Wayside Pulpit

The Advent of Nothing

I have been told they expected a king, someone like David I suppose. Yet, I am not so sure I believe what I have been told. Who knows what they expected, or even IF they expected anything.

What if they expected nothing? It would mean that individuals were doing what individuals have done throughout history; they were running around trying to live lives, put food on the table and procreate. No one even thought to wait for Jesus. If so, Jesus was unanticipated and unexpected--a messiah only in retrospect. Such a possibility of unexpecting turns Advent from a time of expectation of the known, desired and needed into a time of waiting for nothing at all.

Expectation is a lot like Disneyland; a place that both exists and does not. We believe in a dream and only when we visit in the heat of summer with screaming kids do we realize that the dream exists only in our heads. This realization can pull us one of two ways: either, we see the dream for the farce it is and embrace reality on its own terms, or we hold onto the dream, scream at the summer and hate the kids thinking they are what keeps us from the reality of the dream.

Expectation binds us to a vision of a nonexistent reality. An Advent that looks toward Jesus in the manger binds us to just that: Jesus in the manger. Maybe you want to be fastened tightly to your expectations, but how might your life be untied if you expected nothing this Advent?

Stories of the story

What is a story? A story has a plot, characters and a setting. It also has readers, a writer, and some reason for its existence. Even if that reason is simply for pure entertainment.

It is beyond pedestrian (mundane actually) to talk about the gospels being "stories." Their narrative quality is so obvious that even children can tell you the story of Jesus-and-this or Jesus-and-that. So, is there really anything else to say about the fact that the gospels are stories?

I think probably not.

Yet, I do think that there is something to be said about the stories we make of stories. We hear a story (really any story) and off we go making a story about that story. In a sense we cannot ever really hold onto just a story. We are inclined to make it our own by telling something about it. This telling is an aggregation of our opinions, thoughts, feelings, and even imagination.

I am sure you see where I am going with this.

So, I really do not care much any more about the stories of Jesus and his band of not-so-merry followers. What I do find interesting are the stories today's Christians tell about the stories regarding Jesus.

If you, or I, really care about The Feeding of the Five-thousand, it makes much more sense to care about that caring than the story itself. The story never changes, I can go read it right now and guess what? The plot, the setting, and the characters will be exactly the same as it was when I was only eight. And you? If you go read it right now, you'll experience the same thing.

Yet, when I make my own story about the story, THAT is something to hang a hat on; something you and I could really dual about. We could even learn a bit about each other from our stories of that story.

I am for a new gospel: a gospel of the people that is meant to change daily, a gospel that strives to take that which is "something old" and make it "something new." I am not referring to just retelling (that happens on too many Sundays from lazy pulpits); rather, I want a recreated gospel where, us, the people of today, tell the story of the story.

Every Friday is a Good Day

It is the end of the fifth day. Jesus moves away from his disciples into a small clearing in the forest. The trees of Gethsemane surround him; the fading sun turning their twisted trunks into mythical monsters. He is afraid. He puts himself on the ground and crosses his legs—a foot on each thigh. His hands rest near his stomach—left cradled in right. With eyes slightly closed and cast down he sees the shadows of remaining sun travel across the ground. His breath is shallow. In and out it quickly moves; his diaphragm collapsing and expanding in a rhythmic pace. He watches. He pays attention. He slides into the conscious compassionate awareness that he knows so well. The space holds him. His heart opens and all is okay with the world.

The sounds come from the distance—horses, men, and the clinking of swords. Torchlight moves through the trees, and step by human step it replaces the looming darkness. He puts his palms together and moves them toward his chest—thumbs touching his heart. Jesus bows forward and then rights himself just as the light covers his head. He takes in one breath, feels it move through his body and he says,

“We are here to end suffering.
If ending suffering is more important than anything, we will end suffering.
If ending suffering is not more important than anything, we will not end suffering.
If I am suffering, it is because I am choosing something over ending suffering.
We are not here to create and cling to beliefs.
We are here to pay attention.
We are here to use everything in our experience to see how we cause ourselves to suffer; so we can drop that and end suffering”(1)

Follow Me

“After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” -- Luke 5:27

Follow me.

What if those two words are the core of the message of Christ? I mean, really, what if? What would it mean to look to the life of Jesus as a guide for living, instead of looking to his resurrection as a guide for salvation? What would it mean to follow?

Give up your money to those who need it
Change your livelihood to one that focuses on the oppressed
Sit in silence with god
Heal those in need of healing
Share meals with those who are very much unlike you
Preach about injustice
Walk in unfamiliar areas
Read the Hebrew Bible
Leave organized religion
Never whine about being a victim
Be involved in an intentional community working for change
Press against the prevailing social/political/religious system so hard you are executed for it . . .

This is so different than simply believing that one is to live by faith alone, isn’t it? How many Christians, if they were told tomorrow morning at church that THIS is Christianity, would keep being Christian?

I aspire to follow.