This week’s scripture (Luke 19:1-10) tells a story we all remember: Zacchaeus. Some of you may remember Zacchaeus from your frequent and thorough Bible studies, but I’ll bet a huge majority of us remember him only from the effective, if slightly annoying, children’s song (speaking of which, in the saccharin-sweet culmination of that ditty, do you say “for I’m going to your house for tea” or “for I’m going to your house to-day”?)
Regardless, in order to get you motivated for our discussion, here are several reference links that may be helpful:
First, you may not realize it, but the IRS is hiring! You, like Zacchaeus, can be a tax collector.
Also, it’s helpful to note that our Federal Government offers official information on how to climb a tree.
And, just so you won’t feel to sorry for poor old Zac as he sits up there in that tree, realize there are records out there for that sort of thing.
Now, with that out of the way, what jumps out at you in the Zacchaeus story? What point was Jesus trying to make by eating with a tax collector? And, if Jesus were online with us now, W. W. J. B. about us and this story?
But before you reflect any further, and before you post those thoughts, consider the video found just after the jump:
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
W.W.J.B.?
Good discussion going on below in the comments under "Wholly Holier Than Thou." Feel free to join in (its gotten political - gasp). That's OK, as I'm pretty sure that Jesus loves both Republicans and Democrats.
With that said, a preview of next week: We will be asking, in part, WWJB?
That's right, we will be talking about 'What Would Jesus Blog?'
With that said, a preview of next week: We will be asking, in part, WWJB?
That's right, we will be talking about 'What Would Jesus Blog?'
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Wholly Holier Than Thou
Allow me a slight detour on the way to this week’s scripture. I’m going to describe someone, and then let’s see who I’ve described:
This person is smarter than Miss Teen South Carolina, kinder than Ann Coulter, less prone to violence than O.J. Simpson, wears more clothing than Britney Spears, goes to fewer parties than Paris Hilton, has more class than Donald Trump, picks fewer fights than Rosie O’Donnell, and has a narrower stance than Senator Larry Craig.
So . . . . who is it? Got a guess?
It’s YOU faithful blog reader. Its all you.
Who hasn’t had thoughts like these before? You know, the ‘at least I’m better than so-and-so’ type thoughts. We are all prone to them. Especially when we are feeling down on ourselves, or have really let someone else down. That’s when we get cooler than the other side of the pillow and start pointing fingers at the crass-class around us.
And if you think the network execs out there aren’t aware of this dark, judgemental side of our personalities when they program shows like The Bachelor, Fear Factor, or Breaking Bonaduce, then you are denser than The Girls Next Door (eh, yes, I just did it too – and no, I don’t appreciate you pointing that out).
This brings us to Luke 18:9-14, and the relief that we didn’t invent this particular Acme brand, pedestrian sin. So read it, if you haven’t, and let’s discuss.
But before we get too deep, a current event you may have seen this week. Apparently, the former Pope showed up in a bonfire in Poland. Cool, eh? Locals were impressed, photos were snapped, international press descended, and blogs in remote corners of faraway lands took note (!). Did you see the photographic proof? Take a look:
Of course, those of us who ended up on the other side of the Reformation may look at the flames and see a more familiar and beloved face staring back at us. Consider:
And I am sure my six year old son sees something more along these lines:
This person is smarter than Miss Teen South Carolina, kinder than Ann Coulter, less prone to violence than O.J. Simpson, wears more clothing than Britney Spears, goes to fewer parties than Paris Hilton, has more class than Donald Trump, picks fewer fights than Rosie O’Donnell, and has a narrower stance than Senator Larry Craig.
So . . . . who is it? Got a guess?
It’s YOU faithful blog reader. Its all you.
Who hasn’t had thoughts like these before? You know, the ‘at least I’m better than so-and-so’ type thoughts. We are all prone to them. Especially when we are feeling down on ourselves, or have really let someone else down. That’s when we get cooler than the other side of the pillow and start pointing fingers at the crass-class around us.
And if you think the network execs out there aren’t aware of this dark, judgemental side of our personalities when they program shows like The Bachelor, Fear Factor, or Breaking Bonaduce, then you are denser than The Girls Next Door (eh, yes, I just did it too – and no, I don’t appreciate you pointing that out).
This brings us to Luke 18:9-14, and the relief that we didn’t invent this particular Acme brand, pedestrian sin. So read it, if you haven’t, and let’s discuss.
But before we get too deep, a current event you may have seen this week. Apparently, the former Pope showed up in a bonfire in Poland. Cool, eh? Locals were impressed, photos were snapped, international press descended, and blogs in remote corners of faraway lands took note (!). Did you see the photographic proof? Take a look:
Of course, those of us who ended up on the other side of the Reformation may look at the flames and see a more familiar and beloved face staring back at us. Consider:
Or, if your tastes run more toward the OTHER religion observed here in the South, then you might see one of the following:
And I am sure my six year old son sees something more along these lines:
But as for me, a roaring fire like that puts my thoughts elsewhere. Methinks:
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Hey Lady, leave me alone!
Our first Sunday morning meeting was a success! Of course, I think a couple of people wandered into the Library thinking it was still their old class or the new location of their old class, but we’ll take ‘em nonetheless. Which brings up a couple of points: First, our weekly meeting place is officially the Library, and second, we encourage you all to post on the blog.
Some people have mentioned that they are discouraged from posting because they will have to set up a Google account. Be assured, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SET UP AN ACCOUNT! If you want to post a comment, click on the small word ‘comment’ at the end of each blog entry. On the comment screen, you can read others’ entries, and then enter one of your own. To post, click the ‘other’ button, and leave your first name and last initial and no other information is required. Got it? Good.
Now, on to our weekly scripture: Luke 18-1-8, the parable of the Unjust Judge. If you haven’t read the scripture yet, take a moment and do so now.Now obviously, in my line of work, I’ve come across a judge or two. Of those that I have met, a few were wise, honorable, and concerned with justice. . . . And that’s all I have to say about that.
Interesting parable and one found only in Luke. In it, we are introduced to two characters: (really three I guess, if you count the ‘adversary’) a wronged widow, and an unjust judge. The wrong widow takes her case to the judge, and the judge refuses to help. The widow persists, and the judge finally relents, not to grant justice, but simply to get the woman off his back.
Pretty straightforward, right? Jesus is telling us to pray, because God is good, and will give us what we ask much more readily than the evil judge, right? Well, ol’ Jesus sometimes had more than one point to make with his little stories, and I think this one is no different. I don’t think its offered just to get us to pray more, or else we would see a lot of bumper stickers like this:
Anyway, so that I’m starting a discussion, and not just delivering a lecture, let me get you to forget about the evil judge (he’s the strongest character in the story, so it’s hard to do) for a minute. Think instead of the widow, and ask ‘What does the widow want?’ And what example does she set? Thoughts?
Oh, and for those of you who might be looking for more humor out of this week’s entry, please understand that widows and judges don’t put me in a very humorous frame of mind. However, if it will help, I offer below John Calvin and John Knox doing the Charleston (after the jump).
Monday, October 8, 2007
Ten to One
If you're new to the blog - scroll down to the 'Introduction' to get up to speed. Maybe one more week of this annoying disclaimer, and then its FULL SPEED AHEAD!
This week's scripture is Luke 17:11-19. Straightforward-enough story as only Luke can tell it: 10 lepers run into Jesus on the road one day. They cry out for help, and Jesus sends them to the priest, where they discover they are cured. We then learn, in a narrative aside that smacks of Karl from Slingblade, that "one of them fellers was a Samaritan, uh huh." Of course, it is this unclean 'feller' who comes back to Jesus and offers praise to God for what has happened.
[ASIDE: Was being a Samaritan another form of uncleanliness? Did 1st Century Jews view a Samaritan as incurably unclean? Were they born that way, or did they choose to be like that? hhhhmmmmmmmm.]
Then Jesus commends the returning Samaritan, and tells him "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."
Now, I like a good bible story as much as the next guy. But this one stopped me in my tracks. If this one's faith made him well, then what made the other 9 lepers well? And if it was something different, or even if it was the same, then what does it matter that the Samaritan came back? Shouldn't he get an extra benefit for being thankful?
Or was Jesus saying something else entirely? What stopped me in my tracks was how this simple story ran headlong into a conflict that roiled the early church. This conflict basically came down to the idea of free will versus the sovereignty of God. Two dark age theologians took each other to task over this conflict, and in many ways, we are still arguing about it today. On the left we have Augustine (do you say 'aw-gus-teen,' or 'aw-gus-tin?'), who advocated for the sovereignty of God and the idea that man could not, by his nature, accomplish goodness. On the right we have the the other, less well-known thinker, Pelagius. Pelagius thought like a good American would think today: I can do anything I set my mind on, I have
the ability to accomplish great things with just the sweat of my brow and the determination of my will. They argued, and right heatedly, about whether man was saved by his own choosing, or if it was God who did the saving and the choosing.
Put another way, is it nature or is it nurture that controls our lives?
Guess who won? Well, from a historical point of view, Augustine did, and his view became the more accepted doctrine (particularly in the Reformed tradition). Pelagius faded from view, both figuratively and literally, as we have very little information about his ultimate fate. I like to think he chose to soldier on with life, maybe chose another line of work, or at least chose to go fishing, but its clear that history destined him for the rubbish heap of ideas.
Or did it? Thinking about Pelagius and his views as a 21st century American male, I have a hard time writing him off completely. Don't we spend every single day trying to be good providers, good citizens, good husbands and fathers? Isn't all that worth something? And shouldn't we think of ourselves as good people if we try hard in those areas?
And here I think we are close to the root of the problem. The 'original zen' of the thing. If those things make us good, if those efforts are what define us as a good person, then we could be very proud of ourselves. Very, very proud. So proud, in fact, that we lose sight of who is at the center in our lives and is the source of our goodness.
So maybe what Jesus said to the leper was not about his leprosy at all. Maybe Jesus was saying that his thankfulness was evidence of God's healing on the insides of the man. Before he had leprosy along with fear, pain, and alienation. Now he is healed, and he also has faith-filled thankfulness for what God has done.
So where does that leave us and our good works? Good question, and one that avoids easy answers.
One man took the idea of good works to the extreme, trying to live out all of the rules in the bible for a full year. Watch his interview here, paying particular attention to his comments at the six minute mark.
This week's scripture is Luke 17:11-19. Straightforward-enough story as only Luke can tell it: 10 lepers run into Jesus on the road one day. They cry out for help, and Jesus sends them to the priest, where they discover they are cured. We then learn, in a narrative aside that smacks of Karl from Slingblade, that "one of them fellers was a Samaritan, uh huh." Of course, it is this unclean 'feller' who comes back to Jesus and offers praise to God for what has happened.
[ASIDE: Was being a Samaritan another form of uncleanliness? Did 1st Century Jews view a Samaritan as incurably unclean? Were they born that way, or did they choose to be like that? hhhhmmmmmmmm.]
Then Jesus commends the returning Samaritan, and tells him "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."
Now, I like a good bible story as much as the next guy. But this one stopped me in my tracks. If this one's faith made him well, then what made the other 9 lepers well? And if it was something different, or even if it was the same, then what does it matter that the Samaritan came back? Shouldn't he get an extra benefit for being thankful?
Or was Jesus saying something else entirely? What stopped me in my tracks was how this simple story ran headlong into a conflict that roiled the early church. This conflict basically came down to the idea of free will versus the sovereignty of God. Two dark age theologians took each other to task over this conflict, and in many ways, we are still arguing about it today. On the left we have Augustine (do you say 'aw-gus-teen,' or 'aw-gus-tin?'), who advocated for the sovereignty of God and the idea that man could not, by his nature, accomplish goodness. On the right we have the the other, less well-known thinker, Pelagius. Pelagius thought like a good American would think today: I can do anything I set my mind on, I have
the ability to accomplish great things with just the sweat of my brow and the determination of my will. They argued, and right heatedly, about whether man was saved by his own choosing, or if it was God who did the saving and the choosing.Put another way, is it nature or is it nurture that controls our lives?
Guess who won? Well, from a historical point of view, Augustine did, and his view became the more accepted doctrine (particularly in the Reformed tradition). Pelagius faded from view, both figuratively and literally, as we have very little information about his ultimate fate. I like to think he chose to soldier on with life, maybe chose another line of work, or at least chose to go fishing, but its clear that history destined him for the rubbish heap of ideas.
Or did it? Thinking about Pelagius and his views as a 21st century American male, I have a hard time writing him off completely. Don't we spend every single day trying to be good providers, good citizens, good husbands and fathers? Isn't all that worth something? And shouldn't we think of ourselves as good people if we try hard in those areas?
And here I think we are close to the root of the problem. The 'original zen' of the thing. If those things make us good, if those efforts are what define us as a good person, then we could be very proud of ourselves. Very, very proud. So proud, in fact, that we lose sight of who is at the center in our lives and is the source of our goodness.
So maybe what Jesus said to the leper was not about his leprosy at all. Maybe Jesus was saying that his thankfulness was evidence of God's healing on the insides of the man. Before he had leprosy along with fear, pain, and alienation. Now he is healed, and he also has faith-filled thankfulness for what God has done.
So where does that leave us and our good works? Good question, and one that avoids easy answers.
One man took the idea of good works to the extreme, trying to live out all of the rules in the bible for a full year. Watch his interview here, paying particular attention to his comments at the six minute mark.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
An eRally Day?
Not a good way to launch a new experiment in Adult Education, is it? Here we are nearing Rally Day (our annual Sunday School kickoff) and its clear that neither Karen nor I will be in church this Sunday. Its someone's high school reunion (just whose will remain a secret, but here's a hint: we are driving to Valdosta, GA to attend) so we won't be present at the Rally Day event to describe our class (to get up to speed, scroll down and read the 'Introduction' below).
Maybe we can get Randy to open a laptop on the table and bring up eMMAUS for attendees at Rally Day to preview. Maybe that's the most fitting way to begin a blog-based class.
Maybe we can eRally our way through Rally Day.
With that thought, this week's scripture:
Luke 17:5-10. The stuff about faith and a mustard seed.
Anyone else had trouble with this passage in the past? Note that the more familiar language - faith enough to move mountains -is found in Mark 11:22-24 and Matthew 21:21-22. What we have here, however, is not about mountains, but instead about moving trees into the ocean.
Unlikely? Yes. Impractical? Yes. Impressive? Absolutely.
Coincidentally, the mustard seed stuff came up the other night in a very unlikely place: The
post-game TV interviews of the Auburn/Florida football game. The Auburn quarterback, Brandon Cox, was interviewed by ESPN's Holly Rowe (and not Erin Andrews, which undoubtedly disappointed our boy Brandon). When asked whether or not he had expected to do well against the Gators, Brandon began by saying, "We talked about it in devotion the other night, if you only have faith, faith as much as a mu . . ." and then, perhaps realizing he was on national television, or perhaps realizing that Erin Andrews might still watch his interview at some point, he stopped. Just as quickly and deftly as he dodged many a Gator defender that night, he slid into regular post game sports cliche, and avoided what could have been an interesting, if slightly awkward, TV moment.
Speaking of awkward TV moments, we offer the following (after the jump), with the disclaimer that we are not sure if its funny or not:
Not a good way to launch a new experiment in Adult Education, is it? Here we are nearing Rally Day (our annual Sunday School kickoff) and its clear that neither Karen nor I will be in church this Sunday. Its someone's high school reunion (just whose will remain a secret, but here's a hint: we are driving to Valdosta, GA to attend) so we won't be present at the Rally Day event to describe our class (to get up to speed, scroll down and read the 'Introduction' below).
Maybe we can get Randy to open a laptop on the table and bring up eMMAUS for attendees at Rally Day to preview. Maybe that's the most fitting way to begin a blog-based class.
Maybe we can eRally our way through Rally Day.
With that thought, this week's scripture:
Luke 17:5-10. The stuff about faith and a mustard seed.
Anyone else had trouble with this passage in the past? Note that the more familiar language - faith enough to move mountains -is found in Mark 11:22-24 and Matthew 21:21-22. What we have here, however, is not about mountains, but instead about moving trees into the ocean.
Unlikely? Yes. Impractical? Yes. Impressive? Absolutely.
Coincidentally, the mustard seed stuff came up the other night in a very unlikely place: The
post-game TV interviews of the Auburn/Florida football game. The Auburn quarterback, Brandon Cox, was interviewed by ESPN's Holly Rowe (and not Erin Andrews, which undoubtedly disappointed our boy Brandon). When asked whether or not he had expected to do well against the Gators, Brandon began by saying, "We talked about it in devotion the other night, if you only have faith, faith as much as a mu . . ." and then, perhaps realizing he was on national television, or perhaps realizing that Erin Andrews might still watch his interview at some point, he stopped. Just as quickly and deftly as he dodged many a Gator defender that night, he slid into regular post game sports cliche, and avoided what could have been an interesting, if slightly awkward, TV moment.Speaking of awkward TV moments, we offer the following (after the jump), with the disclaimer that we are not sure if its funny or not:
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