Between the Times in the Now

 Friends,  

It’s that time of year when people do one of two things. One can look back at 2023 and offer a “year in review” perspective or one can look forward and guess what’s in store for 2024. Or both. Our Commission and Deacons are already in the process of putting together our “year in review,” which we call our Annual Report. And while our culture is obsessed with predictions of all kinds – market projections, sports gambling, forecasting election results, or declaring the end times – I’ve always been cautioned by Robert Heilbronner’s distinction between describing trajectories and predicting results. 

 

For me, this is the time of year when I think about time. Particularly, I think about how elusive the present can be. The kind of thinking that goes into reflection – as we look at the past with regret or joy – requires being ‘outside’ of the past in order to look at it. And the kind of thinking that goes into prediction – from anticipation to dread – likewise requires being ‘outside’ of the future in order to imagine it. The present, however, is a different matter. The present is for living, experiencing, engaging, or simply being. I saw a photo of a person last week on a boat when an orca came up alongside of it. An orca. How often do you come face-to-face with such a creature? What a gift it would be simply to watch, take it all in, wonder, be amazed, live that astounding moment. Instead, she turned her back to the orca – turned her back to the orca! - and was engaged in trying to line up a selfie. While we are necessarily outside of the past and the future, we have become adept at finding ways to distract ourselves and to be outside of the present. I think that’s a shame. 

 

I wonder if the elusiveness of the present is what the Apostle Paul had in mind when he would speak of time. Think of his phrase, “in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,” which he uses to describe that moment of transformation from earthly struggles to resurrected life. The word translated “moment” is atomos. It is only used here in the New Testament and, as you can see, is the etymological root for the word “atom.” The prefix ‘a’ means ‘not’ and the root ‘tomos’ means to cut or divide. It is an attempt to name the smallest indivisible amount of time possible that one cannot divide any smaller. (Smaller, even than an atto-second, which is a billionth of a billionth of a second, according to recent Nobel Prize winning scientists.) And the phrase “twinkling of an eye” is like a blink. You’ve already blinked many times while reading this essay, but it has happened so fast that you haven’t even noticed it and it has not interrupted your concentration. Paul is trying to name that infinitely small amount of time as a way of speaking of how God works. And that infinitely small amount of time is what we mean by “the present.” It is, by its very nature, elusive. The moment we become mindful of it, conscious about it, reflective on it, it has passed. The only choice for the present is to live it.

 

So, we are at that moment when we look back at 2023 and look forward to 2024. It is right to reflect, and it is wise to plan. But in so doing, I hope and pray that we are not distracted from actually living in the present. In this moment, this twinkling of an eye, God is. And so are we.

 

Mark of St. Mark

Davis Family Christmas Letter

 Dear Friends,  

In the unforgettable opening words sung by the community of Whoville,

“Fah who foraze! Dah who doraze!”

We have no idea what those words mean, but each of you now has a mental image – either animated or peopled – of a Grinch movie and the indomitable Christmas spirit. It is our hope that you, too, find your voice and sing your hope this Christmas, whether all your toys have just been stolen or your dreams have come true. We are happy to say that for us this year has been more a case of dreams coming true than toys being stolen. 

Nic graduated from Gonzaga Law School in May and he and Lindy landed jobs in downtown Des Moines, where both are thriving. We wish they were closer, but Nic seems very happy to be in close proximity to many of his childhood friends, family, and memories. 

Mickey and family continue to live in Des Moines as well, with Mickey and Amanda engaged in various avenues of arts, and Tallulah growing up joyfully and endearing herself to everyone she meets. 

Luke, always the worldly one, spent four months in France at culinary school, learning his third language and refining his prodigious cooking skills. With multiple job offers upon his return, he chose to use his talents cooking for those who are currently without a home. He spends evenings and weekends catering and pursuing his prize-winning art. 

Gail is now a student at Vanguard University. High school was 3.1 miles away from our house; community college was 1.5 miles from the house; and now she attends a school that is .5 miles from the house - saves on housing, saves on gas, saves on meals, and makes Mom and Dad very happy. In addition to being a good student, an active member of the Dance Team, and a Sunday School teacher, Gail continues to enjoy teaching and choreographing for her dance students. 

In March, Chris and Mark were invited to be part of the Senior Faith in Leadership Program, which was initiated by Prince Philip and meets in the Windsor Castle complex. We’re sure that someone will be hired to play us in a forthcoming season of The Crown. We topped off our stay with a couple of days in London, where we learned – to our dismay – that the know-it-all dude outside of the Westminster Abbey had never even heard of the Westminster Confession. Sigh. 

And Mark had yet one more bit of adventure, traveling to Kenya in September to visit Providence Children’s Home, an orphanage and school that St. Mark has supported for several years. The trip concluded with a couple of days glamping in a Mara safari village, and a brief unpleasantry with a baboon. No animals were harmed in the making of that adventure.

On the whole, we have been healthy and happy and hope that you can say the same. We look forward to celebrating Christmas and yearn for a time when peace and justice can be realized throughout our troubled and war-torn world. 

 

“Fah who foraze! Dah who doraze!”

 

The Davisfolk 

Advent Waiting Christmas List

Let’s get in the water with John the Baptist.

Let’s bellow our hope for a new day.

Let’s march to the rhythm of a different drum.

Let’s join in the work of equity and justice.

Let’s demand that our leaders give peace a chance.

Let’s bring our own bank accounts into the conversation of economic justice.

Let’s reach out to repair relationships that we have damaged.

Let’s envision a day of peace, because if peace is possible then war is intolerable.

Let’s examine the prejudices that we have inherited and long harbored.

Let’s sing a joy that is grounded in God’s steadfast love – even as weeping endures for the night.

Let’s examine abundance, because if abundance is possible, nobody should suffer deprivation.

Let’s bring lion and lamb, brambles and thorns, into the story so heaven and nature can sing together.

Let’s be that odd institution that can speak of Christmas joy and Advent pain all around us.

Let’s be that odd institution that we’re called to be.

And let’s do so with hope.

A Psalm 148 Thanksgiving Day

 I hope you enjoy this special “Psalm 148 Thanksgiving Day” letter! As we read the 148^th Psalm last weekend, it invited us to broaden our view – not only of what we are thankful for, but with whom we can offer praise and thanksgiving. My hope is to get outside today and join with all nature in offering praise and thanksgiving to God. I never quite know how to name this particular way of the presence of God - when God is present in and through things that, in themselves, are not God. The technical theological term is “panenthism,” but who speaks technical theology these days? Some might refer to God in this way as, “The spark of life.” I like that for flora and fauna, but I need a term that see the presence of God in inanimate things as well. Perhaps, “Being itself”? That is a term often used in philosophical writings and, to me, sounds like a term often used in philosophical writings. Paul Tillich reframed “being itself” by speaking of God as “The Ground of Being.” That works quite well for me, to be honest, but it works best in Tillich’s native German language, where “ground” more commonly means something like “source” or “foundation.” I am leaning toward coining a new phrase, by thinking and speaking of this manifestation of God as “The Wellspring of Existence.” When I say that, I not only mean that once upon a time God created the heavens and the earth, or even that as the world we know came into being through the big bang, evolutionary processes, and other means that God started it all – the “unmoved prime mover,” as it were. No, I’m thinking of “The Wellspring of Existence” a little differently, as an “eternal now” possibility. In every time and place, God is, and as such God is always and ever the source of existence for all that is, from the smallest nit to the most distant nebula. 

 

So, get outside and join the cosmic song of thanksgiving and praise to the one who in whom all existence has its being, The Wellspring of Life. Thanks be to God. And now, I want to offer a couple rounds of thanks. 

 

First, I am very thankful for my family. I don’t talk about my family much, deliberately. Being a pastor carries with it a lot of expectations, therefore a lot of disappointments along the way. At the same time, being a pastor carries a lot of affirmations along the way. I think being the spouse or child of the pastor often brings the expectations without the affirmations. I think it is a much harder call to be a pastor’s spouse than to be a pastor. My spouse and my children have been wonderful sources of humility, strength, and healing for me for over 30 years of pastoral ministry. For them I am humbly grateful. 

 

Second, I am thankful for our church staff. I still cannot believe the gyrations and contortions we have learned to expect week after week since the pandemic threw a stick into the church’s spokes. We survived the initial wreckage and have learned new ways of being the church as a result, but not without bumps and bruises along the way. One brief example: We really had to up our online game when it comes to worship. Each week I have elderly or distant St. Mark members tell me how much they depend on our online presence. So, we’ve learned how to use Keynote, YouTube, Zoom, Pdf conversions (e.g. see the bulletin for Sunday attached to this message), Monitors, and Website functions, to make our worship or text studies available. What a lovely staff to make such things possible. For them I am humbly grateful. 

 

Once again, I hope you have a blessed Psalm 148 Thanksgiving! 

 

Mark of St. Mark

The Challenge of Dialogue

The tragedy that continues to unfold in Palestine/Israel is a tragedy that eschews any easy answers and brings a host of complexities into play. Even trying to describe the situation objectively is fraught with the possibility of saying too much in one direction or another, not saying enough, missing a key part of the context, or leaving a wrong impression that quickly needs clarification. One consequence of this difficulty is that college and university campuses – some of the few spaces in our country where dialogue and free speech are deliberately encouraged – have had outbreaks of intolerance and in some cases threats against others. Even organizations that strive to bring diverse religious voices together are struggling to do so. Just last month, one of the local interfaith groups cancelled a concert and annual Unity Dinner, with a note that painfully admits, “At a time of empathetic distress that is touching so many lives, we feel that it may be best for us to pause and reflect.” 

The need to pause and reflect is important and can be, in itself, an act of courage and compassion. At the same time, our commitments to peace, justice, compassion, and hope behoove us to say something, when so many lives have been lost and so much trust has been violated, with human violence as the cause. It raises the question: Can we create space to name our agreements, notice our biases, acknowledge our disagreements, and still look for ways where justice and peace can prevail? 

It is uncertain whether persons of faith and good will – much less beholden politicians, victims, and extremists – can imagine together a lasting path toward peace and justice. If such a possibility does arise, the pathway toward peace might proceed along these lines. 

 It seems that most people of faith and good will agree that … 

-       The Hamas attack against unarmed non-combatants, was wrong.

-       Using hostages as human shields is wrong.

-       The killing of youth and children is wrong. 

And it seems that most people of faith and good will agree …

-       Militaries bombing civilian populations is wrong.

-       Shutting off a nation’s supply of water, gas, electricity, and phone lines is wrong. 

-       The killing of youth and children is wrong. 

The six uses of the word “wrong” above will strike some people as insufficient. I do not disagree entirely, but would point out that “wrong” can include sharper descriptions such as “hideous,” “atrocious,” and “evil.” The word “wrong” can provide a gathering point for those who may not agree on whether the harsher terms could apply to all six observations. Even trying to name things we agree on demonstrates immense challenges the current conflict brings with regard to context, rhetoric, and strategy.

When it comes to the contexts – the ongoing stories of Israel and Palestine, the conditions within each country that have been in play to this point, the geo-political alignments in the Middle East and around the globe – many different narratives are at play. Each of them can be defended from one angle and each of them can be questioned from another. That is not to say that they are equally valid, but it does speak to the difficulty of finding some kind of path forward. Even bywords of newscasts remind us of the extremely troubling context that has been in place for a long time. When we hear of a breach in the barrier separating Palestine and Israel, it reminds us that a barrier exists and has been a matter of debate for a long time. It has been defended as a necessary security measure by some, decried as a dehumanizing measure by others. When we hear that the Jabalya refugee camp was bombed with airstrikes, it reminds us that refugee camps exist and that there have been thousands of displaced persons within Palestine before the current iteration of the conflict. The struggle over the context is a huge challenge. If, for example, Palestinians and Israelis want to follow the “truth and reconciliation” path that was forged in post-Apartheid South Africa, the first questions might be, “Whose truth?” and “Which context?” 

Speaking of post-Apartheid South Africa, there is also a tremendous challenge of what rhetoric is appropriate to describe the past, present, and future possibilities for Palestinians and Israelis. Words like “occupation” or analogies to South African “apartheid” are highly contested in themselves. Likewise, common terms like “civilian” and “innocent” have been qualified in the current violence. Some voices from within Palestine have argued that, since every Israeli is required to serve in the military, there are no true “civilians” or “non-combatants” among them, even among their youth and children who will one day be soldiers. Some voices from within Israel have argued that since Hamas has embedded its fighters, weaponry, and logistics within local neighborhoods, that Hamas has obliterated any notion of “innocent bystanders” in their cities. Even the word “ceasefire” has been debated – does it signify a humanitarian act or a concession that leaves the attack of October 7 unpunished? That question is partly why President Biden has chosen to speak of a “humanitarian pause,” rather than a ceasefire. If Palestinians and Israelis reach a point where there is some kind of dialogue – even the minimal communication of a surrender, a ceasefire, or humanitarian pause – the essential act of finding a language to which all sides could agree would be extremely difficult. 

And speaking of “all sides,” there are challenges of strategy, beginning with who actually represents whom. Hamas was voted into power in 2006 by a plurality, not a majority, of Palestinians. Palestinians have not had elections since then, begging the question of whether Hamas can genuinely represent a majority of Palestinians. For its part, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu is under indictment for corruption, has been under fire for trying to disempower the judicial branch of Israel’s government, managed to maintain power by aligning with the most anti-Palestinian parties in Israel’s parliament, and has admitted that there must be accountability on the governments part for being caught by complete surprise on October 7. One of the effects of the October 7 attack has been to stave off immediate accountability for Netanyahu’s government – as one would expect in a time of grief and anger. If or when the “two sides” sit down to make even the smallest agreements, who speaks for whom? Who can be trusted to have ordinary Palestinians and Israelis best interests in mind? 

If representative voices can be identified and trusted enough to pursue a future course, there are some things that are clear and there are some things that are murky. What is clear is that even by the minimal definition of the U.N. Declaration of Human Rights, there are innocent lives that have been and are being lost in both Israel and Palestine. What is clear is that the current situation is unsustainable. What is clear is that a wider regional conflict would be disastrous for many countries, including our own, and could easily trigger a global conflict. Those who are working for peace are facing daunting work even before deciding whether a “two-state solution” or some other long-term vision is possible. 

We read that over 1,400 lives were lost in the October 7 attacks, and over 10,000 lives have been lost in the retaliatory strikes. Our tendency is to keep score, whether it satisfies us or horrifies us, whether we think it is self-defense or disproportionality. We read that many of those who have been killed are not direct combatants. Nonetheless, their deaths have been justified by their killers in some way or another as casualties of the struggle. We continue to make distinctions between this people and that, of deserving victims and the innocent victims. We recognize that not all violence is the same. Still, one thing we can say is that, since October 6, over 11,400 human lives have been lost due to deliberate human violence. Perhaps the way forward needs to begin with that gathering, stark truth.  

Alternative Christmas Market

Every year, St. Mark hosts an "Alternative Christmas Market" on a Sunday following worship in November. This year our market is on November 12. It is a beautiful and meaningful event.

The number of organizations, volunteers, and even children from St. Mark who have been working hard to make this year’s market a success is remarkable. Under the skillful leadership of Diana Light and Denise Christensen, with able assistance from Sue-Ann Wichman and Judith Hug, and a lot of extra effort by Alex Cardenas and Jeremy Smith, in addition to the volunteers, and guest organizations, this event is an “all hands on deck” phenomenon. The beauty of it all is this: All the preparation, activity, and purchases are signs of our commitment to justice. We will have a chance to purchase fair trade products, products that benefit those who do the work more than those who monopolize the industry, and products that are created with the earth’s safekeeping in mind. This Alternative Christmas Market allows us to participate in a new way of being, even if just for a day. 

There is a large grocery store in Iowa where I know of two different people weeping in the aisle. The first was a guest from El Salvador who was simply overwhelmed with the plethora of choices, meats upon meats, vegetables upon vegetables, processed foods upon processed foods, all stacked neatly, with constantly rotating stock, in shelves, refrigerators, display buffets, and endcaps. The sheer enormity of the choices for someone who’s morning usually began by walking in the dark to get water from a well, was simply too much. So, she wept. 

 

The second person was someone I did not know, whom I saw weeping was in the cereal aisle. It’s no small thing that there is a “cereal aisle,” but this person was not weeping due to the overwhelming excess. She was holding a box of a corn-based cereal that cost $3.69 for puffy cereal that actually contained a small amount of corn. As I was trying to be politely present but not interfering, she looked up at me and said, “The difference between what this company pays us for this corn and what they charge for it is just criminal.” 

 

Those two sobering grocery store encounters displayed something about the system of production and sales in our marketplaces that we easily take for granted. And that was before an app could ensure that we can have goods on our doorstep within minutes. The convenience, choices, and ease of the market is admirable, a gift that serves us well in many ways. But it also hides the hands that create, harvest, and prepare the goods we order. It hides the exploitation of those who work with raw materials and the enrichment of those who exploit them. My suspicion is that if either of those two persons who so prophetically wept in the grocery store were to enter our Alternative Christmas Market, they would weep tears of joy. And that’s what I invite you to do this weekend. Come see the faces and hear the stories of those whose products we can purchase. It is a way of doing justice together. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

EcoPreacher Cohort

 During the last year I have been engaging in a monthly educational webinar with other pastors called the EcoPreacher Cohort. Through a variety of presenters, reflection, reading assignments, and small group discussions, we have explored how to integrate our concern for the environment with long-standing Christian theological beliefs, liturgical practices, and decisions that affect church life more generally. Before her life took a vastly different turn, Jennifer McCullough was in the cohort also, offering me a great local sounding board after our monthly webinars. It has been a very worthwhile commitment and next month will mark the end of the yearlong Cohort. 

 

The EcoPreacher Cohort is produced by a cooperation between The BTS Center and Creation Justice Ministries (CJM). The BTS Center was formerly a seminary, Bangor Theological Seminary, affiliated with the United Church of Christ, which closed in 2013. While it does not award degrees, the BTS Center provides ongoing Christian education and spiritual formation, like the webinar I took. Creation Justice Ministries was formerly the National Council of Churches Eco-Justice Program, and continues to work across many Christian denominations for racial, economic, and environmental justice. Together, the BTS Center and CJM have provided a marvelous reflective and educational opportunity for me to think and feel more deeply what it means to live responsibly on and in harmony with the earth, within a tradition that begins with a creation story that calls each part of creation “good.” 

 

“Thinking more deeply” about things is what I’m comfortable with, even though education is largely a process of challenging former certainties in order to live into new awareness. “Feeling more deeply” is not as easy for me, but when it comes to the environment is it absolutely essential. It has been widely recognized that “climate anxiety” can be a debilitating condition that people suffer when they look honestly at climate change, rising sea levels, losses of species and habitats, air quality, overstuffed landfills, toxic wastes, and so forth. For millennia, people imagined that the earth was simply capable of absorbing our habits and that there was always somewhere “out there” where we could store our leftovers. To some extent, “climate anxiety” is a step forward from “climate apathy,” which continues that presumption, as well as “climate arrogance,” which assumes that human ingenuity will solve the problem before it becomes too acute. The fragility of the eco-system on which we depend for living, as well as the awareness that other life forms are suffering because human ingenuity is typically anthropocentric, are behind much of our “climate anxiety.” At least “climate anxiety” acknowledges the problems we face and the severity of them.  

 

For the Christian believer, it matters how we encounter “climate anxiety” with, among other things, our doctrine of hope. For that reason, I want to share an opportunity with you that The BTS Center is co-creating. It is called Lament with Earth, five hour-long seasonal events beginning in November and ending in June 2024, each of which is on a Wednesday from 4:30-5:30pm. Drawing on the tradition of lament, these events will enable participants to name the loss and pain of environmental destruction honestly, within a context of hope. These events are hosted by The BTS Center as well as the creative and justice-building music group, The Many. You can find more information by visiting here. 

 

In peace, 

Mark of St. Mark

The Inadequacy of Words

Throughout this week, I have really felt the poverty, inadequacy, and potential emptiness of words. This is coming from someone who "proclaims the Word" for a living! I am sure that each of us have cherished or perhaps begrudgingly accepted silence as we have had occasion to sit with someone who is grieving. The events in Israel and Palestine have been one of those occasions where some of us are required to say something, yet anything we say leaves so much more unsaid. 

-       The PCUSA office of the stated clerk issued one statement - as they are expected to do - and almost immediately it evoked outrage from those who felt that it needed to be more full-throated. Still, it was an attempt to speak truthfully. 

-       Churches for Middle East Peace issued a statement, which some of my friends found too slanted in one direction. Still, it was an attempt to speak truthfully.

-       Presbyterian Peace Fellowship has issued a statement, which I would reckon would receive the same critiques. Still, it was an attempt to speak truthfully.

-       President Biden and others have issued statements, carefully crafted to appease as well as to express. Still, they are attempts to speak truthfully.

As one insightful writer said last weekend, finding a way to address an incident as well as its context is always hard. When there are atrocities involved – and the attacks and hostage-taking by Hamas are atrocious – it becomes pretty near impossible. 

 

One attempt to address the fullness of the context in Palestine and Israel, as well as the depth of horror of the moment, was a Facebook post by Ori Hanan Weisberg, which SueJeanne Koh and Susan Thornton (among others) shared on their page. It is long and it is pointed and nobody can come out of it feeling easy about their involvement in the Middle East. Even so, it could have been twice as long and still would not have addressed all the human nonsense and evil that has contributed to the horrors of this week. Words simply cannot get it done sometimes. 

 

So, for those of you who struggle to offer your condolences, to say your piece, to offer your perspective, to speak truth to power, to proclaim the Word, or even to voice your prayers - it's not you, it's life and death, which is often unspeakable. May you experience a still small voice that lets you know that it's okay if your words seem inadequate to the moment. 

 

I think the most profound text of scripture might be Revelation 8:1, "When the Lamb opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour." The next reference to sound comes when prayers are offered mixed with the smoke of the incense. Perhaps that is the best we can do. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

Isaiah 5:1-7 and Matthew 21:33-46 interwoven reading

Friends, 

The following is an attempt to weave the Song of the Vineyard from Isaiah with the Parable of the Vineyard from Matthew. See if it is helpful to read them side-by-side. I think the first influenced the second, but in any act of imitation/repetition/echoing a text, there is always new content that can bring out the best of both texts. 

 1. Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard:

1. “Listen to another parable.

2. My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it;
2. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower.

 

3. he expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes. 

3. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce.  But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. 

 

4. And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my vineyard. What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it?
When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild grapes? 

4. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?”

 

5. And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it. 

5. They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes’? Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.

 

6. This ends the reading. 

6. Thanks be to God. 

Climate Change and All the Things

There have been many reports lately about Climate Change in local, regional, national, and worldwide news. Some reports have been passing references, where an unusual weather event is attributed to climate change. Some reports have been in reference to agricultural practices, with aquifers drying up or different groups contending over water rights. Some reports are focused on animal life, with different species disappearing or migrating to new places due to heat or melting ice. And some reports are about businesses, such as major insurance carriers moving away from insuring homes in areas endangered by wildfires or flooding. Referring to climate change as a reality with real, every day consequences is a relatively new phenomenon in some circles. By and large most sources of information are no longer speaking of climate change as a “theory” or a fringe idea, but simply as a reality, even if the precise relationship between human activity and climate activity continues to be understood differently. 

 

Years ago, I used to listen to a show on Iowa Public Radio with a bright radio host in conversation with a Political Science professor from one of the state universities. It was informative, but the show had one habit that bothered me to no end. They would offer, as a prize for whoever answered the week’s trivia question, a copy of The Worldwatch Institute’s annual State of the World publication. That, in itself, was fine, but they would speak of the publication dismissively, as being too alarmist, too pessimistic, and unrealistic. In fact, much of the language about climate change that is now taken for granted is precisely what the Worldwatch Institute said would result if we did not lessen our dependence on fossil fuels and reduce wasteful practices. The biblical proverb is “no prophet is accepted in one’s own country,” but it is equally true that “no prophet is accepted in one’s own time.” What the Worldwatch Institute foresaw is largely what we now hear every day as news. 

 

In our moment, there are some subtle nuances that I think we ought to be aware of. For example, we should be aware of the difference between prevention and reaction. We may be past the point of preventing humanly-exacerbated climate change. John Cobb is one of the few theologians willing to raise that possibility in his book, Is It Too Late (and he wrote that book initially in 1972!) Most of us hold to hopes that we can change our behaviors enough, and perhaps develop new technologies along the way, to lessen the effects of climate change enough to pull the world back from catastrophe. However, there is a shift taking place from preventing climate change to reacting to it. The decision by corporations to quit offering new home insurance in danger zones is one such reaction, as are building codes, raising seawalls, and requiring smart planting. It takes a fairly advanced economy for a country to take such reactionary measures. Poor island nations, like the ones described in this UN report, struggle against the twin challenges of climate change and poverty. I worry that climate change will ultimately cause us to lean into competition more than cooperation, “each nation for itself” thinking. We fall into competitive thinking over cooperative thinking when we feel threatened when things like water, crops, and energy are seen chiefly as matters of security. When that happens, we can expect that competitive penchant to kick in. As we move from trying to prevent climate change to reacting to climate change, we can expect our language to change from ‘world’ to ‘nation/state/community’ and from cooperation to competition. 

 

Another nuance of climate change was highlighted in a story entitled “Chilly Times for U.S. Climate Movement?” that was originally published in “Boiling Point,” an email newsletter about climate change and the environment in California and the American West. The story pointed toward the different visions of environmental activists and clean energy businesses over some aspects of the energy policies of the Inflation Reduction Act. Traditional environmentalists wanted to focus on reducing fossil fuels entirely, while some market-friendly approaches to environmental change wanted to focus on market competition that would ultimately help green technologies and squeeze out fossil fuels. It is something of a question of trusting legislation or the market to address climate change more effectively. A similar tension lies between technologies that produce green energy at the cost of upsetting the balance of flora and fauna, and whether the point is to reduce fossil fuels or to make the earth greener in a wider sense. One large challenge facing environmentalists is whether we are anthropocentric in our approach or whether flora, fauna, even the earth itself have value beyond the degree to which they benefit humans. 

 

When the psalmists say, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it,” we hear a call to be environmentally invested in some way or another. We need each other in times like this, to bring clarity, encouragement, and some sense of community in days that can be frightening and disheartening. One benefit that you and I have is our trust that God’s love endures forever, as well as our joy of having one another as companions on this journey. 

 

Mark of St. Mark 

The Purpose and Meaning of Advent Liturgy

The Purpose and Meaning of Advent Liturgy  

Annually observing the waiting and anticipation of Advent prior to celebrating Christmas is the burden of doing ministry in a liturgically minded church. The big mega-church down the street doesn’t give a fig about the season of Advent, the twelve days of Christmas – eleven of which follow Christmas day – or any of those things that one is taught and perhaps even believes for oneself are important for the celebration of the incarnation. No purple for them, no hesitation and discernment over whether to sing Christmas songs or to wait, no attempt to find our place alongside of the people of ancient Israel as they live under the spell and promise of the coming one. For the church down the street, it’s all red and green, lights upon lights, jolly now, merry now, Jesus now, Christmas now, with the décor coming down by New Years Day. They don’t need the liturgical calendar because they are following the most obvious calendar of them all – the countdown to Christmas while celebrating Christmas. 

 

This is not going to be a whinefest or a superiority declaration that we have it right and they have it wrong. I think they do have it wrong, but not for reasons that one might expect. Liturgically-minded churches often criticize others for having no respect for church tradition. So, they violate the church calendar or ignore the liturgical seasons. But, that criticism is a bit thin, if we remember how critical the Apostle Paul was about such observances. In truth, we observe seasons, times, and years, not because they have the authority of Scripture, but because we need seasons, times, and years. Paul could have thrown away his calendar because he anticipated the Second Coming to happen immediately. For those of us who exist many generations later – because it was not as immediate as Paul thought – seasons, times, and years resonate with the rhythm of life. At best, at least from a Pauline perspective, our observance of seasons is a concession to human weakness and need, not something inherent to the Christian message itself. (As long as we’re being honest, that seems to be Paul’s perspective toward marriage also.) 

 

In other words, people of faith are free to accept or reject the liturgical calendar as a human creation, in part to meet our rhythmic needs. And that is quite liberating, even for those of us who choose to follow the liturgical calendar. It is no great expose to argue that December 25^th is based less on the actual historical birth of Jesus than on its proximity to the Winter solstice. Nor is it particularly bothersome to argue that celebrations of the Winter solstice are rooted in long pagan traditions. One can grant all that, and grant it happily, because that is simply a way of saying that ancient pagans were as rhythmically human as modern Christians. There is nothing sacred about December 25^th and it is wasted effort to argue that Jesus was born on that exact date. What is sacred is that God was in Christ, really and historically immersing Godself into our story with radical vulnerability and solidarity. And, as people who need seasons, times, and years; as people who live among the rhythmic patterns of the universe; as people who do best with times of intense remembering as well as times of rest; observing the incarnation once a year can be a way of living faithfully. But, again, one can observe the incarnation faithfully apart from the liturgical calendar itself. 

 

My argument with the mega-church down the street that hosts Christmas all December long is not that they need to follow the fullness of the liturgical calendar. It is that the gospel stories themselves – Matthew and Luke, anyway – do not simply jump into the Christmas story with the journey to Bethlehem. They begin with longing, repeatedly citing the prophets from ages past. In doing so, they remember not only the promises under which God’s people live, but also the long periods of non-fulfillment, the in-between ages, when faith is hard to maintain. Those times of waiting are not ancillary, but germane to the story of the birth. Luke describes Zechariah and Elizabeth, an aging, repeatedly disappointed couple, whose frustrations over childbearing seem metaphorically representative of the people of Israel’s frustrations over the years. “We’re doing our part. Why isn’t God doing God’s part?” Likewise, Luke shows how young Mary’s hesitation and disbelief – similar in form but different in kind from Zechariah’s hesitation and disbelief – is transformed into a powerful, defiant song of conviction, even before the child is born. Surely Luke’s comment about how Mary “treasured these things in her heart” after the birth is part of the same thread of experience with Mary’s initial question “How can these things be?” and her defiant song of hope prior to the birth. The question and the Magnificat go together, as unfulfilled anticipation and joyful celebration go together. 

 

Matthew also gives attention to the long history of anticipation, constantly citing Old Testament texts in a way that most New Testament professors would describe as “proof-texting” if he were a first-year seminarian. Those texts are important for Matthew’s story, not because they prove anything but because they situate the reader into this tradition of longing, waiting, questioning, and wondering. And silent Joseph’s dilemma, then consent and obedience throughout Matthew’s story is probably more like the average person of faith than all of the heroic canticles combined. This coming of this Messiah is a happening thing, which fulfills all the longings of the past while it breaks all of the rules of our present order. What else is there to do but to go along and wonder at it all? 

 

Simply put, the Christmas story has a backstory. Without that backstory, it is just an ahistorical myth of God bursting into human life in a weirdly sentimental way. With the backstory, it is the God who – to many folks along the way – shows up quite a bit later than anticipated. With the backstory, the decree that went out from Caesar Augustus is more than just a contextual nuisance that moves the story from wherever to Bethlehem. It is part of the history of imperial aggression to which the people of Israel were subject while striving to believe in the promises. With the backstory, Zechariah’s expression of disbelief is in tension with the larger ongoing act of faith that kept priests like him lighting the candles in the first place. How many wicks must have been burnt in hopes that God would finally redeem God’s people from their captivity! The backstory gives those who “greet the new morn” the salience of having kept watch through the many and long darks nights.  

 

And that is why Advent is important. It is not because the church calendar is sacred, old and wise though it may be. It is not because we Protestants have suffered from liturgy envy and now fully embrace all things Latinate. It is not because we liturgical folk are addicted to suffering so we make sure that Advent is to Christmas what Lent is to Easter. It is because the story of Christmas has context, a backstory of longing, anticipating, being frustrated, and struggling to hold onto a shred of faith. To hear the second chapter of Luke well, one must read the first chapter of Luke and get with the flow. Or, to put it another way, to celebrate the red and green of the season, one must hold the purple for a while. The crèche must have an empty manger for a while. The songs must be anticipatory rather than declaratory for a while. That is how the story is given, so that is how it should be read, told, and lived. Even if the speakers in the malls are singing “Joy to the World” the day after Thanksgiving. 

On Preaching, pt.2

 Last week I said that I think the purpose of preaching is more about being than doing, more about identity than activity, more about “Who we are” than “What do we do now?” I think that’s an important distinction and I want to explain it. I also think it’s a fine distinction, because ‘doing’ and ‘being’ are so closely intertwined at every step. I need to repeat from last week that I’m not advocating quietism, a kind of ‘do nothing’ or ‘it doesn’t matter’ attitude. Part of who we’re called to be are those who do justice, practice compassion, visit the sick, pray for one another, and so forth. Sometimes our ‘doing’ shapes our ‘being,’ and our practices form our identity. It seems to me, however, that when doing flows from being, when identity leads to action, we are on better footing as children of God and disciples of Christ. Otherwise, I think we end up trying to earn our way into God’s favor by proving our worth, which leads to all manner of frustrations and problems. 

 

Let me illustrate with this: I have a friend from the past who recently started posting very strong messages on Facebook, like “What will it take for us to refuse to take it anymore?” and “When they come after our children, that’s when we act!” One might think she’s a mother of a trans child in Florida and think, “You go, sistah!” But she’s not. Her cisgender straight kids are grown. Nobody’s coming after them. Her posts indicate that she’s believes that if her public library has a story about a kid with two moms then it’s out to indoctrinate all the children of the world to be queer. So, she’s resisting it and waging holy war in Christian language. To be fair, I have another friend who takes the same tactics – sometimes almost word for word – to declare his determination to defend his gay son, so this is not something that is only found on one side or the other of our political spectrum.

 

I’ve never been sure how best to respond to holy warriors, especially those whom I have known and loved for many years. My first inclination – not a good one, I don’t think – is to joust word for word, perhaps even with snarky responses, which is the kind of damaging communication that gives social media a bad name. A better response, I think, would be to hug her/him/them and assure them that they are loved by God beyond their wildest imagination. And that this same God loves their children with that same kind of unimaginable love. And that nothing they say, do, or leave unsaid or undone will erase that love. They are beloved children of God, regardless of how they do or do not engage in this cultural conflict. 

 

I know, I know, we might be thinking, “Aw, that’s sweet. Why don’t you just sing Kum by yah” and see if the world sprouts flowers?” But let’s give it a second. What if my friend were convinced that she’s accepted and loved as she is – along with her cisgender straight kids, and the trans kid in Florida, and the kid with two moms, and the two moms and the gay kid whose dad wants to take her on? And what if she were convinced that she is loved because that’s simply how God is with us? What if she doesn’t have to prove her commitment by becoming God’s warrior, but gets to live her life and behold other people’s lives with the assurance that when we say “God is love,” we are also saying, “We are loved” and we are saying “They are loved”?  In some ways, this is the issue behind the old Reformation argument that we are “saved by grace through faith” rather than by “works righteousness.” Sure, we are called to “do” things. But we are called to “do” by the God who always already loves us for no good reason at all. And if that’s who God is, then God loves even those with whom we differ strongly with that same kind of inexplicable love. Our identity is important because it is grounded in who God is. We are loved because God is love.  

 

I suppose I’m going on and on about this because I cannot help but believe that a proper sense of who we are, grounded in a proper sense of who God is, changes everything. Our opposition does not have to be scorched earth, holy war on those who differ from us. And I’m trying to learn this lesson as much as anyone, believe me. The powerful part of leaning into our identity as beloved children of God is that it is animated by the hope that good overcomes evil and love overcomes hate. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

On Preaching

 For this week and next, I want to reflect a bit on the purpose and intent of preaching. I realize this is not something normal people think about often. Preaching is more or less part of what we have grown accustomed to expecting when we participate in worship. Even us preachers don’t give the purpose and intent of preaching that much thought, because we’re typically focused on weekly productivity. That said, here are some of my thoughts on it and I hope they make some sense. My thoughts are not terribly systematic, because I, too, spend less time engaging in homiletical naval-gazing and more time preparing for preaching most weeks. 

 

First, preaching is not a matter of going on and on about pet peeves. The process of preaching is a disciplinedone, trying to hear the Word of the Lord as it is presented in the ancient Scriptures in order to proclaim the Word of the Lord in our present world. 

 

Second, the key connection between the ancient Scriptures and the current world is not the preacher’s cleverness or great books, but the salvific presence of God that permeates all time. What God was doing to conquer sin and save human life back then is important because God is present in our own world of sin, injustice, hatred. It’s the saving God that we’re endeavoring to hear in the ancient texts, because it’s the saving God we’re endeavoring to serve today. 

 

At the same time, we all have pet peeves. We all have deep convictions. Both the peeves and convictions come into play in how we hear the text, how we see them applying to the world, and how we feel called to proclaim them today. Most of the tools of discipline that preachers follow – translation, interpretation, commentaries, and like – are intended to help us distinguish between the peeves that come and go and those convictions that sustain us as God’s people. 

 

One place where I often differ with my preaching colleagues is in the relationship between the preacher and the congregation. Simply put, I always contend that we’re on the same team. Sometimes when preachers gather, we get our one and only chance to name some of the frustrations that come with preaching out loud. Often it comes out as “us against them” where the preacher is the one who is not mired in the past or hostile to the sharp edges of the gospel, trying valiantly to drag along the recalcitrant congregation. That’s especially how preaching is described when someone uses the adjective prophetic preaching. I heard someone say recently, “If they ain’t mad, you ain’t preaching.” That’s where I step off. 

 

The frustration of preaching is real, but it’s not the frustration of the preacher being ‘all in’ while the congregation is dragging its feet. None of us lives into the sharper edges of justice, compassion, loving enemies, giving away our possessions, befriending the prisoner, or proclaiming jubilee as we ought. Preacher, listener, faithful, unfaithful – it doesn’t matter, the call of the gospel is a call to take up our cross and none of us finds that degree of self-denying commitment to be easy. In fact, I know that every week I face people who are more ‘all in’ than I am, people who have climbed mountains I can only imagine, people whose act of getting out of bed in the morning takes more courage than I have ever had to exercise. The gospel is easy for none of us, but embraces all of us. That’s the frustration and joy of it. But it’s always “us.” 

 

Finally, let me say something, about which I may completely wrong. I don’t think the primary purpose of preaching is to fire up people to go out and do something. I think proclaiming the gospel is more about beingthan doing, identity than activity. I think the question is less, “What do we do now?” than “Who are we?” I’m not saying I believe we do nothing. Part, but only part,  of the answer to the question “Who are we?” is that we are those who are called to do justice. Doing is a responsive act, an ‘in the moment’ act, the specifics of which change over time and context. Identity, however, is something that stays with us, even as the context around us changes. That’s what I want to reflect on with you next week. 

 

In the meantime, I am honored to be,

Mark of St. Mark

Migration Stories (again)

 Migration Stories (again) 

 

We continue exploring Migration Stories in Genesis for the month of July. This weekend we will fast-forward a few chapters, so before we move ahead, let’s circle back and remember where we have been. In our first story (Genesis 12:1-9), God called Abram to “Go,” but it was more of a “Go from …” than “Go to …” since the destination is vaguely, “to the place where I will show you.” In other words, Abram was commanded to leave behind everything that gave him identity and security – his country, his kindred, and his father’s house. It is important to remember that not every migration story begins with a catastrophe or crisis. This one began with a call. The second story (Genesis 12:10-20) was initiated by a famine. This is one of the most common causes of migration, especially mass migration, throughout human history (and a recurring cause in the Scriptures). This part of the story puts Abram and Sarai in solidarity with so many people in the world today and – I suspect – even more people tomorrow who will be driven by changing climates. 

 

The third story (Genesis 13), which we heard last week, was not driven by deprivation, such as a famine, but by surplus. Abram was very rich; Lot was also wealthy. Their herders began to compete for watering or grazing resources. This, too, was a migration story that was not driven by despair or tragedy, but by wealth with a threatening tone of violence. The story has a moment of tension that is quite common: When Abram’s and Lot’s herders began jostling over water and grazing, the moment was fraught with the potential for violence. 

 

I think one of the best analyses of a moment like this, when communities begin to compete over resources, is a book from 1986 by Andrew Bard Schmookler entitled, The Parable of the Tribes. It is a long and detailed book, but it begins with a profound “parable” of some tribes, living in close proximity and how when one of those tribes decides to respond to the anxieties of limited resources by pursuing the path of violence, the other tribes have no choice but to submit, flee, or imitate the aggressive tribe. Schmookler then analyses much of human history through this lens of the parable, along with theories about war, economics, nationhood, colonialization, and other ways of interpreting history. The story of Abram and Lot threatens to reach that point: Their herders are on the verge of aggression and violence. And that is where Abram’s story takes a dramatic turn from much of history and from much of human tendency. Abram – who is the wealthier, the elder, and therefore in the position of greater power – reaches out with generosity. Abram believed in God’s promises to take care of him, and therefore he was able to respond to the common human anxiety about limited resources with generosity. 

 

I think this connection between faith in God’s provision and generosity can help us stipulate a difference between ‘wealth’ and ‘abundance.’ Wealth – as I am using it here – becomes concerned about protecting itself, increasing itself, and establishing itself as security. The parable in Luke 12:16-21 is a moment when Jesus addresses this kind of wealth-dependency thinking. What it leaves out of the equation is the God who gives life. Abundance – as I am using it here – looks like wealth in many ways. Abram had cattle, herds, servants, gold, and silver after all. But Abram’s trust was in God’s provision and therefore he was able to be generous, offering Lot his first choice of where to settle and make his way. In many ways, wealth has a way of taking hold of us, where abundance is a gift that we can share. 

 

I am trying to hear these stories as a way of structuring my own life – my anxieties, my investments, my giving, my spending, my dreams, and so forth. For now, despite all his flaws elsewhere, that ability of Abram to be generous when the human tendency is to be anxious is something that I am carrying around in my heart. Is my trust in God enabling me to be non-anxious and generous? Is yours? How can we lean in together with one another, recognizing that we often have legitimate worries, but always have a compassionate and abundant God who cares for us? That’s what I am finding profound about this third story in the Abram saga. 

 

This weekend we are moving ahead in our Migration stories. I hope to see you in worship! And please keep our youth in your prayers as they leave for Montreat today. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

The Grace of Doing Nothing

 The Grace of Doing Nothing 

Exodus 3:1-5; Luke 10:38-42

July 16^th/17^th 2022

St. Mark Presbyterian Church

D. Mark Davis

 

So, about six weeks into my sabbatical I started wondering, “What will be the Scripture text when I return?” I had decided ahead of time to follow the Common Lectionary for Worship, so that I could know what was coming and that Ryan and Alicia could plan ahead with me having to supply them with a sermon series or something of our own creation. It just seemed simpler to say, “When I get back we’ll follow the lectionary for a while, until we decide to do something else.” So, I looked it up and “Lo and Behold!” it was a story about a woman who gets criticized for not doing anything. One sister is working furiously and the other is just sitting there soaking it all in and the busy bee complains to Jesus about the sitter and Jesus actually sides with the one who is not working. THAT WOULD BE A PERFECT TEXT WHEN COMING BACK FROM A SABBATICAL, ESPECIALLY IF THERE ARE FOLKS OUT THERE WHO HAVE BEEN COMPLAINING, “WHY DOES HE GET TO DO NOTHING; I DON’T GET TO DO NOTHING!” The problem is nobody around here has been making that complaint – at least not out loud. On the contrary, you all have been incredibly supportive and encouraging to me throughout this time of being away, even if my absence did put some more work on some of your shoulders. So, we have this story and we do not need to use it as a bludgeon against those who are suspect of people who aren’t working hard enough. 

 

In fact, I want to begin by being sympathetic to Martha, the busy bee sister in this story, whose complaint to Jesus seems to get shot down in the end. It is true that Martha’s complaint about Mary is not sustained in this story – I’ve always felt that if we don’t like the way a story goes then we need to go find ourselves another story. But even so, that doesn’t mean that Martha is an awful person or being totally unreasonable. In fact, we can make the case that Martha is being exactly the kind of disciple that Jesus is calling, one who sets aside their own self-interest and looks to the needs of others. Look at the way that Martha welcomes Jesus into her home. The word that Luke uses here for “welcome” is used 3 other times in the New Testament, each one as an example of someone doing the right thing. And, frankly, Jesus needs to eat at some point. He may be the son of God but he’s the son of God in human flesh and humans need food to keep living. And Jesus has an entourage, so it’s not just a matter of adding a bit of water to the soup. Hospitality is a very important and central value in the Scriptures, so to the extent that Martha is offering hospitality to Jesus and his crew, she is doing the right and just thing. So, let’s start there. It’s not that “doing” is a problem or that having a servant’s heart is wrong. 

So, then, what is the problem? Luke uses a word that our version of the bible translates as “distracted.” That’s a fine translation, but the root of the word, “spao” is the word from which we get our words “spasm” and “spastic.” So, the issue here is not that Martha is doing something, that she’s serving, that she’s ensuring that the food gets from the pot to the bowls, that the drinks get from the pitcher into the cup, that everyone has what they need. The problem is that it’s all one big, giant tangled ball of need and frenzy and it causes Martha not only to serve but to lash out at the one whom she feels isn’t pulling her weight. We recognize that this is all set within a patriarchal setting and Martha doesn’t ask Jesus to tell Simon or Bartholomew to get up and shake a leg. But she does lash out at her sister and tries to get Jesus to join her, to make it a righteous indignation, not a matter of spastic frenzy. And that is not the kind of service that Jesus is willing to defend.  

 

Back in 1934, when Japan invaded Manchuria, there were a lot of folks in Europe and in the US, remembering the awful events of the First World War who began rattling their sabers and demanding military intervention to stop the aggression. And that is when Richard Niebuhr, an excellent theologian and ethicist, published an article in The Christian Century entitled, “The Grace of Doing Nothing.” Niebuhr was not arguing for quietism generally or passivity in times of trouble. He was addressing a specific moment that he put this way, “We are chafing at the bit, we are eager to do something constructive; but there is nothing constructive, it seems, that we can do.” Niebuhr said that I moments like this, “The problem we face is often that of choice between various kinds of inactivity rather than of choice between action and inaction.” 

 

There are different ways of “doing nothing.” There is laziness; there is fear; there is apathy; there is a lack of intervention because it doesn’t serve our own self-interest; there is a jaded way of hoping that the system will destroy itself in order to start anew. What Niebuhr was arguing for, in a situation where there was nothing constructive that could be done, was a kind of inactivity that “appears to be highly impracticable because it rests on the well-nigh-obsolete faith that there is a God—a real God.” For all of the language that we cultivate in church there is still a very deep skepticism even among Christian people that, when it comes to serious events of justice in the world, there is a God – a real God – who is active in history. This kind of faithful “doing nothing” is grounded in the self-awareness of our own faults, that whenever we intervene and act we are just as likely to make matters worse as to make matters right. So, this kind of “doing nothing” is grounded in repentance. Perhaps what is driving Niebuhr at this point is the observation that John Calvin made that the more we see God’s glory the more we can see human frailty. This kind of inactivity is not about being superior to others, but being aware of the God in the midst of it all.

 

In our story, Martha is serving and serving others is a manifestly Christian activity. But, spastic frenzy is a different matter. It is possible to be so attentive to getting the food from the pot to the bowls, the drinks from the pitcher into the cup, to stopping human trafficking, to curbing climate change, to enacting gun control, to giving women their right over what happens inside of their own bodies, to housing those who are without a home, to justice for the oppressed, to reversing the history of racism, to fixing all that is broken that we can overlook the presence of Christ, right here in our midst. That may be one reason why many people of faith – especially those of us who consider ourselves progressives, fighting for justice in the world – are often impatient with worship. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, to God be the glory, now let’s get moving!” 

 

Mary shows us another means of being faithful, which Jesus says is her way of choosing the good part. She is sitting at Jesus’ feet – not the place of someone in charge of things. And unlike Martha, whom Jesus says is anxious and perturbed about many things, she is focused on one thing –hearing Jesus’ word. And there are times that even in the midst of many things that need doing, even in the moment when we know that something must be done, even when the injustices of the world seem to be piling up one on top of the other bring us to a frenzied state of trying to fix everything all at once – there are times when grace lies in doing nothing, just sitting and listening to the word of the Lord. 

 

I am being very careful to say “there are times.” I cannot imagine that Mary’s inactivity is the only way of being faithful and we will hear another story next week that makes that very clear. In fact, one month after Richard Niebuhr published his essay entitled, “The Grace of Doing Nothing,” his brother Reinhold Niebuhr published a furious rebuttal entitled, “Must We Do Nothing?” We will hear Reinhold’s approach to the matter – much in line with Martha in our story – next week. But, today, I invite you to give Mary her moment and consider that even when, perhaps especially when, we feel the need to fix everything everywhere all at once, there is a peculiar grace of doing nothing that is grounded in trusting the God in our midst.