Tag: Meditation

Wednesday of Holy Week: A Brief Meditation

In our Isaiah passage, the prophet makes clear that he is caught up in God’s divine pathos and love for God’s people. He is to “sustain” the people who are wear. Isaiah is awakened every morning with new words speaking of Divine love for and presence with God’s people—whether or not they know it or feel it. Isaiah submits to this pathos—“was not rebellious” and “did not turn backward”.

A sudden shift in the text tells us that Isaiah speaks as one who is found in conflict with those around him who “strike” and “pull” at him. Isaiah finds strength to face this specific conflict with others and his general conflict as a prophet of God with the kingdom of humanity. Where does he find this strength? The very pathos of God that has swept him up in the first place. The prophet’s glory comes from glorifying God and not the kingdom of humanity, so the prophet can press on and continue with his vocation and journey. The prophet does not speak and walk alone; God is with him for God’s Spirit is in him, fueling him, encouraging him, exhorting him forward. This one is beyond being found guilty.

Isaiah is speaking of Israel; this is Israel’s call and it is this path through conflict, anguish, pain and suffering that Israel will be a blessing to the nations and bring glory to God who will be praised among those nations so blessed by Israel. Their call—stemming from the promises given to Abraham—was not to a life of comfort and privilege but to service, service to God that was service to their neighbor. It was not about domination, but solidarity with those around them. It was not about isolation and a pulling away, but a pressing forward and pulling humanity together. It was not for the destruction of the earth, but for the righting of wrongs.

For us Christians, this passage provokes us to think of Christ. Christ is the one who is caught up in the divine pathos and love for God’s people, it is Christ who sustains the people, especially the oppressed and disenfranchised. It is Christ who is awakened every morning with God’s word on his tongue and in his ear, for it is his will that is so conformed to God’s will. It is Christ who submits—willingly—to the God’s desires for the world.

But we must also see ourselves as those who confront Christ, who strike and pull at him, who punish him, who cause him pain and suffering. We are not off the hook here.

It is Christ who will contend with us and the kingdom of humanity and endure beating and whipping, pain and suffering, and even death because he so identified with humanity, shrugging of royalty and taking on vulnerable human flesh. It is Christ who sets his face “like flint” to complete the divine love task of divine liberation bringing new life. Christ will bear the burden of being found guilty when he is not; he will suffer for that imputed guilt. But even in this, God’s glory is hidden in the Christ’s suffering and revealed on Easter morning.

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Meditation, Anti-Racism and Revolution

In this video I discuss two books I recently read and am impacted by. The first book is, “This Book is Anti-Racist: 20 Lessons on how to Wake Up, Take Action, and Do the Work” by Tiffany Jewell. And the second book is, “Stay Woke: A Meditation Guide for the Rest of Us” by Justin Michael Williams. These two excellent books intersect and work concurrently with each other as it pertains to our presence in a world in need of awake and alert people fighting for a better world for all people. I highly recommend both books to your shopping cart and minds and lives.

Here are the two episodes of Layla Saad’s podcast, The Good Ancestor Podcast, where she interviews both Tiffany Jewell and Justin Michael Williams.

http://laylafsaad.com/good-ancestor-podcast/ep030-tiffany-jewell

http://laylafsaad.com/good-ancestor-podcast/ep024-justin-michael-williams

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Doubt and Encounter

Second Sunday of Easter Meditation: John 20:26-28

(video at the end of the post)

 

“…Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’” (Jn 20:26d-28).

Thomas the doubter. We have more patience for the denials of Peter than we do the doubt of Thomas. In the history of “The Top Ten Best Moments of the Disciples,” it seems (often) that Thomas’s doubt ranks just above Judas’s betrayal. Don’t be such a doubting Thomas. Words that silence questions and confusion unto shame and condemnation. It’s only slightly better than being called a Judas.

Shade is thrown in Thomas’s direction because his disbelief hits too close to home. That Thomas’s doubt is recorded for all posterity reminds me, at least once a year, that doubt is…is possible. It reminds me that I do, in fact, doubt. It reminds you that you doubt. Thomas’s story hits the core of our insecurities and tells us that it doesn’t matter how many degrees we have or how many times we’ve read through the bible or how reasonable and rational our apologies for God are…we doubt. All of us.

This doubt feels deadly in a tradition that is orthodox, meaning (simply): right thought. Doubting can seem like unfaithfulness and willful rejection of what God has done and said and this means divine rejection. If I doubt, am I lost? If I am lost, will I be found? Is it all up to me? Jesus even says to Thomas, “‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,’” (Jn 20:29). In this moment it seems that Thomas is chastised for not believing because he wanted physical proof (a very human and rational thing to ask for). We are scared to doubt because there seems to be big risk attached.

The good news is, Thomas isn’t lost, left, and abandoned. Zoom out and look at the story as a whole. What we see are those characteristics that are the trademarks of God: long-suffering, patient, merciful, abounding in lovingkindness, and gracious. Thomas doubts; Jesus shows up. In his doubt, Thomas comes face to face with God. Thomas encounters God in the event of faith and what bursts forth from his human lips is a confession: confession of faith and confession of his lack of faith.[1]

In this story, Thomas is truly human. In the first instance he stands on his reason alone where he cannot believe what has been told to him by his peers. In the next moment, Thomas is encountered by God in Christ and believes. “My Lord and my God!” Says Thomas. Thomas sees here what he could not see before based on mere testimony. Thomas, in this moment, sees Jesus as he desires to be seen as the incarnate word of God (John 1). Behold, God!

It is not that we think, but that we doubt where we find ourselves at the core of what it means to be human. Because it is here, in doubt, where we look beyond ourselves, beyond the narrow framework of our mind and imagination. Doubt is our confession of being human. And it’s in this confession where we are, ironically, so very close to God. More often than not, doubt is not that we are far from God, but that we are so close…as close as Jacob, Israel, wrestling with God.

 

 

[1] Thoughts here and following influenced by Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of John: A Commentary. Trans. GR Beasley-Murray and RWN Hoare, JK Riches. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1971. (pp. 689-697).

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Waters of Thursday

Maundy Thursday Meditation: John 13:6

(video at the end of the post)

 

“He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’” (John 13:6)

 

Peter does not know what Jesus is doing.

Wanting to know and seeking to understand is part of our natural inclination and orientation. Being without sight, having words held by silence, being trapped in isolation, these restrictions cause chaos, and this chaos drives us crazy. In an effort to make sense of our surroundings, our environment, our predicament we concoct schemes and stories, dogmas and doctrines, rituals and routines. Some of these things seem to rise to celestial heights others shatter on the ground as the human made earthen vessels they are.

We do not know what God is doing.

Peter feels the tension as Jesus–the Christ!–stoops low and washes his feet. This is a boggling gesture on Jesus’s part, and Peter cannot make sense of it. Roles should be reversed, seats swapped; what is He doing? The only consolation that Jesus offers to Peter’s shock filled question, is an understanding that will come at a later date. Yet that does not ease the oddness of this particular moment in the present. We know this feeling intimately. Blindness now, silence now, isolation now leaves us feeling unsteady and uncertain even if we know that one day everything we’ve endured (now) will make sense as we watch all the parts of our story fall into place.  But at the onset of every night, in our solemn prayer as we drift off to sleep is the confession: Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

We do not know what God is doing.

Resisting the urge to flash forward to Easter Sunday and the glory of the resurrection, stay here in this chaos with Peter. Marvel, with Peter, at Jesus kneeling before you, laying hold of your foot, and washing it. Feel his hands grip and the water pour over. Listen as Jesus promises that even in this present chaos, you will understand. Gaze upon the Christ and his posture before you, because it’s in that divine posture of humility where our comfort will be found. It is this posture that will not only mark the night before his crucifixion, but also the cross itself. Christ the meek will humble himself even unto death on the cross for the beloved (Phil 2:8)–to restore us to God and cleanse us completely by his once-and-for-all sacrifice.

We do not know what God is doing.

However, that’s quite okay. Because in this not knowing we are made aware we’ve become the humble and meek, wholly dependent on this wholly other God, the one who calls us by name and washes us. The water of Thursday and the silence of Saturday are, to be sure, the marks of our Christian life now as we wait and walk humbly with our God, acting justly and loving mercy (Micah 6:8).

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