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

Pronouncement of Paradise Potentiality

The gospel text for Sunday, August 27, 2023, is Matthew 16:13-20. While listening to a group of pastors debating over where heaven is and what is being loosed, I remembered stories from my childhood. I tried to tell them to the pastors, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I just can’t get no respect there, so I will share the stories with you, my loyal readers.

So, the story is told of a pride of lions roaming the savannah when they came to a zoo. As they were padding along, one of the lions roared and asked the others, “Who do people say that I am?” The other lions said, “The k
ing! Felix the cat! Here, kitty-kitty. Top cat! A predator!”

“But you? Who do you say that I am?”

“You are the cat’s meow! You are purr-fect!”

The pride leader said, “We all know that there is another way of living than being like these animals trapped in cages. We know that there is a way of living that is free and open—a place where a cat can be cool and laidback. We know that the ideal place for all cats is not locked up like the cats who live in this urbanized place of display and despair. What would you do if I gave you the keys to all these cages? What if I told you that what you locked up today would be locked forever and what you loosed today would live free forever?”

The other lions debated among themselves what their leader was talking about and then decided to ask if the keys were a metaphor for something? The leader said, “No, I have the keys to release all of these cats, and I give those keys to you. So now, what are you going to do with them?”

The other lions ran throughout the zoo unlocking the cages of all the animals and showed them the way to get to the land of openness and cool-cat-laidbackness, and the animals all found the new world to be as it had been created. And the mice learned to hide and travel quietly in this new place of freedom.

Or maybe you should hear the story Old Dad told us when we were growing up. There was once a beautiful mouse named Pandora. She was given a beautiful jar with pictures on the sides of mice playing and frolicking and dancing. The only problem was that this beautiful mouse was told that she could keep the jar anywhere she wanted, but she was never, never to open it.

For years the jar sat on a shelf of honor in her house. Other mice came and admired the jar and asked what the beautiful jar contained.

Pandora always said, “I don’t know now, and I will never know because I am never, never to open it.”

“What a shame,” one mouse said.

“I bet it’s something really good,” another mouse said.

“It must be something amazing with all those beautiful pictures,” another mouse said.

And the years ticked by on the old Grandfather’s clock, and then Pandora couldn’t take it anymore. One night, at midnight, she crept up the Old Grandfather’s clock and then to the honored shelf, and she pushed on the cork in the jar until, all-of-a-sudden, the cork popped out. A fog rose up out of the jar and all kinds of evil stuff entered into the room and, from there, the world while Pandora struggled to find the cork and put it back in the jar. When she got the cork back in the jar, the only thing that was left in it was hope. There hope sat until the great mousiah came and gave the mice that followed him the power to again pull the cork from the jar on the honored shelf.

When the cork was finally pulled, hope sprang out, and, to this day, hope continues to offer a better world—a world that is not filled with just evil and despair, but trust, hope, and love. It is not that evil and despair have been overcome and put back in the jar, but we now can live with the promise of a world that is better if all of the mice can learn to talk and work for the things hoped for instead of trying to prove that they are better than the other mice—if they can learn that trust and hope and love are not just released from the jar, but that they can grow and flourish in our world when we give them away to others who can then trust, hope, and love.

IMAGO DEI (Image of God)

I gave Peter this idea last February. Even though I was repeatedly encouraging, just like all my other advice, he was slow to act on it. Finally, he has it written, and, with my fine editorial touch, we offer this for you to ponder.

 

In 1970, the American Lutheran Church and the Lutheran Church in America elected to ordain women. I doubt that any of those voting really understood the implications and ramifications of that decision, but the world was about to turn; and the turn changed the way we think about Church, society, and the way we relate to God and one another. This decision to ordain women led to some seismic shifts that partially led to the forming of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) and initiated a broader view of the Imago Dei, the image of God for God’s people. In the process, I assert, we have become better as believers and as people in general.

 

By the time I began seminary in 1992, women comprised half of my class within the newly formed ELCA, yet many congregations, although they may have intellectually supported the idea of women’s ordination, were resistant to call a woman as their pastor.

 

At the same time, there were still articles being written in some conservative Lutheran journals concerning women’s ordination and the Imago Dei. I recall the concern of one article was that pastors were to be the Imago Dei for the congregation, i.e., Jesus had a penis and women do not. Therefore, women could not be the Imago Dei for the congregation and should not be ordained.

 

This is nonsense. God’s diverse presence reflects the wondrous and complex world we live in. Trying to entrap God in maleness denies the feminine images of God in the Old Testament, and insisting on God’s maleness revealed to us in Jesus as God’s preferred leadership model denies the role of women’s leadership in the early Church. For the ELCA, as for the Israelites, it took some years wandering in the wilderness, but eventually the Church stopped murmuring about the leeks and melons in Egypt.

 

This shift in our Imago Dei understanding did not stop with women. In the 80’s the idea that the Imago Dei meant that pastors needed to be fully able-bodied changed as well. Increasingly, people living with disabilities came to the Church and said, “We too are called to serve.” Now the Church again had to deal with who could be considered for ordination.

About this time, the Church also considered its understanding of pastors of color and the Imago Dei.  White pastors served many congregations of color, but could pastors of color serve white congregations?  Can more than just white, able-bodied people reflect the Imago Dei for all congregations?

 

By the time the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed in 1990, further consideration needed to be made. If the Imago Dei included women, people living with various disabilities, Black, White, Asian, Native American, Latino, Arab, Palestinian, Indian, and more, could the Imago Dei include the openly LGBT (now 2SLGBTQIA+) community as well? Could it be that Jesus wasn’t only speaking pretty words, but that he meant them, when he said, “I give you a new commandment, …. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples ….” (John 13 NRSV).

 

Slowly the Church started moving toward understanding that the Imago Dei might be more elusive and inclusive than our U.S. society was comfortable with. In considering Gen. 1:26 (transliterated), “And said God (pl.), ‘Let us make man in our image according to our likeness’.”, a growing number of scholars, including parish pastors, no longer hear God speaking in royal we language nor in specifically Trinitarian language. They hear God literally using us to describe the Imago Dei, God’s image/likeness, as variegated, multi-abled, multi-gendered, multi-lingual. We are the Imago Dei. God is truly beyond our imaginings and beyond our limitations, and all humankind, with our many shadings, our many abilities, our many physical challenges, our many languages, and manifest in all genders, represents the Imago Dei. God is God and we are not, but we are all God’s reflection in the world.

 

As the ELCA entertained a more diverse Imago Dei and what that might mean for its congregations, while continuing to be the “whitest” denomination in the U.S., our civil society, especially large businesses, engaged a practice of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). This understanding of DEI—diversity, equity, and inclusion—speaks to an understanding within the Abrahamic religions of God being active in history. As God was an active partner in the freeing of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt and Babylon, so God continues to be active in our lives today.

 

When we recognize God’s activity in all people we meet and in all we do, it becomes increasingly difficult to deny the Imago Dei in all the world. Pushing the Imago Dei question further, I assert the new more diverse representation of the Imago Dei can lead us to a more diverse, equitable, and inclusive society. God is working in the midst of our secular society to break down the walls of polarizing judgment and replacing them with the acceptance of the many images of God, building relationships of trust. Potentially, this is the kingdom of heaven that has drawn near (Matt. 4:17, 10:7).

 

As a Christian in the Lutheran tradition, I can claim that Christ’s presence (Imago Dei) continues to be revealed to us in our neighbor as we are called to be Christ to our neighbors.  In this relationship of being the revealed and the revealer of the Imago Dei, we are called to love and serve our neighbor thereby celebrating our diversity, seeking equity (and justice) for all, and welcoming all into the inclusivity (welcoming wholeness) known in God’s presence, the DEI of Imago Dei.

 

Wrestling in this way with the diversity of the Imago Dei and its call for equity and inclusive community, tests and emboldens our ability and willingness to recognize God’s active presence in our current political maelstrom. As I see God active in Cyrus rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem and restoring the sacred vessels to it (Ez. 1), I also see God’s activity of DEI in desegregating our schools, the civil rights movement, the Americans with Disabilities Act, the abolishment of the military’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, and women’s equality. This vision of Imago DEI activity in the world reveals a glimmering hope of a kingdom/rule of heavenly peace.

 

Our witness to the diversity of the Imago Dei when speaking of human rights and the dignity of human life without regard to gender, disability, or race, stands against that of those who obfuscate God’s image of wholeness by opposing DEI policies and claiming the meaning as being division, exclusion, and indoctrination (Ron DeSantis). Currently, many try to limit God’s presence while pandering to the privilege of the few, for example, Wisconsin and other states are slashing the cost of DEI from their budgets.

 

It is always difficult to embrace new ideas, but this concept of DEI is not new. Scripture tells us that we should care for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, (Lev. 19:34, Deut. 24:17-18, Ps. 82:3, James 1:26), and the poor (Lev. 19:10, Lev. 23:22, Deut. 15:7-9). We are not to put stumbling blocks before the blind or revile the deaf (Lev. 19:14). We are to build communities where the lame and the maimed are honored and able to travel with us on the Holy Highway (Is. 35).

 

Indeed, our Diverse, Equitable, Inclusive God loves us enough to enter the diversity of our lives, justifies us by his grace, and includes us in his own atoning work. A much wiser person than I once said, “Either Jesus is the Messiah, and he died for all; or he wasn’t, and he died for nothing.”  My Lutheran tradition says, “Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, God intends that all should be saved.”

 

From Paul’s words we understand, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? … Know in all these things that we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers nor things present nor things to come nor powers nor height nor depth nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord.” (Romans 8, NRSV)

 

So, I ask, can we delimit God’s undeserved love, freely given? Can we have life and have it abundantly without knowing the overflowing fullness of the Imago Dei? As faithful followers of Jesus, can the Imago Dei be witnessed in who we are today? Can people know that we are followers of Jesus by what we say and do?

 

It seemed like such an easy concession in 1970, but that tiny chink in our theologically, paternalistic armor has revealed the vulnerability of our chauvinistic lens through which we see a binary, male Zeus-like conqueror as our creator, redeemer, and sanctifier. In that vulnerable revelation of the Imago Dei, we see the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the queer and the straight, the variously able-bodied—we see us, and we are good. We are good enough for God to reveal Godself as one of us—truly human; valued enough to die and rise for us, that we should know eternal life, that we should hear God’s words of hope and promise anew—"given for you and all people for the forgiveness of sin.” Maybe God’s voice is more like it is in the movie Dogma rather than the voice in The Ten Commandments. Maybe God’s voice is heard in the cacophonic babel of our polyphonic world.

 

I wonder if anyone in 1970 imagined hearing God’s joyful laughter as we experience how much more God is. I wonder whether they, seeing God’s activity in the world then, could anticipate God’s activity of the Imago Dei today? And then, I wonder if we can appreciate God’s activity in our lives today?

 

Or are we afraid of what God is doing and therefore we try limiting what God is doing in our midst? Finally, who do we think we are, that we are able to limit the Imago Dei and God’s love is shown in the world?

Introduction

Greetings pensive ponderers of the profound and profane,

My name is Nicodemus. I am the oldest of a rather large family. Well, I was the first pinky. I happen to have a number of siblings, but I am the prime pup. My sibs claim that I got my name from Nickey duh mouse, hence Nicodemus, but I think that Mom and Dad had another agenda going. My brothers are Nicandros and Nicholas. My sisters are Nicole, Eunice, and Bernice. Can you see the Nike pattern? No, not the swishy shoes.

Growing up, Mom and Dad told us Greek mythology stories at bedtime, and Dad really had a fascination with Nike and victory. I think that he thought that by using Nike’s name for us kids that we would all know that we were always winners in his eyes. I could be wrong, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

To think of us as winners was important to me as a young pup, because Nicandros, Nicholas, and I are blind. It’s important for us and now for you to know that even though we were blind, we were still winners. This encouraged us to try all kinds of things that other mice were doing, and then again it encouraged us to do some really fun, and sometimes dangerous, stuff.

I remember the day we discovered that the farmer’s wife wore wooden sandals and made lots of noise when she walked across the kitchen floor. She was really easy to follow, and Nicandros and Nicholas convinced me that we should run after her as a sort of game. We assigned points for getting close to the sandals, between the sandals, and touching the sandals. How were we to know that she had an irrational phobia about mice?

Anyway, we set out across the kitchen floor, and then she stopped at the refrigerator for something or other. The door opened, cold air rushed out on us, and there was a pleasant smell of bacon, leftovers, bacon, vegetables, and, did I mention, BACON? I really love bacon—crispy but not burned, firm but not tough, salty and sweet, maple sugar cured is best.

Bacon, mmmm. Where was I? Oh yes. When we heard the farmer’s wife stop, we stopped too, and while I was deliberating on the attributes of bacon, she let loose a scream you could have heard in the milking parlor with all of the milkers going and the cows lowing, and the farmer and the workers talking with the radio on and the hose running. I mean, it was really loud and high-pitched. There was a scrambling and slipping of wooden sandals that went on, and then Nicholas squeaked, “Run for it!”

We all ran for the corner where the entrance to our nest was located, but with the noise and the clumping of those wooden sandals and the adrenaline, the room seemed to grow. I, at least, got a little disoriented and ran into the pipe that came down from the kitchen sink. Suddenly there was this pain. I realized that part of me had been left behind, as it were. Maybe because I was lightened, or maybe it was that extra shot of energy you get when you are scared past the point of being frozen stiff, but I ran like a shot into the corner of the cabinet and found a crevice just big enough for me to slip through. I was out of breath, and my heart was pounding, and my tail, oh, my tail, it hurt, but it wasn’t there anymore.

After a long time, I slipped back out of the crevice and found my way home. Nicholas and Nicandros had found their way home too. We were all safe, but we had all suffered the same indignity: she cut off our tails with a carving knife!

You probably have already noticed the bandage on my tail. I wear it to cover the attachment of my prosthetic tail. It helps to keep me in balance and reminds of the consequences of risky behavior and bad decisions.

Yes, it took some time before we found a way to get to the Sears store, but we finally got there and got fixed up. Why Sears you might ask? Well, Sears was a premier re-tailer at the time. Today, we’d probably go to Walmart, but Sears is what we had in those days.

Through several misadventures and some fortunate coincidences, I found my way to the Wisconsin School for the Visually Handicapped (WSVH), 1700 West State Street, Janesville, Wisconsin, now the Wisconsin School for the Blind and Visually Impaired (WSBVI), where I encountered blind—hmm, people. Among them was Peter Heide. I sort of bonded with him. Perhaps our partnership was precipitated by the fact that his name started with P, my favorite letter; it has such purpose.

We’ve had a long friendship, and we have walked the same circles—so-to-speak. Over the years we have traveled to Europe, Egypt, Israel, Canada, and Mexico, not to mention forty-five of the forty-eight contiguous states and my personal preference, Puerto Rico!

Along the way, Peter got his sight back, lost it again, got it back, lost it again, got it back, and lost it again. I keep telling him, if he would just put things back in the same place every time, he wouldn’t keep losing things, but did he listen to me?

Throughout the roller coaster of getting sight and losing it again, I have been the voice of encouragement that keeps reminding Peter of all the fun and interesting things one can do when you are blind. Being blind means that you can be a winner. After all, am I not Nicodemus? A winner for the people?

While Peter was riding his rollercoaster, he decided it was time to attend seminary. I too felt the pull, so I packed my portmanteau and went with him. There were some dark times, even with blind humor, but with my encouragement, theological insights, and of course, my literary genius, I managed to get him through graduation, supported him during his approval interviews, saw him through ordination, and then I settled into being the local Church Mouse. I even wrote a column in the church newsletters for a time.

Today, I spend most of my time thinking about the old days and trying to keep up with what’s going on. Sometimes I give Peter good advice on things to ponder and write on. Sometimes I let him put his name on stuff I’ve written. I hate to complain, but mice have a tough time being recognized. Well, unless you are Mickey (guess what, growing up, I had to call him Uncle Michael). And being a blind mouse besides, makes everything harder, so I just let it go when he takes the credit. Besides, after all these years, I sometimes can’t tell where my ideas end and his begin. We are, one could say, sympatico.

Anyways, this is my corner of the world, and I invite you to come and visit the wanderings and wonderings of the playful and portentous, not to sound too pretentious, things I think are important. Expect some parody, poignancy, and piety. I ask no pardon. After seminary and being Church Mouse for twenty-five years, biblical stories and theology inevitably will pop up too. Still, I hope you will join me for my paw-padding perambulations.

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse