I rise to taste the dawn, and find that love alone will shine today.                                                                      
              - Ken Wilber






READING:
This is how much God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son.  And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.  God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was.  He came to help, to put the world right again.  Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it.  And why?  Because that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.

This is the crisis that we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness.  They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God.  Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure.  But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.
                                      - John 3.16-21 (The Message)


REFLECTION:
We of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) …whoa Nellie! This title requires some explanation. It would be easy to read this title as a claim to be the only true disciples, but that would be a mistake. We firmly believe that we are not the only Christians, but Christians only, serving humbly beside Christians of any other stripe or color.

Anyway, we Disciples recently lost a saint – a truly awesome man! – Fred Craddock, who both inspired and humbled us all. He inspired us with some of the best preaching around; and he humbled us with his commitment to serve “The least of these” in practical, hands-on ways. How he managed to write as prolifically as he did and still find time to serve others remains a mystery God alone can penetrate.

Dr. Craddock begins his commentary on John 3.16 with the caution that it is easy to trivialize this verse. Boy! He could say that again. Most of us know this verse in some form, and most of us trivialize it by reading our meanings into the text. We typically think of God as loving… unless you cross him (sic); in which case God can be a harsh judge. And we trivialize it by thinking of the salvation of the Christ as a pie-in-the-sky reward in the distant future for confessing that we believe this statement about Jesus.

We do this, however, at the expense of its context in John’s theology, losing any chance of recognizing the profundity, subtlety, and radically challenging content of this verse. We need to step back and tease out John’s thought on the nature of the God who loves the world, and what he means by salvation.

I invite you to try this in preparation for Sunday’s worship. Reflect on your notion of the God who loves. Is that all God does? What is this God like? And what is this love John speaks about? Is it sentimental and weak, or profound and powerful? And try to summarize what you think of as salvation. Then on Sunday we will examine this verse, and the passage in which it is nestled, with a view to discard any trivializing tendencies, and catch a glimpse of something both inspiring and challenging that can be embraced by all, including those who think long, hard, and reasonably about spiritual things… and expect preacher types to do the same. Join us, won’t you? 

How long will grown men and women in this world keep drawing in their coloring books an image of God that makes them sad?                                                                                
                             - Meister Eckhart 


Reading:
“Let me set this before you as plainly as I can. If a person climbs over or through the fence of a sheep pen instead of going through the gate, you know he’s up to no good—a sheep rustler! The shepherd walks right up to the gate. The gatekeeper opens the gate to him and the sheep recognize his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he gets them all out, he leads them and they follow because they are familiar with his voice. They won’t follow a stranger’s voice but will scatter because they aren’t used to the sound of it.” Jesus told this simple story, but they had no idea what he was talking about. So he tried again. “I’ll be explicit, then. I am the Gate for the sheep. All those others are up to no good—sheep stealers, every one of them. But the sheep didn’t listen to them. I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of. “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd puts the sheep before himself, sacrifices himself if necessary. A hired man is not a real shepherd. The sheep mean nothing to him. He sees a wolf come and runs for it, leaving the sheep to be ravaged and scattered by the wolf. He’s only in it for the money. The sheep don’t matter to him. “I am the Good Shepherd.”
                                   - John 10.1-14a (The Message)


Reflection:
When I was in graduate school, Dominic Crossan delivered a lecture series on the parables of Jesus at my university. His work on the parables is first rate, top drawer, and comes highly recommended. And this lecture series was no different. An exchange during this series made a lasting impression on my spirit, and has stuck with me for years. In one lecture Professor Crossan discussed the various ways that Jesus’ parables can confuse and call into question our long cherished ideas, thus allowing new meanings to take their place. And they can do this again and again. One pastor in the audience was scandalized by the very thought that the parables refuse to be reduced to one and only one meaning now-and-forever-more-amen. They can continue to interact with our spirit – and mess with our confident knowledge – and introduce new, profound notions that enrich our understanding and our faith if we will simply allow it.

This passage from chapter 10 is as close as John comes to a parable. Even though it focuses on Jesus rather than the Reign of God (as in the synoptic gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke), it shares some of the characteristics that make Jesus’ parables so enigmatic, profound, and a fertile ground for new meaning. Specifically, this narrative identifies Jesus as both the gate through which the sheep enter, and the good shepherd that cares for and protects the sheep. This ambiguity tends to throw us off balance - we are much like the scandalized pastor, and want one, clear identification and one definitive meaning - and in this way create an opening for new, more profound meaning.

Jesus as shepherd… well, we know just how to make this image boring and mundane. This Jesus is harmless, gentle and oh so sentimental and, to be honest, would fit best in a velvet painting (much like the ones that depict Elvis’ blue swede shoes). Forget the fact that this shepherd cares passionately for the sheep, and protects them even if self-sacrifice is involved. There is nothing sentimental about this shepherd.

Jesus as sheep gate blows sentimentality out of the water. Get past the double image of Jesus and the confusion it causes, and what appears is the notion that Jesus is not only the shepherd that protects us, but is as well the protection itself. Think about that… the shepherd who protects is identical with the One from whom all things come – our creator God – and the unique, reliable source of protection .

This shepherd, this Jesus can be trusted absolutely with all we are and all we have. This Jesus would never abandon or inflict pain into our life. This Jesus cannot be painted in sad, somber colors, and depicted as an ill-tempered judge (and jury!). This Jesus can only be painted in vibrant, rich colors that reflect fulfillment, peace and joy. Need I say more? Perhaps… perhaps we should pray:

“We’re ready God… ready to worship. We’ve all brought along our coloring book; that palette nestled deeply in our heart on which we draw your image. We rarely show this sketch to others, because we’re not sure what colors to use, or what name to choose as a title. We can easily see you in dark, somber colors. Such images are as varied as they are numerous, yet they reveal a common thread of distant, brooding authority, hungry for adulation and ready to pass judgment. Then that weaver of tales comes along and draws a shepherd in simple, gentle words; a guardian strong yet loving, firm yet protective, always given to laughter and joyful exuberance. Such a one is beyond our ability to draw. The colors required surpass our wildest imaginings in their brilliance and beauty. And the names…. the names are as numerous as the stars, as deep as love, as broad as compassion. Draw this image in our heart, O God, so that we may draw near to you, and find in you all that we need…”

We would like to heed God’s words, but we only half hear them. The big drama between us makes too much noise for us to understand each other. Only in our doing can we grasp you. Only with our hands can we illumine you.

                                                - Rainer Maria Rilke (adapted)




“Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage. “Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven. “Don’t suppose for a minute that I have come to demolish the Scriptures—either God’s Law or the Prophets. I’m not here to demolish but to complete. I am going to put it all together, pull it all together in a vast panorama. God’s Law is more real and lasting than the stars in the sky and the ground at your feet. Long after stars burn out and earth wears out, God’s Law will be alive and working. “Trivialize even the smallest item in God’s Law and you will only have trivialized yourself. But take it seriously, show the way for others, and you will find honor in the kingdom. Unless you do far better than the Pharisees in the matters of right living, you won’t know the first thing about entering the kingdom.
                - Matthew 5.13-20 (The Message)



The passage cited above is perhaps better known (at least more broadly known) than any other from the Sermon on the Mount; at least the first part about light, that is. Most people know it, however, from the song it inspired. You know the one I mean, This Little Light of Mine. We’ve all sung it at one time or another: in children’s Sunday School, at summer camp, or in Vacation Bible School. It’s a harmless little ditty, lighthearted and casual; and it tends to bring back pleasant memories from our childhood that soothe and comfort us.

But, I must tell you; this perplexes me, because this simple, unpretentious song is inspired by one of the most challenging passages imaginable. Yet we seem to avoid its challenge by inserting our preferred interpretation of what it means to let your light shine. Whenever we sing it, we assume we know what light shine means. I remember, for example, growing up among fundamentalist-tending folk in the Deep South who interpreted the song for me as a child. “Be a good boy and do everything your momma asks you to do,” they said; and, “always, always avoid those Catholics,” whom they saw as the archenemy of all good Christians (read conservative, Protestant Christians).

As an older teen, I had advanced to a more sophisticated evangelical perspective; and the meaning of light shine was still assumed in a rather rigid sense that, surprisingly (or not) reflected the beliefs and biases of the group in which I found myself. To let your light shine meant to make sure you were different (read superior), from all those pagans who didn’t go to church. And it meant offering them the true beliefs that would transform them into faithful Christians. “Believe like we do,” they insisted, “And you will claim your ticket to heaven.”

As an adult - and a long-time student of faith, spirituality, and the Christian Biblical Tradition (among others) - I have found these interpretations lacking. They are good at spreading a rigid morality, and even a sense of superiority that any right-believing Christian can ostensibly claim. But they say little to nothing about living in community with God and other folk; nothing about walking a pilgrim pathway in the very real presence of God. So I decided to do something novel - and I invite you to do the same – I decided to turn directly to the Biblical Tradition and ask what Matthew’s Jesus has to say about light shine; and to seek other voices – like Isaiah 58.1-9a  - that provide context and content as well.

Long story short (so as not to steal my own thunder from Sunday’s sermon), both Matthew and Isaiah sketch a faith that acts; a faith that humbly looks beyond religious orthodoxy and learning about God as the primary sense of what it means to be a Christian, and recommends actually doing something to address the needs of others. Rilke (in the worship heading above) expresses this sense well in noting that we only grasp God, we only illumine God’s meaning for life, with our doing… reaching out with compassionate hands and hearts to address human misery. So, perhaps we should change the expression let your light shine to let your life shine. What do you think? 

"When your character is built on spiritual and moral foundation, your contagious way of life will influence millions."

 - Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.