Only when they spread their wings are they the wakers of a wind: as if God with his broad sculptor’s hands were turning pages in the dark book of the beginning. 
       - Rainer Maria Rilke


READING:
When God began to create the heavens and the earth— the earth was without shape or form, it was dark over the deep sea, and God’s wind swept over the waters… Then God said, “Let us make humanity in our image to resemble us so that they may take charge of the fish of the sea, the birds in the sky, the livestock, all the earth, and all the crawling things on earth.” God created humanity in God’s own image, in the divine image God created them, male and female God created them …the Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils.
                         - Genesis 1.1-2, 26-27; 2.7 (CEB)



REFLECTION:
It’s early – wicked early – but I can’t sleep for the wind stirring in my spirit; urging me, enticing me, inspiring me… challenging me to pray, reflect, listen, and write something of substance on freedom and equality. The very prospect is exciting because this conviction – the equality of all - has a prominent place in my heart; on this one theological issue at least, there is no ambiguity; on this point God’s Spirit brooks no excuses. 

Despite our best efforts over the years to coax the biblical tradition to support notions of our superiority over others (feel free to define our as you will), the biblical tradition has spread its wings and wakened the wind, inviting us to soar above and beyond the limits imposed by fear, jealousy, and a sense of entitlement; and to see the human community from God’s perspective: equal and unified. 

Despite our diligent attempts to paint Jesus as the defender of all things free – markets, accumulation of wealth, the assertion of power and control – Jesus emphatically refuses this role. Read his story; you don’t have to take my word for it; there is a clear sub-text. “Ain’t gonna happen,” Jesus insists. “You won’t use me to assert economy over equality, privilege over poverty, personal security over succor for the weak and marginalized. Ain’t gonna happen.”

And despite our fervent desire to bundle up against the wind and avoid being swept away on God’s cause, the wind has been wakened; the same wind that swept over chaos “in the beginning,” presaging the explosion of God’s creative activity. That wind continues to blow because God, with sculptor’s hands, continues to create children, women, and men in the divine image. The one, clear divine image, mind you. This image doesn’t come in stages or degrees. This image is not an entitlement. This image is not deserved but granted as a gift… to all. We are called to recognize and embrace its profoundly simple reality, a sign of God’s tender embrace of each and every individual, culture, and people. It’s just easier to recognize from above the clouds. Shall we soar?

                                     - Bo

Bear with patience all that is unresolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves, as if they were rooms yet to enter or books written in a foreign language. Don’t dig for answers that can’t be given you yet. Live the questions now, perhaps then, someday, you will live into the answer.
                - Rainer Maria Rilke (Adapted for worship)    


READING
Later on that day, the disciples had gathered together, but, fearful of the Jews, had locked all the doors in the house. Jesus entered, stood among them, and said, “Peace to you.” But Thomas, sometimes called the Twin, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We saw the Master.” But he said, “Unless I see the nail holes in his hands, put my finger in the nail holes, and stick my hand in his side, I won’t believe it.” Eight days later, his disciples were again in the room. This time Thomas was with them. Jesus came through the locked doors, stood among them, and said, “Peace to you.” Then he focused his attention on Thomas. “Take your finger and examine my hands. Take your hand and stick it in my side. Don’t be unbelieving. Believe.” Thomas said, “My Master! My God!” Jesus said, “So, you believe because you’ve seen with your own eyes. Even better blessings are in store for those who believe without seeing.” Jesus provided far more God-revealing signs than are written down in this book. These are written down so you will believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and in the act of believing, have real and eternal life in the way he personally revealed it.    
                            - John 20:19, 24-31 (The Message)


REFLECTION
In a recent discussion over coffee with a friend I expressed reservations about a project he wanted to undertake, and he responded by calling me a Doubting Thomas. And – you know what? - it didn’t sound to me like a compliment. Most of us, in fact, think of doubt as something shady, dubious, unhealthy, or just plain dirty. We think of doubt as the beginning of a slippery slope careening off the narrow way. It may be a road less taken, but that’s okay because it’s not a road worth traveling. This is harsh stuff, no doubt (pun intended; I couldn’t resist), but perhaps this dark assessment of doubt explains why I was conditioned to feel guilty, even ashamed, for expressing doubt by the Southern-fried Fundamentalist Church in which I was raised.

I reckon I should confess that I didn’t prove to be an outstanding representative of this proud religious heritage. To me, doubt didn’t feel dirty from the inside out; that was imposed on me from the outside. For me, doubt was simply a necessity. It was there no matter how hard I tried to walk the walk of a fundamentalist and root it out with piety and stubborn belief. And in the end it was not a bad thing. In fact, it was only when I embraced my doubts and questions that they began to open out to spiritual insight, strength, and growth in the Spirit of which I was incapable before.

I think Thomas, commonly dubbed Doubting Thomas, would understand my plight; I think he experienced something quite similar in his spiritual life; and I think that this passage from John 20 reveals the origins of a spiritual giant that can serve as role model for faith. Faith, that is to say, that develops not in spite of, but through doubt. To be perfectly honest, I think the moral of this story is as simple as it is overlooked – doubt saves the day.

Before his encounter with the risen Lord, Thomas suffered from the same fears that drive many of us. He wanted hard proof of this claim of resurrection before he would be willing to risk anything on it. He didn’t want to christen anything as true unless he could feel it, touch it, probe it, and in so doing clearly define it, limit it, and make it manageable.

Please note, however, that when Jesus invited Thomas to touch, probe, and feel resurrection life… he declined, and exclaimed in near ecstasy, My Master! My God! His fear had vanished, and solid, earthbound evidence had become inadequate, even superfluous. Thomas’ doubt was transformed in the presence of resurrection life into what could be called caution in the face of mystery. His questions, his reservations, were not barriers to faith. Rather, they reflected his recognition that what he sought was beyond his understanding; it was beyond his control, that he had nothing to give to resurrection life, but had only to receive its fullness.

Like Thomas I say, Give me doubt or, to express it more forcefully, I doubt therefore I believe. Doubt as skepticism that is dubious of the strange, the new… not so much. Doubt as cynicism that is fundamentally distrustful of the motives and goals of others… not so much. Give me doubt that entices me beyond the narrow limits of my truth, my understanding, and my conclusions to something mysterious and wonder-full. Something like resurrection life. 

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?