Category Archives: Biblical Reflection

Enter or Shelve?

4 Replies

It’s a little over a week since Easter – the empty tomb, miraculous appearances, and disbelief transformed into abiding faith. Even Thomas finds his faith after touching the risen Jesus.

My faith starts in a stable, wades in the Jordan, hangs on a cross, and arrives by way of an empty tomb. Year after year, the same journey; every three years, even the same Bible passages. Why do I keep with it?

I don’t think faith can be solved, figured out, or understood enough to box up and store like off season clothes on a dusty closet shelf. It’s not a puzzle to solve or a formula to memorize. It’s not really an “it” at all, as far as I can tell. I can’t hold it in my hand or even see its edges because it holds me. I am living in it, held by it, defined by it. The seasons and scriptures aren’t pieces of a faith puzzle: they are what draws me into God’s embrace. There is no end to where they can take me in this Gospel world.

Faith is entering this God given world and knowing I belong here. Many and varied are the ways for me to find it. I just have to remember I seek to enter a holy world. It’s only when I try to make myself bigger than God’s world that my faith shrinks to something easily shelved with next winter’s clothes…

nttableofcontents

A Closer Look

Leave a reply

copy-IMG_1542.jpg

It’s the second half of Holy Week. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday stand between me and Easter – the path through the dark woods of my soul. I didn’t grow up in churches that observed these dark days; we went from Palm Sunday to Easter, sometimes with a Wednesday Bible study of the crucifixion, sometimes not. The sanctuary and Sunday school room crosses were always empty: why would anyone put the risen Jesus back on the cross? The resurrection already happened and there was no going back.

I understand why my childhood churches had no crucifixes, and why they emphasized celebration and victory rather than the suffering of Jesus in the garden and the grisly way he died. I can’t say that the people in those churches were any more or less faithful, any kinder or colder – the path of faith runs through all neighborhoods. But I do think something of the human condition was skipped over rather than faced – not about Jesus, but about the rest of humanity. While I hate to admit it, I doubt I’d do any better than the flawed, fragile people who stood by while Jesus died. Most everyone ran away, avoiding the whole scene. A few women and John the beloved disciple managed to stay and hear the final few words from the cross. This reveals more about myself than I usually care to see or admit. I’m no better than anyone else, and I’m just as likely to run away as anyone else. Given the right circumstances, just enough fear for my life, I would betray Jesus, too.

Holy Week isn’t a time to indulge in self loathing: it’s a time to take a long, hard look at myself – faults, strengths, and the whole mixed bag I call my inner and outer life. If I’m honest about what I see, I’ll ask for God to hold my hand as I walk this world. If I’m not, I just might fool myself into thinking I can make the walk alone.

Take my hand, O Lord, and walk with me through these dark days and nights. I need you. Amen.

One For The Blog

Leave a reply

As far as I know, I was the only bartender who went to Princeton Seminary in the ’90’s. Either no one else had tended bar, or no one else would admit to it. It’s too bad, in either case: my time behind the bar gave me admission to the inner and outer lives of so many people. I have no idea how many secrets they told me – fears, hopes, embarrassments, family troubles, and a handful of come-to-Jesus stories. All these treasures given to me in exchange for a Beefeater, a Bud, a Cabernet, and a tip.

Grandpa Pete drank himself to death, so my parents didn’t have alcohol in the house much – just a glass of wine on Thanksgiving, a New Year’s toast, and a six pack when relatives came over to paint, paper, or repair. My husband and I enjoy wine and beer at home and the occasional mixed drink in a restaurant, but we aren’t exactly heavy hitters. We’ve both seen too many lives ruined by excessive drinking to tip the bottle too often. In moderation, alcohol loosens tongues, encourages self-disclosure, and is a sure sign of hospitality; in excess, alcohol is an excuse for verbal abuse, physical intimidation, and violence – the power of fermentation.

I enjoy having a glass of wine while I make dinner. I treasure the times my husband and I lingered at the table after dinner, splitting the last glass of rioja by candlelight. Wine in hand, I delve deeper into the grace of the moment, and I’m more aware of the wonders of food and companionship. It’s not a necessity, but it’s surely a nicety.

There’s truth in wine (In vino, veritas). Jesus shared wine with his closest friends and his betrayer, and the coming of the Holy Spirit looked to all the world like a bunch of early morning drunks. It’s a marvelous thing to let loose and see the world through more appreciative eyes. It’s a terrible thing to drink away reality and excuse cruelty with a bottle. Hidden compassion and undercover violence are both given out with that drink. Which one do I choose?

Lord, keep watch over me. Amen.

Hospitality On A Plate

2 Replies

I don’t watch Master Chef any more. It’s not that I don’t love a good cooking competition. It isn’t the quality of the cooking, the expertise of the chefs, or the contestants. I just got sick of the yelling, the swearing, the demeaning comments, and the this-isn’t-me-chef-I-can-do-much-better groveling. Not just one of the judges, but all of them reacted to failed dishes as if the cook created the fiasco just to insult their palates. Tears, shame, anger. All over a culinary attempt gone awry. The meanness of it all killed the entertainment value of it for me.

I’ve worked in many restaurants over the years, and worked with many chefs and cooks. Swearing doesn’t bother me, and I don’t find the off-color humor insulting – it’s just the culinary environment (and I’ve got quite a colorful vocabulary myself). But there’s a difference between this kind of back and forth among the staff and what goes on in front of the camera: the one is hospitable, the other destructive. Both end in fantastic food on a plate, but one nourishes the soul while the other shreds it.

Eating and drinking are necessary, life-sustaining daily acts. Preparing a special meal or enjoying one at a favorite restaurant is meant to be a gift of nourishment and hospitality. Nowhere do I see this truth in the judges and their treatment of the home chefs. Perhaps it’s really there, just edited out to increase the drama and ratings. Perhaps honest advice and criticism without an insult wouldn’t get good ratings. Perhaps it’s all just part of the media game. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. But something’s gotten lost.

In many cultures, hospitality toward family, friends, and strangers is a sacred practice. In scripture, being hospitable to anyone who sits at the table was considered a faithful act. Who knew what angels we might entertain, disguises as strangers?

Angels or not, I don’t want my zeal for producing a delicious meal to turn a life-sustaining activity into the soul’s punishment.

Gracious God, make my heart hospitable and my table the same. Amen.

That Scent in the Air

2 Replies

Burnt peanut butter cookies. Butter drenched English muffins. Cinnamon sugar toast. Each of these has a distinct aroma, and each one evokes a very specific memory from my childhood. The cookies: me at five, pressing a sugared fork on dough, baking with my mother. English muffins: me at four and six, having mid-morning snack in my grandmother’s warm kitchen. Cinnamon toast: having breakfast with my sister and brother before walking to my first grade classroom.

search

I’m not the only one who has such aromatic memories. When I made peanut butter cookies in the church kitchen one morning, slightly burning the bottoms, several people stopped by, drawn by the scent in the air and their own memories – a taste of childhood long since left behind and a recollection of someone who loved them, long since passed on.

9ef16162-a02d-44bc-8113-23d655b08e2d

There’s a grace that’s hard to explain in the gift of food and the loving hospitality of another. I feel it every time cinnamon hits a buttered toast and every time I take a loaf of bread out of the oven. It’s life-sustaining, being food and all, but it’s also soul-sustaining, being so wrapped up in the loving care given to me and the loving care I offer others along with the plates and glasses.

Is that why Jesus invited himself over for dinner at the houses of those who most needed someone to accept their love and hospitality? Is it why he sat at table with his beloved disciples before his crucifixion? Was breakfast by the sea more than fresh fish with friends?Could it be that Jesus wants me to catch the scent of holiness whenever I offer and accept food?

Perhaps the kingdom of heaven is the kitchen – it would explain why everyone always gathers there, regardless of the home or host.

Dear Lord, be present to me this day in the breaking of bread, the warmth of the oven, and the scent of soup simmering. Amen.

search-1

Cooking Up Some Vittles

1 Reply

One of my favorite scenes depicted in the gospels is Jesus making breakfast for some of the disciples—I can just imagine he enjoyed making the meal more than anyone enjoyed eating it. And that is why I cook.

images-1I’m not much of a chef,  but I learned to be a pretty good cook when my wife was laid up for a few weeks. She’s fine now—some 10 years later—but I’m still in the kitchen much to her delight. I like the feedback.

imagesA lot of the work I’ve done over the years has had a long fuse so I don’t get much of a bang out of it—I’ve generally left the premises after planting the seeds of leadership and coaching skills, leaving the follow-up to others. Ah, but cooking! We get to taste the results generally in a few hours and they are usually not too shabby. It’s just a joy to explore new recipes and develop new tastes. And it’s a delight to share these findings with others—also a challenge, as we have vegans, lactose intolerants, gluten-free requirements, meat-lovers, and spicy vs. non-spicy situations to deal with. It makes things interesting (During the early phase of my new-found  love, I was married to the recipes. Now that I have more confidence, I do more creative cooking with mixed results, but usually pretty good.).

One final thought:

Isn’t it interesting how, no matter our age, we can pick up some new skill and continue learning things. We all know people who have done (and are doing) this. I think I’m going brush up my poetry writing skills next.  I hope I can find some of my old writings but if not we’ll just stop “fixin’ to get ready” and start writing some stuff—what a hoot!

Soli Deo Gloria, Bill Albritton

Offered by Bill Albritton, cook, poet, child of God.

The Service Industry

1 Reply

As Martin Luther emphasized, serving others is THE reason we work. God calls us to love and serve our neighbor, and it is through our work that we respond to that call.

[Ray, Darby Kathleen, Working, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011, p. 123]

Work isn’t just to gain the necessities of life: it’s a way to serve the world through our actions. Taken to its end, all professions are meant to be helping professions, designed to give something back as much as to pull money in. What is valuable is what serves others in love, what is a response to God and neighbor. It is its own reward – pro bono with a salary or without. What a thought!

The measuring of professional success cannot be outrunning the other rats in the race. Getting the biggest slice of the pie isn’t the goal; making sure everyone gets dessert, perhaps even baking the pie, start to count. But such things can’t be definitively measured. They are seeds planted and potential fostered. Why consider things beyond the paycheck and the goods that come with it? Why not win the working game by the usual rules: material gain equals success? Ray notes this:

Jesus spent a whole lot of time doing nonheroic work: walking beside those who were heavy-laden; caring for the sick, the infirmed, the outcast, and the prisoner; telling stories rooted in everyday experiences; sharing simple meals with friends and strangers. [ibid., p. 127]

Could he have done otherwise? Sure. But he didn’t. He didn’t rule the land or preside over the temple. His work involved walking around everywhere and nowhere, talking with everyone who happened his way. He didn’t measure a person’s worth by the coins in a pocket. Job titles didn’t seem to matter much to him, but generosity and compassion did. The first and the last jumbled together, equally loved and often equally lost.

I have the luxury of meaningful work. I can write, teach, and serve on a municipal board pro bono. I can tend a garden, clean floors, and drive the carpool to school. No titles or measuring sticks necessary. All this work is a privilege, not just some of it. I sometimes forget this.

Lord, help me, lest I become arrogant in my forgetfulness.

Back to Basics

Leave a reply

The holidays are officially over. I haven’t taken down the Christmas tree or the outside lights, but I’ve stopped turning them on. I miss the sparkling on the shrubs, especially now that they are covered in snow, glowing softly through their chilly, powdery blankets. But it’s time to take up the usual activities, putting away Christmas and New Year celebrations for the next eleven months. I am ready. But what to write about now?

With all the political nastiness, all the uncertainty, all the fear and anger, it would be easy to add my own frustrations to the cacophony. But what earthly good would it bring? There’s a difference between standing up and speaking out for what I believe in and releasing a torrent of negativity. Righteous anger and action are not the same as self-righteous rhetoric and fearful reaction. At this year’s beginning, I am going to do my best to remember and honor the difference. So for me, it’s back to basic questions: what is necessary, life-giving, world blessing? What is beautiful? How do I give back to this holy world?

Years ago, I read a few books in a series that explored fundamental actions/elements of life. Some were amazing, others pedantic, but I did like the topics. As I begin 2017, I’ll take a look at them. I hope you do, too -and I hope you let me know what you think. Dialogue is so much more interesting than monologue…peace and blessings.

A SAD Season

1 Reply

Readings:  Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2: 1-14

Winter is a tricky time of year.  For some it is memories of snowmen, skiing, holiday parties, and the adventure of swirling blizzards.  For others it brings the bleakness of short days and cold nights, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), holidays muted by the absence of departed loved ones, or the urge to get to the warmth of Florida as quickly as humanly possible.  So it is, as the days of autumn rush toward late December, that many experience a paradoxical mix of anticipation and melancholy.

Over two-thousand years ago, as the days continued dark and discouraging for the people of Israel—occupied by Roman legions, deluged by worldly ways, ruled by a “king of the Jews” who wasn’t even Jewish—there was a similar mix of anticipation and melancholy.  For hundreds of years their lives had not been their own as they were overrun and ruled by one kingdom after another with only the briefest glimpses of freedom.  They had lived in this condition long enough that their various responses to their plight to become solidified into sects—Sadducees, Pharisees, Essenes—each with their own politics, theology, and lifestyles.  One of the few things they may have had in common was the word of the prophet, Isaiah.

1Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—

2The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

3You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy;

they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest,

as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.

4For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered

the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders,

the rod of their oppressor.

5Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood

will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire.

6For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

7Of the greatness of his government and peace

there will be no end.

He will reign on David’s throne

and over his kingdom,

establishing and upholding it

with justice and righteousness

from that time on and forever.

The zeal of the Lord Almighty

will accomplish this.

Isaiah 9:1-7 (NIV)

The days in which Isaiah uttered these words were days of hardship and fear.  The northern kingdom of Israel had been overrun in an Assyrian invasion.  Isaiah’s friends in the southern kingdom of Judah feared a similar fate.  It was during these tense times that the Lord spoke through Isaiah with a message of hope.  A light… a nation… a victory… a child… a King!

In one sense very little had changed in Israel in the 700 years since the time of Isaiah’s prophecy.  Instead of the Assyrians or the Babylonians it was the Romans.  Conditions were much the same.  His words would have fallen on the ears of those in Jerusalem, Nazareth and Bethlehem in much the same way they had been heard by their ancestors: Don’t despair.  God’s anointed messiah was on his way!  Can you imagine the mixed emotions of anticipation and melancholy?  Can you imagine the relief and joy of those who actually witnessed the life of the Child… the Son… the King?

Two-thousand more years have come and gone.  Have our lives been overrun by worldly ways?  Are we ruled by kings who bear no resemblance to the King of kings?  Are we beginning to question the promise of the messiah’s Second Coming?  Are we experiencing a SAD season—memories of spiritual victories and God’s breakthrough moments tempered by defeat and discouragement and a desperate longing for something more?  Is it only melancholy, or is there a hint of anticipation?

Isaiah’s words were enough for his contemporaries as well as those who were tending their flocks on the hillsides around Bethlehem 700 years later.  Are they enough for us today?  In these tricky days of winter they are enough!  Winter is a season of our spiritual lives when we may not see much happening.  We may feel the melancholy that comes with dormancy.  Yet, if we can but lift our heads above the snowbank we will get a glimpse of what is coming—a glimpse of springtime showers, summer warmth, and harvest time.  Let the words of Isaiah kindle a spark of anticipation in your soul.  The SAD season won’t last forever!

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Words offered by David Shaw – minister, listener, child of God.