PRIESTS POSE PROBLEM OF PROPHET PRACTICING PEDAGOGY WITHOUT PROPER PERMISSION

How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs?

Have you ever noticed that how we tell our stories is as important as the story itself? There are times when we tell our stories in chronological order, and then there are other times when we tell our stories in the order of importance. When we tell our story in the order of importance, we often start at a point where what we think important is about to happen and then discover that there is information from the past that needs to be included because the information from the past influences the way we understand our present.

When this happens, the storyteller perambulates through the time of present and past, and maybe projects the possibilities of pending predicaments if the present passage of postures and positions should be prolonged. This storytelling style can be pendulous and ponderous without positive direction until the end and requires patience. When the story’s point is near, it finally takes shape. Then those “But before that …” or reflections of “My papa’s papa always used to say …” all coalesce into predictable patterns of prescient possibility.

So it is, during these post-Holy Cross days in September, we have heard the prediction of Jesus’ crucifixion even while knowing that the humiliation of the cross is already passed. The deed is already done, and the consequence of the deed has revealed the resurrection promise of paradise possibility. So, this week, through Matthew 21:23-32, we enter a time of proleptic past Passion Week anticipating a perspective of past pregnancy and the birth of something new. We are now reminded of the presumptive protocols that have led to parallel paroxysms presaging a need for crucifixion and resurrection—forgiveness of sin.

During these post-Holy Cross days in September, we do not read of the great entry into Jerusalem; we do not read of Jesus entering the temple, clearing the Temple courtyard of money changers and the sellers of sacrificial animals. We do not see Jesus retiring to Bethany (house of sorrows), and then, returning in the morning for figs from the fig tree that bears only leaves and then cursing the fig tree which seems harsh unless one remembers that this tree, the variety known as the tree of knowledge of good and evil, previously has been held responsible for human sin. (Put that in your cookpot hat, Johnny Appleseed.)

We do not read that the thing that impedes our personal and public relationship with God and God’s people and what true life can be, presto! withers before our eyes. The fruit containing the knowledge of good and evil (a kind of wisdom), shifts our focus to the other tree in the garden, the tree of life, and we receive the fruit from the cross, “The body and blood of Christ, shed for you and all people”. The curse that comes to us through the fig tree is expunged by the true fruit on the cross/tree.

When Peter (not the disciple) was translating Hebrew (something that seems beyond me), I would help him with his translations by reading from the Septuagint, the Old Testament in Greek. Greek was my limit. When Peter got to translating the forbidden tree in the garden, he read tree, but in the Septuagint, the word was fig tree.

Ironically, or maybe not, the Greek word “psuche” (psoo-khay') that is oftentimes translated as “soul” (I prefer, “true life”) is pronounced almost the same as “suke” (soo-kay'), the Greek word for fig tree. The semblance of their pronunciation links the story of the fig tree to our eyes being opened to the pain of the world when Adam and Eve eat the fig from the tree containing the knowledge of good and evil. That eye-opening panorama causes the pious bliss of primal innocence to vanish, propelling humanity from the paradisical presence of God, the Garden of Eden.

But narratively speaking, before the “suke” (fig tree) can be left behind and a “psuche” (true life) can be revealed, Jesus curses the curse so that no one will eat of the curse again. Jesus curses the curse of being locked in the prison of history promoting the possibility of a pregnant new life future.

Following the work of curse cursing, Jesus goes into the temple courtyard and teaches. The priests and the elders come and question his authority. They ask, “By what authority are you doing these things and who gave you this authority?”

Jesus’ response is somewhat challenging because he responds with one of those loaded questions like, “Have you stopped punitively pounding on the prophet?” Jesus makes his answer conditional on the priests’ and elders’ answer to, “Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?”

In the world of “psuche/suke” separation, Jesus’ question presents problems, but in the world of the curse being cursed, the “psuche/suke” postulation presents the potential for full partnership again. The chasm between God and God’s people narrows, and paradise words of reconciliation are not far away. “Both,” might have been the better answer for the priests and the elders to offer, but they act out of fear and therefore claim ignorance.

In the same way, the parable of the man with two sons presents the problem of “which son did the will of his papa?” The people answer in the context of merit. After all, what is important is the work the children do. The first son does the work: he does the will of his papa, never mind his impertinence and disrespect. If the world of merit prevails, the second son is just out of luck. But, in the world of the curse being cursed, we can say that neither of the sons did the will of the papa. And yet, papa continues to love them both.

Just like you cannot un-ring a bell once it has been rung, humanity cannot un-eat the fig. Not even mice can do that. But God can choose to lift the ban against eating figs. God has the power to remove the tree and its fruit from being the divisive wedge it has become.

No wonder then, when living in the kingdom where the curse is being cursed, it is the tax collectors and the prostitutes who saw John coming in the way of righteousness and believed. They did not pause or peruse and pensively perambulate, they promenaded, prancing and dancing, their way right into the kingdom of heaven. In the new world of repentance and repaired relationship, the cursed find in the wilderness of righteousness collaborative companionship, sharing labor and bread of “psuche”, true life. (Have you noticed that true life begins with P?)

As we come to this text this week expecting fruit for the day, we too are caught up in the parallel paroxysms of Jesus’ authority in our lives. Do we wish to live in a world of wisdom, knowledge of good and evil, or will we take the fruit from the tree of life?

How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs? 

None, if there are only leaves on the tree, and it is not the season for figs. Curses! Foiled again!

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse 

Pining for Parity While Striving for Principled Performance in Produce Product Production

There is within the text this week a macabre fascination concerning the economy of heaven. Don’t believe my mousy word alone; check out almost any commentary dealing with Matthew 20:1-16, the parable of working in the vineyard. 

Each time this pericope comes around, we hear about the generous landowner, the grumbling workers, and the parity in payments. Yet, there is an undercurrent to the text that feels much more like Terry Southern’s “The Magic Christian”, a satirical novel in which the protagonist exhibits extreme generosity as a means of demonstrating the degradation and greed of humanity and the extent to which people will go to receive his largesse. It is a caustic critique of mid-20th century American culture and economic disparity. 

What if, instead of being the magnanimous benefactor, the landowner is the power of Rome? Instead of showering plenty on all, this parable addresses a system of intentional suffering, controlling the world through cereal and circus? Instead of being generous to all, the landowner is demonstrating capricious favoritism? Or, that he is trying to dishearten the workers thereby teaching a lesson of binding arbitration? What if, instead of being a model of “heavenly economics”, this parable illustrates a particularly perverse paradigm of “carrot and stick” punitive psychology? (Did you notice how I sneaked the silent p of psychology into this paragraph?) 

I realize that what I am proposing presents a much more profane proposition than the customary commentary, but I believe that there is something here much like a yummily tempting tidbit of bacon holding potential death and perdition in the center of a trap. Parables are not meant to be parsed in a way that limits the peripherals. Parables are presented for expanding our awareness and perceptions that deeply perplex and profoundly pressure perceived parameters of our experience. 

Let me begin by saying that we are not the first people to live in a world of partisan politics. During the 1st century CE, partisan politics were pointedly Roman. If the political proposition did not put the power of Rome in prominence, that is, place Roman concerns as a priority, then the proposition was passed over. Rome controlled the land, and the presiding landowner was the emperor. 

This parable calls us then to first determine whose land is it? Is it one or the other, or can it be both and…. 

Then there are the workers of the vineyard. Who are they? Are we the workers? If so, then to what group do we belong? Or are we all of the workers? 

In a recent conversation Peter, not the disciple, had with some people who were working for racial equity and inclusion, he realized how late he was coming to the table. I overheard his fervor and embarrassment at his lack of knowledge and awareness of the situations being discussed, leading him to apologize. In response, the convenor of the conversation said, “Don’t apologize for coming late to the table, that place was vacant, and we have more than enough room for everyone and enough work to do. Welcome.” 

I know it felt good to be welcomed, but Peter wanted to believe that he was one of the workers who started early in the morning. He was embarrassed to think that he could not understand the need for the work in the first place. And yet, is that not the circumstance of life? Do we not join more work than we initiate? So where do we fall in the telling of this parable? 

Don’t we each think we are the ones moving over, making room for others, rather than the ones who are accommodated? How does this parable change when we can see ourselves as those who come to the vineyard at the eleventh hour? 

What happens to this parable when we think of Jesus as being the one who comes to invite us into the vineyard throughout the day? What if this parable is a subversive Jesus who continues to work under the radar, so-to-speak, exploiting the plans of power in a way that promotes well-being despite the perilous plans of Roman rule. 

Is it possible for us to ponder all these propositions simultaneously and then hear Christ’s gracious welcome of egalitarian parity? It might be a stretch for us to celebrate a world where the last to work gets paid a full day’s wage, regarded as equal to those who have worked all day, but it might be a longer stretch to think that the worker at the eleventh hour is equal to the landowner. 

Yes, there is something here that creates a real sense of dis-ease when a stratified kingdom of heaven is presented. It feels a little like living a life of subjective obligation. One lives with an obligation to the landowner, the overseer, the social classes they come from, and a fear that one lives by the largesse of a person who may suddenly change his/her decision or behavior. There is a tenuousness within the text that I find uncertain and disturbing. 

In this heavenly world view of egalitarian treatment lies a serpent who tempts us to live within imperial structure begging for daily sustenance. We hear, “Give us each day our daily bread,” and accede to living the life of permanent penury with enough to get by on but not enough to thrive. The daily wage continues to give wealth to the landowner and, by degree, those who administer the pensions of the proud and privileged property owners. Even if the property owner is a benevolent proctor, the place of subservience portends a ponderous prison. 

So, where is the good news? I am not sure that it is in the philanthropic passion of the landowner nor the persistent going to the marketplace for workers. I think that the good news is found in the One who works with us, alongside us, and among us in the vineyard receiving enough for the day and a promised hope for a propitious tomorrow. 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse

PETER’S PEEVISH PARSIMONY PROMPTS PENSIVE PRELIMINARY FOR COMPUTING PENITENTIAL PARDONS

Nicodemus, Statistician, here. 

I’m just marveling at the beauty of Excel from Microsoft. It makes keeping track of all those who have sinned against me so easy. Yes, I would hazard to say that we love our Excel sheets with its wonderful way to keep track of those detailed hurts and micro aggressions so that we can relive them over-and-over-and-over again. It is so luscious to taste the hurt and savor the planned retribution. Excel really helps to keep all of those hurts alive and real, raising the pressure point.

Don’t get me wrong, I know Matthew 18:21-35; I know that I need to forgive those sins, and I do. I have even chosen to be generous. Instead of the lower limit of seventy-seven, I have chosen to be magnanimous and interpret the limit as being seventy times seven, making it four hundred and ninety. Nicander is now up to 408; Bernice 470’ Nicholas, maybe my favorite sibling, is at 349; Nicole, still cute as a pinky, 222; and Eunice, the most opinionated of us all, is at 489. I can’t wait for the time when I don’t have to continue this program of forgive-forgive-forgive.

It's not that I harbor any great hostility towards any of my sibs, but really, they need to be held accountable for some of the things they have done, and my Excel sheet really helps me remember each detail over the years. I really do love my statistics.

For instance, here is the time that Nicander slipped into my room while I was sleeping and put my paw into a pan of lukewarm water. Suddenly, my bladder let go, and I peed in my bed. It was a mess. It wasn’t just the mess, but the humiliation (I was well past bed wetting days), and the chore of washing my linens, remaking my bed, and the laughter of everybody. They thought it was funny. I was not amused.

Then there was my 11^th birthday present. I was given what I thought was the largest block of cheese ever.  I was overwhelmed and promised to share it with everybody there only to discover that it was just a thin veneer of some well-aged Swiss melted over LEGO bricks.

This is the time Nicholas took the set screws out of the doorknob to my room so when I ran up to change my clothes before everyone went out for pizza, the doorknob fell off in my hand when I tried to come out. And everyone went to Pizza Hut without me because, “We thought you were being anti-social.” As if.

Here is the time that Eunice and I got into a squabble over who was to wipe the dishes, and she snapped me with the towel. When I chased after her she pulled the door half-closed so that I ran into the edge of the door and got a concussion. Okay, I remember I put peanut butter and jelly in her shoes for that. I think I was really clever because, in return, I took the in-soles out first and then put them in after smearing the peanut butter and jelly. Her feet were fully in before the stuff squooshed out, and she couldn’t get the ants to leave her alone for weeks.

I mean, without my Excel sheet I might have forgotten some of these things. See here? This was the time I had gotten my blow-up kiddy pool with the great air wall bumpers. It was so wonderful to lay in the pool with my head on the air cushion pillowed rim and dream of what it would be like to be an only child. Then Bernice poked it with her fingernail file, and the air whooshed out, and the water ran all over the yard, and I was left with a soggy spot in the yard and no place to relax. Okay it was in the middle of the tent the girls had planned to play in that afternoon, but after all, I was the oldest and entitled to some quiet time by myself, wasn’t I?

Yes, I believe that Peter (the disciple) has the right idea and asks the right question, “How many times must we forgive?” What? There’s more? You mean I have to read on?

Oh yeah, there’s that unjust servant thing, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I have rarely sinned against anyone. Certainly, I have not accrued any debt that can’t be paid off in the next month. I certainly would not be forced into involuntary servitude because of risky financial investments. Although there are some interesting issues that provide for debt resolution in this passage, those might be better addressed another time.

Enough is enough. It is time to fess up. I really love my brothers and sisters and have forgiven those slights against me. I also hope that they have forgiven me. I know that I was the perfect brother to them all, but still ….

I know that this passage in Matthew is connected to earlier texts. I have also read the parable that responds to Peter’s (the disciple) question including the last line of this passage, “So my heavenly father will also do to every one of you if you do not forgive your brother or your sister from your heart.”

It is time to recognize that we all live in that wonderful world of simul justus et pecator (simultaneously saint and sinner), that is, always justified by Christ and in a state of grace while always needing to be forgiven and restored by grace. If God is willing to hold us in this relationship of undeserved love and forgiveness, then can we refuse to share that love and forgiveness with those around us?

But this relationship of forgiveness we are called to live out challenges us greatly. We love our spreadsheets, and the use of these spreadsheets seems to be on the rise. We need only read the newspaper or listen to the news to understand how much we love our spreadsheets.

We are so embroiled in the hot mess of finger pointing, blame game politics that we have lost our way to that place of cooperative collaboration. There is no longer space for forgiveness and reconciliation; everyone wants only to get even. Instead of seeking peaceful propitiation, we aspire to be “paragons of the paperclips”, bean-counting petty people, seeking points in a pointless system. We assume pusillanimous postures of proportional privilege putting the onus of our body politic on the peons in poverty for the problems of our world.

We pray the words of the Lord’s prayer without listening to them, “Forgive our debts as we forgive those who are indebted to us”, or, in more familiar parlance, “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us”, or, for some, “trespasses”. We are keen to plea for our own forgiveness and state that we live by grace alone, but we are particularly penny-pinching when it comes to forgiving those who sin against us. Yes, we love our spreadsheets, but God forgives even that when we in pious penitence cry out for relief, “Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil.”

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse AND Statistician

Need for Advocacy

Matthew introduces images for the body of Christ in chapter 17 and, specifically, what the healthy body of Christ looks like. We are told not to be a stumbling block for the body of Christ but participate in a way that brings health and good will to the world. For this reason, when parts of the body of Christ cause stumbling, we are encouraged to cut them off. It is better to enter baptismal new life, maimed (without hand, foot, eye, etc.), than to burn in the perpetual pyres of Gehenna, the garbage dump.

In the case of a flock of sheep, the body of Christ is not able to know wholeness without the hundred being present. The shepherd will leave the incomplete 99 and, in order to find wholeness, will search for the 1 that is lost.

This week in Matthew 18:15-20, we are told that reconciliation is necessary for the body of Christ to know wholeness and health. For effective reconciliation, several things need to happen.

(1) One must claim one’s injury/wrong as one’s own and then carry that injury/wrong to the person who has committed the injury/wrong.

(2) The injuring party needs to hear and understand how s/he has injured/wronged the other person.

(3) If reconciliation doesn’t result, others are to be included to acknowledge that the person who is injured/wronged has tried to reach reconciliation.

(4) If reconciliation does not result, bring the injury/wrong before the CHURCH.

(5) If the injuring party refuses to reconcile, s/he is to be cast out, cut off, thrown into the burning fire of the garbage dump.

(6) Lastly, seeking always to know the wholeness and health of the body of Christ, we are to seek the one who is lost (cast out).

This, of course, leads to the question of, “How many times must we go through this process? That is, how many times must we forgive?” That is next week’s problem.

What we need to remember in the midst of this process is that “what we bind is bound on earth and in heaven, and what we loose is loosed on earth and in heaven. Do we withhold, bind, the gospel and punish? Or do we share, loose, what is gospel on the world?

Can we follow Jesus’ paraphrase in Luke of Isaiah’s instructions: bring good news to the poor, release the captive, bring sight to the blind, let the oppressed go free, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (jubilee)? And while we ponder our promulgation of policies and posture, let us always remember that Christ is there among us cheering us on to know the power of his justifying reconciliation.

The projected plan seems very nice and tidy until one tries to practice healthy reconciliation. For instance, is it right for the church to equate ordination with possessing a driver license? Therefore, I offer this bit of doggerel to demonstrate, not a satisfactory resolution, but the frustration of recalcitrance and the need for continued, persistent advocacy for oneself and one’s neighbor.

“For Christ’s sake, forgive me please.

Let me up from bended knees.

I spoke some slights; I didn’t know.

You think I’ll burn in Hell below.

I just misspoke, a little thing,

A trifling quip, not meant to sting.

But truth; and so, now let me say,

‘Toughen up! It’s the worldly way.’”

 

Bruised, dismissed, I returned home,

Feeling like a garden gnome

Of plastic visage, hardened shell,

Cored, empty, like the wishing well.

Wishing I would stay away

Not speaking what I had to say

Of my issue or the laws

That support my rights and cause.

 

Determined, I went again.

This time I engaged two friends

To be witnesses of my plea:

For rights and freedom, liberty;

To get a job; not reproved

For special needs; and then removed

From the job I just acquired,

Rebuffed and cursed, no longer hired.

 

“I thought you had it,” one friend said.

“And then he cut you, cut you dead.

He raved and shouted, ‘Strong-arm me?

With two and you that makes it three.

Did you come to play the hob?

I know you’d like to have the job.

I’d like to have my business thrive

As well! That’s why you need to drive.’”

 

Shamed, broken, left in the lurch,

I tried once more in gathered church,

To make one more plea, appeal.

I spoke with passion and with zeal

Of talents, gifts, Holy Call,

Of God’s blessed people, one and all.

I spoke until my heart would break.

We’re here together for Christ’s sake.

 

Though the boss had understood,

His heart was stone, petrified wood.

“As leader you have vision,

Of Christ’s leading and his mission.

I know that you can Zoom and sing.

Indeed, you can do many things.

As problem solver, you do thrive;

But alas, son, you cannot drive.

 

“And so, I care not a jot

If you can do the job or not.

I do not care if you need

accommodation to succeed

Or if the law accuse me.

The facts ‘fore us shine so clearly

Amid this shuck and jive.

Alas, dear mouse, you cannot drive.”

 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse

 

DOUBLE PLEASURE, DOUBLE PHUN

Peter and I had some heavy conversation this week about Matthew 16:13-28.

When did the driver know that the pavement was angry? At the crossroads.

Have you ever noticed that there is a mess in Messiah?

Do you think that Jesus is building the Church on Peter (Greek petros, English stone/rock) because he is a foundation stone or because he is so dense?

Or can you see the blockbuster movie here? “Rocky,” the prequel!

How is it that when things seem to be going so well, they can so quickly go horribly wrong?

When Jesus demands that his disciples take up their cross and follow, do you think it means crucifixion or resurrection?

What are angels anyway? What is glory?

What does Jesus’ kingdom look like?
 

In a world of expedited trials, food insecurity, banned books, and denial of history comes this perplexing proposition of premature propitiation. Within it is a presentiment of presumed punitive penalty and a paradisical pronouncement. (Don’t you love the power of P?)
We know Matthew is leading us to the Mount of Transfiguration, but is that the kingdom Jesus refers to this week? (Oh, the places the mind goes.)

There are clearly more things to heaven and earth than my poor little mouse brain can entertain, so I am going to simply state my speculative surmises. (See what I did there using sibilant alliteration? It is not the power of P, but it has its slithering space, I think.)

Do you remember the DoubleMint twins and the jingle of, “Double your pleasure, double your fun, with double good, double good, DoubleMint gum.  It is two, two mints in one”?
Entering this conversation with Scripture, I find it helpful to remember those words from Deuteronomy 30: “I have set before you, life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God.” (God is double-good; oh, but God is trinitarian. God must be triple-good, maybe like, Trident gum?)

When Jesus begins to show the disciples that he will undergo suffering and then be crucified, we, with the disciples, hear it as a prophecy of what is to come. This fits the narrative of Matthew’s Gospel, but the reality is Jesus was crucified at least two generations before Matthew is writing. Moreover, I think Jesus is speaking not so much as “both … and”, one and another, but as “both and …”. Both cross-bearing (not an angry, steel ball) and self-denial (not the river in Egypt), Jesus’ commands, present us with “both and …” thinking.

Over the years people have thought (and I hear them often say), “Such-and-such is my cross to bear.” When they suffer, they assume it is the cross Jesus has commanded them to take up. This can lead them to what Peter tells me is the false supposition that their suffering is like Jesus’ suffering and their cross to bear is like Jesus’ cross of death.

But Jesus suffers for us. Jesus dies for us. There is nothing particularly salvific in our suffering, whether by mice or people. We do not die on the cross of Good Friday in order to save anyone. The job of Savior is not ours. That job has already been taken, and we rejoice in the fact that we do not have to, indeed cannot, suffer and die for anyone.

It is not the burdensome cross of death we are to take up because, in the words of Paul, “Christ died once, for all.” Jesus wants us to take up the cross of resurrection living. Without the resurrection on Easter Sunday, Good Friday, after all, is meaningless. It is two, two crosses in one, and ….
 

Peter had me pretty confused for a time, but I think I have finally caught on. There is also a disturbing thread of theology that speaks of denying oneself as a kind of erasure (like losing one’s tail). Peter says, in fact, self-denial results through declaring to the world who and whose we are. This denial of self does not mean that we somehow disappear.

Rather, self-interest that knows who and whose we are allows Christ-centered, resurrection, communitarian living. It is not our own sinful self that is important but our self in Christ that makes the difference. In self-denial we live a life of awareness (wokeness?) and personal development engaging all the issues of our world while acknowledging and depending on Jesus’ leading and salvific promise. We are saint and sinner, two in one, and ….

The persistent search for building up “me” diminishes the importance of Christ, and therefore I lose the very life I am seeking. When I lose my self-identity and assume the identity of one living in Christ, I gain everything. This is the paradox of faith. We live as valued individuals in Christian community, and yet our wholeness cannot come from ourselves but only from Christ. (Who says one can’t win by losing?)

While living this life of self-denial, we are not erased but enhanced. We are raised up through the waters of baptism into the resurrection kingdom world to work for justice in word and deed, advocating for ourselves and our neighbors. All this is done, not to be justified in Christ, but because by grace, in faith, through Christ alone we are justified. In this relationship of kingdom justice, we proclaim our identity in Christ and our place in the body of Christ. In taking up the cross of resurrection living, we take up our cross of death and die to death. If we die to death, we enter into resurrection.
 

I asked Peter, “So how do we live out this paradox?” He told me that we express our two, two identities in one, and… when we lift the hope-filled vision of a world that acknowledges both Jesus as Messiah and the model he gives us for living a Godly life. In this way, we join the role of messenger (Greek, angellos) while Jesus comes with angels in his glory, bringing his kingdom now, and we are repaid for all that we do and have done. This potential judgment of doom hangs over us like the sword of Damocles (or the butcher knife of the farmer’s wife), until we recognize that Jesus’ suffering and death is our justifying sentence. We are judged in grace. Simultaneously, we claim God’s eschatological kingdom of wholeness to come. This too is a two, two in one and ….

 
Yes, I know it is a hot mess (just like when I was in that kitchen). It can ultimately only be reconciled by the Messiah who is and is to come. Yet, our hot mess of messy life is a wonderful mysterious mess of living and loving today and tomorrow, of forgiveness and foresight for today and the future, of claiming and naming who and whose we are. It is not found in personal achievement, in a self-interested overpowering Rome through aggression and warfare, but a more lasting proposal of systemic change.

 
Peter (the disciple) gets it right when he claims Jesus as the son of the living God, but he lacks the “two in one and …” understanding of Jesus’ presence and therefore desires a Messiah of power. Because Peter lacks the narrative ability of knowing the reality of the resurrection, we are invited to examine our own messianic desires, living in, but not of, the world.

Through this examination, we are given license to see ourselves mirrored in history while proclaiming hope for the future—recognizing our proclivity for violent demonstrations of baseless fearful reactions now liberated by the cross of resurrection living to turn to peaceful resolution. Not always being able to embrace the present and a hope-filled future, we sometimes react fearfully and exercise authority by using pejorative power thus limiting the rights of others. The violent acts of lynching and political mistrust in the present cannot bring trust and reliance on the one who brings the kingdom of wholeness and peace.

 
Understanding God’s continued activity in the world, we can say there are some standing here today who can see the glory of that potential kingdom he has shown us for life here and now, and, at the same time, the possibility of wholeness presence of the life to come—that we and our descendants might not just survive, but thrive, loving God, carrying our cross of resurrection life and hope, the ultimate “both and …”.

 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse