Saturday, August 24, 2013

[Pentecost+13] "to love another person is to see the face of God"

When the Daughter of Eve comes in her glory, and all the angels with her, then she will sit on the throne of her glory. All the nations will be gathered before her, and she will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and she will put the sheep at her left hand and the goats at the right.

Then the queen will say to those at her left hand, "Come, you that are blessed by my Mother, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me."

Then the righteous will answer her, "Lady, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?"

And the queen will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."

Then she will say to those at her right hand, "You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and her angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me."

Then they also will answer, "Lady, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?"

Then she will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."

And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.

Matthew 25:31-46 (NRSV, alt.)

What did reading this passage bring up for you?

At Bible study on Tuesday, Jamie* said she hadn't necessarily expected my re-gendering** the passage to have much of an impact, but that in listening to it, she was reminded of the many attacks on women's bodies recently -- restrictive and invasive abortion laws, etc. (It occurred to me later that of course "women's bodies" is something of a misnomer in this case, as not everyone who needs access to safe abortions or has other concerns relating to having a vagina/uterus identifies as a woman.)

* nota bene: In the interest of maintaining a safe space for participants, when blogging I won't attach names to any comments shared during Bible study without explicit permission.

** I also swapped left and right in the passage (see discussion of "sinister").

I was (am) really interested in the project of representing Jesus in genders other than the one we usually think of Jesus has having, but I was very much thinking of the enthroned Jesus (see my Rule63!Jesus Pinterest board) -- which probably says more about me than anything else.

I said in my invitational email that many of us hearing this passage last Sunday were relatively comfortable people, for whom Jesus' position among those in need of clothing, shelter, food, medical care, and/or companionship in prison, puts Jesus amidst those who are NOT like us.

I think expanding the imagery we have of Jesus can be one step along enabling us to recognize Jesus in unexpected places. (Which is one ground from which I can defend my Rule 63 project -- not that I need to defend it; and really, the Jesus who walked the Earth likely didn't look the way you imagine Jesus either. On the topic of seeing people in ways we might not usually, at Bible study on Tuesday, Jamie mentioned the recent Huffington Post article on Nir Arieli's portrait series "Men," which places men in traditionally feminine spaces and postures -- if you'd like to experiment further with ways to image Jesus.)

Patheos blogger Carl Gregg says:

Jesus seems to be promising — to those of us born centuries too late to meet the historical Jesus in person — that the closest we can come to a transformative face-to-face encounter with Jesus is to aid and be fully present to poor and marginalized.
Let's say that again -- the closest we can come to a transformative face-to-face encounter with Jesus is to aid and be fully present to the poor and marginalized.

It was not unintentional that my Rule63!Jesi are women of color. If I'd been really thinking this through, I might have curated a collection of trans women of color. Our activism often fails to be intersectional -- see for example "Why Feminists Should Care About the Baby Veronica Case" -- and I want to really expand our definition of the places where Jesus dwells and to be attentive to them.

This morning, I ReTweeted Laverne Cox, trans woman of color and actress on the Netflix series Orange is the New Black, quoting Cornel West's "Justice is what love looks like out in public" and asking, "Can we extend the empathy we have for the women of [Orange is the New Black] to real folks in prison"

One of the commentaries I looked at (Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible, from the early 1700s) when I prepped for Bible study when we had this passage in June notes:

[Jesus] doth not say, "I was hungry and thirsty, for you took my meat and drink from me; I was a stranger, for you banished me; naked, for you stripped me; in prison, for you laid me there:" but, "When I was in these distresses, you were so selfish, so taken up with your own ease and pleasure, made so much of your labour, and were so loth to part with your money, that you did not minister as you might have done to my relief and succour. You were like those epicures that were at ease in Zion, and were not grieved for the affliction of Joseph," Amos vi. 4-6.
There is psychological research that we think of sins of omission as being less bad than sins of commission, but clearly Jesus disagrees. We may feel better about ourselves that we are merely complicit in systems of oppression rather than actively and maliciously working to oppress people, but Jesus says, "If you see members of my family -- and that's everyone, btw -- suffering and you don't do anything about it, it's as if you turned away from me personally and left me to suffer and die."

That Jesus Christ loves us so much that when we suffer, Jesus suffers as if She were the one hungry/thirsty/cold/imprisoned/starving/beaten/abused/trafficked/deported, is really touching to me. But it's also frightening when extended to the rest of the human race -- to know that when we are complicit in the abuse of oppression of other people, we are complicit in the abuse of the Body of Christ.

If we believe Jesus when Jesus says, "Whatever you did (not do) for the least of these, you did (not do) for me," then we need to really see Jesus in the people we encounter.

When we talked about this passage in Bible study in late June, we talked about the issue of how to deal with people who ask us for money on the street (a topic which had come up in Bible study for a number of weeks -- clearly pressing on us in our urban context).

What about when someone asks you for money for bus fare and you give them the money you were planning to use to buy yourself breakfast and they walk across the street and buy cigarettes?

What about when a charmer jokes with you and you give him some food and then an aggressive woman comes up to you and demands to be given something, too?

Do we excuse this by saying that if it were truly Jesus, He (She) (Ze) would budget wisely and use the money to buy optimally nutritious food? (And certainly wouldn't ask for money under false pretenses!)

Do we insist that while Jesus was sometimes obnoxious, Jesus would never be THAT bad?

I'm certainly not saying that all behavior is of God, but if we use these excuses to distance ourselves from this passage, to say that THESE people are not Christ, we are denying the reality each of them is a beloved child of God, a vulnerable and hurting soul whom God loves just as much as Ze loves each one of us.

Back in January 2011, Molly made a blog post titled "Your Victory is My Victory." In it, she talked about (among other things) panhandlers, and I think of the comment thread she and I had on that post as the beginning of my custom of giving money to panhandlers I pass (though now that I'm bicycling as my primary mode of transportation, I've gotten out of the habit of carrying small bills on me for that purpose).

Molly said:

I remember a talk I had with Mary Luti, one of my mentors in ministry who I adore--she said we basically get off our spiritual high horse when it comes to panhandlers--consider that yes, while they might go by mouthwash or booze or drugs with 'our' funds, they might also be buying flowers or going to the movies; that these are the privileges that make us feel beautiful, autonomous, human again.

[That comment thread also includes the idea that the money isn't ours to begin with -- it's God's, we're just stewards (similar to the "We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children" quotation attributed to Chief Seattle).]

One of the commentaries I read (B.W. Johnson in 1891) in preparing for Bible study in June quotes Chrysostom:

[Jesus] said not I was sick and ye healed me; or in prison and ye set me free; but ye visited me and came unto me.
We are not asked to do more than we are able.

However, Johnson goes on to remind us that, "A real, personal service of Christ is implied, one involving some sacrifice of ease, time and property."

I mentioned in June that Molly's telling of the story of the Tinker King seemed fitting since this passage is usually read on Christ the King Sunday (at least in Year A) -- the last Sunday before Advent, as our Christian liturgical year ends and we begin the season of actively anticipating the inbreaking of God's Incarnation... of the God who created all that is, taking on this sack of flesh and dwelling amongst us in dirt and blood.

In the Tinker King sermon, Molly asked how we think we could recognize Jesus.

One blogger/preacher, offering Comrade as an alternative image to Christ the King, said:

So as this Christian year ends, excuse me if I don't get too excited about your Imperial Christ the King, I am only four Advent weeks away from the Crib and I can smell the straw and the dung. That's where my Comrade calls me to be.
Carl Gregg says, "The day-to-day practice of compassion and of love toward your neighbors (all your neighbors!) is much more important and difficult than simply believing a creed or a set of doctrines."

He tells a parable he has seen in various forms, about a dying monastery. The abbot visits a hermit for advice and the hermit says, "I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you." The story concludes:

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off, off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the hermit’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

Perhaps even if you can't care for those on the streets and in prisons, you can care just a little more for your family, friends, coworkers, parishioners, and yourself.

I challenge you this week to recognize Jesus in each and every person you encounter -- including yourself.

***

And as always, you're invited to continue the conversation in the comments (anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer).

Friday, August 16, 2013

[Pentecost+12] and the Word became flesh (and dwelt among us)

The sayings of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings that are given by one shepherd. Of anything beyond these, my child, beware. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.

Ecclesiastes 12:11-12 (NRSV)

Someone pointed out that the author here doesn't warn that all this saying and thinking and studying &c. leads to a weariness of the mind but rather to a weariness of the flesh.

We talked about a potential interpretation that we can't spend all of our time thinking and studying -- we have to actually live it out in action. We are embodied creatures who live in the world.

We also talked about the idea that one can't be a Christian in isolation -- it requires being in community.

On Sunday, Jeff M. [sermon link] introduced the metaphor of climbing the "Jesus Tree" -- he talked about the naturalist John Muir who, in the midst of a fierce snowstorm, climbed a tall tree, bringing his scientist, storyteller, and mystic selves all to the experience; and how, similarly, we bring all of who we are to our journey of faith.

We talked about the fact that each of us needs to climb the tree ourselves ("nobody else, can climb it for me..." /sings) but that we can still support each other in that journey.

+

A number of people were really intrigued by the unusual word "goad."

I'm unused to it as a noun, but familiar with it as a verb, so I admitted to not having looked up a definition as part of my facilitator prep. Someone else had looked it up, and apparently it was a pointed stick used to spur or guide livestock.

Someone else talked about their experience working on a farm, herding sheep. Apparently sheep are really stupid -- they'll run uphill into the rocky mountains, for hazelnuts which aren't there, as the humans try to lure them (with food!) to safe home. A mob mentality takes over. Does this sound familiar? Not really how we'd like to imagine ourselves.

I've heard various sermons about how sheep (much like the disciples are often portrayed as) are very un-intelligent animals, but hearing this first-hand account brought it home for me in a way that previous talks hadn't.

(Goats, in contrast, are apparently devious. Very smart. Unlike sheep, who arguably have mud for brains.)

Someone else pointed out that for the people whose livelihoods depend on them, animals are really important -- for example, if a calf were born prematurely and it was too cold out, farmers would literally bring it into their own house and warm it up in the bathtub.

Talking about sheep, we raised the idea that maybe goads were necessary -- that if the sheep won't respond to any positive directing, maybe this is your only option.

Someone said, "I hope it doesn't work like that for humans." My immediate thought was that I know some people for whom that would be appealing ("thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me"), and I could give you a reading list from Patrick Cheng's Radical Love: An Introduction to Queer Theology on sacramental BDSM (and/or BDSM readings of Biblical texts) -- but I'll leave that aside for the time being.

I've been doing a "chronological" read-through of the New Testament with a friend of mine, and in Acts 26:14, Paul, in telling the story of his conversion, relates:

When we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It hurts you to kick against the goads."
I was reminded of the line from Johnny Cash's "The Man Comes Around" -- "It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks" and the Internet says yes, it's just a translational difference (goads=pricks).

Someone on Yahoo!Answers talked about it in reference to oxen who are used to till the soil -- "if the ox refused the command indicated by the farmer, the goad would be used to jab or prick the ox. Sometimes the ox would refuse this incentive by kicking out at the prick. As result, the prick would be driven deeper into the flesh of the rebellious animal. The more the animal rebelled, the more the animal suffered."

We touched on this idea at Bible study -- that maybe part of why the correction is painful is because we're resisting it.

Wikipedia cites Nancy M. P. Tischler and Ellen J. McHenry's 2006 All Things in the Bible: An Encyclopedia of the Biblical World:

The image of prodding the reluctant or lazy creature made this a useful metaphor for sharp urging, such as the prick of conscience, the nagging of a mate, or the "words of the wise," which are "firmly embedded nails" in human minds (Eccles. 12:11-12).
People who have shaped my thinking on things, I will often comment that I have a little them in my brain -- reminding me of perspectives that I don't necessarily share but which I know are held with deep conviction and passion by people I care about. The idea of teachings (whether from our inherited Scriptures or elsewhere) functioning in this way is appealing to me.
But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.

John 21:25 (NRSV)

Earlier, John said, "Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of [the] disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the [Child] of God, and that through believing you may have life in [Jesus'] name" (John 20:30-31).

Is the point that this is all we need? That we don't need a complete record of Jesus' every saying and doing? (though if anyone wants to create variations on "Google Exodus: What if Moses had Facebook?" I support you)

Would John then dismiss the synoptic gospels as superfluous -- arguing that he had written down all that was necessary for life in Christ? Where do we draw the line?

On Sunday, someone commented about the Ecclesiastes passage, emphasizing the "ONE shepherd" -- implying that receiving a consistent message is useful, versus a cacophony of conflicting messages.

This interpretation is at first pass appealing, but I don't think the idea that there is a consistent message from a single voice holds up when it comes to the actual Bible -- and I don't mean the false dichotomy between the "vengeful" God of the Tanakh vs. the "merciful" God of the New Testament, or the "gotcha" discrepancies of, e.g., apparently conflicting accounts of the same story.

The Scriptures are a record of people over hundreds of years struggling to understand and draw close to the Divine; we know even within our own communities people differ greatly on these issues, so it may be no surprise that the Biblical writers also express a variety of views (sometimes even within the same author or character).

Can this multiplicity help rather than hinder our wisdom?

Even Jesus gets schooled -- the Syrophoenician woman (Mark 7:25-30/Matthew 15:22-28) asks for healing for her daughter, and Jesus basically says, "I didn't come for your people," and she argues back and Jesus concedes.

If even Jesus could learn and grow from outside(r) perspectives, certainly so can we.

Jesus often taught, "You have heard it said... but I say to you..." The Word of God is always being made new -- to be understood anew in each changing context.

So, to close with the last issue we raised at Bible study: How much do we need to be authentic to the "original" text?

I definitely think there's value in examining the specific language in the "original" texts and what it likely meant in its particular cultural context. But I think for proclaiming the Good News, updating that language to better fit our own cultural context can often be more effective.

***

So, Beloved, feel free to share in comments (anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer) your thoughts on the questions/issues raised above -- on sheep/discipline as metaphors, on embodiment and community as elements of the Christian life, on multiplicities of stories and perspectives ... or anything else these readings/conversations brought up for you.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

[Pentecost+11] "And the Spirit immediately drove [person] out into the wilderness."

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with [Christ] in glory.

Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry). On account of these the wrath of God is coming on those who are disobedient. These are the ways you also once followed, when you were living that life.

But now you must get rid of all such things—anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator. In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!

Colossians 3:1-11 (NRSV)

At Bible study this Tuesday, one participant commented that this list was all about ridding ourselves of things -- rather than a list of things to do. The Epistle does continue in the next paragraph [Colossians 3:12-17] with a list of what we are TO clothe ourselves in, but it remains an interesting point.

In order to let new things in (and as Emily P. said in her liturgy, when nothing new can come in, that's death), we need to make space for them. And as Molly said in her sermon [link], that can sometimes feel like dying. At Bible study, people used the metaphors of a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon or a snake molting. Someone also used the gardening analogy -- you need to rip up all the weeds before you can plant. We also noted that a garden needs regular weeding -- you can't just stop after you've initially prepped the soil and planted what you want to grow there.

One of Paul's major themes is being a new creation in Christ, and he very emphatically uses the language that in that we have died to our old selves -- but even he acknowledges that sin still has power over us. Being reborn in Christ is not the end of the journey.

Paul had a radical, transformative, life-changing experience of Christ, but even he says, "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. [...] I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do" (Romans 7:15, 19).

*

Someone commented on the Colossians passage that it's a lot about intention.

I shy away from that framing (the reminder that "Intent Is Not Magic" comes up a lot in social justice circles), but it's clear that the Biblical witness is concerned with our hearts and not just our actions.

(I might frame it more as "attitude.")

When Molly preached on Sunday about Cheryl Strayed's memoir, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, she quoted Strayed telling herself as she hiked, "Fear begets fear. Power begets power." Molly said, "She called down power from on high. [...] And she replaced her bad thoughts with better thoughts." To some extent, we do create reality by repetition.

For Christians, attitude and action need to be intimately connected. We are called to act out of love -- to *be* the Body of Christ, God incarnate in the world.

I commented that the exhortation in Colossians seems to be grounded in being in relationship (Christianity is something done in community).

In our conversations at Bible study about dying to old life, one person talked about people who leave abusive relationships -- and how important it is to have external support, to have somewhere to go.

As Christians, we are called not just to new life in ourselves but also to support our siblings and kindred in their journeys.

In "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," Martin Luther King Jr. wrote, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."

No one is free until all of us are free.

*

And the Spirit immediately drove [Jesus] out into the wilderness. [Jesus] was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and [Jesus] was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on [Jesus].

Mark 1:12-13 (NRSV, alt.)

Molly told us on Sunday that Cheryl Strayed didn't go [hike the Pacific Crest Trail, alone and inexperienced] because she was brave, she went because she was afraid -- and she wanted to stop being afraid. Molly talked about Jesus' time in the wilderness preparing Jesus for the public ministry and mission which was to come (a mission of itinerant preaching and teaching and healing, constantly sought after by people in need, frequently misunderstood by closest companions -- and eventually betrayed by one and abandoned by many, brutally murdered for threatening the Powers of this world).

A wilderness experience can strip away a lot from us, but it can also strengthen and renew us -- like a refiner's fire.

Paul says, "Set your minds on things that are above," and I'm uncomfortable with the "above" language (God is both transcendent AND immanent), so I might rephrase it as, "Set your mind on things that are of God."

It is sometimes in the very incarnational experience of the wilderness that we find that we are able to ground or root ourselves in God -- and here we are back to the gardening metaphor. (And how much do I want to invoke Paul Tillich's "the Ground of Being"?)

Irenaeus said, "The glory of God is [a human being] fully alive." How can we become fully alive to who God desires us to be?

*

I invite your thoughts on these or other questions -- feel free to comment anonymously or pseudonymously if you prefer.

*

I'll also reiterate/refine the questions I asked in my invitation email:

  • What does it mean to be driven by the Spirit into a wilderness place?
  • What does it mean to die to the things the writer to the Colossians lists?
  • What does it mean to be made new in Christ?
  • Are there places in your life where you feel trapped by fear (or other things)?
  • Are there places you feel God is calling you but feel afraid to move into?
  • What would you need in order to "feel the fear and do it anyway"?

Thursday, August 1, 2013

[Pentecost+10] The Blessing of the Animals

"But ask the animals, and they will teach you;
      the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you;
      and the fish of the sea will declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
      that the hand of God has done this?
In God’s hand is the life of every living thing
      and the breath of every human being.

-Job 12:7-10 (NRSV, alt.)

Last week, a friend of mine asked whence comes the tradition of the Blessing of the Animals service. Rev. Jeff's answer was in honor of St. Francis of Assisi. I didn't find this a super-helpful answer, though the context was somewhat helpful.

There was also the question of what it means to bless animals, and in reflecting on this I remembered Barbara Brown Taylor's book, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (summer reading sermon series 2010!), in which she says that blessing does not BESTOW but RECOGNIZES that which is already present. In her chapter on Blessing (Chapter 12), she talks about Noticing.

In answer to the question, "Is your job to confer holiness or to recognize it?" (194) she comes down firmly on the side of the latter. It is in noticing, really noticing, things that we are able to bless them.

She says, "you come gradually to understand that the key to blessing things is knowing that "they beat you to it. The key to blessing things is to receive their blessing" (196). And this is true not only of beautiful birds of the air like swans and fish of the sea like koi but also of the skunk who had an unfortunate run-in with your pet dog and the tick you really weren't interested in bringing home with you from Wilderness Retreat.

Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, "Because God made these beings, they share in God's own holiness, whether or not they meet your minimum requirements for a blessing" (203).

I, for one, have great difficulty accepting every person I meet as a child of God, just as beloved of God as I am; so the idea of extending that grace to all of Creation seems potentially daunting. But on the other hand, there are plenty of non-human manifestations of Creation this is much easier with ;)

Barbara Brown Taylor says, "I could argue with myself on this, but I am not sure that you have to believe in God to pronounce a blessing. It may be good enough to see the thing for what it is and pronounce it good. For most of us, that is as close to God as we will ever get anyway" (199).

to see the thing for what it is and pronounce it good -- that's what God did each day of Creation, right? We know that God is still speaking, and we know that Teresa of Avila said, "Christ has no body but yours, / No hands, no feet on earth but yours, / Yours are the eyes with which [Christ] looks / Compassion on this world." Is the practice of blessing not just Not reserved solely for a select group of people, but actively something we are all called to? A practice we are given as a gift that we may draw closer to God, that we may become more Christ-like?

Barbara Brown Taylor suggests:

Practice blessing something simply because it exists alongside you and find out what your mind does with the exercise.

     Find out what the judge inside you has to say about what you are doing. Who gave you the right to call that dump blessed? Who do you think you are, anyway? Find out how much humility is required, followed by how much mercy. Where did you get the eyes to see the holiness in a dump like that? Who taught you to do that? Notice what happens inside you as the blessing goes out of you, toward something that does not deserve it, that may even repel you. If you can bless a stinking dump, surely someone can bless you.

(203)

If you can bless a stinking dump, surely someone can bless you.

In my email invitation to Bible study, I mentioned that my favorite part of the Book of Job is the creation story in Chapters 38-41.

Jean C. sent me a poem her deceased husband wrote, and it's wonderful.

In it, God's reply to Job begins, "Job, I wish / you could have seen this place / when it was new."

This is not the cranky, sassy God I usually imagine talking to Job on those chapters. This is a God who is so in love with Her Creation -- and who wants all the parts of Creation to love all the rest of it just as much as She does.

This is a God who keeps throwing parties and inviting all of Her friends and trying to make them talk to each other, because "You're awesome, and you're awesome, and so clearly you two should be friends" -- even as the friends in question awkwardly insist that they don't actually like each other all that much and they were doing just fine in opposite corners of the room.

Does the practice of the Blessing of the Animals help expand your heart's grace for all Creation? How might it feel to extend some of that grace to less easy-to-love parts of Creation, particularly people?

You're invited to share your stories in the comments (anonymously/pseudonymously if you wish) or to share other thoughts this Bible passage/Blessing of the Animals service/blogpost brought up for you.

"In God's hand is the life of every living thing / and the breath of every human being" (Job 12:10). And in the hand and breath of every human being is the life of God. May you be a blessing to all you touch, and may you find the grace to recognize the blessings you encounter on the way.