Humility for Jedi

“This is not going to go the way you think…” –Luke Skywalker

It’s possible that these words are fresh in my mind, because I have now seen “The Last Jedi” three times.  I don’t even love the movie, but we are intergenerationally a Star Wars family for life, so you have to see it with everyone.  That’s just how the force works. 

I feel relatively confident that I am the only one left (in my family… maybe in the world…) who is still holding out hope for the redemption of Kylo Ren.  As it turns out, there are a few things in life that are truly unforgiveable, and apparently killing Han Solo… your father… is one of them.  But this Luke Skywalker line… it’s bothering me…

What does this have to do with the flip flops, glitter, or theology?  Let’s hope I can make a connection, or this post is going to be a bust!

Humility is a funny thing (not humorous, just funny).  I should probably admit, at this point, that it was my intention to write a post about success, today.  I’m now saving it for tomorrow… or next week… or someday… or never… we’ll see.  This change in direction all started with a sermon quote from yesterday’s worship gathering:

“Sometimes the price to be paid for freedom is loneliness…  Change always comes with loss.”[i]

Then I ran across a quote from Martin Luther King Jr., which is at least equally true:

“It’s always the right time to do what is right.”

Dr. King said so many important things, and this is not ordinarily the one I might quote on this day of remembrance and celebration of his life and work, but it somehow seems fitting. 

So, what is right?

Psalm 25 underscores the concepts of loneliness and humility and confession and systemic change, all around.  I have included most of it here, with some parts that stood out to me, specifically, highlighted in red:

⁶ Be mindful of your mercy, O Lord, and of your steadfast love,
    for they have been from of old.
⁷ Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions;
    according to your steadfast love remember me,
    for your goodness’ sake, O Lord!

⁸ Good and upright is the Lord;
    therefore he instructs sinners in the way.
⁹ He leads the humble in what is right,
    and teaches the humble his way.
¹⁰ All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness,
    for those who keep his covenant and his decrees.

¹¹ For your name’s sake, O Lord,
    pardon my guilt, for it is great.
¹² Who are they that fear the Lord?
    He will teach them the way that they should choose.

¹³ They will abide in prosperity,
    and their children shall possess the land.
¹⁴ The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him,
    and he makes his covenant known to them.
¹⁵ My eyes are ever toward the Lord,
    for he will pluck my feet out of the net.

¹⁶ Turn to me and be gracious to me,
    for I am lonely and afflicted.
¹⁷ Relieve the troubles of my heart,
    and bring me out of my distress.
¹⁸ Consider my affliction and my trouble,
    and forgive all my sins.

¹⁹ Consider how many are my foes,
    and with what violent hatred they hate me.
²⁰ O guard my life, and deliver me;
    do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.
²¹ May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
    for I wait for you.

The daily office continued to push me hard, this morning, as I leaned in to Hebrews 4 and considered the tested yet sinless Jesus and my own need to, “approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that [I] may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (4:16).

Accusing others of guilt is tempting, but as confession so often does; it must begin with me… with you… with those in leadership who have an opportunity to deal gently with others… with those called by God, offering sacrifices first for our own sins: personal, communal, and systemic (see Hebrews 5:3-5).

Well, that’s humiliating.  It’s lonely.  And, it’s not how I thought this was going to go.  Following Jesus rarely does.

L.    

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[i] I don’t know who originally said this, but she was right.

Put this Mud in Your Eyes... Rinse... Repeat

I had this sort of humorous, kind of ironic moment, last week, when I wrote the wrong commentary!  However, it was the right commentary for today, so there's that...  John 9...

***

We all struggle with the problem of evil—particularly in light of pain and suffering, perhaps most visibly when the pain and suffering are unmerited.  We want answers.  When we read about “a man blind from birth,”[i] we want to know why.  But we’re not looking for medical explanations.  The question is not how did this happen but, instead, why does the world have to be this way.

Historically, the religious community had it all figured out.  Pain and suffering were the result of sin.  Even today, many religious communities offer the same answer.  Pain and suffering are consequences of the fall.  Humanity somehow deserves this anguish.  Suck it up and realize that this is the way the world works.  Admittedly, sometimes this makes sense.

But in this case?  When we’re presented with a man who was blind before he took his first breath?  What could he have possibly done to deserve such a lot?  Did he sin?  Was it his parents?  The disciples are working from a cut-and-dried, cause-and-effect philosophy.  It certainly affects their theodicy, which in turn affects their theology.  Lucky for them, God incarnate is standing in their midst.  Perhaps Jesus can clear this up, since he’s right there.   

Jesus immediately offers some incredibly upside-down teaching.  The Pharisees, and even the disciples, assume that the blind man is steeped in sin from birth, or at the very least his parents have caused this great calamity, because this is all they’ve ever known.  But Jesus sees this altogether differently.  In fact, as this passage comes to a close, Jesus declares, “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.”[ii] Well, that surely throws a wrench in things…

Jesus takes a severe deficit and turns it into an asset.  Being born blind is not the problem.  Jesus can work with that: Jesus can even squeeze something good out of it (and he does).  As the disciples seek the rationale behind this tragedy, Jesus redirects their attention to the ways in which, “the works of God might be displayed…”[iii]  

I got a little caught up in verses 3-5… and I didn’t originally write about this in the commentary, but I think it’s something worth talking about.

We have these words, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”[iv]

And then Jesus goes on with the miraculous healing.

I read in another commentary that in verse three, there may be an ellipsis, and I use ellipses ad nauseam in my writing, so this struck a chord.  If that’s the case, instead of, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him,” we might have, “but this happened (dot… dot… dot… ellipsis… appropriate pause, wait for it…) Jesus takes a deep breath and continues, “so… that the works of God might be displayed in him…” and then the rest.

It’s not necessarily a cause and effect statement.  Instead, this may be Jesus giving voice to the fact that genuine evil, suffering, and pain are present in the world, but this is not orchestrated by God.  Instead, these things exist outside of what God actually wants, but God is still somehow able to bring some good out of them.

The man is blind.  OK.  God can heal that.  Here’s some dirt and some spit (perhaps reminiscent of God’s creative work in the beginning).  Go wash yourself (oh, that I had time to consider how this might relate to baptism and initiation into the people of God).  Sight…  Restoration… Redemption…  It’s all there.  But, of course, this is not the end of the story.  The trouble has just begun… 

In truth, on the heels of this beautiful account of renewal, the rest of John 9 is at least a little bit exasperating!

The fact that the Pharisees don’t believe the previously blind man’s story is par for the course, albeit frustrating.  This is the way of the Pharisees, who are often portrayed as attempting to catch people in their words, to manipulate the narrative.  It should come as no great surprise to us when the Pharisees question the man about Jesus and determine this miraculous act must not be ascribed to God.  We should expect the Pharisees to attempt to discredit the man and his story, his very identity.    

But neighbors who have presumably known this blind beggar for his entire life are suddenly unsure whether or not it is him, at all!  It’s somehow easier to believe he might be a completely different person than to accept a miraculous account.  And the previously blind man’s own parents?  We are told that they are afraid.[v]  Undoubtedly, they have already lost much, because the Jewish community has likely blamed their son’s affliction on the sins of the parents.  They can’t risk being kicked out of the Synagogue, altogether.  The people (the blind man’s people!) go silent.    

The man who has been healed, however, takes the chance.  His experience with Jesus speaks to the truth of who Jesus is, which is, ironically, exactly what the Pharisees ask for when they assert that he must, “Give glory to God by telling the truth,” (δὸς δόξαν τῷ Θεῷ).[vi]  In the Greek language used here, the Pharisees are not looking for praise or adoration of God but for a factual account, a truthful testimony.  Later, Jesus will allude to the issue of spiritual blindness, but as I re-read this passage I stopped to wonder whether the problem might be more directly linked to ears than eyes.  The Pharisees refuse to listen to the report for which they asked.  Although it is difficult to argue with first hand encounters, it is not impossible.  They can claim that the man lied.  They can claim that the work of Jesus is outside the scope of what may be acceptably accomplished on the Sabbath.  But they cannot take the man’s newfound sight.  His sight is worth alienation from those who blamed him for his own suffering.  In the end, he is rejected, but having lived his whole life as a blind beggar, this is nothing new.  He can see!  The Pharisaical religious community has nothing to offer him that trumps this new reality.

The man’s final words to the Pharisees speak volumes regarding who now has the upper hand:     

            

            Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he 

            opened my eyes.  We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to 

            the godly person who does his will.  Nobody has ever heard of opening the 

            eyes of a man born blind.  If this man were not from God, he could do 

            nothing.[vii]

The Pharisees have lost their power in this man’s life.  Even though they subsequently insult him, judge him, and kick him out; it hardly matters.  When Jesus hears about the man’s rejection, he finds him.  Jesus cares about his story.  Jesus has already made a remarkable difference in the man’s life.  The Pharisees didn’t listen to him, but God did.  Their claims are void.    

So, back to the problem of evil…

We don’t partner with God to alleviate the pain and suffering in the world when we neglect to listen to the other; to attentively discern who is speaking, what he or she has experienced, what great needs exist, and what we might learn from their narratives.  In this passage, Jesus offers us the ultimate example of how to work redemptively in the world.  Perhaps the next time we are tempted to ask, “Why does the world have to be this way,” we should consider an alternative. 

Perhaps we are the answer… not the cause, but the solution—God’s agents of change, working together to realize the inbreaking Kingdom. 

L.

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[i] John 9:1 (NIV)

[ii] John 9:41 (emphasis mine)

[iii] John 9:3

[iv] John 9:3-5

[v] See John 9:22

[vi] John 9:24

[vii] John 9:31-33

Guilty

Matthew 7:1-5, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged.  For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.  Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?  You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye" (NIV).

This is exactly what I needed to read, today.  Don't misunderstand.  I absolutely hate that this is exactly what I needed to read, but here it is.

Taking my own advice is difficult.  It is so much easier to tell other people how they should change than to think about how every single word I say might also apply to me... to my life... to my sin.  To be completely honest, I am a little bit at war with myself.  I'm not exactly sure why I think that I can handle tempting situations better than anyone else.  I am feeling a little bit frustrated that I don't like my advice to others, applied to me, because it is difficult and irritating and if I follow it I can't do whatever I want, whenever I want, and y'all know how I hate that.

The problem with feeling like this is that Jesus has a word for it that I think I hate more: hypocrite.

Ouch.

And... ouch.

And... maybe even ouch again.

Thankfully, God is so much better than me. (Duh, I know, but sometimes it's important to just say it.)

Psalm 106:43-45, "Many times he delivered them, but they were bent on rebellion and they wasted away in their sin.  Yet he took note of their distress when he heard their cry; for their sake he remembered his covenant and out of his great love he relented" (NIV).

I love that God remembers covenant and relents.  I think I have often considered the word, "relentless" to be something positive, but when I took a look at the actual definition; I stopped liking it, immediately.  I thought to be relentless was to be determined, to never give up.  As it turns out, relentless is to be oppressive, harsh, and inflexible.  Sometimes simply defining terms helps us to understand what we really want. 

I do not want a relentless God.

I do not want a relentless me.

I thought to relent meant to be weak.  It does not.  I thought to relent meant to give up.  And it does.  But it's vitally important to understand that to relent means to give up everything I don't want to be to anyone, anyway.  It is to give up oppressive control, cruelty, or punishment.

Oh goodness, I relent!

Out of love, I relent!

I am so thankful that God is patient, over and over again, and that God hears our cries (my cries) and takes note of distress.  Because here's the truth, friends.  Sometimes we really screw up.  And yet God's covenant stands.  Deliverance comes.  And we can stop wasting away.

L.