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Category: Following Jesus

Love Your Enemies, Or Love God?

Published by mhelbert on June 20, 2019

It should really be a no-brainer. In fact, it seems that if you love God you will necessarily love your enemy.

Right?

For anyone whose home isn’t in some cave deep in the jungle that statement would ring true. But, for those of us who live and breathe in the U.S. things are a bit more nuanced, to say the least.

I spend a lot of time reading blogs, essays, and news reports from various sources. (Admittedly, Fox News is not one of them.) These pieces cover subjects from climate change to koalas with VD.

There is one topic that seems to garner a bit more than its fair share of coverage. That is, White Evangelicalism.

What is this, you ask?

White Evangelicalism is the broad umbrella that folks use to cover White conservatives who share some kind of Evangelical faith in God. These are the folks who voted overwhelmingly for Donald “Pussy Grabber” Trump. Some polls show that a good 83% of these people who profess to follow Jesus of Nazareth voted for him.

White Evangelicals are largely conservative politically and socially. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that. I respect their right to make those choices and will go to the mat with anyone who would try to take that right away. However, many of these people go well beyond simply supporting conservative causes. These others actively work to deny the rights of others to express themselves in a like fashion.

People like Steven Anderson, pastor of Faithful Word Baptist Church. Pastor Anderson is vocally anti LGBT. His hatred for LGBT people has gotten him banned from several countries in Africa and Europe.

There’s Robert Jeffress of First Baptist in Dallas. He is a noted supporter of Mr. Trump and other hard-line, nationalist conservatives. In his mind it seems that there are only two groups of people, White Evangelicals and Everyone Else. Everyone Else is, well, you get it. He and others whom historian John Fea refers to as Court Evangelicals have an agenda that seems to desire an American theocracy with White Evangelicals at the helm. No other solution to what they see are the ills that plague this nation is possible. For them it is a zero sum game where any gain by Everyone Else is necessarily a loss for White Evangelicals. Period. End of story. This causes Pastor Jeffress and others like him, say, Franklin Graham, Jim Dobson, Jerry Falwell, Jr., and others to view Everyone Else as enemies to be vanquished.

So what? Who really cares what a bunch of crotchety old white guys think, anyway?

Well, me for one.

Yeah, I consider myself part of Everyone Else. But, that’s not why what these people think or say. The thing that bothers me is that they spew their hatred for Everyone Else in the name of Jesus. And, I’m sorry, that doesn’t cut it. These people don’t get a free pass to hate others in the name of a Person who hated no one.

So, a few days ago as I was praying I had to confess to God that I felt that these people were enemies of the Gospel. That also made them my enemies. This was hard for me to say. After all, I lay claim to faith in God through Christ. Just like many of those White Evangelicals do. Shouldn’t I consider them my sisters and brothers? After all, not all siblings get along real well. But, they’re still siblings none the less.

Well, maybe. I supposed sisters can grow up in a way that will alienated them from their sisters and brothers. They could technically become ‘enemies.’

But, what I feel is different. It’s like these people are illegitimate children. Bastards born of a different lineage all together. How was I to deal with this? Should I attack them like they attack Everyone Else? No, that doesn’t sound right. Should I embrace them and engage with them with the love of Christ? That sounds like enabling. I don’t think that’ll work either. What then?

So, I prayed.

A couple of days before this I led a Bible study at the church I attend. One of the texts we looked at was Psalm 8. In that Psalm is this line: ” Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger,” NRSV. I don’t like that translation so much. Looking at the original language I think a better translation would be, “Out of the mouths of children and sucklings You have established a stronghold that will silence Your foe and avenger.” It seems that the praise of those who are the weakest and most vulnerable is capable of silencing the loud clamor of those who stand opposed to God.

I realized that I don’t need to take White Evangelicalism to task. I really don’t even need to deal with them at all. My first obligation is to praise God and live in a manner that reveals God’s heart for EVERYONE, (White Evangelicals included). By doing that and encouraging others to do likewise, the voices of the Enemy will be silenced.

Should we love our enemies? Yeah. But, that doesn’t mean that we must engage with them on their terms. Our first responsibility is to love and engage with God. Anything more is just noise.

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The Flock

Published by mhelbert on May 20, 2019

How long has it been?
40 years? 45?
Such a long time to be alone.
Yet, not alone.
Or, was I simply lost in a crowd?
Maybe that’s closest to the truth.
Lost in a crowd of people who claimed to be family.
Yet, they weren’t quite.
Am I alone? Or, am I part of something larger?

In our Western, particularly U.S., culture an odd creature was birthed.
This creature had no apparent need for anyone else.
No nature; no nurture.
It just sort of “appeared” in our collective popular mythos.

Over time this creature became known as “The Rugged Individual.”

Those of us old enough to remember will recall this creature seated atop a strong horse with mountains in the background. He was smoking a Marlboro cigarette.

Perhaps this creature was born out of our nation’s desire to cut ties with ancestral homelands and make a go of it as a New Nation that needed no one else. No king or pope or other “authority” was going to tell us what to do. We are an Individual Nation.

Or, maybe the whole idea of the Rugged Individual has always been somewhere sleeping, latent within our individual psyches.

I really don’t know.

What I do know, now, is that while this creature surely exists, it is surely  a lie.

It is a dangerous lie, to boot.

Now, I can take this idea in several directions.

I could make it a defense of Socialism. After all, isn’t Socialism ultimately a critique of individual accomplishment? Doesn’t it strike at the heart of MY will and well-being having preeminence over the will and well-being of the collective?

No, I’m not going there. Maybe some other time.

I could touch on Hillary Clinton’s 1996 book “It Takes a Village” to discuss how we must work together as a “village” to properly raise our children.

While that is an excellent topic for discussion, it’s not what I have in mind here.

No, I think that I want to touch on something a bit more personal. Something that has impacted me, my family, and my community at a visceral level. It has chipped away at my soul and my mind to create something that doesn’t quite resemble the Rugged Individual. Nor, does it quite fit as a piece of some ethereal ‘Whole.’

It actually quite resembles the confused person described at the beginning of this post.

For quite a long time I’ve tried to discover my place in life. You know, trying to answer those unanswerable questions like “Why am I here”? What’s the meaning of life? Why is there air? (Uh, no, that’s not one of them. The answer to that is obvious: to fill soccer balls.)

When I first came to faith in Christ as a 16 year old idealist, I was taught that God loved ME. In fact, God loved ME so much that if I had been the only human on earth, Jesus would still come to give His life so that I could live. I participated in a Billy Graham event where he preached a message that claimed that I could not be saved unless I made a confession of MY PERSONAL sin and received Jesus as MY PERSONAL savior. It was all about ME and MY and MINE. Graham wasn’t the first to explain faith in this way. The concept he preached has been around since at least the time of John Calvin. But, it found fertile soil in this nation of Rugged Individuals who saw God vindicating their Rugged Individualism. God didn’t save a collective. No! That was a communist plot! God saved ME!

But, then I met a bunch of hippies who believed in God. I started to hang with them. We were part of a larger movement that became known as the Jesus Movement. (Profound. I wish that I could have helped them come up with a better handle. Anyway, I digress.) Together we began to play around with the concept of Community. We tried to model this new thing after what we understood about the early Church as described in the first few chapters of the Acts of the Apostles. These prototype Jesus People sold their belongings and put the proceeds in a community account that all could draw from as needed. COOL! They cared for one another as sisters and brothers in a large extended family. STILL COOL! They shared all things in common and lived together in peace and harmony. WAY COOL!

We found out that the Bible talked a lot about how we should live together in love. We were a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation. This is the language of community and togetherness. And, this all came at a time in our nation’s trek through history when we desperately needed such a concept. We had become fragmented as a people. Race; War; Politics. It seemed that all of the powers of the Universe had conspired to break our world into little pieces. We needed to try and find some cohesiveness. There was something embedded deep in our human DNA that cried out for an end to the splintering of our world. So, these ideas from the Bible resonated with us.

But, we still held on tightly to our identities as Rugged Individuals. After all, that concept had been drilled into us for generations. It would not simply sit back and say, “Oh, right, community. That’s cool. I’ll just pack up and leave.”

No. We still, after all that we were learning about our interdependence, militantly held on to our independence. So, we changed the story a bit. We started to preach that God made us for one another. To live together in true Christian community. But, to join you needed to confess YOUR INDIVIDUAL sin and accept Jesus as YOUR INDIVIDUAL savior. Hmmm…not much of a difference there.

Eventually, we made some emendations. We elevated Family to the place of an actual individual. So, now our community could be called a Family of Families. Isn’t that sweet? This became a point of contention with me at a former church. The church leadership insisted that the Eucharist, the celebration of Communion, should be celebrated within the confines of the family unit. So, the head of each ‘household’ came up and received the bread and wine. They then took the elements back to their INDIVIDUAL families to share. For me, this practice was, and is, antithetical to the whole concept of the sacrament. But, that’s a subject for another post.

So, why have I spent this time and more than 1,000 words to say all of this?

A week ago the priest of the church I now attend talked about a parable that Jesus taught. It was about a certain shepherd who realized that one of his sheep was missing. Now, he still had 99 sheep that were safe and sound. But, being the dutiful shepherd, he left the 99 and sought out the missing sheep. This story has been used over the years to show how much Jesus cares about the INDIVIDUAL. He will abandon 99 and leave them to the elements and go off in order to seek and save the lost ONE. Wow! I’m really pretty important to Jesus!

And, that my friends, is the point that people using this text want to make. It appeals to our emotions in a deep way. It paints the portrait of No One Left Behind. It appeases our Rugged Individual.

Is that what God intended for the story?

Well, maybe. In part.

But, perhaps there is another take away from it. A way to understand it in the light of one of the overarching themes of the entire Bible.

Throughout the Scriptures there is the idea that God is forming a People. He is in the business of Nation building. Images of sheep, (plural), and goats and lambs and flocks abound in its pages.

What if the story of the lost sheep is more about the condition of the flock than the lost sheep?

What if it’s the flock,restored to wholeness, that is the point of the story?

I think it is.

I think that unless we can get beyond ourselves as individuals and drive a stake into the heart of the Rugged Individual we, as people, will suffer. Unless we can reach even beyond that and somehow see that we are not just a single species, but part of a greater community made up of all of the Cosmos, we will suffer.

God, in the beginning created Adam. He created THEM. And, then graciously placed THEM in a Garden full of their fellow creatures to live and thrive TOGETHER.

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Family…Gotta Love ‘Em

Published by mhelbert on January 8, 2019

Yesterday I shared a post by Carl McColman entitled “The Contemplative Life in Three Easy Steps.” I mentioned how I shared his perspective on prayer as it may evolve over time. From a simply legalistic view to a more unitive, contemplative view.

My own prayer and faith keep me on my toes. What I thought was simple yesterday has today become more involved. And, in some cases tossed on the trash pile. Such is the way faith and faithfulness works. It’s not static or one size fits all. I’m thankful for that. At the same time, I wish that it wasn’t so. I think it would be much easier if the faith once given and accepted would remain as it is. Yeah, people should grow and mature. But, the Faith? Nope. It should be bedrock and unmovable.

It appears, though, that God has a sense of humor. God gets Divine Jollies by tossing curveballs at us. What we thought and believed yesterday no longer applies. The things that we ignored or rationalized by saying that believing is seeing, rather than seeing is believing are acceptable for children and infants. Not so much for mature adults. It’s sad that so many adults don’t understand that. But, that’s a topic for another post.

Over the last several years I have struggled with faith. Especially, as it was described to me in the Evangelical churches I was a part of. In fact, after I left the last church in 2012 I had difficulty even walking into any church. Church PTSD is a real thing. Even today there are certain churches that I become severely anxious walking into.

That said, I have begun to understand a bit better where some of these folks are coming from. While there are wide gaps in our understanding of theology, God, the Bible, etc., there is also a kinship that cannot be denied. With any sibling relationship there are bound to be rivalries. Familial disagreements and arguments will flair up. Some of them will most assuredly be difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile. That’s the reality of things.

Is that the way things should be? Perhaps not. But, it is the easiest way.

It’s easy for me to look at people like Robert Jeffress, Jerry Falwell, Jr., or Sarah Sanders. These are people that it’s very easy for me to dislike and regard in a poor light. After all, everything that they seem to say looks like it’s contrary to the “clear teaching of Scripture.” That’s funny, because I’m usually the first one to say that there is no such thing. The Scriptures are multifaceted. There really is no one, clear way to understand all of it.

So, I’m left with choices. I can make the easy choice and simply dismiss these people as dismally misguided. Even as heretics! And, I can provide a sound Biblical basis for that pronouncement. I could even find justification by pointing the many, many victims of the toxic theology that sometimes comes from these folks.

I could also choose to not go there. I can choose to accept that we are not all at the same point on our journeys. We may not even be on the same path! If we are, however, trying our best to walk where God desires us each to walk, then we are still fellow travelers. Maybe even siblings.

There’s a lot more that I may unpack about this. One blog post isn’t a statement of faith. Nor, can it be comprehensive in scope.

If you would like to share a bit of your story, please use the comments. And, be sure to select Subscribe in the sidebar to receive notifications about future posts.

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Going Beyond…

Published by mhelbert on January 7, 2019

It’s odd. This morning during my quiet time I wrote some stuff in my journal wondering about the “Why” of prayer. Why do I do it? What outcome, if any, do I desire? At the end my response to myself was, “to join with God.” Simple. No stipulations on what that should look like. Just, “join with God.” Or, perhaps better, “to be joined together with God in unity.”

Here is a post by Carl McColman that I just read that takes that idea and expands on it. Coincidence? Like Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I don’t believe in coincidence.

The Contemplative Life in Three Easy Steps
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Epiphany & Politics

Published by mhelbert on January 7, 2019

I don’t usually make resolutions at the New Year. They seem to be an exercise in futility that I choose not to waste time or brain cells on. This year is not exception. However, I close to that by deciding to try and limit political statements on my blog.

I know, I know…you’re all disappointed that my wit and wisdom won’t spend a lot of time in the political arena. But, let’s be honest. Today’s political culture is really low-hanging fruit. Plus, it has become far too divisive. That’s one of the main reasons that I decided to leave social media. My heart draws me toward unity, not division.

There are times, though, when there is an overlap.

This is one of those.

Yesterday the Church celebrated Epiphany. That’s commonly the day when we tell the story of the Magi who travelled from Persia to Bethlehem in order worship the new King of Israel. They brought their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. You know the story.

There is part of the story that doesn’t get so much fanfare. It’s this part of the story that is very political. It’s this part of the story that I want to address.

The Magi saw something in the stars that piqued their interest and imagination. They realized that something big had happened about 1,000 miles to the West. A star had arisen that signified a Royal birth. A King! Now, I don’t know if they saw new stars pop up every time that a king was born somewhere in the world. But, Matthew recorded that this time, there was a star that caught the eyes of these learned people.

The Magi decided that it was time for a road trip. They packed the family caravan, (not Dodge), and headed toward Jerusalem. After all, Jerusalem was the nation’s capital. Where else would you look for a king?

When they got to Jerusalem to pay homage to the new born king, they were met with crickets.

“New born king? Here? Uhhh…we better check with the king. You know. The one that’s currently sitting on the throne.”

So, the folks in the court went to the king, a guy named Herod the Great. He had a healthy ego. And, a healthier case of paranoia. Herod was not a king from any of the possible royal lines of Palestine. He was a puppet king installed by the Roman Senate. It was a reward for his support of Rome in one of their wars. So, when the Magi show up with a story about a king, one who was actually BORN king, and not merely appointed, he got nervous.

He put on his best political face and asked the Magi how they knew about this new king. The Magi told him about the star. So, Herod asked his own experts about it. They explained how the old stories told about how a king would be born in Bethlehem. This king would save his people.

Herod deeply troubled by all of this. And, because Herod had a reputation for being a bit unhinged, violently so, the text states that all of Jerusalem was trouble with him.

Anyway, Herod told the Magi where to find the new king. He also requested that the Magi return to him after they found him. Because, of course, Herod would want to go and bow before the one person on the planet who could take his crown away from him.

This is where the story that winds up on Christmas cards comes in. The Magi get to Bethlehem and find the child. The cards usually show the Magi standing with their gifts around the Jesus lying in a manger. There are shepherds and angels and nice barnyard animals around. Of course, there is a star above with rays that shine down around the scene. Everything is so pretty and nice.

What we don’t talk about, though, is what happened next.

Because the Magi went to Jerusalem and informed Herod the Paranoid, then went back to Persia without swinging back through Jerusalem, Herod lost it. Matthew recorded that Herod sent his Death Squads to Bethlehem with orders to kill every male child under the age of 2 years. Although there is no independent source that tells us about this, what the Church now calls the Slaughter of the Innocents, it is something that would be totally in character for Herod. Herod, about whom Caesar Augustus is reported to have said, “It would be better to be one of Herod’s pigs than one of his sons.”

The scripture that you’ll never find on any Christmas card tells of this:

“Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.
–Matthew 2:17, 18

Fortunately, Jesus’ dad, Joseph, had a dream and took Jesus and his Mom to Egypt where they lived as refugees.

Ok. So where’s the part about politics?

Let’s use some contemporary terms and see if it doesn’t help clear that up a bit.

The Child, Jesus, was the one who Herod wanted to kill. Only, he didn’t know that for certain. So, he ordered all young boys killed. Brian Zahnd has put his finger on how this might be better understood by those of us in the 21st century, “modern day kings and kingdoms have sanitized it with the Orwellian term ‘collateral damage’.”

Collateral damage. We’ve all heard of that. You know, when a drone takes out a wedding celebration when they only want to hit one person.

Herod was a frightened tyrant who was the puppet of Roman tyrants. As such, he only understood crushing power. He also knew that if he didn’t act with power, he would likely be eliminated by it. So, he crushed the children of Bethlehem.

Things haven’t really changed since then. There are still cowardly tyrants who care not a whit for anything but their own hold on power. They accept “collateral damage” as the price of doing business.

But, followers of the original “Boy who lived” are not like that. We must choose, as Zahnd wrote, “between the sword and the cross. We have to decide if we’ll pledge our allegiance to the Empire of Power or the Empire of Love, but we can’t do both.”

That, my friends, is why this story is political.

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Where Do You See God?

Published by mhelbert on January 5, 2019

Where do you see God in that?

That’s the stock question of just about all Spiritual Directors. No matter how mundane or boring an experience may be.

Where do you see God in that?

Well, the poet may answer, “I see God in the fragile bloom of the flower; in the high cloud tracking across the vast ocean of the sky; in the smile and coo of a new born infant.”

That’s all nice and sentimental and all.

But, where does the person who struggles with a meaningless job every day of his or her life see God? The person who always seems to find more month at the end of the money? What about the person whose mind is wired in such a way that life is always a near impossible task? The person whose lithe and strong body has become a painful, hulking mass that can barely stand on its own because age has snatched the vitality from it? What about the billions of people who do not hunger and thirst for righteousness, but for actual food and water?

Where do you see God in that?

Perhaps, the only God that these people will actually see is you. Or, me.

We used to talk about the Church being God’s hands and feet in this world. It was always used in the context of evangelism. If we didn’t go as Christ’s ambassadors in order to bring Christ’s reign to all of those poor, lost souls, then how could they be saved? Of course, it they had real felt needs that required food or shelter, we could maybe help with that. But, our main purpose was to get those lost souls saved!

Where do you see God in that?

As I’ve gotten older I find that I can no longer support that idea. Mostly, because when people talk about getting ‘saved’ I really don’t know what they’re talking about. Saved from what? Eternity in someplace called ‘Hell’? No, I can’t go there. I simply don’t think such a place exists.

But, I digress. That’s a topic for another time.

Spiritual Directors want their directees’ eyes and hearts open to see God working in their own lives. A person is guided in the hope that they will be aware…mindful…of the slight changes in how they perceive God’s hands working in the quiet spaces of the heart. How have the skilled hands of the Potter been adding just a ‘wee bit o’ pressure’ in that spot? What has that slight change of touch changed the contours of the clay?

This is hard work. If it was easy, we wouldn’t need directors to help us see these things. As it is, the Director asks questions intended to drill down deeply within us so that we may see the runes and pictographs that God has drawn in our hearts.

For me, the journey has been long and fraught. Learning how to use the proper tools for spiritual spelunking is not easy. I’m still trying to recognize and read the signs of God’s passing and presence. Sometime the way is well-lit. Most of the time it is dark and obscure. I have to try and find some way to kindle a light. Perhaps, one day I’ll learn how to have a light available all of the time.

That day is not today.

Today, I grope around like a blind man. Arms outstretched, exploring the darkness trying to avoid running into a solid wall. I take each tentative step with a shuffle of my feet so that I don’t step into a chasm or trip over a rock…a corpse. I strain my mind to listen for any sound that might reveal my surrounding environment.

Is that the sound of water dripping? Perhaps, the low whisper of a breeze passing along the path I should take? The approach of some beast that has brooded silently within me for years? Growing and feasting on the rotting flesh that I have fed it? Maybe I have cut its supply of food and it’s prowling about hunting for its next meal.

Where do you see God in that?

Somewhere near…just behind the veil.

Seek. And, you will find.

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Magnificat – The Song of Mary

Published by mhelbert on December 24, 2018
I really wish that there was an image of Mary with a fist raised in defiance. Something to really illustrate the strength of that young woman.

Yesterday at church we used the Song of Mary, or the Magnificat, for a responsive reading. During the sermon our Priest asked us to read it again. Then, he challenged us to take our bulletins home and spend some time reflecting on these words of Jesus’ mother.
Before that challenge, though, he shared some background for the song. He did this, of course, to color our own meditation on it. Well, that is his job; to guide and instruct.
He helped us to understand that at the time Mary was pregnant with Jesus, she was extremely vulnerable.
She was a young woman, probably a teenager.
She was not married. (At least officially.)
She was not well to do. (It was implied in the text that she came from a poor family.)
All of these are what we would call ‘risk factors.’ Any one of which could be life threatening. All of them together? She was in real peril for her life. At the very least, she could be cut off from her people. Her family, friends…her God. And, at worst? The Law of God stated that someone who had committed adultery should be taken outside the town and stoned to death.
And, yet, when God’s messenger came to tell her that God had taken notice of her and desired that she would be the conduit through whom the salvation of her people would arrive, well, her response was epic.
“Behold, the servant of the Lord. According to your word, may it be come to me.”
Wow! Stop to consider that for a minute. A stranger just showed up in Mary’s room and informed her that God thought it would be a great idea if she became pregnant. Right! But wait! There’s more! The child that would be conceived would be called “the Son of the Most High!” Mary, a young woman from a backwater town, who had nothing to offer anyone, let alone God, offered all that she could. Herself.
She knew the risks. She understood consent.
She still gave.
So, when the story tells of her arrival at her cousin, Elizabeth’s home, and Liz’s own child leaps within her because of the child that is growing within Mary, Mary’s own joy cannot be held.
In the face of all of the powers that be who would condemn her for getting pregnant and those who would throw the Law at her, she stood in defiance and gave the praise and glory to the One Who had performed this great act of power.
With that in mind, her is Mary’s Song. Read it. Reflect on it.*
“My soul praises the greatness of the Lord!
And, my spirit rejoiced in God my Savior!
For, He has noticed the lowliness of His servant.
For, Behold! From this time all generations will consider me blessed!
For the Mighty One has done great things to me.
And, His name is Holy!
His mercy is to generations and generations of those who revere Him.
He has performed mighty deeds with His powerful arm,
He scattered the arrogant intent of their heart.
He tore down the powerful from their thrones,
And exalted the lowly.
Those who hunger He satisfied with good things,
And, the rich he sent away empty.
He has come to the aid of His child, Israel,
To remember mercy,
As He spoke to our fathers; to Abraham and his descendants into Eternity.”
*(Translation mine.)
May you have a truly blessed holiday!
And, take a minute to remember a strong, young woman whose own humility before
her God made this all possible.

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On the Eve of Christmas Eve

Published by mhelbert on December 23, 2018

It’s almost Christmas day. Schedules are hectic with trying to get all of the wrapping and baking and preparations finished. So, I may not publish new posts everyday this week.
Today, I’m reposting one I wrote last year.
I think it’s still pretty relevant.

As those of us who celebrate Christmas prepare for the Big Day on Wednesday, I have a reminder for us all.
There is more Reason for this Season than many of us consider while we’re buying and wrapping and decorating and cooking and singing all in preparation for our Christmassing.
Let me share a bit from an old story…..
“It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children’s Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey.
‘Are spirits; lives so short?’ asked Scrooge.
‘My life upon this globe, is very brief,’ replied the Ghost. ‘It ends to-night.’
‘To-night!’ cried Scrooge.
‘To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.’
The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.
‘Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,’ said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, ‘but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?’
‘It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,’ was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. ‘Look here.’
From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
‘Oh, Man! Look here. Look, look, down here!’ exclaimed the Ghost.
They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
‘Spirit! Are they yours?’ Scrooge could say no more.
‘They are Man’s,’ said the Spirit, looking down upon them. ‘And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!’ cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. ‘Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And abide the end!’
‘Have they no refuge or resource?’ cried Scrooge.
‘Are there no prisons?’ said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. ‘Are there no workhouses?’
The bell struck twelve.

[Dickens, Charles. Stories for Christmas. Platinum Press Inc. New York, 1999. Pp. 72-74.]”

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Jesus Never Ate Chocolate

Published by mhelbert on December 22, 2018

When I was on Facebook, twitter, and tumblr I would share from time to time links to blogs and articles that I thought might interest my friends and followers. I still think it’s a good thing to share the thoughts of others.

So, here is a link to a blogpost by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat. I’ve followed her blog at the Velveteen Rabbi for a while. She is a kindred spirit whom I appreciate very much.

Please take a minute to read and reflect on her poem.

Jesus Never Ate Chocolate

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Jesus Wept

Published by mhelbert on December 18, 2018

Today, as I sat quietly, I remembered how I felt Sunday morning.
Emotions rose within me as I considered the injustice of the “ruling class.”
I held back tears as my I saw those who live privileged lives ignoring the pleas of
those that they consider “Other.” Especially, those who profess to have faith in God through Jesus Christ.

How can they just stand there and do nothing? Less than nothing!

They are complicit in moral crimes against their fellow travelers on this Third Rock from the Sun!

This morning I reflected on that a bit. I realized that my emotions, my tears were
not directed toward those who are the victims of injustice. They weren’t poured out
for the poor and the needy.

No.

My emotion was kindled by those who instigate the injustice. My tears shed because
of their unbelief and unfaithfulness.
How can people stand by and actually feel that they are justified in their injustice?
It’s truly quite easy. As long as I can feel good about ‘Me’ and ‘My’ accomplishments;
‘My faithfulness’ and ‘My exceptionalism,’ I can separate myself from those “Others” who
don’t quite match up to ‘Me.’

I’m reminded of a story in Brennan Manning’sbook, “Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s
Path to God.” 

A couple was visiting New Orleans. As they walked around the French Quarter,
a woman, smiling, approached them and said that she could tell immediately that they were “saved.”
She continued, “Isn’t it wonderful? Don’t you just fell the Rapture is coming?” For the next several
Minutes the woman talked to them about growing tension in the Middle East that would
lead to the end of the world. At that time the ‘elect’ would be whisked away to heavenly
glory forever and ever.
Of course, this presupposes that there will by “Others” who will not be so fortunate.
How is it that this woman was apparently quite giddy about leaving most of humanity
behind while she and her like-minded friends would escape into the “Sweet By and By”?
And, I weep over her hardness of heart. Her uncaring attitude toward anyone and everyone
who doesn’t think and believe as she does.

Then, a couple other stories came to my mind.

In one, Jesus is standing on a hill looking over the city of Jerusalem.
His heart, breaking with overwhelming emotion he said,
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.
“Behold, your house is being left to you desolate!
“For I say to you, from now on you will not see Me until you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’ ”

His lament was not for the victims of injustice. He shed no tears for the murdered prophets and those who were stoned to death.

No. His sorrow was directed at those who perpetrated the injustice…the murderers.

In another story, Jesus went to a village called Bethany. A few days earlier he had been informed that one of his dear friends was very ill. By the time he reached the village, his friend had died.
The text indicates that Jesus was aware of the condition of his friend, Lazarus. He was even aware that the man had died. When Jesus reached the village, Lazarus’ sisters came to him and said,
“If only You had been here, Lazarus would still be alive.”
Jesus looked and saw all of the mourners who had come to console the sisters over their loss.
Now, what’s interesting, is the writer made it very clear that Jesus knew what he was going to do. Jesus had even told his followers on the way that Lazarus had died. He told them that he was glad that he had not been there to heal Lazarus. It was better for them, “So that you may believe.”
Even with this foreknowledge, the text states that when Jesus saw the mourners, when he listened to the sisters as they knelt tearfully before him, the writer recorded these words…

“Jesus was troubled.”

The language that was used indicates that Jesus was “agitated; in great distress.” That his emotions were “stirred up.” This was followed by the shortest verse in the entire Bible,

“Jesus wept.”

The only record of Jesus shedding tears.

“Jesus wept.”

But, why? The mourners all thought it was because of Jesus’ great love for Lazarus. They thought that, like them, Jesus was moved with sorrow for the loss of his friend. For the loss of a brother.
That doesn’t make sense to me. Jesus knew what had happened and what he was going to do.
Why did he weep?
I think it was because of the unbelief of those gathered. Jesus had performed many miracles in and around Jerusalem. Many of these people were witnesses. For sure, the sisters were. Yet, they still did not believe.
They did not have faith.

“Jesus wept.”

The only two times where it was recorded that Jesus wept or lamented there were people who lacked lacked faith or who were faithless.
He did not lament the prophets.
He did not weep for Lazarus.
So, I weep. Not for those trying to escape death by journeying a thousand miles to seek refuge at our border.
Nor, do I weep for the millions of people who may find their health care plans eliminated.
I don’t shed tears for those trapped in addictions or who struggle with the fact that their own brain is their worst enemy.
My tears…my lament…are offered for those in power, for those who aren’t trapped in systems that dehumanize and degrade them. 
I weep for those who can make a difference.
Yet, choose not to.

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