The time is surely coming, says the Lord GOD, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD. They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the LORD, but they shall not find it. (Amos 8:11-12 NRSV)
A famine on the land … that’s what he said.
Not a famine of bread
or a thirst for water;
he said, “It will be a famine
of hearing the words of the LORD.
I gasp for air.
I try to keep the tears from flowing.
I feel an emptiness
creep into my whole being.
LORD GOD … NO!
Do not take the hearing
of your words from me.
It IS my bread. It IS my water.
It IS my life-blood.
If all is silent
from you to me, LORD GOD,
I fear that all might fall silent
from me to you,
and from me for you …
for others.
If you do not speak words
in ways that I might hear,
then all of the words
that I know will
become unknown to me.
How can I find my own words
in the darkness of this silence?
There will be no words found
to tell others of your love and promise.
There will be no words found
to tell others of your grace and mercy,
for I will be starving
to hear of these things as well.
Even before you fall silent,
even before such a famine
of the hearing of your words, LORD GOD,
I already hear the gnawing of my heart
and feel a hint of its approaching emptiness.
I am wondering if
you will still hear my prayers.
Will my words to you fall softly
on your heart …
even in your silence?
Others know what it is like
to be hungry of body and soul.
Others know what it is like
to hear the echoes of your silence.
Others know because of
our own neglect and disregard,
not because of you.
Forgive me, O God. Forgive us.
You love without measure.
You delight in our times together.
How it must hurt you
to consider such a famine of words.
Before you fall silent,
What would you have me do, LORD GOD?
What would you have us do?
anna murdock © 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
"A Shout From the Other Room"
(Please read Luke 10:38-42)
I’m shouting from the other room with my arm around Martha’s shoulders. “Martha isn’t all that bad. Lighten up on her. She’s being hospitable, OK? She is giving her best.” (Oops, I should have stopped before that last sentence.) Martha might be cooking her best, never-fail meal and preparing her home to be a comfortable place for Jesus and his disciples. Welcoming them into her home is a way to serve her Lord. Hospitality, good food and a place of rest. She is offering to them something that they need. Those are gifts that she is giving to them. But Martha is tired, busy and missing out on fellowship. She is becoming annoyed.
What did we hear? Complaints from the hostess? Jesus says her name twice. “Martha, Martha”. My childhood memories tell me that nothing ever good comes from having your name said twice. But there seems to be a gentleness in Jesus’ voice as he seizes this moment of teaching and as he reaches out his hand and leads her into the place where Mary sits. From the protests of a sister from the other room and from the very words of Jesus, we too are taught and we begin to understand what it means to be a “Martha” with a “Mary” heart … a worship-filled, Spirit-led servant of our Lord who has listened well.
I will not bash Martha. Honestly, I can’t. I have been her and many of you can same the same thing. The good news is that there is plenty of room to sit beside of Mary. There is time to sit at the feet of Jesus to listen, learn and worship before going out and doing what we are called to do. There is more than enough time to pray for the Holy Spirit’s guidance as we go out to serve others.
Mary has chosen the better way. She has set aside her own things-to-do list for a while. She is being still and listening to Jesus, clinging to his very words. And she has set her priorities in order. The Marys (or Matthews) of this world know that there is no amount of obedience, no willing heart, no running here and there for the Church or for others, and no gifts that can be fully used without first sitting quietly and receiving the guidance of the Spirit. It is then when we catch a glimpse of God’s vision for the world.
Martha, Martha. Be still and know, Martha. Be still first before busyness takes over. Quit shouting from the other room, Martha. Sit with Mary. Listen to Jesus’ words. Know who he is. Receive his Spirit. Listen for the what’s, the when’s, the why’s and the where’s. If you do, your willingness and your gifts, yes, even your gift of hospitality will be best used in joyful and loving service for others.
Jesus is calling for us to come out from the other room … calling our names as he has called Martha’s name. He has invited everyone to begin again, to rest for a moment, to no longer be distracted. He has given every one of us a time to listen, a time to learn and grow and a time to place willing hearts before him. Jesus is saying, “Stop and choose the better way. Sit and clear your busy thoughts and make room for the thoughts of God.”
Oh God … Call out our names twice if you must. Maybe then we will look up from our busyness and listen. Lead us from the other room to our place at the feet of your Son. Raise our heads so that we might look into his eyes. Open our ears so that we might listen to his words. Give us rest and renewal and then lift us up and send us back out to serve others with hearts reflecting the One who has called our names and carrying with us a glimpse of your vision. Amen.
anna
I’m shouting from the other room with my arm around Martha’s shoulders. “Martha isn’t all that bad. Lighten up on her. She’s being hospitable, OK? She is giving her best.” (Oops, I should have stopped before that last sentence.) Martha might be cooking her best, never-fail meal and preparing her home to be a comfortable place for Jesus and his disciples. Welcoming them into her home is a way to serve her Lord. Hospitality, good food and a place of rest. She is offering to them something that they need. Those are gifts that she is giving to them. But Martha is tired, busy and missing out on fellowship. She is becoming annoyed.
What did we hear? Complaints from the hostess? Jesus says her name twice. “Martha, Martha”. My childhood memories tell me that nothing ever good comes from having your name said twice. But there seems to be a gentleness in Jesus’ voice as he seizes this moment of teaching and as he reaches out his hand and leads her into the place where Mary sits. From the protests of a sister from the other room and from the very words of Jesus, we too are taught and we begin to understand what it means to be a “Martha” with a “Mary” heart … a worship-filled, Spirit-led servant of our Lord who has listened well.
I will not bash Martha. Honestly, I can’t. I have been her and many of you can same the same thing. The good news is that there is plenty of room to sit beside of Mary. There is time to sit at the feet of Jesus to listen, learn and worship before going out and doing what we are called to do. There is more than enough time to pray for the Holy Spirit’s guidance as we go out to serve others.
Mary has chosen the better way. She has set aside her own things-to-do list for a while. She is being still and listening to Jesus, clinging to his very words. And she has set her priorities in order. The Marys (or Matthews) of this world know that there is no amount of obedience, no willing heart, no running here and there for the Church or for others, and no gifts that can be fully used without first sitting quietly and receiving the guidance of the Spirit. It is then when we catch a glimpse of God’s vision for the world.
Martha, Martha. Be still and know, Martha. Be still first before busyness takes over. Quit shouting from the other room, Martha. Sit with Mary. Listen to Jesus’ words. Know who he is. Receive his Spirit. Listen for the what’s, the when’s, the why’s and the where’s. If you do, your willingness and your gifts, yes, even your gift of hospitality will be best used in joyful and loving service for others.
Jesus is calling for us to come out from the other room … calling our names as he has called Martha’s name. He has invited everyone to begin again, to rest for a moment, to no longer be distracted. He has given every one of us a time to listen, a time to learn and grow and a time to place willing hearts before him. Jesus is saying, “Stop and choose the better way. Sit and clear your busy thoughts and make room for the thoughts of God.”
Oh God … Call out our names twice if you must. Maybe then we will look up from our busyness and listen. Lead us from the other room to our place at the feet of your Son. Raise our heads so that we might look into his eyes. Open our ears so that we might listen to his words. Give us rest and renewal and then lift us up and send us back out to serve others with hearts reflecting the One who has called our names and carrying with us a glimpse of your vision. Amen.
anna
Thursday, July 8, 2010
"A Willingness Within"
Please read Luke 10:25-37 (The story of “The Good Samaritan”)
Also, please read Thom Shuman’s “Half-Dead in the Ditch” at www.occasionalsightings.blogspot.com
If you notice, I have suggested that you not only read the Scriptures for the morning, but also Thom Shuman’s “Half-Dead in the Ditch” posting on his blog. Thom is a friend, a writer and poet, and a Presbyterian pastor. In his thoughts on Luke 10:25-37, he has reminded me that often we find ourselves right in the middle of the Scriptures in our everyday living. I call such things “God-sightings”. Thom calls them “Occasional Sightings of the Gospel”. As I read “Half-Dead in the Ditch”, I was reminded of a different look to the “Good Samaritan” story. It is a dog's story. At first glance it seems too remote to be considered an “occasional sighting” of this Gospel lesson for today. But actually, it IS this story.
Last Friday, a fairly large puppy was seen running across the parking lot of the business where I work. Well, let's just say “trying to run”. Her front paw was caught in the makeshift collar. One of our salesmen brought the puppy into our reception area. She collapsed and closed her eyes. The collar was for a very large dog; certainly not meant for a puppy. It had been cinched in with a twist-tie. That left a loop in which her foot had become entangled. There was no "give" in the collar so she was choking herself with each step. When she collapsed on the floor, she closed her eyes. She was so exhausted from both the heat and trying to run on 3 legs that she couldn't move. We petted her for a while and whispered to her. Still, her eyes remained closed. The animal control officer said, “She doesn’t stand a chance. Look at her face. She is part pit bull. Her ears have been trimmed by the owner. He probably has intentions of raising her for dog fights. If I take her away, she will only have 3 days.” The officer left with instructions to call her again if we chose to have this puppy taken away. The puppy never moved or opened her eyes as we talked about her.
Soon we found ourselves stepping over the puppy and walking around her. She was in our way. Someone picked her up and moved her into another room as a convenience to us. Still, she didn’t move nor did she open her eyes. There was talk of calling the animal control officer back. 4:00pm came. Still no movement. Still no opened eyes. 4:30pm arrived. The little 4-year-old daughter of one of our employees came into the office area from day school. Her mother told her little daughter to stay away from the puppy. “Don’t touch her. Don’t bother her.” The little one ignored her mother's request. She sat down on the floor, curled up beside of the puppy and began to gently stroke her. She firmly told everyone to “quit stepping over her.” She whispered into the puppy's ear. She placed her head on the puppy. I stood at the door and overheard her say, "I am here. You are OK." 4:50pm. The little girl and this puppy were walking down the hall! She was a bit possessive, keeping all of us who had been walking around and stepping over the puppy, away from the puppy. A few minutes later, I sat down with the little girl on the couch in the reception area. She was gently stroking the puppy. I asked her how SHE knew what to do. Her answer? “Because I am little and the puppy is little.”
All other days, this child hates to be called little. Normally, she would put her hands on her hips, stomp her foot and say "I'm a NOT little. I am a BIG girl." She's a stubborn little thing! Perhaps, in great mercy, she was WILLING to remember her smallness for the sake of this puppy.
There was a willingness within this child to become little again for the sake of the puppy ... there was a willingness within the "Good Samaritan" to recall his own days in the ditch and remember the best way out for the sake of the one who was beaten ... there was a willingness within Jesus to become despised and rejected, to be thrown into death's ditch and to be pulled back out by God for all of our sakes.
Most Merciful God ... There was a willingness within this child, this Samaritan and certainly within Jesus to offer great mercy. Is there a willingness within me as well? Am I willing to be the neighbor who loves and shows mercy? Oh, I pray that I am but in my heart I know that I have failed so many times. Forgive me... forgive us for stepping over others. Jesus points to this little girl and her puppy and then looks into our eyes and says, “Go and do likewise." Open our eyes, O God. Open our eyes and hearts to love and mercy. Amen.
anna
Also, please read Thom Shuman’s “Half-Dead in the Ditch” at www.occasionalsightings.blogspot.com
If you notice, I have suggested that you not only read the Scriptures for the morning, but also Thom Shuman’s “Half-Dead in the Ditch” posting on his blog. Thom is a friend, a writer and poet, and a Presbyterian pastor. In his thoughts on Luke 10:25-37, he has reminded me that often we find ourselves right in the middle of the Scriptures in our everyday living. I call such things “God-sightings”. Thom calls them “Occasional Sightings of the Gospel”. As I read “Half-Dead in the Ditch”, I was reminded of a different look to the “Good Samaritan” story. It is a dog's story. At first glance it seems too remote to be considered an “occasional sighting” of this Gospel lesson for today. But actually, it IS this story.
Last Friday, a fairly large puppy was seen running across the parking lot of the business where I work. Well, let's just say “trying to run”. Her front paw was caught in the makeshift collar. One of our salesmen brought the puppy into our reception area. She collapsed and closed her eyes. The collar was for a very large dog; certainly not meant for a puppy. It had been cinched in with a twist-tie. That left a loop in which her foot had become entangled. There was no "give" in the collar so she was choking herself with each step. When she collapsed on the floor, she closed her eyes. She was so exhausted from both the heat and trying to run on 3 legs that she couldn't move. We petted her for a while and whispered to her. Still, her eyes remained closed. The animal control officer said, “She doesn’t stand a chance. Look at her face. She is part pit bull. Her ears have been trimmed by the owner. He probably has intentions of raising her for dog fights. If I take her away, she will only have 3 days.” The officer left with instructions to call her again if we chose to have this puppy taken away. The puppy never moved or opened her eyes as we talked about her.
Soon we found ourselves stepping over the puppy and walking around her. She was in our way. Someone picked her up and moved her into another room as a convenience to us. Still, she didn’t move nor did she open her eyes. There was talk of calling the animal control officer back. 4:00pm came. Still no movement. Still no opened eyes. 4:30pm arrived. The little 4-year-old daughter of one of our employees came into the office area from day school. Her mother told her little daughter to stay away from the puppy. “Don’t touch her. Don’t bother her.” The little one ignored her mother's request. She sat down on the floor, curled up beside of the puppy and began to gently stroke her. She firmly told everyone to “quit stepping over her.” She whispered into the puppy's ear. She placed her head on the puppy. I stood at the door and overheard her say, "I am here. You are OK." 4:50pm. The little girl and this puppy were walking down the hall! She was a bit possessive, keeping all of us who had been walking around and stepping over the puppy, away from the puppy. A few minutes later, I sat down with the little girl on the couch in the reception area. She was gently stroking the puppy. I asked her how SHE knew what to do. Her answer? “Because I am little and the puppy is little.”
All other days, this child hates to be called little. Normally, she would put her hands on her hips, stomp her foot and say "I'm a NOT little. I am a BIG girl." She's a stubborn little thing! Perhaps, in great mercy, she was WILLING to remember her smallness for the sake of this puppy.
There was a willingness within this child to become little again for the sake of the puppy ... there was a willingness within the "Good Samaritan" to recall his own days in the ditch and remember the best way out for the sake of the one who was beaten ... there was a willingness within Jesus to become despised and rejected, to be thrown into death's ditch and to be pulled back out by God for all of our sakes.
Most Merciful God ... There was a willingness within this child, this Samaritan and certainly within Jesus to offer great mercy. Is there a willingness within me as well? Am I willing to be the neighbor who loves and shows mercy? Oh, I pray that I am but in my heart I know that I have failed so many times. Forgive me... forgive us for stepping over others. Jesus points to this little girl and her puppy and then looks into our eyes and says, “Go and do likewise." Open our eyes, O God. Open our eyes and hearts to love and mercy. Amen.
anna
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
"This Week, I Remember"
The drive is the same. Nine years haven’t really changed the route other than the trees that line the interstate are much larger, hiding new developments along the way. Last week, I was driving this route again as I do every weekend. Yet, I chose to wait a few more hours, moving my leaving from Sunday evening to 5:30am on Monday morning. I knew when to leave. The birds told me with a full chorus of “Morning Has Broken”, preparing for the event that they knew would come! Each little one knew to begin their song just before daybreak.
I thought that I remembered every single detail of that June morning in 2001. I thought I remembered every color, every gold-lined cloud and the very moment when the sun appeared. I remembered it to be so overwhelming to me, so breath-taking that I pulled off of the interstate and cried … and I heard God say, “Write again. It has been too long. But this time write for me.” I thought that I remembered everything.
I realized that nine years had faded some colors, had swept away some of the gold-lined clouds from my memory, had kept me from being blinded by the beauty of sunrises. Last week, I drove into the sunrise. A light fog hovered on the tops of tall grass and gathered more densely around the rivers along the route. Each mile brought with it more beauty and more surprises, more teals and blues, more peaches and pinks in the sky. The clouds were again gold-lined. At the very place where I heard God speak to me nine years ago, the sun seemed to rise quickly and with spectacular beauty. I heard, “Remember, I am the same, then as now. Forever.”
June 18, 2001 was the day when I first heard God say “Write again.” Few know how loving that gift was to me. I had written since childhood and kept all of my writings. In the late 60’s, something changed. I took every piece of writing that I had saved and ripped them up. And I stopped writing. I had allowed anger to strip me of the one thing that I loved to do. I had shredded the one passion in my life and almost proudly replaced it with a wall of protection. No more writing … until God’s love for me said, “Enough. Write again and start with my beautiful sunrise.”
June 18, 2001 … a morning of overwhelming beauty … and overwhelming love. Last week, I had an hour’s drive on an early Monday morning. Nothing much has changed along the route except that my days have been filled with thanksgiving … and there is writing once again.
This week, I remember …
anna
I thought that I remembered every single detail of that June morning in 2001. I thought I remembered every color, every gold-lined cloud and the very moment when the sun appeared. I remembered it to be so overwhelming to me, so breath-taking that I pulled off of the interstate and cried … and I heard God say, “Write again. It has been too long. But this time write for me.” I thought that I remembered everything.
I realized that nine years had faded some colors, had swept away some of the gold-lined clouds from my memory, had kept me from being blinded by the beauty of sunrises. Last week, I drove into the sunrise. A light fog hovered on the tops of tall grass and gathered more densely around the rivers along the route. Each mile brought with it more beauty and more surprises, more teals and blues, more peaches and pinks in the sky. The clouds were again gold-lined. At the very place where I heard God speak to me nine years ago, the sun seemed to rise quickly and with spectacular beauty. I heard, “Remember, I am the same, then as now. Forever.”
June 18, 2001 was the day when I first heard God say “Write again.” Few know how loving that gift was to me. I had written since childhood and kept all of my writings. In the late 60’s, something changed. I took every piece of writing that I had saved and ripped them up. And I stopped writing. I had allowed anger to strip me of the one thing that I loved to do. I had shredded the one passion in my life and almost proudly replaced it with a wall of protection. No more writing … until God’s love for me said, “Enough. Write again and start with my beautiful sunrise.”
June 18, 2001 … a morning of overwhelming beauty … and overwhelming love. Last week, I had an hour’s drive on an early Monday morning. Nothing much has changed along the route except that my days have been filled with thanksgiving … and there is writing once again.
This week, I remember …
anna
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
"What Are You Doing Here?"
(Please read 1Kings 19:9, 11-13)
I don’t know why we do it, but we do. There are times when we crawl into our caves and stay for a while. Sometimes, it isn’t long enough for our eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Other times, we spend the night there. And yes, there are those who make their cave a home. These are the caves of our uncertainties and doubts, of our frets and of our much-larger fears, and of our perceptions of inadequacies. These are the caves that we enter into when God seems to be silent. I don’t know why we do it, but we do – there are times when we choose the darkness of our caves over the light of God’s promises and presence.
We are never really at peace in the darkness. God will not leave us alone even though we might feel alone. If we truly listen, we will hear, “What are you doing here?” The question shoots straight into our dwelling places. The echoes seem to carry God’s question a bit deeper into our cave. Other words bounce off the walls of our self-imposed exile. “You know my promises for your life. You know that my strength will sustain you. You know my love for you is never-ending. You know I am forgiving. You know that I am with you always. So, what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” That is a good question. What am I doing here? When I find myself in a cave, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say, “I know all of these things and yet, I have no good answer for you, Lord.”
Good question – no good answers – but GREAT NEWS. God asks us to come out of our self-imposed exile, out of our dark places and into the light. Not only that, God says “Let me help you focus again. Come to the top of the mountain. Stand out in the open. Be in my very presence. See my vision for your life from a most perfect vantage point. No obstructions. No caves.” Then comes the gentle whisper, “Abide in me, not in your cave. Trust in me.”
Holy God … Our fears and hesitations drive us into caves. Forgive us when we make a home there. Thank you for meeting us in our exile and darkness, for asking us a tough question and for loving us so much as to tell us not only to come out of our hiding place but to stand on the mountaintop in your holy presence. Your whispers to us are beacons of hope and light to lead us out again. O God, you have brought us out for ministry and service. You know that our renewal is strengthened by a freshness that can only be found in you. We give you praise this morning for your whispers to us. Amen.
anna
I don’t know why we do it, but we do. There are times when we crawl into our caves and stay for a while. Sometimes, it isn’t long enough for our eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Other times, we spend the night there. And yes, there are those who make their cave a home. These are the caves of our uncertainties and doubts, of our frets and of our much-larger fears, and of our perceptions of inadequacies. These are the caves that we enter into when God seems to be silent. I don’t know why we do it, but we do – there are times when we choose the darkness of our caves over the light of God’s promises and presence.
We are never really at peace in the darkness. God will not leave us alone even though we might feel alone. If we truly listen, we will hear, “What are you doing here?” The question shoots straight into our dwelling places. The echoes seem to carry God’s question a bit deeper into our cave. Other words bounce off the walls of our self-imposed exile. “You know my promises for your life. You know that my strength will sustain you. You know my love for you is never-ending. You know I am forgiving. You know that I am with you always. So, what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” That is a good question. What am I doing here? When I find myself in a cave, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say, “I know all of these things and yet, I have no good answer for you, Lord.”
Good question – no good answers – but GREAT NEWS. God asks us to come out of our self-imposed exile, out of our dark places and into the light. Not only that, God says “Let me help you focus again. Come to the top of the mountain. Stand out in the open. Be in my very presence. See my vision for your life from a most perfect vantage point. No obstructions. No caves.” Then comes the gentle whisper, “Abide in me, not in your cave. Trust in me.”
Holy God … Our fears and hesitations drive us into caves. Forgive us when we make a home there. Thank you for meeting us in our exile and darkness, for asking us a tough question and for loving us so much as to tell us not only to come out of our hiding place but to stand on the mountaintop in your holy presence. Your whispers to us are beacons of hope and light to lead us out again. O God, you have brought us out for ministry and service. You know that our renewal is strengthened by a freshness that can only be found in you. We give you praise this morning for your whispers to us. Amen.
anna
Sunday, June 13, 2010
"I Have Something to Say to You"
(Please read Luke 7:36 – 8:3 with all of your senses!)
Lectionary Scriptures OT 11-C
If ever there were Scriptures that needed to be read aloud and experienced with all senses, these Scriptures would be the ones! Don’t be embarrassed. Read the words with expression. Listen to the under-the-breath murmurs. Smell the aroma of food on the table and the fragrance of ointment from the jar. Feel the wetness of tears. See Jesus' feet being washed by tears and dried by hair. Pay particular attention to the body language. Feast on the Scriptures with all that is within you! Jesus is saying, “I have something to say to you.”
A Pharisee named Simon has invited friends and acquaintances for a meal. Surely there is a bit of pride to be seen on his face. After all, this man named Jesus, who was creating such a "buzz" in the area, has accepted his dinner invitation. Notice that Simon murmurs to himself at the sight of a woman, the uninvited, the sinner entering his home. The words that first leap off the page are the words of Jesus. “I have something to say to you". Surely Jesus has something to say to Simon ... and to this woman ... and to us. Jesus asks Simon a question and he answers it correctly, as any of us might have answered it. Perhaps he gives a sideways glance to his other guests when he does. Did I see smugness in Simon’s glance? Then Jesus turns the answer into words that a Pharisee doesn’t really want to hear, yet these are words that the woman needs to hear. Could she possibly have heard the word "forgiven"? Notice that after Simon answers Jesus' question, Jesus turns toward the woman, yet speaks to Simon. What body language! He speaks of all of the ways that Simon fails to show hospitality toward him and of the ways by which this woman, the "sinner", fills in the gaps for what Simon has neglected to do. Jesus’ feet are washed and dried not with water and cloth provided by the host but by tears and hair offered by the woman. The servant of the household brings no ointment for him, but the sinner in the room carries a jar of perfumed ointment solely for Jesus. Worship permeates the room.
Hear the quiet sobs. See the tears. There are many reasons for tears in this world -grief, joy, fear, pain and hope. Jesus mentions that this woman's sins (which were many) had been forgiven. Had Jesus already told her this, before she washed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair? I wonder if her tears were the tears not of one whose face was still in the dirt of life, but the tears of one who had already heard the word "forgiven”. It seems that these were the tears of joy and hope and worship.
Jesus then has something else to say. “Your faith has saved you. Go in Peace." This is the “something” that the woman hears. The others hear words that tell them that things are no longer the same. It is not theirs to judge; it is Jesus’ to proclaim forgiveness. (Did I hear someone choke on their food at Simon’s table?).
Gracious God … You give us so much to think about. With words such as these, we can’t help but feast on your Word, feel the wet tears, hear Jesus speak to one then turn to look in another’s eyes, see hope make way for worship, even smell the aroma of forgiveness. Jesus is speaking to us, isn’t he? Forgive us when we are smug and proud; when we judge others and want little or no part of forgiveness for others. Give us the desire to welcome all to the Table. May we have the heart of Jesus so that we too might say to others, “I have something to say to you …” Amen
anna
Lectionary Scriptures OT 11-C
If ever there were Scriptures that needed to be read aloud and experienced with all senses, these Scriptures would be the ones! Don’t be embarrassed. Read the words with expression. Listen to the under-the-breath murmurs. Smell the aroma of food on the table and the fragrance of ointment from the jar. Feel the wetness of tears. See Jesus' feet being washed by tears and dried by hair. Pay particular attention to the body language. Feast on the Scriptures with all that is within you! Jesus is saying, “I have something to say to you.”
A Pharisee named Simon has invited friends and acquaintances for a meal. Surely there is a bit of pride to be seen on his face. After all, this man named Jesus, who was creating such a "buzz" in the area, has accepted his dinner invitation. Notice that Simon murmurs to himself at the sight of a woman, the uninvited, the sinner entering his home. The words that first leap off the page are the words of Jesus. “I have something to say to you". Surely Jesus has something to say to Simon ... and to this woman ... and to us. Jesus asks Simon a question and he answers it correctly, as any of us might have answered it. Perhaps he gives a sideways glance to his other guests when he does. Did I see smugness in Simon’s glance? Then Jesus turns the answer into words that a Pharisee doesn’t really want to hear, yet these are words that the woman needs to hear. Could she possibly have heard the word "forgiven"? Notice that after Simon answers Jesus' question, Jesus turns toward the woman, yet speaks to Simon. What body language! He speaks of all of the ways that Simon fails to show hospitality toward him and of the ways by which this woman, the "sinner", fills in the gaps for what Simon has neglected to do. Jesus’ feet are washed and dried not with water and cloth provided by the host but by tears and hair offered by the woman. The servant of the household brings no ointment for him, but the sinner in the room carries a jar of perfumed ointment solely for Jesus. Worship permeates the room.
Hear the quiet sobs. See the tears. There are many reasons for tears in this world -grief, joy, fear, pain and hope. Jesus mentions that this woman's sins (which were many) had been forgiven. Had Jesus already told her this, before she washed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair? I wonder if her tears were the tears not of one whose face was still in the dirt of life, but the tears of one who had already heard the word "forgiven”. It seems that these were the tears of joy and hope and worship.
Jesus then has something else to say. “Your faith has saved you. Go in Peace." This is the “something” that the woman hears. The others hear words that tell them that things are no longer the same. It is not theirs to judge; it is Jesus’ to proclaim forgiveness. (Did I hear someone choke on their food at Simon’s table?).
Gracious God … You give us so much to think about. With words such as these, we can’t help but feast on your Word, feel the wet tears, hear Jesus speak to one then turn to look in another’s eyes, see hope make way for worship, even smell the aroma of forgiveness. Jesus is speaking to us, isn’t he? Forgive us when we are smug and proud; when we judge others and want little or no part of forgiveness for others. Give us the desire to welcome all to the Table. May we have the heart of Jesus so that we too might say to others, “I have something to say to you …” Amen
anna
Saturday, May 29, 2010
"Trinity Faith"
Trinity Sunday - I will admit that I, at times, find myself wounded and bruised when overhearing deep discussions of the Trinity. It is personal, I guess, as my own encounter and relationship with God is very much a walk through life with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The wounds and bruises come when I am told that what I know to be true in my own life might not be true at all and I shouldn't write in such "Trinity" words (that's what I get for hanging out with such a wonderful and diverse group of clergy, from many denominations, who love to ponder!). Oh, it is a mystery for sure! A child doesn't understand what is so hard with this kind of relationship! Maybe, I'm still a child ... and that is OK.
TRINITY FAITH
The child stands very small,
hidden in a great tall crowd
of ponderers and speculators,
of those who rename and rework
and those who murmur …
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
She strains to see,
who holds their attention,
who is causing such commotion …
but she cannot see.
Their tallness surrounds her
and their voices try to drown out
the voice she is so wanting to hear.
But then she hears …
“Come unto me, little child.”
She looks around.
She seems to be the only child.
So the little one squeezes and pushes
her way through the crowds
who are still murmuring,
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
In the clearing … in this place
between the murmuring ponderers
and the One who said, “Come, little child”,
she finds herself running,
with arms open wide,
as any child would run
toward LOVE.
The little one expected a hug from the One,
but instead, he took her hand and saw the bruise.
“What happened?” he asked
(knowing all along that someone had slapped
her little hand for not being a part of
the renaming and reworking and disbelief).
Yes, the little one expected a hug from the One,
but she received hugs from the Three.
The One who whispered, “beloved child”,
the One who healed her tiny bruised hand and
whispered, “Forgive and forgiven,”
the One who whispered, “I will not leave you as an orphan.”
It was too mysterious, yet entirely enough for her.
She looked at the huddled-together ponderers
and knew that they saw only One.
And she herself pondered …
Is that why he called out,
“Send the little children to me,
for such is the kingdom of heaven?”
The child embraced the Three….
and those huddled together
still saw only One,
and still murmured…
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
anna murdock 2010©
TRINITY FAITH
The child stands very small,
hidden in a great tall crowd
of ponderers and speculators,
of those who rename and rework
and those who murmur …
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
She strains to see,
who holds their attention,
who is causing such commotion …
but she cannot see.
Their tallness surrounds her
and their voices try to drown out
the voice she is so wanting to hear.
But then she hears …
“Come unto me, little child.”
She looks around.
She seems to be the only child.
So the little one squeezes and pushes
her way through the crowds
who are still murmuring,
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
In the clearing … in this place
between the murmuring ponderers
and the One who said, “Come, little child”,
she finds herself running,
with arms open wide,
as any child would run
toward LOVE.
The little one expected a hug from the One,
but instead, he took her hand and saw the bruise.
“What happened?” he asked
(knowing all along that someone had slapped
her little hand for not being a part of
the renaming and reworking and disbelief).
Yes, the little one expected a hug from the One,
but she received hugs from the Three.
The One who whispered, “beloved child”,
the One who healed her tiny bruised hand and
whispered, “Forgive and forgiven,”
the One who whispered, “I will not leave you as an orphan.”
It was too mysterious, yet entirely enough for her.
She looked at the huddled-together ponderers
and knew that they saw only One.
And she herself pondered …
Is that why he called out,
“Send the little children to me,
for such is the kingdom of heaven?”
The child embraced the Three….
and those huddled together
still saw only One,
and still murmured…
“There is no way. I don’t believe.”
anna murdock 2010©
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