The Waking Dreamer: Community

Showing posts with label Community. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

Practicing Love in Community

Matthew 1:18-25; 1 Peter 2:21-23[1]

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, we celebrate the love that we have received through Jesus Christ. We just sang it together: “Love is the gift of Christmas.” As our Gospel lesson puts it, Jesus was born to be the one to “save us from our sins,” and to be “God-who-is-with-us” (Mt 1:21, 23). That’s what “Immanuel” means: “God-who-is-with-us.” That shouldn’t come as a surprise to us. We know that the heart of our faith is about sharing God’s love with others. We know that Jesus came to embody that love in a way that would empower us to put that love into practice. The idea isn’t a new one. And it wasn’t even a new one for Jesus. In our faith tradition, Moses taught it three thousand years ago: “you shall love your neighbor as yourselves” (Lev. 19:18). Throughout the centuries there have been many who have taught the practice of compassion. What was new was the way Jesus embodied it, not just as a human being, but as the one who is “God with us.” He put God’s love for us on display in the way he loved all those he encountered, both friends and so-called “enemies.”

Yes, Jesus embodied love even for his so-called “enemies.” Perhaps the most dramatic way he did that was by praying from the cross, “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk 23:34). But he also embodied it by never giving up on anyone, even his “enemies.” And he taught us to do the same. Others have also taught that. They taught their followers to practice compassion for all people and embodied that compassion even for those who could have been considered their “enemies.” However, I believe it’s true that Jesus was the first to say explicitly, “you shall love your enemies” (Mt 5:43-44). It’s probably an understatement to say that’s not an easy path to take. For Jesus, loving even his “enemies” meant giving up his life on the cross. Because showing God’s love even for one’s “enemies” cuts against the grain of everything we do by instinct.

As we continue to make our journey through Advent to the celebration of Christmas with Henri Nouwen as our guide, I think we might find his ideas challenging on this day. He described the kind of love Jesus embodied by saying, “Whenever, contrary to the world’s vindictiveness, we love our enemy, we exhibit something of the perfect love of God, whose will is to bring all human beings together as children of one Father. Whenever we forgive instead of getting angry at one another, bless instead of cursing one another, tend one another’s wounds instead of rubbing salt into them, hearten instead of discouraging one another, give hope instead of driving one another to despair, hug instead of harassing one another, welcome instead of cold-shouldering one another, thank instead of criticizing one another, praise instead of maligning one another… in short, whenever we opt for and not against one another, we make God’s unconditional love visible; we are diminishing violence and giving birth to a new community.”

Nouwen gets uncomfortably specific about what it means to follow Jesus by loving our “enemies.” It means forgiving instead of holding onto anger. It means healing wounds instead of rubbing salt into them. It means hugging instead of harassing. These are all incredibly counterintuitive. When someone hurts us, we instinctively want to protect ourselves. We do that with anger. When we rub salt in the wounds of someone who has wounded us, we’re protecting ourselves. When we criticize and turn a cold shoulder and speak of them in hurtful and harmful ways, we’re protecting ourselves. But, following Jesus, Nouwen invites us to take a different path. He invites us to “opt for and not against one another,” to choose to be on the side of those whom we perceive to be against us. It’s an astounding thing. And he says that when we make that choice, we are doing something that’s nothing short of miraculous. We’re making “God’s unconditional love visible; we are diminishing violence and giving birth to a new community.”

I think we could be forgiven for thinking that this is all far too much to expect from an ordinary human being. But also I think Nouwen is onto something important here. The love that we celebrate at Christmas is a wonderful gift to us, and we enjoy it. But it’s not just about making ourselves feel better. The love we celebrate at Christmas calls us to take the love that we’ve received from God and turn around and put it into practice for all those around us. Both “friends” and so-called “enemies.” That’s what Jesus did. He didn’t do that to prove that he was so much better than us. He did that to leave us “an example, so that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pet 2:21). And the way he did that was “When he was insulted, he did not reply with insults. When he suffered, he did not threaten revenge” (1 Pet 2:23, CEB).

Perhaps we should all take a moment to let that sink in. When Jesus was insulted, he did not reply with insults. When he suffered, he did not threaten revenge. To borrow Nouwen’s words, when Jesus was met with anger and curses, he did not respond in kind. Instead, he forgave: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing”! And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. When Jesus was not only maligned but also falsely accused of the worst they could throw at him, he did not respond with hurtful and harmful accusations in reply. And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. When Jesus was subjected to violence, when he was beaten and spat upon and crucified, he did not threaten to get even. He forgave those who were literally stripping his life away. And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps.

When you think about it that literally, I don’t think we should be surprised if we’re wondering whether Jesus really wanted us to follow his example and practice love like that. It’s understandable. That’s a hard thing to ask, for us to follow that path. But I would say the answer to the question is, “yes.” Yes, indeed. Most definitely. Jesus was “making God’s unconditional love” visible in every way possible, not only by healing the sick and caring for those who were suffering, but also and most particularly by loving his so-called “enemies” enough to forgive them. Enough to give his life for them. That’s a high standard for love. Perhaps the highest the human family has ever seen.

In fact, it’s such a high standard we may want to let ourselves off the hook. After all, can one really expect all this from an ordinary human being? We assume that Jesus loved even his “enemies” because he was much more than an ordinary human being. And we assume that no one would ever expect ordinary human beings like us to live up to such a high standard. But that phrase from Scripture in 1 Peter reminds us that he did all that he did precisely to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. Yes, I believe Jesus expects us as those who claim to trust in him to literally follow his example and practice love like that toward everyone, even and especially toward those we may consider “enemies.” In fact, I would say that if we truly grasp the extent of God’s unconditional love for us, and the extent to which Jesus calls us to share that same love with everyone, then we really cannot look at anyone as an “enemy.”

When Jesus said, “you shall love your enemies,” he was talking about people who could literally come and take everything away from you by force, including your life. Most of us don’t have to learn to love “enemies” like that. We don’t have to fear that someone will come and invade our home, drag us out, and take our lives away from us. We find it hard enough just to love the people who spread false rumors behind our backs. Or those who rub salt in our wounds or turn a cold shoulder to us instead of standing beside us when we’re struggling. But if that’s where we perceive our “enemies” to be, then that’s where we can begin. We can begin to transform every so-called “enemy” into a friend by extending to them the same unconditional love God has given each one of us in Jesus Christ. When we do that, as Henri Nouwen said, we are not only “making God’s unconditional love visible,” but we’re also “giving birth to a new community.” Think of it: a community where even “enemies” are turned into friends. A community where we don’t even look at anyone as an “enemy,” rather we consider all to be friends. A community where we extend to one another the same unconditional love and acceptance God has given to us. That’s a whole new kind of community. That’s what the love we celebrate at Christmas is about: creating a whole new kind of community where people turn even so-called “enemies” into friends, just like Jesus did.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, PhD on 12/21/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Letters to Marc About Jesus, 55.

Monday, December 22, 2025

Finding Joy in Community

Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:1-15[1]

As we make our journey through Advent with Henri Nouwen this year, you would think that joy would be the easiest of the four themes to talk about. With the festivities, decorations, music, and parties, we “should” have a lot to be joyful about. But the truth is that for many of us, this is not the “most wonderful time of the year.” Some of us see all the celebrating, all the family gatherings, all the “fun” that everyone else seems to be having, and we feel like we’re on the outside looking in. It can seem like there’s a chain-link fence separating us from everybody who’s having so much fun, and we just can’t find our way in. In fact, for some of us, while we may feel that way most intensely at this time of year, that’s how it seems all year around. We’re aware that there’s joy “out there somewhere,” but we just can’t seem to find it.

I would say that can actually be a failure of community. Yes, it might be the result of that person’s choices. But all too often, in these days, it’s a failure to live together in community in all its different expressions. Families, churches, even towns and cities can be badly divided by everything that’s going on in our world these days. And when we turn on one another, instead of encouraging, affirming, and supporting one another, we can cause great pain. We see it in families that go their separate ways. But what we may not see is that any time we fail to embrace someone enough that they no longer feel like they’re on the outside of that fence looking in, our community has failed. Any time we intentionally shun someone because they’re just “too different” from us, our community has failed. And when that happens, community can become a source of pain instead of a source of joy.

As we look to Henri Nouwen for inspiration this Advent, he says it this way: “In my own community, with many severely handicapped men and women, the greatest source of suffering is not the handicap itself, but the accompanying feelings of being useless, worthless, unappreciated, and unloved. It is much easier to accept the inability to speak, walk, or feed oneself than it is to accept the inability to be of special value to another person. … Instinctively we know that the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.”[2] Joy comes from living together in a community where we feel like we belong and we are loved. All too often, the pain in our lives comes from our failure to live together well in community.

As I’ve mentioned before, Henri Nouwen served as the chaplain in a community where cognitively disabled persons and their caregivers lived together. As a Catholic priest, he celebrated the Lord’s Supper every day. As a member of the community he served, he welcomed everyone to take part, regardless of whether they were “worthy.” I would imagine he knew quite well many people who struggled with feeling “useless, worthless, unappreciated, and unloved.” Given my personal experience with communities of mentally handicapped persons, they seem to have an intuitive grasp on the fact that “the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.” In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they taught Henri that truth.

Those of us who are more “normal” may try to find our joy in other places. We find our “joy” in the level of success we have achieved. And we may try to demonstrate it by the kinds of homes we buy, the kinds of cars we drive, and the kinds of clothes we wear. Or we find our joy in the knowledge that we’re comfortable financially, or in the “busyness” of our social calendar. We may feel like we’ve really “made” it when we get our picture in the paper on the society page. Those kinds of external sources for joy, however, are notoriously unreliable. We never really know what the stock market is going to do. There’ve been times when people have lost a great deal of money in one single day of trading. The market is vulnerable to all kinds of changes, and given the general instability of the world these days, we have to reckon with the possibility that something like that can happen again. Our most prized possessions can literally go up in smoke or in a storm in a matter of minutes. When we make our joy in life dependent on our circumstances we’re skating on thin ice!

In a sense, our Gospel lesson for today addresses this question. John, who identified Jesus as the Messiah when he baptized him, had begun to question his faith. He was in prison, and Jesus wasn’t acting like he expected the Messiah to act. So he sent his disciples to ask, “Are you the one who is supposed to come? Or should we look for someone else?” (Mt 11:3, NIrV). Jesus answered: “Go back to John. Report to him what you hear and see. Blind people receive sight. Disabled people walk. Those who have skin diseases are made ‘clean.’ Deaf people hear. Those who are dead are raised to life. And the good news is preached to those who are poor” (Mt 11:4-5, NIrV). I would say that’s the closest thing we have in Matthew’s Gospel to Jesus claiming that he was indeed the Messiah.

The way he makes that claim is with a summary of the promises of salvation found especially in the book of the prophet Isaiah. We heard some of those promises in our lesson for today: “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy” (Isa 35:5-6). And Isaiah says that all those who have been “ransomed” by the Lord, which is a way of talking about salvation, will have “everlasting joy” (Isa 35:10). John was in prison. He wondered if he had picked the wrong “horse.” Jesus called John to rejoice because he was indeed fulfilling the promises of God’s salvation.

One of the things that drew me to ask Henri Nouwen to guide us through the season of Advent this year is his deep and firm commitment to the importance of community in all our lives. He saw it firsthand. I think one of the most significant obstacles to finding joy together in community is when we may harbor grudges or bitterness against one another. We all do it. Someone lets us down, someone hurts our feelings, someone fails to live up to our expectations, and we hold a grudge, sometimes for years. But there’s an old saying about that. Holding a bitterness against someone is like drinking poison ourselves and expecting it to hurt someone else. We’re only hurting ourselves. The way to find joy in the community of people who follow Jesus is through forgiveness. Jesus said it: “forgive as you have been forgiven.” We pray it every Sunday, “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” The way to find joy in a real-life community of people who let us down, who hurt our feelings, who fall short of our expectations is through forgiveness. It gives us joy, and it gives them joy.

Most of us have our own reasons for celebrating at this time of the year, whether it’s gathering with family, or the food we enjoy, or the music, or the decorations. But the reason for the joy of the season is because in Jesus Christ God has come to be “with us” in a way that bears our griefs and carries our sorrows, as the prophet Isaiah also says. That’s how we can find our joy together in this community, regardless of our circumstances. We start with the joy we have because God has given us himself in the person of Jesus. But as Henri Nouwen reminds us, we find that joy most fully when we find it together in this community. In this community where we can let one another down, where we can hurt one another’s feelings, where we can fall short of one another’s expectations. In this community we can hold grudges or feel bitter toward one another. In this community where we learn to practice forgiveness.

And it’s here. There’s joy here if we have eyes to see it and ears to hear it. Those of us who can be here on Wednesday evenings experience it every week. Whether it’s around the tables or in a boisterous classroom, whether it’s in the kitchen or in the music room (and we have fun in the music room, make no mistake!). It’s here. We have joy together in this community. We all experience it every Sunday when we gather together. Especially during our greeting time. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about our worship service. If that’s true for you as well, I’m fine with that. The reason is because while Bible teaching is one of the important foundations for Christian community, so is fellowship. It’s through fellowship that we find joy together as a community. We find it around tables enjoying a meal together, or right here in worship, sharing life with one another week after week. There’s joy here. Sometimes we just have to get past the things that are blocking our ability to see that joy, and allow ourselves to experience it.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/14/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World, 72-73.

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Finding Peace in Community

Isaiah 11:1-10[1]

As I mentioned last week, I’m following the lead of one of my favorite authors as we make our journey through Advent this year. I’m asking Henri Nouwen to be our guide as we reflect together on what the themes of Advent—hope, peace, joy, and love—mean for us in our daily living. And as I discussed last week, one of Nouwen’s convictions is that we hold onto those aspects of our faith together in community. This week we are looking at how we find peace in community with one another. That might seem like a strange way to find peace. So much of what we hear about peace these days emphasizes finding peace with and within ourselves. And that’s no small task. It seems that our personal peace can be so easily disturbed. We let a hurtful remark that someone makes disrupt our peace, whether they meant it to be hurtful or not. We let the outcome of sporting events upset us, especially when we think the referees called the game unfairly! Our personal peace is easily disturbed!

Most of you know that I’ve participated in Twelve Step programs for years. I’m not an alcoholic or an addict, but I have been affected by people whose lives were impacted by alcohol or drugs. I recently had someone ask me why I continue to participate in those programs year after year. She asked me, “Do you have to do this in order not to drink?” Obviously, she misunderstood the purpose of the meeting. My answer to her is still the reason why I “keep coming back,” as we say at the conclusion of every meeting. I’m there because I’m learning healthy ways to live my life, and I want to stay on that path. More than that I want to share that path with other people. Every so often we have new people who come into our fellowship who are hurting deeply. One of the things we say in our meetings is that we gather together to share our experience, strength, and hope, especially with people who are in the midst of crisis.

As many of you know, one of the central features of the twelve-step program is the “Serenity Prayer”: most of us know it in this form, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” And in the twelve-step program, what we continually remind each other is that we cannot change or control what anyone else thinks or feels or says or does. That’s true at the level of our personal lives. It’s also true at the level of our families, our communities, our nation, and our world. We cannot change or control what anyone else thinks or feels or says or does. Even and especially when it affects us directly. What we can change is how we respond, how we choose to live our lives, and whether or not we stay true to our values. And I keep going back to my meetings because I’m still learning to live that way in that community of people.

The quote I want to share with you this week from Henri Nouwen is this: “Friendship, marriage, family, religious life, and every other form of community … can become ways to reveal to each other the real presence of God in our midst. Community has little to do with mutual compatibility. Similarities in educational background, psychological makeup, or social status can bring us together, but they can never be the basis for community. Community is grounded in God, who calls us together, and not in the attractiveness of people to each other…. The mystery of community is precisely that it embraces all people, whatever their individual differences may be, and allows them to live together as brothers and sisters of Christ and sons and daughters of his heavenly Father.”[2]

Again, my reading of Henri Nouwen’s books has made it abundantly clear to me that we learn how to live the Christian life only as we come together with a community of people who are also learning how to live the Christian life. It’s not something we can do on our own. Not fully. Nouwen reminds us that every form of community we experience can be the place to reveal “the real presence of God” among us. He insists that community, at least the community that makes a real difference in our lives, is “grounded in God.” That’s especially true in the community of those who claim to follow Jesus. As Nouwen points out, the community we share with each other in the body of Christ is not based on whether or not we’re “compatible” in any particular way, whether it’s ethnic background, or personality, or social and political viewpoint, or lifestyle, or family structure. Our community together in this congregation is based on God’s presence in our lives. That’s what brings us together, and that’s what holds us together. And when that is the case, then our community “embraces all people, whatever their individual differences may be, and allows them to live together as brothers and sisters of Christ and sons and daughters of his heavenly Father.”

That’s what brings us together as a community. And it’s the presence of God in our lives that creates peace between us that will last through all the ups and downs of our lives together. We live in a world where peace may seem like just a “dream.” Especially the kind of peace that the Prophet Isaiah envisioned when he foresaw a time when real justice would be extended to all people, especially those who have been exploited by the rich and powerful. It seems like those who are exceedingly rich and powerful always have a way of getting out of having to face the consequences of their actions, and those whom they have exploited never really have things made right for them. That peace that Isaiah foresaw can seem like a dream. So can the peace that he envisioned extending from the human family to embrace all of nature, so that the “the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all” (Isa 11:6, NLT). But that kind of peace that can seem too good to be true is precisely what God is creating in and through us in this community, right here and right now.

It seems to me that is the basis for our peace in this world—at least any peace that is lasting. It starts with the peace that we have with God through Jesus Christ. Our experience of being loved and accepted by God—unconditionally, irrevocably, and without any qualifications or exceptions—enables us to find peace with ourselves. As we learn to accept ourselves as those who are beloved by God—always and forever—we find peace that endures all the circumstances we may have to live with. When we have peace with God and come to be at peace with ourselves, then we can extend that peace to those around us. We can accept the people in our community, regardless of any differences that may threaten to undermine our community.

We can live in peace with one another when we learn to do as the Apostle Paul said in the lesson from Romans for today: “accept each other just as Christ has accepted you” (Rom 15:7, NLT). Again, in these days when there is so much division and strife among us, that might seem like a “dream.” Some of you may be able to remember a time when the larger community in this place was divided based on whether your ancestors were German or Dutch. They went to different grocery stores, and they went to different churches. We’ve moved past that now. These days, the dividing lines are drawn based on social and political views. But as we gather in this place, however, the presence and the work of God in our lives overrules all the lines that may appear to divide us. The peace that lasts is the peace that is based on God’s presence among us. It’s based on the fact that we recognize God’s presence in each other. That’s the peace that keeps us together.

I believe with Henri Nouwen that we learn that peace best as we practice it in a community of people who come from all kinds of different backgrounds and perspectives. When we learn to live in peace in this community, with those who hold opinions that we may find offensive, we’re developing peace like a muscle. The peace we find in a real community like this one despite the differences between us is a peace that can sustain us in our divided world. Perhaps more than that, it can begin to make that dream of peace from Scripture a little more real in our lives.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Making All Things New, 82-83.

Wednesday, December 03, 2025

Embodying the Light in Community

Isaiah 2:1-5[1]

Most of you know that I am primarily a Bible teacher and preacher. I’m not much of a storyteller. I’m also not much for telling jokes in the pulpit. There are others who have those gifts. Mine is that I’ve spent a lifetime studying the Bible. And I try to share as clearly as I can the insights I’ve gained over the years. I know that when I’m in my “Bible preacher” mode I can come across as intimidating. When I was a seminary professor, I was always amazed when students told me that some of their peers were intimidated by me. I know what I know, and I’m not shy about speaking out about it. But I also care more deeply about people than about being “right” about anything. I think that’s why I am always surprised to learn that some people may find my preaching intimidating.

I think one of the most important things I would want to share about the insights I’ve gained over the years is that much of it did not originate with me. Yes, I have read through the New Testament in the original Greek text. And that gave me access to some insights that I gained on my own. But so much of what I “know” I learned from those who have served the body of Christ before me. Bible scholars, theologians, professors, pastors, and friends have shared their insights with me, and they’ve left deep impressions. Over the years, their contributions have become so much a part of who I am that I can no longer sort out what came from where. Not precisely. But there are some people who have influenced me deeply. If you haven’t heard me say it before, while I’ve studied and studied with world-class scholars, it was my younger brother, Douglas, with his various disabilities, who shaped me perhaps most deeply.

I’ve mentioned before that one of my favorite authors who shaped me is Henri Nouwen. He was a professor at some of the most prestigious theological schools in this country. He pioneered in the study and teaching of pastoral care. And after spending a year’s sabbatical at a community in France where mentally disabled people and their caregivers lived together, he walked away from the academic world to serve as the chaplain at a similar community in Toronto. I’ve learned a great deal over the years from reading Nouwen’s books. I’m still learning some of the lessons his insights have to teach me. I think I might be learning some of those lessons all my life, truth be told.

I bring him up because I’m going to do something different this year for Advent. I’m going to ask Henri Nouwen to be our guide through Advent. Each week I’m going to share my reflections on the four themes of Advent—hope, peace, joy, and love—based on a quote from Nouwen. And not surprising to me, one of the themes that these quotes will continually emphasize is community. Nouwen was keenly aware that we practice our faith, we continually learn what it means to follow Jesus, we keep discovering new ways for our faith to make us more like Christ in our daily lives precisely as we live together in community with one another.

This week, the focus of our Advent expectation is hope. Hope can be the essential cord that holds everything together. Yet it’s like silk, which can at times be strong, and at times can be fragile. I don’t know about you, but lately my hope has been feeling somewhat weak, as if the very fabric has come unraveled to some extent. That’s a scary feeling, for anybody. As I mentioned in my sermon a couple of weeks ago, St. Paul teaches us that when we endure hardship, it reinforces hope. But as I shared, in my experience many times it is our hope that helps us to endure. When our hope seems to give way, however, we may be left feeling like we’re falling into an abyss of fear.

The quote I want to share with you from Henri Nouwen is this: “Christian community is the place where we keep the flame of hope alive among us and take it seriously so that it can grow and become stronger in us. In this way we can live with courage, trusting that there is a spiritual power in us when we are together that allows us to live in this world without surrendering to the powerful forces constantly seducing us toward despair. That is how we dare to say that God is a God of love even when we see hatred all around us. That is why we can claim that God is a God of life even when we see death and destruction and agony all around us. We say it together. We affirm it in each other. Waiting together, nurturing what has already begun, expecting its fulfillment—that is the meaning of marriage, friendship, community, and the Christian life.”[2]

Nouwen reminds us that we keep “the flame of hope alive” in community in all its forms, and especially in this community. We keep the flame of hope alive in our hearts and in each others’ hearts as we make the journey together in community with one another, committed to walking this path together as the body of Christ, committed to helping each other complete the journey, especially when we may grow weak or stumble and fall. It is only as we encourage each other along the way that we can keep trusting the promises of our faith. Think about the ones we heard from the Scripture lesson from Isaiah for today. When in the history of this world has any nation beaten “their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks” (Isa 2:4, NIV)? When in the story of the human family has any nation given up warfare and stopped treating those who are “other” or “different” as enemies? It hasn’t happened! Instead, as Nouwen says, what we see are “death and destruction,” and we see that “all around us.” It can at times take the very life out of our faith and our hope. It can leave us despairing of the world that we are leaving to our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren!

But that is precisely why our life together in this community of faith is so very important. Because, as Nouwen wisely observes, we keep our faith and our hope alive by “saying it together.” We keep our faith and our hope alive by “affirming it in each other.” We do that by worshipping together right here. That’s why worshipping together is so important. That’s where we keep our faith and our hope alive together. We do that in this community. Yes, in this community where some of us hold long-standing hurts over offenses we’ve inflicted on each other. In this community where some of us have let others down. In this community where we may be afraid to speak our deepest truth out loud, for fear of having others gossip about us. We keep “the flame of hope alive” as we nurture it and affirm it together in a real, live, flawed community of real, live, flawed people.

I think what Nouwen might be calling our attention to is that Christian hope, real hope that has the strength to face the real world with everything in it that we want look away from, takes root and grows in our hearts as we share it together with real people in a real community. Even and especially when that community might include people we may not particularly like. If our hope is to remain alive in the real world, it has to be nurtured in a real, live community, flaws and all. In fact, as Nouwen reminds us, that is the very meaning of Christian community: it’s the place where we affirm our faith and our hope together. We nurture hope in one another precisely as we affirm it in one another, even and especially in those we may not care to have in our community! And as we do so more and more, we embody in ourselves and in this community the light of life that Jesus has given to us. That’s what keeps “the flame of hope,” real hope, hope that can stand up to the challenges of real life, alive in each other.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Finding My Way Home, 105-107; cited in Henri Nouwen, You Are the Beloved: 365 Daily Readings and Meditations for Spiritual Living, 361.

Tuesday, October 01, 2024

(Not) Going It Alone

James 5:13-20[1]

We live in a world that values “going it alone.” The image of the “self-made” person has long been held up as the example to follow. We see it especially in a certain kind of entertainment that idealizes rugged individualism: the “lone” figure, strong and independent, who comes along and saves the day for the “ordinary people,” and then rides off into the sunset, a solitary hero. While that may be a formula for an entertaining movie, it doesn’t work that way in real life. Despite what traditional wisdom has taught us about the virtues of “self-reliance,” I would argue that for us to become whole as human beings we have to have both a strong sense of self and a healthy connection to a community.

In the New Testament, the family of faith actually played a more important role in the lives of believers than their biological families. Part of the reason for that was when they committed their lives to following Christ, they were effectively cutting themselves off from their families of origin. In that setting, living out Christian faith within a community was vital. It was the only way they could do it. In our day, we’re not normally cut off from our families because of our faith. Rather we live in a world where families are scattered across the continent, if not across the globe. When the people who make a place “home” for you move away, or you move away from them, you can easily find yourself feeling “apart,” or “on your own.” That makes the family of faith all the more important for many in our day as well. We may have different reasons for it, but the community of faith is still the primary context for living the Christian life.

I think that’s why James closed his letter with some unusual instructions about confession, forgiveness, anointing and healing. I think James knew a very important truth that too often gets swept aside in our highly mobile world. We need others to sustain our faith. Although there have been solitary individuals throughout the history of the faith, I would say they’ve been the exception rather than the rule. I think James knew that. I think he knew that, however strong our faith may be, we’re all subject to the same human failings. And when we fall short, we need someone to whom we can turn who will make the promise of forgiveness real for us. We need a community that embodies restoration and healing.

Ironically, in this world where we’re so isolated from one another, there are many who take a “go it alone” approach to spirituality. One reason for that is there’s a “gospel” out there that promises if you say the right words and go through a right motions, you get “saved”, you’re made whole and complete, instantaneously. Over the years I’ve come to see that as a kind of spiritual hocus-pocus. Or maybe religious quackery peddling snake oil. Of course, it’s theologically true that our forgiveness and healing were completely and finally accomplished through Jesus Christ long ago. But James knew that forgiveness and healing take a community. For it to really get into our hearts and souls and lives, it takes a community. Theoretical theology needs human flesh in order to translate into a real change of life. The only way any of us finds wholeness in this world is through community. Something about the way we’re put together as human beings makes it so that we just cannot grasp such high and holy truths unless someone is there to show us the grace and mercy and love of God in action. I believe that’s the only way we can truly become whole.

That’s where our Gospel lesson comes in. Mark reminds us that our commitment to care for even the “little ones” who believe in Jesus defines us as a community. We tend to assume that Jesus was talking about children when he referred to making the “little ones” stumble. But elsewhere he refers to the “least” of these “my brothers and sisters” who were hungry, alone, and in need of community as the place where they would encounter him: he said that what we do “for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine” we have done for him (Mt 25:40, CEB). And that was the place where he expected his followers to show up as well. With the least and the last and the left out; the outcasts, the sinners, and the shut out. They’re the “little ones” that are to be the object of our concern.

In the New Testament, Jesus and the Apostles envision the church as a community defined by forgiveness, unconditional love, and mercy. That kind of mercy is called “charity” in the King James Version. I think we can get confused about that, because “charity” means something different to us. The Latin caritas translates the Greek word agape, and both of them speak of self-giving love, unconditional love, merciful love. It’s the love that Jesus showed for us all, “righteous” and “sinners” alike. Charity in the sense of caritas isn’t something you do to get a break on your taxes. It’s a way of life that flows from the experience of the love and grace and mercy of God. It’s a matter of actually caring about other people, what happens to them, their quality of life, their hopes and their fears, their wellbeing.

That’s the kind of life we’re called to live as Christians. We’re called to live together in a community that forgives, that restores, and that “saves souls,” as our Scripture lesson from James makes clear (James 5:19-20). The version we read puts it this way, “whoever brings the sinner back from wandering will save that person from death” (Jas 5:20, NLT). But it could be translated more literally in terms of “saving” their “soul.” Scholars debate “who” is saving “whom” in this passage—the “restorer” or the one who is “restored.” But I think one of the most foundational truths of the community of faith is that we’re all “saved” together in the process of acting out the mercy of God toward one another and toward all people![2] It’s not an either/or, it's a both/and. As we extend God’s mercy and love to others, they experience restoration, but so do we.

We’re not called to “go it alone” as followers of Jesus. We’re called to live together in a community that shares with others, that blesses others, that cares for others—whoever, whatever, wherever, whenever. Until we get that part right with each other, nothing we try to do in “mission” will make much of a difference. But when we do get that part right, maybe we can breathe new life into those around us, and in the process breathe a little life into ourselves. We’re all saved, we’re all restored, we’re all made whole together. Especially in this challenging time, we need a community where we love and are loved if we’re going to thrive. Holding on to the faith that God is working to bring grace and peace and mercy and love and joy and new life to every life in the midst of all that’s going on right now doesn’t happen well when we try to go it alone. We can only hold firmly to our faith when we put it into practice together in a community.

[2] Cf. similarly Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.2:731: “There is no other faith than that ‘which worketh by love’” (alluding to Galatians 5:6).

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Relationships

Ephesians 4:21-5:2[1]

Last week we saw that we demonstrate the quality of our faith by the quality of our relationships. It doesn’t take a person with greying hair to know that relationships can be complicated. They can be wonderful, and they can be aggravating. They can fill our lives with meaning and purpose, and they can leave us feeling empty and confused. They can be joyful, and they can be painful. And sometimes they can be all of that at the same time. I’m not talking about any specific kind of relationship, but rather all of our relationships. All that makes us human means that we all approach all of our relationships with all of our flaws. I think, given that reality, “complicated” is the right word for relationships.

As we discussed last week, according to St. Paul, we take our faith in Jesus “on the road,” so to speak, in our relationships. That’s where we demonstrate the strength or weakness of our faith. That’s where we discover that we still have much to learn in order to grow more like Christ in our daily living. In our lesson for today, Paul gets specific about what our faith means for our relationships. Perhaps uncomfortably so. He talks about honesty, anger, and stealing! We might find that surprising. After all, these days we tend to idealize the early church. We think that they were perfect “saints.” And here’s Paul telling those first Christians to stop lying to one another, to stop taking their anger out on one another, and to stop stealing from one another. Apparently, the first believers were just as flawed in the way they conducted their relationships as we are.

Paul starts off by telling them to “stop telling lies” (Eph 4:25)! That’s pretty blunt! It presupposes that they were lying to each other! I would imagine that most of us would take offense if someone told us to “stop telling lies.” We all tend to assume that we’re honest people. Or at least that we’re “honest enough.” But we live in a world where the standard operating procedure seems to be “say whatever it takes to get what you want without having to give up anything to anybody.” In that world, we have all kinds of subtle ways of “bending” the truth to suit ourselves.

The problem is that dishonesty in any form erodes the fabric of our relationships. Instead, Paul quotes from the prophet Zechariah: “Let us tell our neighbors the truth.” In a world where “truth” seems to be for sale to the highest bidder, we might ask the question Pontius Pilate posed to Jesus: “What is truth?” I don’t think Paul wants us to be brutally honest to the point that we actually damage our relationships. There’s a time for speaking the truth plainly and openly, and there is a time for not telling everyone everything you know. Instead, Paul gives us direction about how to be truthful when he says, “Do not use harmful words, but only helpful words” (Eph 4:29 GNT). I think that’s the bottom line for Paul: because we’re connected to one another in relationships, we’re to speak to one another in a way that will be helpful, in a way that will “do good.”

Paul’s instructions about our relationships continue in a way that continues to be uncomfortable. He says, “When you are angry, do not sin” (Eph 4:26, NIrV). I would say that for many of us, addressing our anger is just as touchy as questioning our honesty. When it comes to anger, it’s usually someone else who has a “problem” with anger, not us. Our anger is entirely “appropriate” and “justified.” At least in our own minds. But the problem is that anger is not only something we feel deeply, it’s also powerful. The question is how will we use that powerful emotion. We can take anger as a warning signal that we’re off track in some way. Perhaps we’ve misunderstood someone, or we’re holding onto an unrealistic expectation, or we’re trying to control something that we can’t control. Or we can simply take our anger out on the people around us. When we do so, we use the power of our anger to harm others. I would suggest that’s the “sin” Paul wanted us to avoid.

It’s said that it can take years to build up a relationship, but only seconds to destroy it. That’s the power of anger. I’m not talking about the fact that we all lose our temper from time to time. I’m talking about letting anger control us to the extent that we say hurtful, hateful things to others. But we can choose how to respond to our anger. Psychologists tell us that anger is usually a response to either fear or hurt. If we can pause when we’re angry, take a breath, and try to see what is driving our anger, we have a chance to use our anger for good. And that means using our anger to correct our faulty behavior in our relationships. And the key to dealing with our anger in a healthy way is to “be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32, NLT). Perhaps the first step toward doing that is to realize that we can’t simply impose our expectations on others. Rather, the way of forgiveness and kindness is to accept people for who they are.

Finally, Paul addresses the quality of relationships in the body of Christ in a way that might seem shocking. He says literally, “Thieves must no longer steal” (Eph 4:28). It’s uncomfortable to think that there were thieves in the early church. Some Bible translations display this discomfort with Paul’s words when they render this as “those who used to steal.” But that’s not what Paul says! Paul simply says, “Thieves must no longer steal.” It would seem that the early church contained people from all walks of life, including people who made a practice of stealing.

Again, most of us assume that we’re good, upstanding, honest people. We would probably insist that we’ve never stolen anything in our lives. But there are all kinds of ways of stealing. In the Bible, the prophets and apostles called not paying fair wages “stealing.” Of course, some ways of stealing are more subtle than others. We can steal a person’s good name by spreading gossip! We can steal a person’s trust by deceiving them or betraying them. We can steal a person’s innocence by taking advantage of them. The basic premise seems to be “I want what you have, and I’m going to use any means necessary to get it, regardless of how it might hurt you or anyone else.” I think Paul’s words about stealing here are not just about money or possessions. He’s talking about a fundamental way of relating to one another that seeks not to take advantage of anyone, but rather to do good to others.

Relationships are complicated. And it’s uncomfortable for us to talk about dishonesty, anger, and stealing in church. We want to assume that those are faults from which we’re inherently immune. But they’re part of the human condition, and St. Paul rightly saw them as a threat to our relationships. More than that, they undermine our ability to bear witness to the new life God is creating in each of us through the Spirit based on our faith in Jesus Christ. We can reassure ourselves that we would “never” do anything like that. But the uncomfortable truth about all of us is that we are all equally flawed and fallen. We may not all give in to our flaws to the same extent. But we are all susceptible to dishonesty; we’re all susceptible to taking out our anger on others; we’re all susceptible to stealing, particularly in their more subtle forms. Paul’s call to us, however, is to strip off those behaviors like a stained garment. He calls us to clothe ourselves with kindness, forgiveness, and love. He calls us to seek to do good to others, and not to harm. When we live like that, we will try to help others, not hurt them. We will look for ways to give to them, rather than trying to take from them. And as we do so, the quality of our relationships will demonstrate the genuineness of our faith. And the more we demonstrate the genuineness of our faith through the quality of our relationships, the more the quality of our relationships will draw people around us into our community!

Sunday, April 24, 2022

Questioning Faith?

John 20:19-31[1]

In our culture, faith and doubt are often seen as opposites. I’m sure there have been countless sermons preached through the ages on how doubt “poisons” faith. And the gist of that line of thinking is that to be a person of faith, you should not indulge your doubts, or even question what you are told to believe. We even have a phrases for it: we’re supposed to respond to spiritual matters on “blind faith.” We’re told to set aside any doubts or questions and just “take it on faith.” The problem is that approach just doesn’t work for a lot of us. We are a people who are taught to ask questions when we don’t understand.

On the other hand, I think there’s a distinction to be observed between asking questions and peddling uncertainty as if it’s a virtue. Too much emphasis on doubt can be just as much a problem as too much emphasis on being dogmatic. This is especially true for young people. When they are left to their own devices to find their way to God, without the support of their family or a faith community, they tend not to find their way to God at all. It would seem that the answer, then, is to find a healthy balance between encouraging questions and instilling basic convictions about God, about faith in Jesus, and about what it means to live a meaningful life. And that happens best in a supportive community.

Our Gospel lesson for today is the familiar story about “Doubting Thomas.” In our lesson, Thomas, one of Jesus’ hand-picked apostles, refused to believe that Jesus was alive after his death on the cross. No matter what the others told him, he simply would not believe. Unfortunately, this incident has earned him the nickname “Doubting Thomas.” As a matter of fact, when Jesus addressed Thomas, saying, “Do not doubt, but believe” (Jn. 20:27), the word translated “doubt” should probably be rendered as “faithless.” Jesus told him, “Do not be faithless, but believe.” It might seem strange to talk about a healthy balance between faith and questioning based on this lesson!

But in fact, Thomas was by no means “faithless” in his relationship with Jesus. Quite the opposite was true. When it became clear that Jesus was determined to go to Jerusalem to die, it was Thomas who said to the others, “let us go, that we may die with him” (Jn. 11:16). That doesn’t sound much like Thomas was “faithless.” And it’s important to note that Thomas was absent the first time Jesus appeared to the apostles. While the others were hiding in fear behind locked doors, Thomas was out there somewhere. We don’t really know what he was doing, but he wasn’t hiding with the others!

I think it’s entirely appropriate for us to wonder why Thomas didn’t believe the report that Jesus was alive. I wonder whether it was his dedication to Jesus that made the pain of his death hard for Thomas to move past. I also wonder whether it was because he had seen some of the others falter in their faith, especially Peter who had denied knowing Jesus, and he wasn’t prepared to rely on their word alone. What Thomas said was, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe” (Jn 20:25).

Whatever the reason for Thomas’ “doubts,” a week later Jesus appeared to the apostles again. This time Thomas was there, and Jesus invited him to see for himself that what the others had said was indeed true. I think it’s important to note that even though Thomas didn’t believe their report, he was still taking part in his “community of faith.” And so when Jesus appeared to them, he let Thomas see the wounds that he still bore on his body. He invited Thomas to do just exactly what he said he would need to do to believe: touch Jesus’ wounds. Jesus overcame Thomas’ apparent “faithlessness” and accommodated his need for more than the word of the others. And in response, Thomas made one of the strongest confessions of faith in Jesus contained in the Bible: he called him “My Lord and my God!” (Jn. 20:28).

It’s a fair question to ask what it takes to convince people in this day and time to put their faith in the message we proclaim: that Jesus died and rose again to new life. I don’t pretend to be able to answer every question we might ask about how that was even possible. But I think that our questions can actually help us make faith our own. Many of us know by experience that pursuing our questions can be the path to deeper faith. The questions raised by our doubts can provide the guidance and the motivation to set out on our journey of faith, even when we don’t understand what we’re doing, even when we don’t know for sure where it will lead us.

But I would have to say that the context in which you set out on this exploration makes all the difference in where you will wind up. Having the support and encouragement of a family and a faith community plays a crucial role in the outcome of that journey. That’s also something our experience has taught us. When we learn faith as something our family practices (not just at church), when we can work through our questions with the support of a family of faith, we have access to resources that others don’t have. We have role models that show us how faith makes a difference in our lives. If you’re like me, my best role models didn’t have answers to every question. But they had a genuine faith that they lived out, and that shaped my faith in definite ways! It helped me find that balance between exploring my questions and affirming basic convictions about God, about faith in Jesus, and about what it means to live a meaningful life. And for that, I give thanks to God!

Monday, September 14, 2020

Healing Hostility

Matthew 18:21-35[1]

It seems that everywhere you look these days you can find hostility. Some of it is very open, even “in your face.” Some of it is more subtle but no less real. It’s not hard to find someone who’s angry about something. And the sad truth is that the hostility is within us as well. All of us have people in our world who “push our buttons.” Sometimes we “go off” in the privacy of our homes, talking to the TV. Or listening to the radio in the car. I think that’s a truth we’d rather not have to face: that we may be part of the problem, not part of the solution. When hostility seems so prevalent, what can one person do?

I’ve seen one man stop a whole line of tanks simply by standing in their way. I’ve seen public officials kneeling in front of angry protesters in a move that seemed to diffuse the tension instantly, at least for the moment. Perhaps the ancient wisdom that “a gentle answer deflects anger” (Prov 15:1, NLT) still holds true. Sometimes, at least. There are times when it seems like hostility and the violence it breeds is like a flood that nothing can stop. But there are times when simple, honest, friendliness can win over even the most stubborn enemy.

In order to be able to take that kind of friendly approach even toward those who are openly hostile to us, we have to find a way to heal the hostility in our own hearts first. I think that’s where our Gospel lesson for today comes in. Jesus teaches Peter to go beyond forgiveness that only goes so far. Rather, Jesus says to practice unlimited forgiveness.[2] That’s quite a tall order for most of us. There are some people who have done us wrong in such a hurtful way that we simply find it impossible to let go our hard feelings. And yet, Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook—he makes it clear that those of us who look to God for unlimited forgiveness must put it into practice in our lives as well.

And to reinforce the point, Jesus tells a parable. A king demands of his servant the settlement of an unimaginable fortune—10,000 “talents,” which would have been several billion dollars in our world. When the servant begs for more time to pay, the king relents and forgives the entire debt. That’s hard for me to fathom! Who forgives that kind of debt? And yet, as the story goes on, the first servant goes out and demands settlement of a much smaller debt: about $10,000. When the second debtor begs for more time, using the exact same words he used, he refuses to even grant him more time to pay. When the King hears about it, he brings the first servant back in and states the obvious: “Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” (Matt. 18:33). And the point of the story is that we who have known God’s unlimited forgiveness are to extend that to others “from the heart” (Matt. 18:35).

Unfortunately, Jesus doesn’t teach us how to do this. It’s much easier said than done, I find. I’ve learned that I have to get to the place where I can truly understand and even empathize with someone who I feel has done me wrong in order to offer them this kind of unconditional forgiveness. That doesn’t always come easily. In fact, sometimes I have to have an experience where I wind up being in their shoes myself to be able to reach that level of awareness and empathy. Sometimes it has taken me years. Sometimes, it has taken me decades.

There’s a film called The Interpreter that I think illustrates the choice we face. The film is about an interpreter at the United Nations named Sylvia. She tells the story of a rite of forgiveness in Africa called the “Drowning Man Trial.” When someone is murdered, after a year of mourning, the killer is tied up and thrown into a river to drown. The family of the victim then have to choose—if they let the killer drown, they will have justice, but they will spend the rest of their lives grieving. If they save the killer from drowning, their act of saving a life can heal their own grief. I wonder what I would do if faced with that choice!

Whether there is or ever was such a thing as a “drowning man trial,” I think it serves at least like a parable for us: do we forgive as we have been forgiven, and in so doing find healing for ourselves? Or do we nurse our hurt feelings, our hostility, and our anger, and so find ourselves trapped in bitterness? I think most of us would agree that it’s better to come to the place where we can acknowledge that we share a common humanity with those who have done us harm. When we forgive them, we not only take a step towards healing the hostility we may feel. More than that, by changing our own hearts, we put a little more kindness, a little more friendliness, a little more understanding out into the world. And I do believe that the more we do that, the more we can heal the hostility that plagues us all.

[2] Cf. M. Eugene Boring, “The Gospel According to Matthew,” New Interpreters Bible 8: 380, where he observes, “Whoever counts has not forgiven at all, but is only biding his or her time (1 Cor 13:5). The kind of forgiveness called for is beyond all calculation.”

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

Faith in Community

1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35[1]

I think many of us are discovering how important community is in this strange time. It’s wonderful to be able to stay connected through technology. But it’s not the same as gathering together with families and friends. And this is true as well for families of faith. We miss seeing faces, shaking hands, giving and receiving hugs. And it is stressful to us all when we have to do without those person-to-person contacts that we were so used to.

While we all have probably heard someone say “I can worship God better on my own than at church,” the fact of the matter is that our faith thrives in community, because we thrive in community. We experience the wholeness of the new life through our community of faith. Something about the way we’re put together as human beings makes it so that we just cannot grasp the high and holy truths of our faith unless someone is there to show us the grace and mercy and love of God in action. We need our community to enable faith to truly live in our hearts.

Unfortunately, I think our present crisis has exposed to us how “futile” our way of life has become. We have closed in ourselves as a society, isolating ourselves by engaging in a reality that is “virtual” as we stare at one kind of screen or another. While the “futile ways” that Peter mentions in our lesson for today were very different from ours, I think the message applies to us as well. We have given ourselves over to a way of life that is draining, hopeless, and empty. And yet, the good news of Easter is that we have the freedom to change, the freedom not to stay stuck in the same old ruts, the freedom to find new life in our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ.

Part of the reason for this is, as Peter says, we have been “ransomed” from those “futile ways.” Because of Jesus’ death on the cross, we are now free to make the change from a way of life that essentially drains the life out us to a way of living that is whole and truly alive. We have been set free from everything that would keep us stuck in a rut that leaves us feeling drained and empty instead of fulfilled, joyful and whole. This transformation happens best in a community.

The simple truth is that faith has always been a community endeavor. From the very beginning, we find Christians gathering together to share with each other the experiences they have had with the risen Christ. As our Gospel lesson illustrates, when the disciples discovered that Jesus was alive they immediately went back to the rest of the group to tell them what had happened. It’s one thing for them to race from Golgotha to the upper room in Jerusalem. It’s another thing altogether for the disciples on the road to Emmaus to run 7 miles back to share the good news with the others! The cumulative effect is that in the sharing they were supporting and encouraging and strengthening each other’s faith! As one contemporary prophet puts it, “The resurrection is not a fact to be believed, but an experience to be shared.”[2]

I think this is true for all of us. Faith simply does not flourish in a context where we think we can be spiritual “lone rangers.” Faith flourishes in a community. I like the way Henri Nouwen puts it:

“Christian community is the place where we keep the flame of hope alive among us … . That is how we dare to say that God is a God of love when we see death and destruction and agony all around us. We say it together. We affirm it in each other.”[3]

It takes a community for us to make the journey of faith if for no other reason than we need human flesh and blood, skin and bones to translate the truths of our faith into new life. We need the experience of living out our faith in a community where we “love one another deeply from the heart” (1 Pet. 1:22) if we’re going to thrive. Especially in this challenging time, we need a community to hold on to the faith that God is working to bring grace and peace and mercy and love and life to every life in the midst of all the suffering and heartbreak that are going on right now. That doesn’t happen well when we try to go it alone. Faith is something that thrives and grows when we share it with a community.

[2] Walter Wink, “Resonating With God’s Song,” The Christian Century (March 23, 1994).

[3] Henri Nouwen, Finding My Way Home, 105.

Monday, February 08, 2016

A Better Way

1 Corinthians 13:1-13[1]

Most pastors have a way of developing routines or habits in the way they go about their ministries. For example, when I lead a wedding rehearsal, I try to take a light-hearted approach. I go through the elements of the service and say, “Now I’m reading Scripture, blah, blah, blah.” “Now I’m praying, blah, blah, blah.” Well, as many of you know, I recently performed the wedding service for my son Michael and his new wife Jaime in Canada. And I did my usual routine with the rehearsal. But as I was actually reading this scripture, 1 Corinthians 13, during the wedding, my adorable 5-year-old granddaughter Helen started saying “blah, blah, blah.” Right in the middle of the service. Out loud. I guess I may have to re-think my approach to wedding rehearsals.

But, as they say, often times “from the mouth of babes” comes truth we’d rather not hear. I wonder if, because of the fact that we’ve heard this passage so many times, we’ve gotten to the place that all we really hear is “blah, blah, blah.” I’m afraid that can be true for a lot of us. We’ve heard familiar passages from the Bible so many times that, while we may have warm feelings from hearing favorite verses, I wonder if we really hear the message. Unfortunately, time and familiarity have dulled the edge those Scriptures were originally meant to have.

One of the most helpful ways to try to get around this over-familiarity is to take a closer look at what’s actually going on behind the scenes. In the case of our lesson from 1 Corinthians for today, St. Paul was addressing a congregation that was troubled and torn by factions and divisiveness. He has spent most of his effort in the previous 12 chapters trying to sort out the issues that were causing problems. At this point, he’s dealing with “spiritual gifts.” These were the various abilities that Paul said the Holy Spirit had given to the members of the church in order to build it up, gifts like preaching, teaching, leadership, service, and others.

One of the gifts practiced in the church at Corinth was “speaking in tongues.” While there has been some confusion about what this means, it would seem that it was some kind of non-rational prayer language. Though this may look strange to people who value clear communication, Paul validated it as a genuine gift of the Spirit. He even admitted that he himself had “spoken in tongues.” Unfortunately, those who practiced this gift at Corinth seemed to have developed the attitude that because they could speak a “heavenly” language, they were on a higher spiritual plane than others.

As you can imagine, it didn’t set well with folks in the church at Corinth that there was a group that basically saw themselves as spiritually superior to the rest of them. And part of what St. Paul was trying to accomplish with them was to bring some balance to the congregation by pointing out that all of the gifts are important for the welfare of the church.[2] He used the analogy of the parts of the body to try to help them understand that everyone in the church has something of value to contribute.

In the passage for today, Paul says he is showing them “a still more excellent way” (1 Cor. 12:31). The “better way” that Paul advocates is the way of practicing the gifts of the Spirit with an attitude of love for one another. In fact, he goes to some effort to make it clear that even the most impressive spiritual gifts are essentially useless if they are not practiced in an attitude of love for others.[3] And so he describes the kind of attitude he has in mind when he says, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful” (1 Cor. 13:4-5). It would seem, in fact, that he is speaking rather bluntly to them here. Earlier in the letter, Paul has already called them out on the fact that they were being envious and boastful towards each other. Here he makes it clear that is not the “better way.”[4]

On the contrary, I think the “better way” that he wants them to practice is the way of Jesus Christ.[5] It is the way of God’s love for us. Paul describes it this way, love “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:7). He’s not talking about love as a feeling, but rather love as a way of life, love as a basic attitude toward others, love as a commitment to follow Jesus’ example. It is a love that sacrifices for the sake of others; it is a love that is essentially unselfish and giving and generous; it is a love that bears with others with all their flaws and shortcomings.[6] This is the “better way” according to Paul.

This passage of Scripture wasn’t written primarily for married people. Paul is addressing the whole church about the way we are to live in the community of faith. I would hardly say that this church is one that is torn by factions and divisions. But the reality is that the kind of love the Bible teaches us to practice towards one another requires a great deal of us, and we don’t always live up to it. Let’s face it: sometimes it’s not easy to love one another in the church. Sometimes people in the church can rub each other the wrong way. And yet it is the love that we maintain for one another that sets the church apart from any other civic organization. Since we can all fall short, I think it’s important for us to see that the love that St. Paul says “never ends” is God’s love for us.[7] That is, after all, what enables us to keep trying to love one another.[8] It is the love that God shows us day by day, and the love that Jesus taught us by his life and death, that call us all to keep seeking “the better way.”

[2] Cf. Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians, 221: “The purpose of chapter 13 is to portray love as the sine qua non of the Christian life and to insist that love must govern the exercise of all the gifts of the Spirit. … Paul is trying to reform the Corinthians’ understanding and practice of spiritual manifestations in worship.”

[3] Cf. J. Paul Sampley, “The First Letter to the Corinthians,” New Interpreters Bible X:952, where he says, “no matter how magnificent the accomplishment, power, or action, when love is missing the exercise in question becomes vain, selfish, fruitless, and individualistic.”

[4] Cf. Hays, First Corinthians, 222, where he quotes John Calvin as saying, “I have no doubt that Paul intended it [1 Corinthians 13] to reprimand the Corinthians in an indirect way, by confronting them with a situation quite the reverse of their own….” Hays himself says (p. 227), “the Corinthians will surely have gotten the picture: Paul is implying that everything about their behavior contradicts the character of love.”

[5] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 1.2:330, where he says of this chapter, “which we shall best understand if for the concept ‘love’ we simply insert the name Jesus Christ.”

[6] Cf. Hays, First Corinthians, 232: Where he says, “Love is not just a matter of feelings: feelings come and go, while love abides.” He continues by insisting that the actions that define love “are learned patterns of behavior that must be cultivated over time in the context of a community that models and supports such behavior. We must learn patience, we must be taught not to keep score of wrongs done against us.”

[7] Cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics 1.2:372, where he says, “Paul expressly says of love in 1 Cor. 13:8 that it οὐδέποτε πίπτει [never fails]. He means that it will still apply to the being and activity of the redeemed in the world to come.” Cf. also Hays, First Corinthians, 231: “Love is the greatest of the three because—unlike the revelatory gifts and even unlike faith and hope—it will endure eternally when the love of God is all in all (1 Cor. 15:28). It is also the greatest because, even in the present time, it undergirds everything else and gives meaning to an otherwise unintelligible world….”

[8] Cf. Sampley, “The First Letter to the Corinthians,” NIB X:955: “Faith, hope, and love endure; gifts do not. Gifts are finite; they are given to persons who employ them for a period within the community. Love is the matrix of the life of faith; God’s love for people becomes the force that enables them to love others.”

The Waking Dreamer