Moving On (Miller's Valley by Anne Quindlen)

Nothing like walking through reviews of a book and realizing that I am going to be one of the few who rate it with 3 stars. Three stars: I liked it. It was fine. There's the issue, isn't it? We don't like to receive a 'C' grade, an average grade. We don't like to be "fine" or "nice." I can't really label the book as "nice" as once again this summer I've just finished a sad book (with somewhat of a "happy" ending, I guess). I am desperate to move on to something witty and humorous and happy. However, I didn't choose this book (it was a book discussion group choice for the month of July-August), and moving on from sad books is not why I chose the title "Moving On" for this post.

The people of Miller's Valley must move out and move on because their town is going to be covered in water; it will be a "drowned town". This is not a plot spoiler as we learn this immediately in the novel.

Still, I could have chosen a variety of themes to focus on from Quindlen's novel: eminent domain, 1960s and Vietnam (or any war era sending back soldiers into civilian life), family relationships, friendship, pro-life/pro-choice/sex, growing up / growing old, loneliness, identity and home.

All those themes touch my life in one way or the other, but I keep coming back to what it means to "move on." When does moving on help us grow and thrive, and when is moving on equivalent to cutting ourselves off from what matters and/or simply running away? When does someone else's moving on become something we have to deal with, get through, and get over?

If a reader is willing to look into that theme running throughout Miller's Valley and throughout the lives of its characters, then she or he will have lots to think about in this "quiet" book (a number of reviewers who rated this book three stars were wishing they had paid attention to the "quiet" label -- this means the story may move a bit slower than one would like).

The book is an excellent choice for discussion, but I'm not purchasing the book for my own shelves.

💕💕💕💕 One of the most important actions we can take with our children (and with ourselves) is to help them build up friendships that will last a lifetime. Some childhood friendships will fall by the wayside -- oh! what a great analogy I've fallen into! Some friendships will fall on footpaths where the busy birds of this life will eat them up. If the friendships seem like good ones, pick up the seeds and move them to a place where they can be nurtured. Some friendships fall  among the rocks. Make sure that not all of your children's friendships and your own friendships stay in the rock or acquaintance region. Some friendships will fall among the weeds. Those are the tough calls to make when it comes to friendships. To have friendships among the good soil, those are friendships that last a lifetime and in rain and shine, help us to thrive and grow. Too often I've either moved on from friendship to friendship or planted friendships everywhere without making sure that I have deep friendships.

--------------Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Acts in the New Testament all write of "shaking the dust off of   [one's] feet." Words for moving on. My comments here address whether we read those stories in light of the reality that God is Love (see my ongoing blog post about this in this link here.  ) or if we read it as if God were made in our own image and if we shake off dust, then we either hate you or can't stand you or feel something other than God love for you. What if we look at "shaking of the dust" as moving on and moving past so that we can thrive and grow, so that we are not continually dragged down into the taking any number of unhelpful actions: being someone's rescuer and getting in the way of the Holy Spirit; becoming morose and stuck in the past; getting angry and becoming depressed about the past, unable to hear the goodness to which God is inviting us...

What if "shaking off the dust", "moving on", means we are invited to move away from bitterness, wrath, malice, evil words -- to put them off, to shake them off -- and to put on, move toward kindness compassion, and forgiveness? It may mean that moving on and away from someone or something is healing for our souls...and may lead to healing for theirs as well.

What if "shaking off the dust" means a moving on which is also helpful to the person or people from whom we are moving on or moving past? If the person can not hear and feel our love, can not hear and feel that the kingdom of God has come near to them, do we trust God in perfect love to send someone else? Just because we need to shake the dust off of our feet does not mean that God has abandoned the people. Truly, if these actions of shaking off the dust in protest as a testimony does not change any minds, if after time and time again, a person chooses to walk away from the freedom offered in Jesus, in God, in Love with a capital 'L', then the person gets to have what he or she wants and that is a life outside of the kingdom of God. That is sad, but the judgment does not come from us. Shaking dust off of our feet does not make us superior. It is merely an action done in love directed by God who is Love because we who are moving on are not the ones to carry the message of love there. We need to discontinue reading the words of Jesus as though he is saying them with hate and instead read them as a parent who deeply loves his children. "And you, Capernum, [think, dear children, about this] will this get you to heaven? No, you will go down to Hades [Sheol, a place of darkness, a place of death, a place where nothing grows or thrives; this is not what I want for you; change your mind, dear children, for I love you with an unfailing love].

**********I continue to think on this topic of moving on, shaking the dust off my feet. This question comes to mind. When do I move on and when do I stay put? It might have to do with what leads me toward  God and which leads me away from God. It probably has a lot to do with what is most helpful for both the one who is not listening and to me as well. Which "moving on" "shaking the dust off" move me toward God and away from anything that puts me in the place only God can hold or takes me away from anything I idolize? Which "moving on" or "shaking the dust off" takes me farther away from God's invitation to me (think of Jonah and Ninevah)? 

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood and Altared by Claire and Eli

The Handmaid's Tale -- Let's just get the caveat out of the way. There's sex in this book. Not just sex but distorted, destructive sex. So, why did I read this book? Well, I didn't know this about the book when I started. However, I had seen this title around for many years. It came out in 1986, and I, for some odd reason, thought it had to do with geishas. Yet, this April I was on vacation, and my daughter had the book on her bookshelves. She said that it was a dystopian novel (and she knows I read dystopian novels). Specifically, it's a dystopian satire. The quote by Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal gives us one clue that this is the case. An interview with Margaret Atwood led me to read the book. In the interview, Atwood said that none of the horrors in this book have been dreamed up. While they have not happened in one place at one time, they have happened or are happening somewhere in the world. Here from an article in 2012, Atwood comments:

"I made a rule for myself: I would not include anything that human beings had not already done in some other place or time, or for which the technology did not already exist. I did not wish to be accused of dark, twisted inventions, or of misrepresenting the human potential for deplorable behaviour. The group-activated hangings, the tearing apart of human beings, the clothing specific to castes and classes, the forced childbearing and the appropriation of the results, the children stolen by regimes and placed for upbringing with high-ranking officials, the forbidding of literacy, the denial of property rights: all had precedents, and many were to be found not in other cultures and religions, but within western society, and within the "Christian" tradition, itself. (I enclose "Christian" in quotation marks, since I believe that much of the church's behaviour and doctrine during its two-millennia-long existence as a social and political organisation would have been abhorrent to the person after whom it is named.)

"The Handmaid's Tale has often been called a 'feminist dystopia', but that term is not strictly accurate. In a feminist dystopia pure and simple, all of the men would have greater rights than all of the women. It would be two-layered in structure: top layer men, bottom layer women. But Gilead is the usual kind of dictatorship: shaped like a pyramid, with the powerful of both sexes at the apex, the men generally outranking the women at the same level; then descending levels of power and status with men and women in each, all the way down to the bottom, where the unmarried men must serve in the ranks before being awarded an Econowife." For the full article go here. 

Please note: The situations in this book are happening or have happened! Secondly, Atwood places the word "Christian" in quotation marks because she thinks what has been done in Christ's name would have been abhorrent to Christ. There are Christ-followers in this book who die for trying to prevent the activities in this society. Thirdly, while feminists have embraced this book, for readers to miss the satire against repressive regimes is to limit the impact of the story. 

Here I get to whether satire has the same value visually in a televised show. I say no. Atwood's introduction in the book includes a quote from A Modest Proposal, and I include here the start of Swift's proposal: 

"I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout."

Swift continues on with how to the poor Irish. Can you imagine (or maybe you can; I think it would be horrible) watching a show of someone eating a one-year-old child? 

For me, turning The Handmaid's Tale into a commercial, entertaining commodity strips the book of all of its power, all that the satire was fighting against. This is even more true given that the series is continuing to stray from the original story. 

As I turn to the other book, a book written by two Christ-followers, Altared, the question must arise in some minds: why would I couple this non-fiction book with Atwood's? I do so because Claire and Eli (no last names on purpose) offer, in the words of one reviewer: "A much needed wake-up call -- a plea for a paradigm shift in the way we think of love, marriage, and ourselves as followers of Jesus." 

Also, this comment "real love has little do with looking for Mr. or Ms. Right" hits at the core theme of this book. The body of Christ, as seen in our church institutions, has bought into the culture's view of love, or I might say, Dean Martin's view: "You got to get yourself somebody because you're nobody until somebody loves you" and Dean is definitely talking about lower case 's' here. Yes, this includes the church who makes singles feel less than they are because they are not one half of a couple. Instead of a top priority of getting to the altar (hence the title Altared), Claire and Eli invite the reader to make love for God and love for one's neighbor the greatest priority. 

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Books, banned books: what do you let your children read? A large number of books that I have taught in my classes were banned at one time or another: Uncle Tom's Cabin, Huckleberry Finn, Animal Farm, Brave New World...I propose (not a modest proposal and not a satirical one) that if you son or daughter wants to read a book that you let them and also do the following: 

1) Read the book at the same time as your child is reading it. For some offspring, nothing says "uncool" like mom or dad reading a book he or she wants to read. 

2) Read the book and discuss, as in let your son or daughter do the talking and be a listener. What kind of questions could you ask? "What did you appreciate about the book?" "Why do you think people want to read this book?" "What do you wish I would understand or get about this story?" 

Finally, in this section, as a former literature teacher, I would like to add that not all books you've been told are "bad" are actually bad. Two brief illustrations. A colleague and I were pulled into the principal's office for teaching A Tale of Two Cities because "it was about rape". For the life of us, we could not figure out what we were being called on the carpet for. Finally, we reminded each other that the peasant woman probably was raped, but this was Dickens, for heaven's sake, no graphic details at all. Then, come to find out, a commentary at the back of the particular book we were reading said the entire book was about the "rape of women through all ages". I think the commentator missed the point of the book; however, that being said, the story itself did not include any rape scenes. Then, one of my all time favorite books was brought into question. Brave New World. A story way ahead of its time when Huxley wrote it. A highly moral story. A story were readers are told that everyone is encouraged to have sex with everyone but the only "graphic" illustration of this is when Lenina drops her zippicamiknicks on the floor, and my students were as disgusted by this as John was horrified. Interestingly, many of the same parents complaining about the book had high schoolers who had already seen (and perhaps had laughed with them) when Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds run into each other in the nude in The Proposal. A critique of this movie is not my point; the fact that my students had seen much more nudity on the screen than is in Brave New World is my point. 

With no apologies for making this blog post even longer, I include a paragraph from an article"Brave New World (is Here!) From a New York Post 2012 article:

If Orwell’s “1984” is a cautionary tale about what we in the capitalist West largely avoided, Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” is largely about what we got — a consumerist, post-God happyland in which people readily stave off aging, jet away on exotic vacations and procreate via test tubes. They have access to “Feelies” similar to IMAX 3-D movies, no-strings-attached sex, anti-anxiety pills and abortion on demand. They also venerate a dead high-tech genius, saying “Ford help him” in honor of Henry Ford just as today we practically murmur “In Jobs We Trust.”

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Spiritual practice -- listening -- 3 ideas from a blog by Janice Taylor, 2014, quoted in a Salem Alliance Church 2018 Conference flyer: 

1. DO NOT allow your brain to race ahead of your lips! We speak at about 100 to 150 words per minute, but we think at 250 to 500. Just listen. 

2. DO NOT anticipate what will be said. Just listen. 

3. DO NOT be distracted by the people or things around you. Keep your eyes focused on the speaker. Just listen. 

Musings on This Fourth Sunday of Advent 2017

Although I made it further than I did last year with AdventWord, I ended up unable to blog through the rest of the days. In fact, on the last post (day 19 -- "renew"), I realized I became distracted and forgot to write the thoughts most precious to me. So, here, I am musing about the last of the words, starting with following up my thoughts on "Renew."

I discovered there were a great many times of renewal for which I had no photos. Precious moments of laughter, sacred times of prayer, companionable times of silence filled my memories. For each, it dawned on me that these had been holy moments, moments when I needed to take off my shoes, for I was standing upon holy ground. What a surprise, also, that holy moments can be moments of laughter and dancing as well as moments of reverent awe. This led me to understand that in joy or sorrow, I can look for holy moments.

Whether I am like a quiet child reading, a holy family on an arduous journey, or celebrating with gaiety, I can look for holy moments.

Day 20's word was "greeting" and Day 21 was "child." (The first Sunday of Advent started on December 3; thus, we have twenty-three days of Advent which do not line up exactly with calendar dates.)

I chose this Christmas greeting card to send out to friends and family who would delight in it because the family looks like they could be from Jerusalem. As I enlarged the picture, I saw the artist had painted what looks like dirt under the fingernails. They still look a lot more pulled together than I would after a journey, but the picture had more touches of realism than others I have seen.

Pictures of reality and thinking of others appeal to me. I would like to greet each person I talk to in such a way that I think of the person and his or her personal pool of tears or lake of joy.

My Savior, the child Jesus, grew up and reminded all he met to love others as we love ourselves. We also have Matthew 7:12 -- "Treat others as you would have them treat you." Our insistence upon our way of greeting does not lead a person closer to Christ if he or she is far away.

A child can lead us. My granddaughter delights in the tradition of moving Mary and Joseph. So much so, she used the tradition as the topic of her speech in a second grade public school classroom. She spoke with delight, and the other children asked questions in an equally delightful way. When our relationship with someone we love naturally spills out of us, there's no feeling of "my rights" and "your rights."

The word for day 22 was "believe." Please forgive me if in the interest of space and time, I leave that word (just as I did for the word "trust") for another day.

Today's word is "celebrate." Many families I know struggle with that word this month and this year. Loved ones have died and other loved ones are seriously ill. Families have lost homes to fires that raged throughout my state this year. For each, my prayer is for holy moments, healing and hope; for love and peace when celebration is not there. I close with two poems that came from a dear friend in her Christmas card. The poems were written by a poet unknown to me (Jan Richardson), but I intend to look her up.

May there come 
One searing word -- 
Enough to bare you 
To the bone, 
Enough to set your heart ablaze, 
Enough to make you 
Whole again. 

Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light
Blessed are you 
Who bear the light 
in unbearable times, 
who testify 
to its endurance 
amid the unendurable, 
who bear witness 
to its persistence 
when everything seems 
in shadow 
and grief. 

Blessed are you 
in whom 
the light lives, 
in whom 
the brightness blazes--
your heart 
a chapel,
an altar where 
in the deepest night 
can be seen 
the fire that 
shines forth in you
in unaccountable faith, 
in stubborn hope, 
in love that illumines 
every broken thing 
it finds. 

Day 6 -- Mend on This Sixth Day of Advent

I have planned to write this particular blog piece for quite awhile -- long before Advent, and basically after family members scolded me about my favorite hoodie.

Seriously, I don't know why they had such a problem with it. (By the way, I'm wearing a pink shirt underneath. This is a G-rated blog.)

So, yes, maybe some people would throw away clothing when it reaches this stage; however, I do my best to avoid adding to landfills for as long as possible. My sister (Rebecca, for those who know I have five sisters) said, "Well, then, at least let me mend it. Where is your sewing machine?" At that time, I did not have a sewing machine, nor did I have a sewing machine when I finally did mend it.

My sister's comments caused me to think about why I had not mended it before. Laziness and lack of time were two of my reasons. As I thought longer about it, I had to confess to myself that I was comfortable with my sweatshirt as it was. Uh-oh, with thoughts like that, I knew I was entering dangerous territory. Sure enough, I also started thinking about how the "air-conditioned" hoodie had become a part of my identity, my personality. You can imagine where I went with these thoughts. Too often I don't mend something, whether it is a physical object or a relational issue because I get comfortable with the ways things are. Or, I might have to be the one to change to mend a relational issue, or I may have to admit that rips are not the best.

I did fully mend my hoodie sweatshirt, and I pricked my finger doing it. Mending it was worth the effort because I can wear it again and not get tangled up in all the holes! Granted, to compare mending a piece of clothing to mending a relationship can only go so far. Eventually, I will not be able to mend my favorite piece of clothing any longer. I noticed a small hole just yesterday.

Like relationships, holes are easier to mend when they are small. Yet I understand that relationships are much more challenging to mend. Some relationships have to be given up rather than mended. Then, it may be a matter of mending one's own body, soul, spirit, heart, any combination or all four. That kind of mending is worth every effort.

Advent marks the coming of Love. "God is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18). This is a mending better than sewing up and saving a torn hoodie. You are loved!

Day 2 -- Journey on This Second Day of Advent

Every year our Advent tradition includes the journey of our holy family from the back of the house to "Bethlehem" -- our fireplace mantle. This year our youngest granddaughter is using this tradition as the focus of her speech in her second grade classroom so she started Joseph, Mary, and the camel (no donkey) on their journey and took pictures to accompany her speech.

In general, their journey is without incident unless they take a fall (staged here for benefit of a picture) or they are beset by monsters (also known as the dog).

That's Joseph falling. Joseph's journey could not have been planned even in his wildest dreams. A carpenter, he was betrothed to a young woman who he clearly cared enough for that even without an angel's intervention he would not put a scarlet letter 'A' on her and make her a public spectacle. After the angel awakens Joseph and tells him to "Fear not," he gladly takes Mary as his wife, but still has to deal with the government. He gets to travel 35 miles from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in Judaea with his pregnant wife who is due to give birth just so he can pay taxes in his family's hometown.

On top of those circumstances, everyone else from Bethlehem is also traveling home and the inns are full. So Mary and Joseph get to have their firstborn in with the animals. Not such an auspicious beginning; however, shepherds come visiting because angels have told them that their Saviour has been born. Even Mary is as quiet as her husband after this visit.

The family gets about 2 years of peace and then Magi come to visit them followed by the news that Herod is out to get them. Once again, Joseph is visited by the angel of the Lord, and once again, Joseph finds himself on the road, fleeing to Egypt with the young child Jesus and his mother Mary.

Then comes the news that Herod is dead and they can return to Israel, but they can not return to Judaea because Herod's equally horrible son reigns there. They wind up in Nazareth of Galilee.

It's quite a journey for this family. What journey are you on? I have had a number of journeys in the past few years. Some of those journeys have been journeys of celebration. Yesterday I attended a delightful bridal shower for a former student. She is embarking on a journey of joy, but even those journeys need preparation. However, that is an advent word for another day.

More often than not these days, I know of more journeys like Joseph and Mary's -- journeys filled with ups and downs. I have learned that we have our own ways of dealing with these journeys.

Joseph is a quiet man who obviously cares for his family. When at 12 years of age, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph travel with the extended family to the feast in Jerusalem, and Jesus stays behind, it is Mary who says, "Son, why have you dealt this way with us? Your father and I have been in deep sorrow as we looked for you."

When Mary gets visited  by an angel, she asks questions and launches into a song of praise. Mary goes visiting her cousin. Mary talks. Both Mary and Joseph are people of action, but one seems a bit more extroverted than the other.

I am a borderline introvert. (Does that also make me a borderline extrovert?) I can handle large and small gatherings and like Mary, I don't mind speaking up. Yet, I get my energy from times of quiet. My husband does not like crowds, and he would never be on social media; however, to my surprise, he gets his energy from being with people (just one or two at a time). I am learning to listen to the stories of the journeys of others and not jump in so quickly with "helpful suggestions." Love and listening, I am finding, are always welcome to those on a journey.

I also love this from church service yesterday:
"Wondrous are you, Holy One of Blessing,
All you create is a sign of hope for our journey..." 

Eighth Day of Advent: Touch

Today begins the eighth day and the second week of Advent, the lighting of the candle that most often represents love. The word given for the #AdventWord pages is #touch. At first glance, I have a strange picture to show for "touch," that of the conception of a poem I wrote probably twelve years ago. The finished poem is typed up below the image.

To the Muse

You who taught Herbert to sing
      and Donne to love,
Who am I that You should visit me?

You who touched Mary and the Salvation
     of the world was conceived,
Dare I believe You would bring forth ,

Living words? Breathing Words?
     In me?

This is the first "public" sharing of this poem, and I feel quite vulnerable. To touch another is vulnerable, whether that touch is physical, emotional, or spiritual. We give something away of ourselves and hope that it will not be crushed.

A popular Christian song lyrics start off, "Love came down and rescued me; Love came down and set me free..." Love also came down as a vulnerable baby (but did not stay a baby) and is willing to meet us where we are the most vulnerable -- not to crush us, but to touch us with life and breath, with love and joy.

Fourth Day of Advent: Listen

Not only did I struggle to find an image for today's AdventWord "listen", I also struggled to write an upbeat encouraging Christmas-y ("Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?") blog. Then, the picture I took (the second one below) when posted shows mostly the wall in the post! So, for purposes of posting, I am adding the picture directly below: Grandpa listening to his granddaughter while the youngest one listens to both.

We struggle to listen and be plugged in -- to God, to each other. Perhaps there are too many voices and too many noises for us to hear the Lord God's still, small (small in sound, quiet) voice, a powerful voice gentle and meek. Not like a baby's voice, as precious as the Christmas image of Jesus as a baby is. Yet when we quiet ourselves, we can hear Him, and in hearing Him, we can then hear the lonely, the lost, the hurting. We can hear Him say:

"But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you....Love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be great, and you shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto the unthankful and to the evil. Be ye merciful, as your Father also is merciful" (portions from Luke 6:27-36 -- the whole passage is Jesus' amazing argument as to why we are called to love).

My friend in the picture above listened not only to this dear man play the piano in a shopping mall, but also listened as he told us his story. She brought a moment of joy to his lonely life. Her presence was a gift which said to him, "You are loved."

As we go about shopping during this Advent season, might we consider that the gift of listening is truly one that says, "You are loved." 

2nd Day of Advent: Love and Waiting in Hope

In this four generation picture, love abides. My father has Alzheimer's. He doesn't remember my name but still remembers some of the time that I am family. He gets up in the middle of the night and doesn't know how to get back to his room. He doesn't like to take showers or baths. He is like a little boy, but he is a little boy who still knows what love looks like. 

My dad is "waiting in hope", another phrase for this advent day. 

"Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord...I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait, and in his word do I hope...My soul waits for for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning...for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption..." (from Psalm 130). 

And, when my dad does not remember to wait in hope, we stand in the gap and do the waiting for him. That's what love looks like. Love is a choice. We choose each day to love, to will the good of others. What is the good of others? Can't get much better than really looking at how Jesus treated people: patiently, kindly, courteously, humbly, wisely, gently, lovingly. Nothing can separate us from this love. 

"...neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (from Romans 8: 38-39). 

Yesterday's #adventword" "shine" was a struggle when the day was cloudy and "flexibility" was a more important word than "shine." Yet, this morning, the sun broke through! 

The sun doesn't always "come up tomorrow", because life's griefs are great, but I wait in hope knowing that God's love abides.

"And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 

The One who shows this perfectly is Jesus. This Advent season, I prepare not for the coming of a baby (wonderful as that advent is), but rather for the coming of Jesus who chooses me and chooses to be in relationship with me, with nothing separating me from His love. While I can not show this love completely, it does not stop me from following like a child after Him: loving God and loving others, waiting in hope. 

"Will You Give Me a Drink?"

I realize what my title might imply, so I'm posting a picture of a well right here at the beginning. Not the best picture, and it's from Italy not Jerusalem. Here is another view.

During Lent, I'm following Jesus' life, and today I read His first words to the Samaritan woman at the well which are "Will you give me a drink?" Not "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son," but, basically, "I'm thirsty. I have nothing with which to draw up the water. Will you give me a drink?"

To keep this blog real, I'm going to confess to any dear soul reading that my first thought of what to write next is rather snarky. Snarky -- "critical, cutting, snide, cranky, irritable." I know writing is all about not putting our first thoughts down, but you will have a picture of me that is not true if I edit to make myself look good. So, my unedited words read: "Gosh. Imagine that. Jesus, THE JESUS, God who created the universe, God who can change water into wine, takes the time and effort to ask the woman for a drink of water before accosting her with 'Hey, woman, you'd better believe in Me or else you're going to hell.'"

Jesus did indeed say in conversation with someone else, "For God so loved the world..." It was with Nicodemus, a man of the Pharisees, a member of the Jewish ruling counsel. Isn't it interesting that Jesus said it to a person who is the equivalent of our religious leaders? But, even with Nicodemus, Jesus did not start off with those words. Nicodemus initiated the whole conversation acknowledging Jesus as a teacher from God who did miraculous signs, and Jesus willingly stepped into the conversation with Nicodemus just as He did with the Samaritan woman.

This same woman has trudged to the well by herself, and she's taken aback that He's talking with her. He's obviously Jewish; she's obviously Samaritan, and the Jewish people do not associate with "those" Samaritans. Some translations even read: "Jews do not use dishes Samaritans have used."There are no paper cups by the well. Jesus is going to drink from the same container the woman would use.

I don't even drink out of a family member's cup so it takes much trust in God for me to drink out of a common communion cup! Years ago, in a small group of people, I heard Dr. Anthony Campolo tell how a homeless friend offered him a sip of coffee out of the same cup from which the homeless man had been drinking. Campolo drank from the cup. Who is a "Samaritan" to you and me, and would we drink from that person's cup? 

Jesus' answer, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water" is not chiding her. He's leading her thinking away from the lies she has been told about the inferiority of Samaritans, away from any thought of her unworthiness. He is introducing her to God who loves her so much, He is willing to give her living water just for the asking!

When our minds are baffled and boggled, our brains go back to a place of connection, something practical such as "Sir, you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?" And, then basically, "Who in the world are you?!"

Jesus takes her to a deeper level. She's worth the conversation just as much as the religious leader Nicodemus was. And, she, the Samaritan woman does ask. Granted, she asks for practical reasons, but she does ask. Jesus then enters into her life, "Go, call your husband and come back."

To which she responds that she has no husband. With no condemnation, Jesus reveals how true she has spoken for she has had five husbands and the man she is now with is not her husband. Just as Jesus did with Nathanael ("I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you" which means He also heard what Nathanael had to say about people from Nazareth), Jesus gently reveals that He knows her life.

The Samaritan woman takes a different tack, perhaps to turn the conversation off of her life (understandable) or maybe she really is still confused and stuck: My people say this; your people say that.

Many pastors treat Jesus' response as if she tried to divert His attention and He brought her up short. BUT, Jesus not only answers her question, He also entrusts her with precious knowledge of what is coming: "Neither this mountain nor Jerusalem" and through His conversation with her, He reveals that true worshippers worship in spirit and truth, not on a certain mountain, nor in a certain city. Might there be wisdom here for us: true worshippers do not worship in our country alone (insert the name of your country), but they worship in spirit and truth.

I can't leave this story without saying to anyone who is feeling worthless today, Jesus loved the true Israelite Nathanael and the Pharisee Nicodemus, but He also loved the Samaritan woman, and it was she whose testimony led people to listen to Jesus -- "And because of his [Jesus'] words many more became believers [beyond the ones that believed due to the Samaritan woman's testimony]."

You are not worthless. You are loved. 

Happy Birthday, Jeffrey Sachs

I changed my mind about what I was going to write this morning when I read that today is Jeffrey Sachs's birthday (11/5/54). You may not know who he is. Don't feel bad; neither did I (and the rest of you can be aghast that we do not know the man considered to be the world's leading expert on economic development and the fight against poverty). 

That's okay. I may not know something that perhaps I should have known, but I'm happy to learn it now. I came across a speech Sachs gave this year at Columbia University (3/30/2015) when I did an Internet search for moral knowledge in U.S. universities. I was sure that Dallas Willard's information in his opening chapter of The Divine Conspiracy must have changed since 1997. After all, Willard cites Derek Bok's 1986-1987 "President's Report" (for Harvard). Bok concludes his report with this remark, "Despite the importance of moral development to the individual student and society, one cannot say that higher education has demonstrated a deep concern for the problem..." (qtd. by Willard 3). 

I know I promised to try to be brief. (I'm working on it.) The title of Sachs's speech was "What is a Moral University in the 21st Century?" and you can probably guess that Willard's information still holds true. Sachs acknowledges early on in his speech, "There are many who, quite understandably, would argue that we shouldn't enter the moral thicket." Many of my friends would look at me wondering why I would be surprised: Of course universities aren't involved with moral education anymore. But, read what Sachs said next: "Let's be pragmatic, they would say." Ohhhhh, there's quite a few of us that tend toward pragmatism. Let's be practical, we say. 

Later Sachs says, "Almost all of us are out of practice in moral reasoning. Moral reasoning...requires training, practice, and experience...We are mostly out of practice..." And, he concludes: "My message, colleagues, is that morality counts. It counts for our intellectual purposes; it counts for our souls." 

I can hear friends now: "Whose morality?" Sachs mentions Buddha, Aristotle and Jesus. I'm going with Jesus. As, I mentioned a couple of days ago, for many that requires "a fresh hearing for Jesus" free of the "stranglehold...that automatically shunts aside Jesus" (Willard, introduction).

I'm reading The Divine Conspiracy Chapter 1, "Entering the Eternal Kind of Life Now" -- sections "Life in the Dark" and "Rumors from the Intellectual Heights" 

I'm practicing slowing my steps down 1) so that I'm not rushing like a rat in a rat race and 2) so I can hopefully notice if I'm responding to moments in my day the way the world responds: practical, on the defense, watching out for myself, or if I'm responding in the love, goodness, and intelligence of Jesus.  

A link to Jeffrey Sachs's speech: http://jeffsachs.org/2015/04/2748/

How Does This Work? Love.

Yesterday's post ended with something for us to consider as we went about our day: Is Jesus relevant to whatever we're doing or going through at the moment we ask the question? Here's one way it worked for me.

On November 1, a major coffeehouse sent me an email letting me know that my favorite time-of-the-year coffee would be available as a free sample on November 2 between the hours of x and y. (All my math friends, I really think you should give me a high-five for whatever it was that I just did there.) However, when I went to my local coffeehouse on November 2, there were no samples. Not a single one. I was tempted to tweet, post, and message my displeasure, but I remembered that I was asking myself if Jesus was relevant to my real life.

In my head I'm playing a running commentary with video: "Oh, boohoo, you didn't get your free coffee sample. How first-world 'poor me' problem is that?" If you thought that along with me, you're right. So before I come back to Jesus and coffee, let me make a few comments about this journey.

1) I presume that you are part of the 40% of the world with Internet connections. That doesn't necessarily mean that you are wealthy as I have met people who due to devastating circumstances are in homeless shelters, and they made sure to keep their computers so that they could find jobs (or have access to their jobs). But, it does mean you are not part of the 60% without, and my examples will probably be familiar to you.

2) In college I read these words in "The Unknown Masterpiece" by Honore de Balzac: "...Gillette, who almost forgave him for sacrificing her to the art of painting..." (italics mine), and I decided I wouldn't sacrifice relationships for the sake of writing. When appropriate, I will share deeper than petty annoyances, but, in reality, it's the day-to-day responses to petty annoyances that build up how we respond when life's tragedies hit us. (More on this in another post.)

Therefore, when I thought about "how to do what he [Jesus] said was best" (Willard, Divine Conspiracy), Jesus said love was best.

"Jesus said unto him [the lawyer who had asked about the greatest commandment in the law], "Thou shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your should, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets" (Matthew 22:37-40, underlining mine).

If you're reading: We're still reading the introduction to The Divine Conspiracy.
If you're practicing: We're still exploring -- what does Jesus have to do with this moment? 

The Bethlehem Candle -- The 8th Day of Advent

Today we light the second candle of the Advent wreath. I thought this candle represented "Faith" just as the first candle represented "Hope." However, I did not find agreement for its meaning. Some say "Faith," some say "Love," others say "Preparation." It does appear that most call this the Bethlehem candle. I may end up touching on faith, love, and preparation, but I definitely think of "Journey" when I imagine Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem.

I took a journey with my granddaughters last night...okay, so it was just down the street; nonetheless, the preparation involved 3 sets of mittens, 3 hats, 3 scarves, 3 coats, a set of wool socks (for Grandma), a blanket for the  youngest -- along with a stroller -- and a flashlight. We were taking our annual Christmas Walk Around the Lake. It is a joyous, albeit cold, tradition. The street that circles our local lake closes down for the night so that townsfolk can walk around looking at lights, listening to carols, eating popcorn, drinking hot cider, and greeting old friends (if you can recognize them in the dark). I do not think Mary and Joseph experienced this type of journey, and I can not even imagine what preparation went into their travels to Bethlehem.

All this thinking about journeys and preparations made me realize that my life with Jesus has been a journey beginning with His love for me. I am glad that I did not have to make vast preparations for Him to love me. My connection today with Frank Laubach returns to his May 24 letter and a rather "different" occurrence than most of us are accustomed to.

"...I climbed 'Signal Hill' back of my house, talking and listening to God all the way up, all the way back, all the lovely half hour on the top. And God talked back! I let my tongue go loose and from it there flowed poetry far more beautiful than any I ever composed. it flowed without pausing and without ever a failing syllable for a half hour. I listened astonished and full of joy and gratitude. I wanted a Dictaphone for I knew that I should not remember it -- and now I cannot. 'Why,' someone may ask, 'did God waste His poetry on  you alone, when you could not carry it home?' You will have to ask God that question. I only know He did and I am happy in the memory."

I know I risk losing readers (and maybe friends!) quoting such a mystical happenstance, but what I love about the story is God "wasting His poetry on [Laubach] alone." It truly sounds like something God would do. His love is so extravagant that He would gladly waste His poetry on each of us (and I do not think it is wasteful, nor do I think God thinks it is wasteful). He is LOVE, and we do not have to earn His love. Can you imagine a baby in the womb trying to figure out how to prepare himself or herself to be loved by his/her parents? The baby can not do so; neither can we. God freely gives His love "while we were yet sinners." Oh, on this journey, may I learn to listen with astonishment, joy and gratitude like Laubach did to Jesus' words of love.