the commandments of God and the testimony of Jesus.

Who is this? The Protestant answer, of course, is that she is Israel and the new Israel. Perfectly good answer.

But the Roman Catholic answer that she is Mary also is perfectly good. It’s the literal truth.

Mary in the gospel of John

Mary isn’t named in the gospel, suggesting she is more than simply Jesus’ mother (what Catholics call “a baby factory.”) She represents all women.

She is at the wedding at Cana in Galilee, the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, where she mediates between the servants and Jesus. And she is at the cross, an ideal disciple along with the beloved disciple.

Jesus says, “Behold your son,” making her the mother of the beloved disciple and all disciples who come after him (as in Revelation, which calls Christians the woman’s children.)

She is the New Eve, who gets to redo the role a woman played in the fall. (The man was responsible for himself.)

Worship vs. veneration

The classic Catholic defense of their “affection for” Mary (as one book puts it) is that Catholics practice veneration not worship. This apparently is rooted in Greek, that didn’t stick in my head.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of those mental videos we play to defend against real spiritual awareness.

Despite my West Texas Baptist anti-Catholic roots, I find myself appreciating more Mary’s unique role.

The Virgen de Guadalupe (pictured at the head of this post) has an especially warm place in my heart. My aunt Margaret, who was the matriarch and died at 92, seems to be the most grounded of all my dad’s siblings. She had a reproduction of the Virgen de Guadalupe on her coffee table.

I haven’t figured it all out yet.

Praxis 

Mary, you were an unmarried pregnant teenager in a time and place when such as you were killed. Yet you prayed, “Be it unto me according to your word.” Some people kick up a lot of dirt because of you. But I find it useful? important? delightful? to speak to you (pray to you, even). You knew Jesus best. Help me to be more like him. Help me to be as obedient and courageous as you were. Amen

 

 

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Read Habbakuk lately?

Monday, January 19th, 2009

In my continuing struggle to learn to use the new Benedictine Breviary as an aid to prayer, I found a tutorial to the Liturgy of the Hours here. However stupidly I stumble through the rite, I can offer perfect prayer when I offer to God my whole heart, mind, soul and strength. So people tell me.

I found a sentence from the prologue to the Rule of Benedict that set my heart singing,  no small achievement in these dark cold days: “We shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.”

Give me a break.

It’s 2:41 AM. I recited Vigils. How do you whump up cheerfulness when your first cup of coffee is five or six hours away?

You find treasures in the most unlikely places. Take, for example, the obscure little book of Habbakuk, hard to pronounce, hard to find, tucked among the minor prophets. It’s a quick read, but a great one. (All quotes from  NRSV.)

  1. The prophet asks, O LORD, how long shall I cry for help,
    and you will not listen?
    Or cry to you “Violence!”
         and you will not save? Hab 1.2  
  2. Another question: why are you “silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they?” Hab 1.13
  3. The righteous shall live by faith. Hab 2.4
  4. But the earth will be filled
         with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD,
         as the waters cover the sea. Hab 2.14
  5. But the LORD is in his holy temple;
         let all the earth keep silence before him! Hab 2.20
  6. Though the fig tree does not blossom,
    and no fruit is on the vines;
    though the produce of the olive fails,
         and the fields yield no food;
    though the flock is cut off from the fold,
         and there is no herd in the stalls,
    yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
         I will exult in the God of my salvation. 
    God, the Lord, is my strength;
         he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
         and makes me tread upon the heights. Hab 3.17-19

 Not bad. 56 verses, at least 10 world class. Any writer would take one out of five in a heart beat.

The thing is, we’re not in a position to discern what matters or what lasts. God is.

Our job is to keep on keeping on; do the next thing; speak to the next heart that braves the open spaces in hope of connecting.

Bonhoeffer writes, never take Christian fellowship for granted.

Bill Gaither has a beautiful song that keeps running in my head (I play it while riding the recumbent bike): Loving God, loving each other, making music with my friends. (That’s God’s plan.)

Sadly, after toiling long years in the institutional church, I wonder how you tell who your real friends are.

Which brings me to Hebrews, and a verse that (to me) makes sense of my life:

Jesus suffered outside the city gate in order to sanctify the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. Heb 13.12-14

Like Andy Dufresne, I am not an institutional man. I’m seeking the Body of Christ that is to come. Because what I find too often is not the body of Christ, but the corpse.

Don’t get me wrong. I wish it was otherwise.

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