God Makes All Things New

And the one who was seated on the throne said,
“See, I am making all things new.” 
— Revelation 21:5 (NRSV)

This is one of my favorite bible verses, although I often forget about it altogether.

Butterfly--photo Julie McCarty--All rights reserved.In Chapter 21 of Revelation, the writer has a vision of a new heaven and a new earth. God reveals a “new Jerusalem” and the one seated on the throne says “Behold, I make all things new” (RSV). It is easy to dismiss this bible verse from our lives, viewing it only as a vision applying to either the past (Jesus’ ministry on earth) or the future (some day, in heaven).

However, Jesus taught us that the kingdom of God is already within our midst, in our lives, our hearts, and our communities (Luke 17:21). Sure, it’s not perfectly complete or fully expressed the way it will be after death, in heavenly glory when we behold the face of God. Even so, the spiritual kingdom of Christ has already begun, both in the life of Jesus and in those who follow his way.  

Jesus also said something else quite astonishing: that his followers would do even greater things than he did (John 14:12). Personally, I have trouble believing this is really so, but that’s what it says, right there in the bible. Christ did not come to earth just so we could maintain the status quo. God wants us to do great things–the kind of great things that Jesus did.

Is there some new work or service that God is inviting you to take up? Perhaps there is a fresh way to approach the work you already are doing, a way that would be more Christ-like?

Is there some new life the Holy Spirit wants to breathe into our faith communities? Our neighborhoods or schools? To improve how we serve others in need? To care for God’s creation around us in the environment? To spread the good news of God’s great compassion and mercy?

Will you pray with me?

Lord, sometimes it can be difficult to try new things. We may feel uncertain about what is the best choice for our future. We may be pushed to move beyond our “comfort zone.” Show us the path you desire for us, and give us the courage to follow you always, with humility, mercy, and love.

Until next time, Amen!

Would Jesus Allow Open Discussion on Controversial Topics?

This past Sunday, the Minneapolis Star Tribune ran a front page article entitled Priests told not to voice dissent,” the gist of which is contained in this quote:

Archbishop John Nienstedt is warning Catholic clergy across Minnesota that there should be no “open dissension” of the church’s strong backing of a proposed amendment to the state Constitution that would define marriage as a union only between a man and woman. 

The Roman Catholic archbishop is not merely asking clergy to remain neutral on public issues while speaking in the pulpit. Instead, he is pressuring pastors and parishioners to be proactive on the issue even if it is against their conscience, by  pushing “marriage prayers” smack dab in the middle of Sunday Mass, creating parish “marriage committees” to support the amendment, and inviting “marriage teams” to come speak to high school students.

Of course, church leaders certainly have the right–and the duty–to speak publicly about issues of faith and morals, and about anything that might make the world or church a better place. However, based on my past experiences, I rather doubt any of these marriage speakers will offer any genuine, mutual discussion (this vote, after all, applies to all of society, not just Catholics, so all angles ought to be openly discussed, even at a church meeting).

Catholics today are facing the same kind of repressive environment that exists under dictatorships. It is becoming dangerous to disagree on controversial topics. One cannot write or speak publicly if one disagrees with church teachings on such topics as women’s ordination, married clergy, gay rights, birth control, abortion, liberation theology, or even how one views Mary (as in the case of Tissa Balasuriya). 

Regarding the case of the proposed marriage amendment, the archbishop is so determined that in a recent speech/letter to priestshe reminded them of their vows of obedience. In addition, the archbishop wrote a letter to one priest threatening to remove him from active ministry if he spoke publicly against church teaching (the marriage amendment being one example in the letter). Some people would call that spiritual bullying.

Conservative Catholics spout the slogan “error has no rights,” but “error” is not a person. People do have rights. People are God’s beloved sons and daughters–and Christ often listened carefully to others, even asked about what they thought: How do you interpret the law? What do you want? Who do you say I am? What are you discussing as you go your way?

Since Sunday’s Star Tribune article, I have been trying to think of a single instance in which Jesus silenced a conversation, or bullied people into thinking his way.

Hmmmm… In Mark’s gospel, Jesus does ask the disciples to keep quiet now and then, but the secret is all the good works he’s doing, that he’s the Messiah, not the squelching of his opposition. Today’s equivalent would be a bishop working a miracle and then telling the priests to keep it secret, because, after all, he’s a very humble guy.

Maybe we might think the time Jesus turned over all those money tables in the temple was a little like silencing someone with opposing views. Today’s equivalent would be a bishop blasting American corportations for their greed on a nationally televised event, or publicly destroying the number balls used to select lottery winners. Or maybe selling the bishop’s mansion to build a place for the homeless.

The only time I can remember Jesus ever coming close to silencing someone is when Peter–whom Catholic call the first pope–tells Jesus he ought not to go to Jerusalem because of the danger. To this, Jesus replies:

Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do. (Matthew 16:23)

Those are pretty strong words–even harsher than “shut up.” Jesus knew that God wanted him to go to Jerusalem even if it meant risking death on a cross. When pushed between following the advice of the first pope or what his Father in heaven wanted, Jesus chose to obey his Father, trusting that God would bring about something good (through his cross and resurrection, the salvation of the world!).

In our own times, those of us who follow Jesus must listen carefully not only to religious leaders, but also to those whose voices are not easily heard: the poor, the abandoned, the lonely, the sick, and those who are most ill-treated and misunderstood. We must ponder our sacred scriptures and pray to God, asking the Holy Spirit to guide each one of us to make good choices.

Even if it means disagreeing with “Peter.”

“Dare We Hope for the Salvation of All?”

…for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.
       
–I Corinthians 15:22.

All will be made alive in Christ? All? All might end up in heaven?  Or just Catholics? Or just Protestants? Or just Missouri Synod Lutherans? Or maybe just baptized believers? Or maybe “good people” of any spirituality? Or just those who do good things? Or those who give enough money to charity? Or those who believe the right things?  

Rob Bell brings up questions like these and many others in the book we’re reading in my church group, Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived (HarperOne, 2011). In case you haven’t heard about this book, here’s a preview video (if you are reading this in your email, the YouTube preview is on my blog):

Bell raises important questions about heaven and hell that many Christians secretly wonder about but are afraid to ask. He particularly challenges the types of church-goers who seem to relish the thought of some people being sent to hell. They consider themselves “saved” and righteous, but anyone outside their select group “condemned.” They seem to worship a God who is loving one moment and wrathful the next. 

Reading Bell’s book is one thoughtful way to consider how we view Christ-followers of “other groups” (denominations, political parties, that “other choir” at church, etc.), those of other religious groups (Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, etc.), the “merely spiritual,” or those of no particular philosophical or faith adherence. Do we treat them will equal dignity and compassion? Or, as Rob Bell points out, do some of us secretly rejoice to picture certain people in hell? Would Christ our Lord rejoice to see someone be cast into hell? Bell asks, Is this “good news”?

Christians of other centuries have also wrestled with these questions. In the article “Dare We Hope For the Salvation of All?” Greek Orthodox theologian, Bishop Kallistos Ware  examines how Origen, St. Gregory of Nyssa, and St. Isaac the Syrian considered the salvation of all people and the restoration of all things in Christ.  He also draws material from a variety of others, including Julian of Norwich, C.S. Lewis, and St. Silouan of Mount Athos. (Theology Digest 45:4 (1998); also reprinted in The Inner Kingdom, Vol. 1, pages 193-215).

Like Bell, Bishop Ware is trying to remain true to the immense love of God, while also upholding human free will. My favorite story in the article was about a conversation between St. Silouan and a hermit. St. Silouan was so convinced that hell might not be a forever situation that he actually prayed “for the dead suffering in the hell of separation from God. . . [Saint Silouan] could not bear to think that anyone would languish in ‘outer darkness.'”

When the hermit criticized St. Silouan for this, the holy man said, “Tell me, supposing you went to paradise, and there looked down and saw somebody burning in hell-fire–would you feel happy?”

The hermit responded that it would be the condemned person’s own fault.

The holy St. Silouan replied, “love could not bear that…we must pray for all.”

(Quotes above from Saint Silouan the Athonite by Archimandrite Sophrony, quoted in The Inner Kingdom, page 194).

For Eastern Christians, heaven is less a “me and Jesus” and more of a mystical communion of persons. God is “communal” in the sense that God’s oneness is Trinitarian–and to truly mirror God and be taken into the glory of heaven, the multitude of saints (all God’s beloved people) would need to be included in order for the joy to be complete.

The best way to explain this is to consider that the definition of hell for Russian Christians is two people, tied to each other but back to back. They are with each other but not really one. The opposite of that, heaven, is “face-to-face”: face-to-face intimacy and union not only with God, but with each other.

Saint Silouan didn’t think he could be completely happy in heaven until every last person was there, “face-to-face,” dwelling in glory with God and each other, including every single person.

“Into these things, angels long to search.”

Until next time, Amen!

Miracles Begin with Compassion

When Jesus went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. –Matthew 14:14

While listening to Pastor Kevin Olson’s sermon at Easter Lutheran Church this past Sunday, one sentence he said particularly struck me: “Every miracle begins with compassion.”

How different Jesus is from many public figures of our time–he did not work miracles merely to show his great spiritual power, create “special effects,” or convince others he was the Messiah. Jesus was not a politician trying to drive up his approval ratings or a celebrity seeking more media exposure.

Jesus was motivated by compassion. In Matthew 14, the passage read on Sunday, Jesus has just heard about the death of his cousin John the Baptist. He responds by going off to a deserted spot to pray, and, I imagine, have a little downtime to grieve.

But people want to see Jesus so much that they go out of their way to find him. When his prayer time is interrupted, Jesus doesn’t rebuke them or send them away. Out of love, he sets aside his own agenda and calmly responds to their needs.

This is one way that Jesus and I differ. When I am interrupted in my work or prayer, I don’t always respond that well. Pastor Kevin reminded us that spiritual writer Henri Nouwen pointed out that our true mission is sometimes found in the interruptions themselves. Our real ministry is not only in the “work” we do, but in the midst of people who come our way and “interrupt” us.

Jesus’ compassion doesn’t end at the end of the work shift, either. After a long day of interacting with the crowd, which has now grown to 5,000 (not counting the women and children), the disciples remind Jesus it’s getting late and no one has eaten. They suggest Jesus punch out for the day by telling the people to go to the nearby village to get something to eat.

But Jesus’ compassion for others is so great that he doesn’t want to risk people not getting fed due to lack of money or lack of resources (would a village really have enough food for thousands of people without advance notice?). So he tells the disciples:

You give them something to eat.

The disciples, of course, objected to this impractical—no, make that completely unreasonable—idea. They have some concern for the crowd’s needs, but this idea of feeding the crowd themselves seems ridiculous.

Nevertheless, Jesus asks the disciples to bring him what they have, the now-famous five loaves and two fish. Jesus blesses it and the disciples begin to offer it to others, and, as you know, the food in some miraculous way multiplies to feed them all.

I know I am like those disciples. I sometimes see other people’s needs and feel compassion but stop short of doing anything. I want to help them, but like the disciples, part of me wants to send the suffering away to get help someplace else.

There are many people suffering in our world today who need our compassion. There are those who are unemployed or under-employed, the sick and starving, the battered and war-torn, and the list goes on and on. Each of us, by ourselves, cannot undo all the problems of the world, nor does God expect us to do so.

However, too often we use the vastness of the problems to keep us from doing anything at all. Like Jesus’ disciples who wanted to send the hungry crowd away to fend for themselves, we want to send the suffering away—let someone else deal with the problem.

But Jesus didn’t send people away empty. He filled their lives with healing, love, meaning, and yes, food for their bodies. Through the words of Scripture, Jesus tells us again today:

You give them something to eat.

 Until next time, Amen!

Spiritual Aerobics

The word “compassion” comes from roots that mean to stand with someone in their suffering. The compassionate person is willing to journey with another who is experiencing pain, agony, confusion, or other trials. Who do you know that is suffering these days? How would Jesus express compassion for this person? Is there something you could do for him or her?

Enuma Okuro’s “Reluctant Pilgrim”

 

You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.– Saint Augustine, in the Confessions

Earlier this year I attended a women’s retreat led by spiritual writer Enuma Okuro. When I first signed up for the retreat, I knew almost nothing about Enuma, but I wanted to meet other women in my latest experiment with finding a church home, and the lure of meeting another spiritual writer in the flesh was more than I could resist.

The weekend retreat was a good experience, and one of the many blessings was seeing Enuma in action. She has what I would call a genuine spiritual presence in an honest, creative, and faithful-to-God way. I couldn’t get over the way she got all of us engaged in creative activities and sharing despite the fact that hardly any of us would normally think of ourselves as very “creative” or “artistic.” 

More recently, I finally had the chance to read Enuma’s book Reluctant Pilgrim–and, frankly, all I can say is, wow.

I don’t want to tell you too much about the book because I think it’s better to read it without a lot of preconceived ideas. However, the subtitle gives the main focus of the book: A Moody, Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert’s Search for Spiritual Community. Enuma hungers for God, but calls herself “half-graced” because, although she was baptised Catholic, she was never confirmed and feels she is missing something, the adult faith commitment and the feeling of belonging to a community of believers. But, to what church should she go? Where will she find a spiritual home, a faith community? To say her background is varied is an understatement. Although her first years of memory were spent in Queens, New York, she is never quite sure how to explain where she is “from”:

Once we moved back to West Africa, I was introduced to my first mosque, and the rest of my early childhood was lost in a whirling dervish of Hail Marys and muezzin cries to holy prayer. I was raised by a Catholic father, an Anglican, somewhat evangelical mother, and endless Muslim aunts, who called on both Jesus and Allah within the same breath, depending on the circumstances. I ran into God beneath the billowing skirts of Catholicism and Islam while learning the cultural steps of being a foreigner in my native country. When people ask me where I’m from, I fumble for answers, take a deep breath, and exhale with, “I was born in the States, but my parents are Nigerian, and I grew up in four different countries. But currently I live in (insert current city of residence) so that’s where I’m from, I guess. (page 17)

Reluctant Pilgrim is a fresh look at the Christian journey in the midst of today’s multicultural, multi-religious, multi-spiritual and even doubting world. It taps into the human hunger for God with the frank admission that we often resist this hunger, and our spiritual communities often seem–at least on the surface–lacking this hunger for union with the divine. 

To get a small taste of this book and Enuma’s honest, creative style, view the YouTube trailer below. I found myself pondering the spiritual mystery of God and God’s presence in others just watching the preview!

(If this YouTube video does not print in your email subscription, just google “Reluctant Pilgrim” and “YouTube” and look for the trailer.)

Until next time, Amen!