Readings: Isaiah 55:1-9, Luke 13:1-9, Secrets of Heaven #7690 (see below)
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Photo credit: Antonio Lorenzana Bermejo

Here we are, halfway through Lent, and so it is probably time for me to preach a real Lent-y sermon. I promise though, that this is about as “fire and brimstone” as I am ever going to get. Last week, in hearing the parable of the Lost Sons and the Welcoming Father, we came into an understanding of God’s steadfastness. God will always cross the threshold for us, God will always forgive us and celebrate bringing us home. This can sometimes feel like such a relief to us to know, for the weight of spiritual work can feel so heavy, so hard, and we are so fallible. We thank the Lord for such grace, for the fact of God showing up as the constant; this gives us hope. Out of the abundance of God’s mercy, love and confidence, we will get many chances to grow throughout our life. We will flail around, we will be imperfect, but together with God we will evolve.

Let us then take a deep breath, and remember that grace. For now we journey from the relief back into the tension, as reflected in the parable about the fig tree. Jesus told a story about a fig tree that was not bearing fruit, and how the owner ordered it cut down. The gardener suggested it should be left living for one more year, given time to be nurtured and supported so that it might produce. And if it should not, then it could be removed. I actually have my own beloved fig tree in my yard. There is nothing quite as good as fresh figs straight off the tree. But, Pennsylvania is not quite a mediterranean climate. Sometimes the winters have been too harsh and the branches die down to the roots. In those years, all the tree can do is just try to recover, and I too hover around wishing and waiting that it might bear some fruit, but it does not. As much as we might relate to either the owner or the gardener in the parable, we also recognize the metaphorical language that Jesus is using. The fig tree is not just a fig tree, it is representing a person; the fig tree is us. And herein lies the tension: a fruit tree is supposed to bear fruit, when it is not bearing fruit it is in denial of its truest purpose. So it is with us. What are we here for, if not to make the world a little better for us having lived. “Why should we use up the soil?” Swedenborg tells us that the whole of heaven, the whole of creation, rests on mutual love as its foundation (1). There is no other purpose for the universe.

And so the mercy and grace of God’s relationship with us is balanced with the urgency of action (2). Yes, we as the fig tree are always given another chance, given what we need in order to thrive, taken care of by God. God will pick up that shovel, dig that trench, fill it with manure, God will prune and hover and hope. But the choice is ours whether or not to act for the good of those around us. There is a tension between the fluidity of grace and the necessity of action. This is the real world. We don’t always have all the time we need. We won’t always get all the chances we want. We won’t always be ready when the time calls us. Climate change is happen now, threats to our democracy are happening now, ongoing systemic racism affects actual livelihoods now, unfair healthcare systems cost lives in the here and now. Our personal relationships won’t always be able to withstand laziness or neglect, our bodies won’t always be healthy and/or strong. There is a time limit to our life, there are actual consequences that result from our decisions, there are stakes. It matters if we produce fruit with our lives or not.  We have been given the keys to the car. God might be a very understanding parent but it still matters if we crash it. We often give our toddlers a toy version of car keys or a cell phone but that’s not what is going on here with us. We are not in charge a pretend world but real one, with real consequences.

And that is why I think it is important for us to understand some more about what Jesus was getting at. Just before our reading for today, Jesus says in 12:54-56

“…when you see a cloud rising in the west, immediately you say “It’s going to rain,” and it does. And when the south wind blows, you say, “it’s going to be hot,” and it is. Hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky. How is it that you don’t know how to interpret this present time?”

“How is it that you don’t know how to interpret this present time?”

This question, this exasperated desperately sad and caring question, is deeply connected to the parable that follows, deeply connected to the lament of the owner “…for three years now, I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?” 

Why indeed? The presence of fruit, the fruitfulness of our actions, depends upon our ability to look around us and interpret our present time, our present moment, to look around and see what is really needed, see what we are really being called to. To perceive the brokenness of the world, to perceive the ways in which the world desperately needs God and us, the places where the kingdom needs to come(3).

And that is why we see further from our Swedenborg reading that just as a tree represents a person, a tree also represents perception. Repentance always begins with perceiving something new, and that is why in Lent we try to adhere to practices that open us up to that perceiving, whether that be making time or quiet space, clearing out our schedule or giving up distractions or dependencies. The tree represents a new perception of what our moment calls for, and this is what will cause the fruit to be produced.  A perception of what is needed giving rise to a loving action that fulfills that need. 

And so, we are each of *us* is called to interpret our present time. We are called to interpret our global time; how might we act to preserve our world for future generations? We are called to interpret our political time; how might we lift up servant leaders who value all people, not just the powerful? Who respect the rule of law, not just their own desires? We are called to interpret our cultural time; how might we resist superficial, craven, worldly values, even as we are swept up in the briskness of culture’s flow? We are called to interpret our relational time, our personal present moments; how might we show up for those we love, how might we make space for their needs, how might we give voice to our own? There are many more examples, and  our fruitfulness depends upon how we interpret and show up to each moment that we are in.

Yet, what is it that caused Jesus’ lament: How is it that we *don’t* know how to interpret our present time? What is it that prevents us? What is it that allows us to “predict the weather,” as Jesus said, to be so effective in external ways but miss the whole point, to miss what we are truly being called to in order to serve our neighbor. I get it, sometimes we legitimately just don’t know what is best for us to do. And other times, if we are honest, the answer is the same for Jesus’ time as now: varying levels of fear and self-absorption, playing out in large and small ways. (Remember, I did say this was going to be a Lent-y sermon!) 

We look out into our world, and we see multiple examples of public figures and leaders intent only on preserving power and profit. They will never truly see the import of the moment we are in, or they are in, because they cannot see past their own self-absorption. And what about us? We will find many examples in our own lives too: We might shy away from calling out racist or cruel behavior because it feels scary or exhausting to do so, we might find ourselves othering people because somehow they make us afraid of what we think we might lose, we might find ourselves descending into anger or cynicism because it feels easier or more powerful than acknowledging our sadness. We might miss a child or a friend reaching out for connection because we are preoccupied, we might avoid empathy because it feels too vulnerable, we might avoid saying what is true because are afraid we will be judged…and so it goes on in a multitude of complicated ways; we produce only leaves and God hovers, waiting and hoping for the fruit that could be.

God has planted a seed in us, given us life, nurtured us, and we have grown into beautiful trees, capable of producing our own unique fruit, something borne of our freedom of choice and the nature of God. We are accountable to God’s ends, to God’s divine love and what divine love calls us into. Of course, God would never “cut us down.” That will never ever happen. But God also knows the measure to which we will strive to stay asleep, and wishes to shake us awake. The growth of our fruit depends upon how we interpret each moment we are in. And that moment is given to us only once. By God’s grace, we will get many moments, but never one the same as the other. And so we sit in this tension; that there is grace but there is also urgency. God is patient but God is also lovingly fierce, and every moment delayed has its consequence. 

Even so, God is an attentive and loving gardener, doing everything possible to support us and help us grow. This is an equally appropriate lesson from this parable. And so, we breath into the balance. Sometimes we won’t be ready to act, and that is okay. A fig tree, such as mine, recovering from difficult winters, might not be able to bear. Sometimes we need to accept that season of rest, accept that trench of manure, so lovingly given. But a fig tree was created to grow figs, to nourish and fill bellies with sweetness and satisfaction, to give of itself something beautiful and living. God will not let us forget our nature, God will not let us forget our reason for being. God will not cease from calling us to bear sweeter fruit than we thought we could, to grow into our heavenly and angelic nature. This Lent, let us listen deeply to each moment that we are in, and respond accordingly. Amen.

(1) Secrets of Heaven 1055
(2) Elle Dowd, https://www.disruptworshipproject.com/rcl/lent-3
(3) https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1116

Readings:

Isaiah 55:1-9

1 “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. 2 Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. 3 Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David. 4 See, I have made him a witness to the peoples, a ruler and commander of the peoples. 5 Surely you will summon nations you know not, and nations you do not know will come running to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has endowed you with splendor.” 6 Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near. 7 Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will freely pardon. 8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.


Luke 13:1-9

1 Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. 2 Jesus answered, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? 3 I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. 4 Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5 I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.” 6 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. 7 So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’ 8 “ ‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’ ”


Secrets of Heaven 7690

'And all the fruit on the trees' means every recognition of good. This is clear from the meaning of 'fruit' as the works of faith or of charity, thus forms of good (which is why the expression 'being fruitful' is used in reference to good) and from the meaning of 'trees' as perceptions, and also cognitions. The reason why 'fruit' means the works of charity, and so forms of good, is that the earliest existence of a tree is the fruit containing the seed and the final stage in its development is the fruit containing the seed, the intermediate stages of its development being the branches, that is, the leaves. It is similar with the good of love and truth of faith. The good of love is the initial seed when a person is being regenerated or 'planted', and it is also the final development. The intermediate stages are the truths of faith, which grow from the good of love as their seed and look constantly to the good of love as their final objective, just as the parts of a tree that are formed at intermediate stages look to their fruit containing the seed.

Readings: Luke 15:1-2, 11-32, Secrets of Heaven #8393 (see below)
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Photo credit: Dzenina Lukac

Our gospel text today is probably the most famous and beloved parable in the New Testament. Perhaps only “The Good Samaritan” can rival it in familiarity. Given its prominence, is there anything new that we could hear about it? Well, we could start by talking about its name: The Prodigal Son. Prodigal is not a word that we use very much everyday. It means a reckless extravagance, and the prodigal nature of the younger son does drive the narrative in the beginning of the parable. But, while that son’s story is important, the father and the elder Son are equally important to the parable. So, other title suggestions that I have come across include: (slightly tongue in cheek) The Lament of the Responsible Older Child (1), or The Prodigal Son, the Waiting Father and the Elder Brother(2).

But I think that my favorite overall has to be simply “The Lost Sons and the Welcoming Father.”(3) This title lifts up each of the characters equally. We understand that each son is lost in their own way. We see that the father is living a welcoming way of life. It represents the complexity of relationships and shows that there isn’t one narrative that is better than another, recognizing the shifting points of view. 

So, why is it that we are assigned this text in Lent? On the surface it may seem obvious. In Lent, we focus on reflection and repentance, and within this story there is a fairly boilerplate picture of repentance. The younger son makes a bad decision, a disrespectful one even. To ask for his inheritance early is a slight to his father, essentially asking if he can act as if the father is already dead. One might forgive this faux pas if the son went ahead and made a good life for himself but he doesn’t — he completely squanders his inheritance. Again, he is oblivious and selfish; his inheritance represents many years of livelihood and work on the part of his father. But then, the son experiences an epiphany, a change of heart and mind. He recognizes how and why his behavior was bad and he regrets his path and choices. Now, sometimes we mistakenly think about repentance as just being sorry and this son certainly was sorry. But he also takes steps to make things right. Not entirely unselfishly we might note, he was starving after all, but in returning, he seeks to return in a way that is in keeping with his new understanding of his behavior. In his case, in recognition of the inheritance he squandered, he offers to return as a servant. This is a fairly complete version of repentance: questionable actions, followed by a change of heart and mind, an attempt to heal harm and mend relationship, and a desire to move forward in a different way.

The father is a picture of waiting, welcoming, and loving. Who is not moved by the joy with which the father welcomes his son home? It is the essence of what we all hope for, to be loved so unconditionally. But within the joy, there is un undercurrent of subversion; we recognize that the father is not “playing by the rules.” The rules would say that the younger son really does deserve to be treated as a servant. That his decisions have led to consequences, and those consequences must be borne, specifically in terms of diminished status. The son, recognizing those rules, had given up the hope of being known as a son anymore, of being beloved. The most he expected was to be tolerated. And yet, the father doesn’t even listen to what the son now thinks he deserves, and restores his position in the family. We can imagine the surprise and gratitude from the younger son, someone so recently degraded and hopeless.

But as beautiful as this all is, the story is not over yet. As helpful as it is to see repentance and forgiveness represented in this way, I believe that the elder son is also a picture that we need: a picture of someone still in process, of someone grappling with what the expansiveness of the kingdom looks like. The elder son was clearly suffering in his own way. He was working hard, head down, obedient, in his own words “slaving away” because, well, isn’t that how we become good and worthy and successful? When his brother returns to such a welcome he is resentful, bitter. Who wouldn’t be in such a situation? His complaints are understandable. We feel the depth of his hurt and consternation. How embarrassing to find out about the party from a servant! He might wonder: “Why am I working so hard if I could have just goofed off and come home and still be welcomed? What about the rules? There must be consequences or everything falls apart.” He feels that the welcome his brother has received means that nothing he himself does matters. 

While the father may not break into a run this second time, he comes out of the house to *this* son with just as much love. He tells him,“I am always with you and everything I have is yours.” We sense that perhaps the elder son does not, cannot, believe him. And now the parable turns on the elder son’s decision. To quote theologian Frederick Borsch “What had been a life-and-death situation for the younger brother has now become one for [the elder brother]—complicated by the awareness that he now must in a sense die to the self-image of one who has earned a special relationship with the father, in order to live in the relationship that is always there for him.”(4) This picture of necessary repentance is much more nuanced because perhaps we can convince ourselves that the elder brother has nothing to repent for, and yet, he hesitates to enter the party. He will not enter into joy.

As we contemplate the elder son’s decision, let us not forget the framework of this parable. At the beginning of the chapter, Jesus was eating with “tax collectors and sinners” and the Pharisees were muttering about it. “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them,” they said. Then Jesus tells two smaller parables, one about a shepherd who has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, who searches until he finds it and rejoices when he does, calling his friends and neighbors to celebrate with him. The second is about a woman with ten silver coins, who upon one again searches carefully until she finds it, calling her friends and rejoicing when she does. The context is very clear. God feels deeply the loss of connection with people, and will continue to search until that connection is restored. The fact of the loss of connection, of the “sin” that caused it, does not dissuade God from searching in the least, not for a moment. God loves fully, always. Moreover, in each case, God calls everyone to celebrate when the lost are found. For the shepherd, the woman with the coins, the welcoming father; their joy could not be contained. 

So in his context, by offering this parable when he did, Jesus was challenging the idea of a spiritual meritocracy: that we can somehow earn status with God. There is a comic strip meme that I have seen that depicts someone saying, “I wish I were worthy of love.” A genie shows up and says “Poof! It is done!” The person looks themselves over and says, “Nothing’s changed.” To which the genie says, “Correct.” There was nothing about the soul of the younger son that needed to be changed. Even in the depths of his failure, the younger son was worthy of love, a love unremittingly given by the waiting father, even in the son’s absence. What the son’s decisions did do was prevent him being able to be in relationship with his family, first through his selfishness and then his pride. What repentance did was, not make him worthy, but made him able to re-engage. Allowed him to show up to the relationship with new eyes, to recognize the harm he had done, to appreciate and appropriately steward that relationship anew. It doesn’t matter whether or not the father demanded that the son serve, but rather that the son was willing to. We see this reflected in our Swedenborg reading for today, that repentance is not about what we say, but rather what we do, how we change our life.

Even in the depths of his bitterness, the elder son is worthy of love as well. “Everything I have is yours,” says the father. That was never in doubt. The question is whether that older son can really believe that, despite the threat to his way of thinking that his brother’s return creates. His father was simply throwing a party for the younger son, making space, healing relationship. But this was interpreted by the elder son as a usurpation. The elders son’s subsequent decision, to dwell in his bitterness and fear, prevents *him* now from connecting with his family, makes *him* the one who is lost. Sometimes when we contemplate grace, God doesn’t seem fair. When we evaluate the kingdom by the world’s rules, we get resentful. In the mathematics of self-preservation, grace is ridiculous. Intent plus effort equals reward, or at least we think it should when it works for us. There is no room for grace in such an equation, no room for the complexity of privilege and systemic injustice, no room for the possibility of personal transformation over time, no room for growth and change. But just as Newtownian physics works on an earthly level but relativity reigns supreme in cosmic spaces, so too can the mathematics of striving only take us so far. God’s commitment to our ultimate well-being, and the utter expansiveness of divine love, demands a different kind of physics. It must. Yes of course, our intent and effort must be connected to our outcomes to a certain extent, or we linear human beings will be unable to find meaning in a cause and effect world, yet the moment this equation disconnects us from compassion, the moment we start to calculate what we think we deserve, the moment we demand that our diligence trumps another’s, we are outside the party. We are in hell and not in heaven. We are misunderstanding what God is about.

One of my commentaries pointed out that, “The narrative tempts us to distance the brothers from each other, to choose which is more beloved.” (5) We should resist that temptation. As much as we might resonate with one or the other, in reality we are always both. I definitely relate more to the elder brother. Work hard, play by the rules, and yes, simmer with resentment when others don’t. But that doesn’t mean that I also don’t squander valuable things that I have been given. Or, if some of you resonate more with the younger son, that doesn’t mean that you won’t sometimes also feel resentment or bitterness around feeling left out, or try to earn merit for the good things you do. We will always have work to do on both fronts.

But, we remember first and foremost that the father crosses the threshold twice (6). The first time to welcome the younger back home, the second time to invite the elder into the party. One crossing filled with joy and surprise, the other filled with pathos and pleading, but in both cases out of love. All of our experiences will be different, glory be. When the title is simply The Prodigal Son, we forget the fact that God crosses the threshold for all of us. God is always crossing the threshold. God crosses the threshold for the sinners that Jesus was eating with, and crosses the threshold for the pharisees too. Because, as much the word Prodigal can mean wasteful and reckless, but it can also mean an amazingly lavish abundance in a positive, creative sense, like the abundance of nature. So perhaps this parable can also be titled The Prodigal God…the bountiful, extravagant and generous God who is calling us home. Amen.

1. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1117
   
2. The New Interpreter’s Bible, 248
3. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1117
4. Frederick Houk Borsch, Many Things in Parables: Extravagant Stories of New Community, p44-45
5. Amanda Brobst-Renaud, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3992
6. Ibid.

Readings:

Luke 15:1-2, 11-32
1 Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. 2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 

11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. 13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. 17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. 25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ 28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’ 31 “ ‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ ”

Secrets of Heaven #8393

Repentance present on the lips but not in one's life is not repentance. Lip repentance does not cause sins to be forgiven; only repentance in life can lead to this. Being Mercy itself, the Lord is constantly forgiving a person's sins; but sins cling to a person no matter how much they suppose them to have been forgiven. Nor are they removed from him except through a life in keeping with the commandments of faith. To the extent that their life is in keeping with them their sins are removed; and to the extent that their sins are removed they have been forgiven. For a person is withheld from evil by the Lord and maintained in good; for they can be withheld from evil in the next life to the extent that during their lifetime they were resisting evil, and they can be maintained in good then to the extent that during their lifetime they were doing good out of an affection for it. From all this one may see what the forgiveness of sins is and how it arises. Anyone who supposes that there is any other way in which sins are forgiven is much mistaken.

Readings: Deuteronomy 26:1-11, Luke 4:1-13, Apocalypse Explained 865:2 (see below)
See also on Youtube
Photo by Thuan Vo
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We begin today by hearing from Deuteronomy, a section containing instructions for the ancient Israelites regarding the sacrifices of their first fruits. Now, first fruits are pretty much exactly as they sound…they are the first things to be grown agriculturally from the land in a given growing season. The first fruit sacrifice was different from tithing, which is also detailed in this chapter. Tithing was a specified amount to be given every third year, while first fruits were to be celebrated and given each year out of the abundance, tenderness, and delight of a new growing season. Both tithes and first fruits were laid upon the altar, then communally enjoyed together with the landless and the foreigner, those who had no means to grow their own crops. What seems like something that purely honors God actually gets turned around into an act of community and care for each other. 

So what might these instructions mean for us today, those of us who are not farmers, or an agrarian people? Perhaps we might make a practice of tithing financially. We can certainly also think of fruits as just about anything we produce in the world through the work of our bodies and minds, though it is definitely more nuanced to imagine how we might make an offering of our intangible “non-edible” work.

In our reading, Swedenborg invites us to explore that, just as there is the fruitfulness of our work on a natural level, there is also the fruitfulness of our work on a spiritual level. When we turn our minds away from purely natural things, and start thinking about spiritual things, we become fruitful in a different way; we yield spiritual fruits. We do this by opening our minds to larger questions: What kind of God do I believe in? What do I need to learn, or how might I need to change in order to love other people more effectively? How might I stop living selfishly, or conversely, how might I engage appropriate boundaries to allow for self-care? How might I learn the courage to stand up for others?  There are obviously many more examples of questions, as many as there are people willing to engage with them.

In the very opening of our minds to such questions, there is a goodness that is produced, that is made alive in ways that were not alive before. As these questions and their potential answers grow within us, they start to take form. We recognize what is true for us about them…we may decide we need to start listening more, we may decide we need to learn about our privilege and another’s oppression, we may choose a spiritual practice or habit…and as we live into the implications of these decisions, first fruits are born within us. Tender, green, alive, nourishing, delightful, and beautiful spiritual fruits. As we live out our life, we harvest the results of these fruits and they, thanks be to God, make for wonderful feasting.

This is the ideal template for Lent, the liturgical season that we are currently in. It is a time to focus on really becoming open to spiritual questions, of recognizing our limitations and flaws, so that we can become more open to the ways God is growing those spiritual fruits inside of us. But of course, as we attempt this, we will also bump up against the forces that prevent us from asking the necessary questions, prevent us from engaging those questions with openness.  What are these obstacles about? Why do they come up? Why are we not always naturally open? Why are we so distractible or averse to the process of self-examination? Part of it has to do with the kinds of stories that we are telling ourselves. Our ability to open up our minds and our hearts is held within the stories that we tell ourselves about God and the world and the purpose of all things.

In our gospel text for today, we hear about Jesus being tempted by the devil in the wilderness. The devil (or as we might understand that character— the forces of evil and hell) has a specific kind of story that it tells. A story that tries to close down the growing of spiritual fruits, that tries to keep our mind on things that are earthly and craven.

The first temptation is issued thus: “If you are the son of God, tell this stone to become bread.” This is not so much a taunt as it is an invitation. The “if” here is better translated as “since.”(1) “Since you are the son of God, tell this stone to become bread.” Since you have this special power, gift, vocation, position, just use it for yourself, and for your own purposes, that’s what it is for. The Devil is telling their story about reality, and inviting Jesus to take part in it. That story is: We are all just in it for ourselves.

Then the devil says: “If you worship me, all this will be yours.” This time the “if” is as it sounds: an offer. But it stands upon another false story. Who said the devil had ownership over all that stuff anyway? The devil is asking to us believe that the powers of evil and falsity have the power to give, to own, to be generative, creative and generous. Asking us to believe that the world was created by such powers, and is driven by such powers, and belongs to such powers. If you want to get anything out of this world or this life, says the devil, you’d better wise up to how things really work; that’s how you’ll get yours.

Finally, the devil says: “Since you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.” Now the devil is telling a story about our relationship with God. Truly, the devil would prefer there was no God at all, but if there must be one, the devil will cheapen our relationship with God, and cast that relationship as purely transactional. If you have any standing with God, says the devil, make sure you get some more; test God, wring as much out of God as you can, make God do things for you, again surely that’s what God is good for.

And so we are told the devil’s story: keep your eye on what you can get..out of privilege, out of the world, out of God. There is no need to trust, no need to explore, no need to engage with anything beyond that which accumulates power and status. Our fruits are our own, and must be used to make more and more external fruits. There can never be enough. This is the devil’s purpose of life.

But what was the story that the Israelites told themselves and each other in our reading today? It is a very different story. They told the story that their beginning was with someone who was lost, desperate, itinerant. Someone who found a home in a place that wasn’t their own but thrived in that place, where they were valued. That over time, challenges and oppressions arose, and they felt lost again, so they cried out and God heard them. And God brought them out of their challenges, and gave them a land and an identity that was truly their own, gave them sustenance and thriving.

And then, they weave that story into their yearly cycle, practicing remembrance of the story in each first fruit of the land. They remember how far they have come, how their challenges brought them into a place they called home, that they have a God who listens and responds.  And when they remember, they not only so to shore up their own sense of security and gratitude, they turn around are care for those within their circle who need support. They remember their own challenges, and that prompts them to be present for others. 

Two different stories. The devil’s story wants to take power and fruitfulness and increase it for personal gain. According to the devil this is what these things are for, getting more of what you want. This is the only kind of generativity the devil believes in: accumulation. Like a black hole that sucks everything toward it, even light, the devil’s story is zero sum; more for me has to equal less for everyone else. And if one is ever lowly, then the point is to become not lowly as quickly as possible, for all things must lead back to the aggrandizement of the self. Challenges and obstacles are not for deepening relationship; they are just in the way.

The story from Deuteronomy however, is much more nuanced and redemptive. It recognizes that we all experience our lowly and broken states, externally and internally, but that such states are the fertile starting point for an amazing story. We might see humble and discouraging beginnings, we might see obstacles and a winding road, but God sees a beloved people in the making. 

In this story, God is generous and we are recipients of gift-giving. God’s generativity is not about getting more but about becoming more, coming into our own identity, finding our place, our land, our ground, our space to grow. And as we grow, we alternatively expand and struggle and cry out, because this being human, this being ourselves, is difficult work. But God is listening. When we feel stuck, when we are oppressed, when we find it difficult to breathe, God works a wonder for us. God brings us out and through our challenges over and over again, into a land, into a selfhood, that is truly our own. But that land is not the end game; we are instead expected to close the circle by reaching out to others. We remember back to our beginnings, and we use that experience to reach out to those in our present who need us. The devil’s story is a black hole. God’s story is a circle.

Which brings us back around to Lent. Why Lent? What is its purpose? What story are we telling about what we are doing and why? Yes, for a time, we might put ashes on our foreheads. We might take the time to notice that which we might not otherwise notice about ourselves. We might zero in on where we can improve, what we can give up. But why? Are we working towards an ideal self that is perfect, that is high above and disconnected from an icky and difficult world? No, we are entering into God’s circular story, in which our challenges are that which guide us both forward and back-around, toward heaven but a heaven-on-earth. A heaven that exists when we remember to take those first fruits and hold a feast in gratitude for all those who need a place at the table. 

Lent is a time when we remember to unhook from the devil’s story; it is pervasive and persuasive and we all believe it at times. Instead, in Lent, let us dive deep into God’s story; a story in which there is challenge and desperation but also redemption, gratitude, and care.

Amen.

(1) David Schnasa Jacobsen, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3984


Readings:

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

1 When you have entered the land the LORD your God is giving you as an inheritance and have taken possession of it and settled in it, 2 take some of the firstfruits of all that you produce from the soil of the land the LORD your God is giving you and put them in a basket. Then go to the place the LORD your God will choose as a dwelling for his Name 3 and say to the priest in office at the time, “I declare today to the LORD your God that I have come to the land the LORD swore to our ancestors to give us.” 4 The priest shall take the basket from your hands and set it down in front of the altar of the LORD your God. 5 Then you shall declare before the LORD your God: “My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down into Egypt with a few people and lived there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous. 6 But the Egyptians mistreated us and made us suffer, subjecting us to harsh labor. 7 Then we cried out to the LORD, the God of our ancestors, and the LORD heard our voice and saw our misery, toil and oppression. 8 So the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders. 9 He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey; 10 and now I bring the firstfruits of the soil that you, LORD, have given me.” Place the basket before the LORD your God and bow down before him. 11 Then you and the Levites and the foreigners residing among you shall rejoice in all the good things the LORD your God has given to you and your household.

Luke 4:1-13

1 Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, 2 where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and at the end of them he was hungry. 3 The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread.” 4 Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone.’” 5 The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6 And he said to him, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. 7 If you worship me, it will all be yours.” 8 Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’” 9 The devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down from here. 10 For it is written: “ ‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; 11 they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ ” 12 Jesus answered, “It is said: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13 When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.

Apocalpse Explained 865:2

It shall now be stated in a few words what first-fruits in the Word signify. They signify the same as the first-begotten; but the latter term is used of animals, and first-fruits of vegetables. Thus the first-begotten are what are born first, and first-fruits are from the first things produced; and both signify the spiritual good first formed, which is essentially truth from good from the Lord. The origin of this is as follows. There are two minds in humankind, natural and spiritual. From the natural mind alone nothing but evil is produced, and the falsity therefrom; but as soon as the spiritual mind is opened, then good is produced, and the truth therefrom; this which is first produced is meant by the first-begotten and by the first-fruits. Now because nothing born and produced from the spiritual mind is from people but from the Lord, therefore those things were sanctified to Jehovah, that is, to the Lord, because they were God’s, and consequently holy.

Readings: Micah 6:6-8, Mark 12:28-34, The New Jerusalem and its Heavenly Teachings #124 (see below)
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Hopefully many of you were able to enjoy the Be Love event from the Helen Keller Spiritual Life Collaborative this past week, an event celebrating what Helen called her spiritual birthday, the day she met her beloved teacher Anne Sullivan.

Helen Keller’s story has inspired generations, and while many of us might be most familiar with the earlier aspects of her story, her entire life’s work, one of advocating for the vulnerable all over the world, is equally inspiring.

Helen was born in 1880 and at the age of 18 months suffered an illness that robbed her of her sight and her hearing. For years, she existed in a state of isolation, without a sense of language that would allow her to communicate with others around her. 

When she was 6 years old, she was introduced to a person who would change everything for her: Anne Sullivan. In a famous moment, one day as Helen was feeling water from a pump run over her hand, while Annie signed the letters for “water”, Helen suddenly understood what language was and the world opened up for her.

Helen would go on to attend college, write multiple books, and become a social reformer and a world famous speaker, who advocated for disability rights, women’s rights, civil rights, economic equality, and world peace. She was a founding member of the American Civil Liberties Union, or the ACLU.

And, a lesser known fact about Helen is that she was a follower of the teachings of Emanuel Swedenborg, who she credits as giving her a foundational theology for her life. She was introduced to his works by her dear friend, John Hitz, and immediately found them to align with her innate sense of spirituality.

Helen has described Anne Sullivan coming into her life as a mental awakening, and the theology of Emanuel Swedenborg as her spiritual awakening. She wrote of this experience in a book, now titled Light in My Darkness, and characterized her feelings to a friend thus:

Swedenborg's message has meant so much to me! It has given color and reality and unity to my thought of the life to come; it has exalted my ideas of love, truth, and usefulness; it has been my strongest incitement to overcome limitations.(1)

Now, I had already planned to preach a sermon on Helen Keller today before I had remembered that it would be the first Sunday in Lent. And at first, it seemed like it might an poor fit. Lent is a time when we intentionally make a sacrifice, give up something in our life, or take on a new spiritual discipline or practice, in order to reveal new insights about ourselves. We intentionally deepen our reflections and welcome knowledge about how our lives and habits might need to change in order to more fully connect with God and with others. This is a necessary inward journey, and conversely it seems like Helen’s journey was often one of reaching outward, of helping others. So, we might wonder how exactly her life’s journey should speak to our Lenten journey today?

Helen was so good at both articulating and modeling what a faithful life calls us to, and so I believe that Helen can give us the why of Lent. She writes:

Sick or well, blind or seeing, bound or free, we are here for a purpose, and however we are situated, we please God better with useful deeds than with many prayers or pious resignation. The temple or church is empty unless the good of life fills it. It is not the stone walls that make it small or large, but the brave souls' light shining around and in it. The altar is holy only when it represents the altar of our heart upon which we offer the only sacrifices ever commanded—the love that is stronger than hate and the faith that overcomes doubt.
Lent is the time when we, with courage and faith, look upon the altar of our heart and see it both for what it is, and what it could be. If there is to be prayer and piety during Lent, it is only for this purpose: to reveal to us more fully how we can be useful, to reveal to us how to become those brave souls shining with light. To reveal to us how we must act.

Our moment feels like a dark time, my friends. It is a dark time for our nation. Principles of democracy, transparency, accountability, honesty that we thought we could rely upon are no longer a given at the highest levels of our government. It is deeply distressing to see something we love fall apart, especially without knowing what exactly we can do to fix it. It is almost enough to consider dispensing with Lent altogether this year, as it is so difficult to genuinely reflect from a place of instability. 

And then, I think of Helen and I wonder what she would say. What would she tell us in this Lenten season? She, who from a place of darkness and silence still managed to conjure a love so deep and wide that we still speak of it today. What would she say to us? As I pondered this question, I came to her writings which I will now quote at length. I hope they will minister to you as they have to me.

“We should never surrender to misfortune or circumstances or even to our faults hopelessly or passively—as if we were but carved images with our hands hanging down, waiting for God’s grace to put us into motion. We should not succumb to spiritual slavery. We should take the initiative, look into ourselves fearlessly, and search out new ideas of what to do and ways to develop our will power. Then God will give us enough light and love for all our needs(2) 

Now, limitations of all kinds are forms of chastening to encourage self-development and true freedom. They are tools put into our hands to hew away the stone and flint that keep hidden our higher gifts. They tear away the blindfold of indfference from our eyes, and we behold the burdens others are carrying, learning to help them by yielding to the compassionate dictates of our hearts.(3) 

We need limitations and temptations to open our inner selves, dispel our ignorance, tear off our disguises, throw down old idols, and destroy false standards. Only by such rude awakenings can we be led to a place where we are less cramped, less hindered by the ever-insistent external world. Only then do we discover a new capacity and appreciation of goodness and beauty and truth.(4) 

The constant service of Swedenborg lies in thoughts such as these. He shows us that, in every event and every limitation, we have a choice, and that to choose is to create. We can decide to let our trials crush us, or we can convert them to new forces of good. We can drift along with general opinion and tradition, or we can throw ourselves upon the guidance of the soul within and steer courageously toward truth.(5) 

Truly I have looked into the very heart of darkness and refused to yield to its paralyzing influence, but in spirit I am one of those who walk the the morning. What if all dark, discouraging moods of the human mind come across my way as thick as the dry leaves of autumn? Other feet have travelled that road before me, and I know the desert leads to God as surely as the green, refreshing fields and fruitful orchards.

I, too, have been profoundly humiliated and brought to realize my smallness amid the immensity of creation. The  more I learn, the less I think I know; and the more I understand of my sense-experience, the more I perceive its short comings and its inadequacy as a basis of life. Sometimes the points of view of the optimist and the pessimist seem so well-balanced to me that it is only by sheer force of spirit that I can keep my hold upon a practical, livable philosophy of life. But I use my will, choose life, and reject its opposite, nothingness.(6) 

This Lenten season, let us remember Helen’s words, that to choose is to create. What do we wish to create in this moment we are in? I hope we will work to create sanctuary, connection, inclusion. I hope we will create care and concern for the suffering. I hope we will create a love for truth, and a desire to learn. I hope we will create a mighty resolve to see each other fully with love, and to create a world where there is dignity and thriving for all.

Each moment we choose each of these things, we create them. No one can ever take that away from us. As we create them, they will exist as an embodiment of and a testament to the divine love that created the universe, and created us. This ability to partner with God in the exerise of our free will, to co-create the reality of heaven on earth, is a gift. And there are times when that gift may feel too heavy, or that we don’t know what to do with it, or that anything that we do with it will always be too small to matter. 

But the truth is, every spark of creation that brings love to life in service of others is a true act of worship. Every spark exists and every spark matters. Let us consider this Lenten season as a time when we are guarding the flame, when we are holding safe and growing holy sparks that may light in someone else’s darkness. In honor of Helen, may we choose to create a world where we take care of each other. Amen.

1. Helen Keller. Letter to Rev. Paul Sperry. 10 October 1926
   
2. Helen Keller, Light in My Darkness, p135
3. Ibid
4. Ibid 137
5. Ibid 138
6. Ibid 139

Readings:

Micah 6:6-8
6 With what shall I come before the LORDand bow down before the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?
7 Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of olive oil? Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
8 He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

Mark 12:28-34
28 One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”
29 “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’
31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”
32 “Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him.
33 To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”
34 When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.

The New Jerusalem and its Heavenly Teachings #124

A life of caring, though, consists of having goodwill toward our neighbors and doing good things for them; basing all of our actions on justice and equity, and on what is good and true; and applying the same principles in all our responsibilities. In a word, a life of caring consists of being useful. This kind of life is the primary way to worship God; a life of piety is only secondary. This means that if we separate the one from the other, if we lead a pious life but not a caring life at the same time, we are not in fact worshiping God. We may be thinking about God, but this comes from ourselves and not from God, because we are constantly thinking about ourselves and not at all about our neighbor. If we do think about our neighbors, we regard them as worthless if they are not like us. Further, we are thinking of heaven as our reward, so our mind is preoccupied with self-love and taking credit. Being actively useful is something we either neglect or regard with contempt; and that is also how we treat our neighbors. Yet at the same time we believe there is nothing wrong with us. This shows that a pious life apart from a caring life is not the spiritual life that is needed within our worship of God.

Readings: 2 Kings 6:8, 18-23, Luke 6:27-38, Secrets of Heaven 3796 (see below)
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Photo credit: Ismael Sanchez

The readings today are part of what is sometimes called Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. Jesus has just delievered Luke’s version of The Beatitudes, proclaiming the blessedness of the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the excluded, and issuing a warning to those who are rich, satiated and praised. Now, Jesus continues his sermon, telling his hearers to love their enemies, to be generous, and to refrain from judging.

These statements are among some of the most famous of Jesus’ teachings. After all, this passage contains what is known as The Golden Rule: “do to others as you would have them do to you.” There is so much deeply grounded common sense to be found in that one phrase. Likewise, “love your enemies” is well known to encapsulate much of Jesus’ worldview. 

How are we to hold this teaching? How are we to hold it today, in our context, as we note the powers-that-be scapegoating trans people, axing and outlawing diversity, equity and inclusion programs, gutting aid to the most vulnerable, and doing so without attention to the rule of law, or basic norms of diligence and accountability?

For Luke, he was writing to an early Christian community that was in conflict with both the greater Roman empire, and with the communities of faith from which they arose, and occasionally, because they were human, with each other. All the more astonishing then, that Jesus was not only saying that we should love those with whom we simply disagree, however painfully or vehemently, Jesus was saying we should love those who oppress us, those who actively work to diminish our humanity, our thriving, our happiness. Well, that sucks. This request hardly seems fair, or doable. How can God really ask this of us?

Well, simply, because this is how the kingdom comes. This is how the New Jerusalem descends. When we pray the Lord’s Prayer we say “on earth as it is in heaven.” How else do we imagine that is going to happen? When we hear “love your enemies” and understand it superficially, we forget the stakes. The stakes are heaven on earth, the stakes are the universe coming to reflect and embody the divine love that created it. 

Yet, even as we raise the stakes, we also have to recognize that the Bible is not a rule book. We can’t take this list of examples from this text and think that if we check them off exactly as it says then everything will be okay. There is more to it than that. Jesus was talking about a certain quality of relationship, the redemptive quality that belongs to the connection between human beings when they actually see each other, when they allow the kingdom to break through, when they break the cycle of violence and judgment. Jesus used the particular examples from the text because they spoke to the community that was hearing them. He spoke of being generous without thought of repayment, because that ancient society was built upon the patron/client social system, where all relationship was governed by a complex hierarchy. Yet, Jesus asked that the generosity of the early Christians be decoupled from that kind of social calculation, that it be viewed as a good in and of itself. Further, these early Christians knew what it was to be oppressed. Both in their context as Jews and their new faith as Christians, it would have been easy to get caught up in conflict every single day. The chances of Roman soldiers abusing them in some way was relatively high. Yet, Jesus counsels them that they should unhook from the eye-for-an-eye mindset, from dreams of vengeance or comeuppance, because a heart consumed with revenge has no room for the kingdom. He calls them toward a kingdom view that is overflowing…“Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you.”  This is not an easy path; this kind of discipleship really asks something of us. There is a cost to it.

But let’s continue to be careful here, because if we are still treating the Bible like a rule book, we can become easily confused about what this all means. Jesus’ whole deal here is not about submission but instead about contextualization, about grounding our experiences in shared humanity. God is asking us to see each other. To turn the other cheek to someone who has struck you means to stand your ground without retaliation, to turn your face so that the perpetrator must look into your eyes. Turning the other cheek is not only about breaking a cycle of violence but it is also about defying objectification. Likewise, the commands about generosity and refraining from judgment are about breaking a cycle of stereotyping and therefore defying categorization. Defying these two ways of thinking are key. We human beings justify our bad behavior towards each other by dehumanizing and stereotyping each other. The less similar we are to each other, the less our empathy is activated, the more distance we can put between us. And isn’t it so much easier that way? Don’t we feel so much more powerful when we are convinced of our rightness by way of objectifying and categorizing others?

But this is what Jesus is asking us to relinquish, and it is how the kingdom of God becomes real. We open up our minds to seeing each other, to people who are different, we connect with them in some way and the circle is widened. This is painfully slow, painstaking work…who has time for this, we might protest? And can it really be enough? In times of urgency, can it really be enough? Certainly there must be limits? Well, of course there are. Context always matters.

We must always remember to never become legalistic about what Jesus was saying here. There are very reasonable objections to the idea of loving our enemies, encapsulated by the famous quote from the author James Baldwin: “We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.”

Because it matters who is saying it to who. When the church is the oppressor and tells its adherents to love their enemies, this is an abuse of power. When society is the oppressor and tells the oppressed to “love their country” and “be good citizens,” this is an abuse of power. James Baldwin has also said: “Ignorance allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.” When those who would dehumanize others gain power, it is not a good thing, in Jesus’ time or now. The exhortation to “love your enemy” is not an excuse to allow those who would oppress to continue oppressing; “love your enemy” was not Jesus’ way of telling early Christians to get on board with the empire of Rome. Instead, “love your enemy” is about intentionally opting out of the cycle of dehumanization. “Ignorance allied with power” cannot function without dehumanization and categorization, likewise empire, hatred, oppression, cannot function without dehumanization and categorization.  Our text continues with Jesus saying: “Can the blind lead the blind? Will they not both fall into a pit?” So we need to opt out, someone needs to opt out, and Jesus wants it to be us.

Jesus is asking someone (anyone!) to see and uphold the concept of shared and connective humanity. Doing so is not about martyrdom, but about refusing to participate in the dehumanization of ourselves and others. When we turn the other cheek, we demand to be seen as a person, and also we must see the oppressor as one as well. We prevent them from perpetrating harm, as needed, and often. But in love, we see them clearly, wholly, hopefully, and in context. And this is such hard work.

Which has prompted Rev. Nadia Boltz Weber to proclaim, echoing all of us: “I hate that this is God’s economy. That the salvation of my enemy is tied up in my own. Which is why I sometimes say that the Gospel is like, the worst good news I’ve ever heard in my life.”(1) 

Preached as it is on a level place, a plain, we find that “love your enemy” is not a platitude. It has real stakes, in real life. The practice of it involves seeing the humanity in each other, recognizing that we were born to be face to face with each other. The practice of it involves deep empathy for context, recognizing that we all carry burdens. The practice of it involves expecting more than excuses from each other, recognizing a shared hope that the kingdom will come, but that its path runs though our hearts, and they must be cleared of ego and fear. “Love your enemy” is not about maintaining a false equivalency but a recognition of the limits of equivalency at all. Each person is a universe unto themselves, and beloved of God. We are asked not to submit to power, but to surrender to the reach of God’s love. “For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

We must always continue to measure by the rule of love, so that the rule of love becomes the shape of our souls. Even as we act to protect, uphold, resist, and exist, may we believe in that overflowing, good measure. It’s the only way.

Amen.

1. Nadia Boltz Weber, Shameless: A Sexual Revolution, p188-89

Readings:

2 Kings 6:8, 18-23

8 Now the king of Aram was at war with Israel.

18 As the enemy came down toward him, Elisha prayed to the LORD, “Strike this army with blindness.” So he struck them with blindness, as Elisha had asked. 19 Elisha told them, “This is not the road and this is not the city. Follow me, and I will lead you to the man you are looking for.” And he led them to Samaria. 20 After they entered the city, Elisha said, “LORD, open the eyes of these men so they can see.” Then the LORD opened their eyes and they looked, and there they were, inside Samaria. 21 When the king of Israel saw them, he asked Elisha, “Shall I kill them, my father? Shall I kill them?” 22 “Do not kill them,” he answered. “Would you kill those you have captured with your own sword or bow? Set food and water before them so that they may eat and drink and then go back to their master.” 23 So he prepared a great feast for them, and after they had finished eating and drinking, he sent them away, and they returned to their master. So the bands from Aram stopped raiding Israel’s territory.

Luke 6:27-38

27 “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. 30 Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you. 32 “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. 33 And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. 34 And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full. 35 But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. 36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

37 “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. 38 Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Secrets of Heaven #3796

…We ought to pay attention to the various states we pass through, because the states themselves usually affect our perception. This is something we can examine in ourselves but not in others, because the Lord alone knows the aim of every desire. That is why the Lord said, “Don’t judge anyone, or you will be judged; don’t condemn anyone, or you will be condemned” (Luke 6:37). A thousand people can seem to have the same desire for truth and goodness when in reality each has a desire with a different origin, or a different aim.
The reason the aim determines whether a desire is real, feigned, or deceitful is that our purpose is our very life. What we live for—in other words, what we love—is what we hold as our goal. When the welfare of our neighbor, the larger community, the church, and the Lord’s kingdom forms our goal, our soul dwells in the Lord’s kingdom and therefore in the Lord. The Lord’s kingdom is nothing other than a kingdom of purposes and usefulness seeking the good of the whole human race.