Countryside Community Church - Joy Luke Club

Last Sunday we encountered two interesting figures in Luke 2: Simeon the priest and Anna the “prophetess.”   I gave the congregation my view on Anna’s true identity, which is a bit different than many expect.

In Hebrew, Anna means “Grace.”  That fact alone is interesting, and suggestive of the something deep in Luke’s gospel, given that the very first story of Luke’s birth narrative is of the birth of John the Baptist.  In Hebrew, John means “God is gracious.”  So the whole of the Luke’s birth narrative is framed by GRACE.

Luke tells us a number of facts about Anna/Grace that suggest that there is more to her story than meets the eye.  Consider the following:

(a) She is at least 84 years old.  Depending on how you translate the Greek, she is either 84 yrs old, or has been widowed for 84 years after being married for 7, which would probably make her over 100.  In other words, she’s far older than most people in her society, whose life expectancy was decades lower.  Most or all of her peers are long dead.  There’s no mention of children, but if she had any, they’re probably long dead, too.

(b) Being a widow for so long, and either childless or without living children, Anna/Grace is almost certainly dirt poor – a fact which is strongly suggested by the other details Luke gives us about her.

(c) Luke tells us she “never left the temple but worshiped night and day.”  As a woman, Anna/Grace could not have served the temple as a priest, which makes it highly unusual that she would “never” leave the temple, even at night.  Likely, she”never” leaves the temple because she has nowhere else to go.  Anna/Grace is homeless.

(d) She also is said to “fast and pray” when she is at the temple (i.e., all the time).  A woman who is elderly, friend/childless, dirt-poor, and homeless likely does not “fast” merely as a spiritual discipline.  Rather, she fasts because she has no food!

Seen in this light, “Anna the Prophetess” starts looking a lot more like “Gracie the Bag Lady” … at least until she runs into Jesus.  Before she spots the Messiah in her midst, Gracie (as I prefer to call her) is a beggar at the temple, outside the power structure, looked down upon by most, and reliant on whatever small coins are dropped at her feet by the faithful. Yet after her experience with Jesus, in which God gives her an intuition about Jesus’ nature and identity that is every bit as accurate and profound as that of Simeon’s, “Gracie the Bag Lady” is transformed into “Anna the Prophetess” in Scripture and in the eyes of all generations who follow her.

Isn’t this exactly what happens to any of us who stumble into Jesus?  It seems that you just can’t let this Jesus guy into your heart without him changing you into a new creation of some sort, with a higher identity and purpose than you ever thought possible.

Christian sociologist Tony Campolo (whom I call my “favorite evangelical”), who taught for many years at Eastern University near Philadelphia, told a gripping story in Sunday’s worship service (via YouTube video) about a birthday party he threw for a prostitute named Agnes at 3:30 am in Honolulu.  While “Gracie” was no prostitute, the transformation that takes place in her life is quite similar to the transformation to which Campolo’s story points.  No small number of folks gave an enthusiastic response to Campolo’s story after worship.  For those of you who haven’t seen it, or who would like to see it again, click the link below.  It’s well worth the view!

TONY CAMPOLO’S STORY ABOUT THROWING A BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR A PROSTITUTE AT 3:30 AM

For those of you looking into 2010, the “Roadside Conversations” videos for Luke 11 and 12 have just been posted.  At Countryside, we’ll be covering Luke 11 the week of January 3rd and Luke 12 the week of January 10th.  Click the links below for the videos:

Luke 11

Luke 12

This Sunday we’ll be exploring Luke 2 in worship at Countryside Church.  Specifically, we’ll be looking at two curious people who come into the spotlight at the end of the chapter: Simeon the priest, and Anna the prophetess.  Both people are said to have recognized Jesus as the Messiah when he was brought to the temple as an eight-day-old infant to be circumcised.

The stories get me to wondering: How does one recognize the invisible reality that exists within and behind the visible world?  How is it that a priest and prophetess could recognize Jesus as the Messiah of God?  There was no neon sign above his head.  There were no choirs of angels singing his praises.  The stories practically beg the question: How does one develop “eyes to see” and “ears to hear” what others neither see nor hear?

In the 13th C, one of my favorite poets, Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (or Rumi for short) made this observation:

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart, and that depends upon how much he has polished it.
Whoever has polished it more sees more — more unseen forms become manifest to him.

In contrast to our North American culture which tends to believe that spiritual insight/intuition just comes naturally, and therefore does not require serious or ongoing attention, Rumi offers a helpful counterpoint.  So does Luke 2.  Both Simeon and Anna had been lifetime devotees to the spiritual path.  In fact, Anna is said to have been coming to the Temple daily for 84 years!

What is natural to us is not clarity, but fuzziness with respect to our path in life.  As the apostle Paul observes, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly” (1 Corinthians 13:12).  While there is not much hope of achieving perfect clarity, however, it is indeed possible to bring our lives into much greater focus.  It is possible to increasingly “see” what eyesight fails to reveal, and to “hear” what the ears cannot.

What polishes your mirror?  What have you found that helps increase your powers of intuition or gives greater clarity to your path?

Sorry to those of you who may have been searching for the “Roadside Conversations” videos for Luke 1 and 2, now that we’re in the Christmas season.

Click here for the Luke 1 video.

Click here for the Luke 2 video.

The chapter in Van Blair’s commentary to read along side these chapters is in the back of the book in the “Polemic” section – the part dealing with the Virgin Birth.  Not all Luke Groups will necessarily want to spend two weeks covering Luke 1 and 2.  In that case, I’d suggest either a Christmas Party for the following week, or covering one of this other “polemic” sections, which are all interesting.

While this post isn’t about Luke, per se, it will surely be of interest to Countrysiders who are studying Luke: As of Friday we have officially begun to advertise the Associate Pastor position to the public!  You can view Countryside’s church Profile by clicking the badge on the right-hand corner of our home page (Special thanks go to David Day for modifying our home page so quickly!).  It’s quite an inspiring document.  Our search committee has done a great job with it!

Below is the blurb that will be running in the “UCC Employment Opportunities” within a couple weeks.  You may find it a bit wordy, but that’s the style of most of the entries there, as Search Committees strive to pack as much info as possible in very little space:

Dynamic, theologically progressive congregation that values creativity in worship and its strong adult, youth, children, music, and small group ministries seeks an AP to join our SP, Dr. Eric Elnes, in inspiring and challenging our congregation into greater spiritual growth and discipleship.  We are exploring the growing edge of the emerging Christian faith and seek an energetic AP with a deep appreciation for both tradition and innovation to join us on our journey.  See our profile at http://www.countrysideucc.org.

Are you busier than you need to be during the holiday season?  Advent is a time of preparation; a time for finding silent places in your day for reflection and contemplation; a time to allow quiet joy to well up from within as one re-connects with the “reason for the season.”  We’ll  be exploring some of this on Sunday with our focus on John the Baptist’s father, Zechariah, in Luke 1.

We’ll also be making available hard copies of a brilliant essay by author David Duncan (who’s coming to Countryside in in April!) called “Strategic Withdrawal,” which he gave us permission to distribute to members and friends of Countryside.  I believe I would be breaking the spirit of Mr. Duncan’s generous permission to publish it for the world on this blog, but if you’re not in the Omaha area (and even if you are), I’d heartily recommend purchasing the book it’s found in: My Story as Told by Water: Confessions, Druidic Rants, Reflections, Bird-Watchings, Fish-Stalkings, Visions, Songs and Prayers Refracting Light, from Living Rivers, in the Age of the Industrial Dark (Sierra Club Books, 2002) at your local bookstore or online.  It’s a perfect remedy for over-the-top seasonal busyness!

For those of you watching the Luke video commentary, Roadside Conversations, here’s Chapter 9 and Chapter 10.

And don’t forget: These are not only helpful for small group preparation and personal Bible study, but are also helpful prep for  worship!

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight. 12:7 But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. – Luke 12:6-7

The other day I responded to an email I received from someone living out-of-state who is an agnostic wanting to have a conversation about how one may experience this “God who loves us beyond our wildest imagination” that I talk and write about.  This is a person who has experienced a great deal of pain and disappointment in his life, and I found myself reflecting along the lines of the “salt” sermon I preached a couple months ago where we poured cans of Morton Salt down the aisles (“The Three Great Loves, Affirmation 10, Part 2,” September 20, 2009).  It was a sermon that touched on the verses from Luke 12 above.  I realize I’m getting ahead of myself by blogging on Luke 12, and that those of you who were here for that sermon may find what’s below redundant, but I thought I’d share the following for those who wish to read it:

When people of our great-great-grandparents’ generation looked out at the stars shining brightly over their farms and ranches, it was easy to feel exactly what thousands of generations before them felt – a sense of awe and wonder; a sense of perfection and orderliness to the Universe; perhaps also a sense of artistry and imagination.  The sky may have served as a reminder of God’s beneficence and blessing.  At least they could feel these things when the crops were doing well, or the cows were milking.  But in drought, or through cold winters that livestock didn’t survive, that sky may have looked the same, but other associations or questions might have come to mind: Is God punishing us by withholding the rain?  Did we do something wrong?  Is God trying to teach us a lesson?  Did God decide not to listen to our constant prayers?  The one thing that they would NOT likely have asked is, Does God exist?  That wasn’t in their world-view.

But now that modern science has stepped onto the scene, we can look into the same sky our ancestors did and while there may be a number of similarities of thoughts and ideas we share with our ancestors, we have new thoughts as well, thoughts that none of our ancestors could even imagine having.   We look into the milky area of the sky and realize we’re in the midst of a galaxy 100,000 light years in length and 3,000 lightyears in depth – a galaxy that is said to contain AT LEAST one hundred billion stars (i.e., approx 66,000 cans of Morton Salt if each grain represented a star).  We look at one faintly glowing “star” in the lower hemisphere and realize that that “star” is actually an entire other galaxy called Andromeda, and what we are beholding has travelled 2.5 million years at the speed of light to reach us.  And the Andromeda is considered to be the most distant visible galaxies of what scientists call the NEAR Field, i.e., the closest galaxies!

In some respects, these observations have allowed us to be filled with even more awe and wonder; even more peaceful reverence than even our ancient forebears.  However, they have also introduced a NEW thought into our our minds, at least when the (literal or figurative) rain doesn’t come and the cows are dying: “Does God exist?”  “Are we all alone?”  “If God exists, how could such a God be aware of me, or hear my prayers with so much … empty space?”

Those who are more prone to more down-to-earth, concrete, rubber-hits-the-road thinking may try to escape the terror of aloneness in the face of such vastness by looking to only that which they can see and touch.  But even here, modern science has introduced NEW thoughts into our minds that the ancients (even our great-great-grandparents) never had to deal with.  We look at our hands and realize that they are made up not just of skin, muscle, bone, etc, but also of cells … and cells can be reduced to molecules … and molecules to atoms … to atomic particles … and to subatomic particles like quarks.  We recognize that, on a relative scale, the distance between a proton and its nearest electron is greater than the distance between the sun and earth.  And this causes us to realize that everything we can see before us contains more empty space than anything else.  We’re really more than 99.999999999% empty space …

So now when we modern “farmers” look out at the sky when the “rains” don’t come and all around us seems to be dying, and also when we turn our gaze downward to the earth, it is hard sometimes not to be overwhelmed by a sense of vast, vast, emptiness.  And absence.

“What of this God who loves us beyond our wildest imagination now?” one cannot help but ask.

The major religions of the world all have different ways of addressing this question (though not all believe in a God, or a God who loves us like this, of course).  I find that the Christian path speaks to me quite powerfully precisely at the intersection where vast emptiness meets vast emptiness.  For, at the center of Christian faith is not a “warm fuzzy blanket” meant to provide an “cushy comfort” but a Cross – an instrument of torture and death; a place of utmost desolation and despair; a place where even Jesus cried out “My God, my God, why have you FORSAKEN me?”

Christian faith is not a good intellectual concept.  It’s not a set of doctrines.  It’s not even a set of beliefs.  Christian faith is simply an experience.  While the experience may turn into something quite ecstatic, lifting one to the heights of love and grace, it never starts here, nor does it end here.  The basic experience to which the Cross points is emptiness.  It is the experience of deeply relating to and claiming our emptiness, losing hope and faith, and discovering the emptiness of God touching the emptiness that is us.

I cannot begin to describe what this experience “feels” like.  The experience is as far beyond words as that Andromeda galaxy is beyond earth.  It is WAY beyond doctrines and beliefs – so far that people of absolutely NO belief can experience this fierce intersection without ever finding religious language to describe it.   And to me, that only makes it more real; more worthy of contemplation (even though I admit from square one that I’ll never understand it); even more worthy of adoration (even though I’ll never fully appreciate, much less adore it).

Even my own “mountain top” experience in 1981 (that I write about in Asphalt Jesus) didn’t begin there, with a spiritual “high.”  It began with two people getting in touch with our deep emptiness and letting go of “self.”  If one searches for an ultimate “high,” one never finds it (I know this from incredibly long experience of trying to replicate the very experience I had in ‘81, or trying to get close to it!).  But what all of us can do is find the emptiness inside and claim it.  This is the surest path to God, I think.  Somehow emptiness + emptiness regularly seems to lead to somethingness.  Literally, creatio ex nihilo.  And a new day dawns.  A new creation is born.

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Last night we read the present Nebraska Governor’s Thanksgiving Proclamation at Countryside’s Thanksgiving Eve service.  I like the one written by Nebraska Governor Robert W. Furnas in 1874 even better.  He wrote it during a time of famine in Nebraska, and it was even published in the New York Times.  Here’s Gov. Furnas’ proclamation, with wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving!

THANKSGIVING PROCLAMATION

By the Governor of the State of Nebraska:

In conformity with the proclamation of the President of the United States, respect for a custom of our forefathers, and in reverential acknowledgment of dependence upon Divine Providence, I do hereby recommend that Thursday, the 26th of November, 1874, be observed as a day of prayer and supplication; that upon that day the people of this State abstain, as far as practicable, from their usual avocations, and observe the day in a manner becoming our surroundings.  And I entreat of all those endowed with substantial gifts of prosperity a kindly remembrance of those in the abodes of want.  Let the accustomed gatherings “be made joyous by the exercise of that cheerful bounty which blesses the receiver adn giver alike, and which is always an offering peculiarly acceptable to Him who holds the lowly in the solicitude of His infinite care.”

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and affixed the seal of the State.

Done in the City of Lincoln, this 27th day of October, A.D. 1874, and of the independence of the United States the ninety-ninth, and of this State the eighth.

By the Governor: ROBERT W. FURNAS

JOHN J. GOSPER, Secretary of State

Published: November 12, 1874, The New York Times

Okay, this isn’t exactly related to Luke 8, our focus for the week, but it’s Thanksgiving Eve, and this evening we’ll be gathering at Countryside Church to give thanks for four specific elements in our lives: distinctive people, life experiences, God-experiences, and food.  Congregation members will be bringing forward items that remind them of one or more of these things and placing them in the chancel area.  A number of folks will be given opportunities to reflect on their items/experiences before a blessing is given over the items and we all go down to Memorial Hall to eat pie!

Below is a story that fits both into the “food” and the “God-experience” category, which I may share this evening if there’s time for it.  In my experience, I’ve found that there are a number of things we can do to become more open to having such experiences, including: meditation, worship, treks in the wilderness, study of the Bible or other sacred texts, journalling, reading or writing poetry … and eating good food mindfully.  Here’s one of many food/God experiences I’ve had – this one from my first day in India in the summer of 2004:

I’ve been to lots of Indian restaurants before coming to India, and thoroughly enjoyed most of them.  I, and my girls, have cooked Indian food at home.  But I had never been to Kamat’s Restaurant in south Mumbai!

After arriving in Mumbai late the night before, I slept in a bit, missing breakfast and emerging from my hotel in time for an early lunch.  Kamat’s was on Colaba Causeway a block or two from the hotel I’d picked to spend a couple days before my family arrived from Arizona (I was coming directly from Ethiopia).   As do many restaurants India, Kamat’s advertised itself as “pure vegetarian.”  I nervously sat down in the tiny restaurant not knowing how much English the waiters spoke or how to interpret a number of unfamiliar items on their menu.  I decided to play it safe by ordering a broad sampling of south Indian food and to wash it down with a beverage that caught my eye: a ginger-lemon soda.  What arrived minutes later will remain with me the rest of my life.

First came the ginger-lemon soda.  The waiter brought a medium-sized glass about a quarter full of thick, golden-brown syrup.  Next, he opened a bottle of soda water, and set down a spoon and tumbler of straws beside it.  The waiter showed me how to slowly poor the soda over the syrup without creating too much foam.  I knew from previous soda-syrup experiences that you don’t want to stir the mixture with a spoon too much, if at all, lest you create an overly powerful mixture that gradually dilutes with each re-pouring of soda water.  You take a few sips until you get down to a level where the syrup is more concentrated and pour on more soda.

Anyway, I poured the initial measure of soda, brought the glass to my lips, and as soon as the first golden-brown drops hit my tongue it was like the universe stopped expanding.  For a few brief moments everything was enveloped in ginger-lemon!

As the sensation began to fade, I took another sip.  Once again, the universe stopped in its tracks, infused with a golden-brown aura.  I continued sipping on and off again until everything was not simply infused with ginger-lemon, but the universe became ginger-lemon.

No, there was nothing weird in my drink!  It’s just India.  The meal that followed brought on similar experiences, only with different flavors, all of which seemed to unite somewhere in the ethers like planets orbiting some great sun.  I was particularly struck by a dab of red, syrupy sauce – no more than three teaspoons worth – on the edge of my plate.   A small chunk of tomato in the center suggested some form of tomato chutney. (I learned later that this is called “pickle” and that a wide variety of “pickle” is served throughout India as a condiment.)  I took a spoon of rice, dabbed it in the sauce,  and placed it in my mouth.  This time, the universe did not stop in its tracks.  It exploded with light of a million red tomato supernovas pulsing to the tangy, sweet-tart beat of vinegar, a grain or two of sugar, and spices.   It took everything I had not to stand up and shout, “Praise be to You, O wondrous Creator!”

I immediately determined to return to Kamat’s the next day, and as often as possible before my family and I headed for southern India!

The next day happened to be the World-Wide Opening of the third Harry Potter film.  Turns out, Mumbai was as crazed over Harry Potter as the rest of the planet, which was okay by me since I’m a little Harry Potter crazy myself. What else could explain my walk of several kilometers in the intense heat and drop-to-your-knees humidity, carrying heavy video equipment I was using to document my journey, just to see the first showing?  After getting lost, finding my way again, and arriving at the theatre completely drenched from head to foot in perspiration, I gladly purchased a scalped seat for nearly three times the original cost (still only around $4 US!).  I entered the theatre, gulped down a cold soda, and found my seat.

There was a power outage just before the film started, but after a 45 minute delay, the world of Harry Potter was ours.  I, and several hundred kids and handful of adults in the audience, had great fun.

We got out just before 7 PM, so there was still some daylight left – and a slight reprieve from the heat (but not humidity).  I continued my walking tour of Mumbai.  Along the way, I noticed a man wearing traditional Indian clothing for that area – a light, round-collared (like a priest wears) top garment that extends down below the knees, which covers loose-fitting, similarly colored pants.  I really liked the look and it seemed like it would offer at least a little reprieve from the heat and humidity.  Moments later, I passed a stall with similar clothing.  After haggling with the stall-keeper, I had a similar outfit for 200 rupees (same price as the Harry Potter ticket!).  This outfit became my “church clothes” for the rest of the journey.

Eventually I found myself at the famed Horniman Circle.  Horniman Circle is a very small park in the middle of bustling south Mumbai.  In the 1860s, it was the sole remaining section of Bombay’s cotton green (Bombay was later called Mumbai).  Now, it is a fenced garden, filled with lush flowers, flowering trees and shrubs, green grass, a serene central fountain, palms, and the original banyan tree under which stocks were traded in the early days of the Bombay Stock Exchange.

The fading sun deepened the intense reds and oranges of the flowering trees.  This, combined with the park’s amazing quietness (considering its location), the shadowy leaves gently swaying in the breeze, the fragrance of plants mingling with incense, set me in a reverent mood.  I walked the perimeter of the garden-park feeling as if a beautiful, heavy-set woman with long, black, leafy hear, wearing an orange-red dress (the color of Kamat’s “pickle”) and perfume that was supremely complex yet simple, was reaching out and embracing me with multiple arms.

The feelings that stirred within me were not sexual.  Nor were they entirely sensual.  They were spiritual. This was the same deity of the ginger-lemon universe with red tomato supernovas I’d experienced at Kamat’s Restaurant yesterday.  This was a feminine deity.  Or, more precisely, a feminine face of the Deity.  It was the same deity I have always known – in both masculine and feminine forms – deep at the heart of Christian experience.  Deep in the love of Christ.  Yet, it was another side of this love.

I passed under a trellis gateway bowing my head to avoid brushing up against the leafy branches hanging from it, and suddenly realized it was only my body bowing to the branch. My soul was bowing to the Creator.  Part of me was bowing to a fraction of God to whom I’d never bowed before; never quite knew existed in this way before; to whom I’d never submitted or pledged obedience before.  Before then.  I became a better Christian because of it.

Dinner was spent at Kamat’s – of course.  You can guess how that went!