Keeping score; making confession

“Grace cannot prevail,” writes Robert Farrar Capon, “until our lifelong certainty that someone is keeping score has run out of steam and collapsed.”*

In spite of the fact that I am a terrible golfer, golf has provided me with a grand metaphor for the concept of original sin:  keeping score. [Just an aside. I don't conceive of an original sin which has infected all human beings always, but rather, an action or attitude that continually breaks our relationships with one another and with God.]

So.....in golf, you are either at par (average), above par (which appears to be a little better, but is, in fact, worse) or below par (which appears to be worse, but is in fact better).  By the end of 18 holes, the winner has the lowest score, but can easily be 'above par' and so not really that good.  Likewise, a loser could end up below par, but not far enough.  It's an Alice in Wonderland sport.

Keeping score is what we do. We claim our  better jobs, better schools, better grades, better sports teams are the easy examples.  Our Instagram pictures prove we take better vacations, go to better concerts, have better friends.  Our family reunions are a cacophony of often not so subtle one upmanship.  Somehow we have convinced ourselves that we are in a lifelong race with every other human being near us, and so we keep score.

Because we are so busy keeping score, watching one another, greedy for advantage, envious of another's good fortune, lusting after power, we can't imagine that God - or however you image the Divine Creator - isn't keeping score as well.  God is just waiting to 'catch' us in some indiscretion or outright nastiness, recording this failure for all eternity, and often planning some kind of punishment for our failure.  No wonder no one wants to talk about God or sin.  The result is that the concept of grace is more dense than nuclear physics.

Grace is both the gift given and the manner in which it is given.  Grace is forgiveness without requiring a pound of flesh or deep groveling.  Grace is making whole what was broken without constant referral to the repaired cracks.  Grace is love.  Love is Grace.  In the end, there is no greater gift. It is a gift we are loathe to accept because first, it speaks the truth and therefore, we want to earn it.  Of course if you have 'earned' it, it isn't grace.

But in our heart of hearts we know that there are a slew of things that someone should be keeping track of - things we have done, or not done, for which we are to blame, which have caused harm to others.  You make up your list; I have my own. So, we are suspicious of such a gift because we know our own flawed history. We also know how hard it would be for us to be truly gracious.

Enter the gift of confession.  Yes, I said 'gift'.  The act of confession allows us to stop running (away from ourselves and away from others) and speak truth - about who we are and what we are capable of doing.  It is a moment when all the posturing comes to an end and we admit - mostly to ourselves since everyone else has known all along - that we were out of bounds, missed the target, broken the rules, hurt someone else.  We say it aloud (even if only in our heads) to make it real. No getting around it.

Then grace happens. Like a warm blanket on those nights when the temperature plummets.  Like a cup of tea with a friend.  Like the gentle touch of a loved one who has been wronged.  Words of forgiveness that allow us to breathe deeply once again.  An outstretched hand that invites us back into relationship.  A voice that calls us 'beloved'.

Certainly consequences will be paid; amends will have to be made.  We will need to do work to strengthen the relationship that somehow we broke.  But we can stop running and begin living. We can be a part of someone else's better tomorrow.

Now that's amazing!  That's grace.

*Robert Farrar Capon, Between Noon and Three: Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 7.

Evans, Rachel Held. Searching for Sunday (p. 265). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

Fire from heaven.....or What have you done with my Jesus?

"I will bring fire from heaven"

Actually, Jesus says he will 'throw down' fire from heaven.  Reminds me of all those comic illustrations with God throwing thunderbolts down on  unsuspecting people.  Kind of gives me the chills.  Which of course leads to the question, "What have you done with my Jesus?"  Where is that compassionate, calm, kind man who pulled children into an embrace and blessed them?

Just possibly our memory fails us.  Remember how Mary sang about her coming child?  He would lift up the lowly and bring down those in high places.  This coming Messiah would re-create the Divine Creation so that all could experience authentic life - a time of great shalom. That kind of re-arranging requires some heavy duty power - or in this case, fire.

What will that Great Shalom look like?  Will there be hunger?  Will some be stopped at the gate because of their race? their gender? their age? their nationality? their disability? No.  It will be the great feast where all are invited to the table to be filled with good things.

So how do we get from where we are today - to where God's great passion will be fulfilled?  Fire.  Fire is how Luke describe the Divine Passion, a passion that burns away impurities, reassures us of God's presence, and leads us away from death.  The fire of divine love is at work everywhere in the world - in the marketplace, in the temple, in our homes, at weddings and funerals and political rallies.  The Fire of God is working on both sides of any issue, any battlefield, to bring ALL people into life and peace.  Jesus' fire works on me as well as my neighbor and enemy.

This, of course, is judgment.  Systems that oppress are judged; people that oppress are judged; practices that oppress are judged - and re-shaped with the fire of divine passion.  Hunger.  Poverty.  Discrimination.  Abuse.  Our blind spots, our dead spots, our evil spots are burned off!  The power of the Divine Creator is more formidable than any opponent - just check out the empty tomb.

Jesus comes, with the power of the divine passion, to bring life to everyone - not just those we think are worthy, and many whom we think are not.  In order for there to be peace, there must be justice.  It is a justice that those who are powerful and privileged in our current system will resist.  In 1917 women who were silently demonstrating for women's suffrage were imprisoned.  In 1963 fellow citizens of African descent who demonstrated for equal rights were beaten and imprisoned.  It was all legal; but it wasn't justice.  Just look at the cross.

In our baptism, in each of our confessions, and in the challenge of daily life, we offer up to God those portions of our lives that disturb God's Great Shalom.  We offer up those portions of ourselves that bring us and others some measure of death.  We lay it all before the Divine Fire knowing that the fire which destroys, creates and the fire that creates, destroys.  We seek the Spirit's strength so we might walk in humility and gratitude, with compassion and forgiveness......all, so we might know peace.

This is the cost of discipleship.  It brings the peace that passes all understanding, a gift from Jesus.

Forgiveness

"When somebody you've wronged forgives you you're spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.

When you forgive somebody who has wronged you, you're spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.

For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other's presence."

This entry in Frederick Buechner's volume, Wishful Thinking, is at the same time succinct and powerful (as, by the way, are most of Buechner's reflections.)

Forgiveness will trip up even the most faithful of Jesus' servants.  As much as we rely on God's forgiveness through our Lord Jesus, we are challenged to turn around and offer the same sweet gift to those who have wronged us.  Just so you know, this is no different for me than it is for you.

I've given this some thought.  I think there is a secret chamber in my heart that depends on God to forgive me........because that is who God is.  I stand before the Divine Creator and reiterate my frail humanity, mentioning the forces that led to my wrongheadedness.  My prayerful confession can include everything from 'I didn't get enough sleep' to 'he's such a demanding person' to 'Did you see what she did to me first?'

Of course, even I have to admit times when there is no excuse unless one includes laziness, or crankiness, or just plain meanness.  When I take the time to truly consider the broken places in my relationship with other humans and with God, I am full of excuses and explanations.  At some level I want to be left off the hook.  In some secret chamber of my heart, I expect that God will in fact forgive and I can move forward in wholeness.

I feel much less obligation towards my fellow frail human beings.  I am hurt by their actions or words or neglect and until those hurt feelings disappear, I find it difficult to truly forgive.  At best I can slowly wipe the slate clean, a little at a time, until the sin disappears.  The larger the hurt, the longer and more difficult is this process.  I've been at this a long time and I am not sure that I am getting any better at it.

But this I can say.  With each passing year, my grief has grown.  I am grieved when I stand before God seeking forgiveness - not because God loves me less but because I am more acutely aware of the fractures I have caused.  Furthermore, I am grieved when I must confess that I have withheld forgiveness from another.  My inability to forgive becomes a much greater offense than that done to me in the beginning.


Now my conversation with God is more about my blindness to the humanity of others and the hardness of my heart.  My confessions are no shorter, just a bit more focused as I struggle to live out the forgiveness that nourishes my life.

All of this sends me back to Buechner's original quote.  He reminds me how life-giving forgiveness is: not just for the one who has erred, but for the one who forgives as well.  Forgiveness is a font of never ending blessing.  It surprises me that I need to be reminded so often to stop and drink deeply.

Making a good confession

Sounds a bit like an oxymoron, doesn't it.  Few people think that the act of confessing has any good in it, mostly because making confession makes us feel pretty bad and how can something which makes us feel so bad be good for us?

 (Just as an aside, I think that is a most foolish question - and we know it - which doesn't keep us from avoiding all things uncomfortable as long as possible.)

We see this dynamic in hundreds of police dramas.  Folks think that if they simply avoid telling the truth that life will go merrily along with no consequences.  Hmmm.  Possibly.  Unless of course, we look deeper than the surface and consider the state of our soul - or spirit if you prefer.

Too few people talk about the freedom that comes with confession - the freedom from hiding, the freedom of being who you actually are, the freedom of walking in this world in truth instead of dragging along a matched set of baggage stuffed with all our wrongs, misdemeanors to felonies.

The hemorrhaging woman in Mark 5 decided to lay down 12 years of pain and anger and sorrow and isolation.  She decided to tell Jesus the whole truth and let the chips fall where they may.  The bleeding had stopped and she was free.  Now she was going to free herself of the stigma and brokenness of the last 12 years.

I have always assumed it was a good confession:  a confession that reached down inside her dark places and dragged them into the light.  But more than that, a good confession recognizes the freedom that has been won, that vast open space where one can live a new and different life.  A good confession not only lays to rest the past, it opens up the future and allows us to breathe deeply.

Listen to this confession (my characterization, not the author's).  It is an excerpt from Ted Loder's prayer Keep Me in Touch with My Dreams, Guerrillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle, p96

O Lord,

deliver me

     from the arrogance of assuming

        I know enough to judge others;

deliver me

     from the timidity of presuming 

        I don't know enough to help others;

deliver me

     from the illusion of claiming I have changed enough

        when I have only risked little,

that, so liberated,

     I will make some of the days to come different.

O Lord,

I ask not to be delivered

     from the tensions that wind me tight,

but I do ask for a sense of direction in which to move once wound,

     a sense of humor about my disappointments,

        a sense of respect for the elegant puzzlement of being human,

            and a sense of gladness for your kingdom

               which comes in spite of my fretful pulling and tugging.

I invite you into the gift of confession.  Risk being judged wrong.  Be ready to receive the glory of forgiveness.  Go forth and live life.

She told him the whole truth

"the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before Jesus, and told him the whole truth."  Mark 5.33



It is a story about a desperate woman.  There are a lot of stories about desperate women in the Bible; they parallel the plethora of stories about desperate women filling our news cycle.

This story is about a woman who had been bleeding for 12 years.  Beyond the natural discomfort and annoyance, her continual bleeding left her in an untenable situation with the community.  She was unwelcome until the bleeding stopped and she had ritually purified her body.  She was separated from others, and I would guess, a wee bit suspect.  Twelve years?

But she'd heard about Jesus, and sliding up behind him in a crowd she touched the hem of his garment, believing that in this way the power of healing would come to her.  It did.  Jesus noticed and he insisted on knowing who it was who touched him.

Thus the scene above.  She knelt and told him the whole truth.  The whole truth.

I wonder what she said, don't you?

To speak the truth is to confess.  We find confession uncomfortable because the truth that we are telling is generally something embarrassing or dishonorable or just plain wrong.  The truth we tell is this:  we are not perfect human beings and our actions at times cause pain and suffering to others.

We tell this truth to God not because God doesn't already know about our reality, but because there comes a point in every life when our masks need to fall away and we must own ourselves.  We fear this moment.  We fear that those who hear our truth will reject us, mock or vilify us.  I think we are afraid that we won't like ourselves very much either.  So we seek out a large enough bush to hide behind, just like Adam and Eve who said, "I was afraid because I was naked and I hid myself"  Gen 3.10

She told Jesus the whole truth.  I am not sure I would know where to begin, but in the end, where I begin is less important than the very beginning of the thing itself.

Discovering ourselves in all our nakedness is not the worst thing that could happen to us.  Spending a lifetime hiding from ourselves just might be.



The whole story of this woman can be found in Mark 5.21-43

Forgive me Lord for I have sinned.

There are so many things that need to be forgiven.  It is easy to forget that truth when you rear up in high dungeon all puffed up with self-righteousness and demand your pound of flesh, demanding that the terrible wrong done unto you be atoned for until your ruffled feathers or bruised ego has calmed itself again.

There are so many things that need to be forgiven, and you and I have been responsible for at least half of them.  Sure, we have been wounded by others, and for this we too often insist on full and satisfying restitution.  We prefer to press to the back of our memory all those 'unfortunate incidents' for which we require forgiveness.  We prefer to play victim rather than admit being the villain even though we know that hides the truth.

Because of our behavior, we are as much in need of the forgiveness of others as we are wounded by the sinfulness of neighbors.  When folks start pointing fingers, there are plenty pointed our direction. Or as the apostle Paul wrote so eloquently  'we are all sinners and fall short of the glory of God.'  We need forgiveness as much as the next guy. This is an especially good week to remember this.

If Holy Week is anything, it is a time of truth telling.  Pilate chooses the expedient path without regard for justice and discounting the human suffering he was about to impose.  The crowds have little idea who Jesus is or even who Jesus claimed to be, but a good crucifixion would bring a little excitement to the week in Jerusalem.  The leadership of the nation of Israel scapegoated this one person to protect themselves.  The disciples loved Jesus except those who were ambivalent, but all were scared to death.

It is a good week for telling the truth about ourselves - to name the places where we choose the expedient over justice, where we protect our own territory without regard to the displaced and powerless ones, where we are willing to stand by and watch as an innocent one is executed, where we enjoy a little drama without regard to the victims at the center, where our fear has controlled our actions.

I mention this not so you might be filled with guilt, or even worse, shame.  No I simply want you to be ready to receive the incomprehensible gift that is coming your way and to do it without defensiveness.  I want you to be able to say  'I am a sinner' so that when you hear Jesus say, "Father, forgive them' you are able to take into your life the power of forgiveness - and experience in its fullest the gift of new life, new beginnings and transformation.

Take a little time for confession.  No, take a lot of time for confession.  Spend time considering all that this world could be, and all the ways in which you are complicit in its failures.  Talk with God, the Divine Creator, the Divine Lover, the Source of Life.  Re-boot your connection.

Prepare yourself.  Grace is about to happen.

Reformation Monday: Does the priest absolve sins?

In spite of what many, many Lutherans believe, Martin Luther did not eliminate confession from the life of the faithful or the practice of the Church.  Certainly there was a movement towards a corporate (as a whole group) confession as a part of worship, but Luther continued to value individual, private confession.

However, Luther wanted it to be perfectly clear that it is Christ who absolves, not the 'man behind the curtain.'  The faithful do not need an intermediary in order to confess and receive absolution, but the priest/pastor in speaking the absolution speaks for Christ.

"This ought especially to be taught, that confession's not made to man (minister) but to Christ.  Likewise it isn't man who absolves but Christ.  But few understand this.

"Today I replied to the Bohemians, who insist that God alone remits sins and are offended by my little book on the keys [the Office of the Keys or the pastoral office which includes granting absolution].

"Wherefore one should teach that men make confession to Christ, and Christ absolves through the mouth of the minister, for the minister's mouth is the mouth of Christ and the  minister's ear is the ear of Christ.  It's to the Word and the command that one should pay attention, not to the person.  Christ sits there, Christ listens, Christ answers, not a man."

Table Talk, LW 54, P. 394

Suspicions abound

We are perpetually suspicious.

There are good reasons for our suspicions. We've been sold a bill of goods way too often by those who manipulate the truth, what they say and what they left unsaid, what they imply, how they play on our emotions or fears.  The old caveat 'buyer beware' has turned us into perpetually suspicious people.  Most of the time, I believe I am not suspicious enough.

Thinking about it though, possibly I am not informed enough.  When I fail to seek out multiple voices, when I fail to do the work of chasing down explanations and double checking them against each other, my suspicions are fueled but by my own lack of diligence.

Add a measure of powerlessness and stir in some fear (fear of the unknown, fear that I won't measure up, fear that I will be on the losing end of the deal, etc) and we have a volatile concoction.  Fear makes us stupid or blind or deaf.  (I can't decide but all three are involved).  We rush in support of simple solutions to historically complex dilemmas; we spout off our deeply held beliefs without examining their origin or truth.  In the end, it is sooooo easy to throw up my hands and proclaim loudly that 'there is nothing I can do' 'the system is rigged.'

It takes enormous courage to sit around a table and talk about difficult subjects which threaten us.  It isn't difficult for us to talk; it is difficult for us to listen.  Without judgment.  Accepting that the truth that is being presented is truth to the speaker.  Accepting that we don't know all that we think we know. We want to defend ourselves; we want permission to be innocent.  We - I - find it difficult to simply listen, and then allow that voice time to be truly considered.

During a particularly difficult time in the church when we were talking with each other about human sexuality, Bishop Marie Jerge said, "If you are only talking to people who agree with you, you are not engaged in a dialogue."  Too often I have found a group of folks who think like I do and have convinced myself that I am having 'informed conversation' about a topic.  I'm not.,  I'm simply insulating myself from viewpoints and difficult truths by hearing myself repeated again and again in the voices of other people.

On my good days, I recognize all of this as a call to confession.  Not a confession that I have done wrong, but rather, dear Lord, I am truly broken and frankly, I see very little hope of transformation in the future.  Any transformation of me must come from our Lord Jesus, whose love for a broken soul can raise it to new life in God's kingdom.

When I am most deaf, lost in my own blindness, enamoured of my own stupidity, Jesus still loves me.  That is the love that transforms and raises us up beyond ourselves and into the whole community of God's beloved creation.  It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that I am able to stop and listen and just perhaps, open myself to love someone who I am sure is dead wrong, possibly evil, and close minded.  Because, of course, that is exactly the kind of love you extend to me.

In the beginning.........the cross

Christian theology of a Lutheran bent is centered on the cross.  At the cross, where Jesus died a criminal's death, God is present.  At the face of evil, God still reigns. The face of a suffering Jesus is the face of the Creator God of life.  The powers of this world were no match for the power of the Divine Creator even though the symbol of that strength is the weakness of the cross.

There are lots of ways to say it, but, in the end, the cross was not the end, but a step along the pathway.  The end was but a beginning as the Creator God brought all creation to resurrection again.  Yet this cross can never be ignored nor discounted or ....foolishness of all foolishness....considered long ago and far away.

It is before this cross and this Jesus that we stand to confront the system of race relations in our country. Or should I say 'race non-relations.'  Stained by slavery a century and a half ago, interactions between white and black have been skewed.  It is a part of our history, and our society and culture have been built on this long standing reality.  In the final analysis, our system counts black Americans as not only different, but as less.

This is not a situation we have asked for.  We did not cause it.  But it is still there, under it all.  We avoid conversation about it and confession of it because we hate to be held responsible for something we didn't do.  Yet it is this system that has continually privileged our lives, and we do so want to hold onto those privileges even as we deny that they exist.

Some among us will answer, "well that's the way I was taught" as if that is either an explanation or excuse for behavior that clearly divides others into worthy and less worthy.  Some among us will answer, "I always treat others kindly" as if that denies the systematic oppression of an entire race that is quantified by research.

There is a similar problem with white privilege. Some among us will say, "look at where I live.  I'm not privileged." and yet they have never been denied a hotel room, an apartment to rent or steered away from a particular neighborhood by the realtor because of the color of their skin.  Some among us will say, "I worked hard for what I have" without thinking that from the quality of the schools attended, to the internships received, to the job interview that you landed, to the job that was offered, your whiteness was counted as a plus.  We can look at advertising and see all white faces; we can walk into a store and never think about what others are thinking of us (unless you went in your pajamas); we can walk down a street without police thinking we are in the wrong neighborhood.  That is the privilege of our race.

Now let us take that to the cross.  If you can't find the words for confession, even if you don't think that confession is needed, sit quietly before the cross (our cross at Luther Memorial is particularly helpful here) and listen for the Spirit's leading.  That guy up there was targeted because he was the wrong race under the wrong powerful people who ruled his land.  That guy up there was a threat to religious and secular leaders alike and really irritated regular folk like you and me because he taught us that forgiveness was the first step to real wholeness.........and we didn't think we needed to be forgiven.

So we crucified him.  He loved us.  Right there, on the cross.  Where death meets life and God reigns. Where weakness is strength.

Ashes

Confession  - long, comprehensive, even arduous confession - is the gift of Ash Wednesday.

On this day, you can stand before the Lord.  No that's not quite right.  On this day you are invited to stand before the Lord and take some time to confess.  Take time to give it some thought, stop all the motion and consider the broken places in yourself, consider how your brokenness had led to harm for another, admit all the places where you have been bruised and battered by someone else's broken nature.  We are to bring to mind all that we have done which increased the darkness instead of the light.  We are to be honest about all the things which we didn't do, the things that were more than good, they were necessary.  It is a time to think about our own backyard, our neighborhood, our nation and even the world.

We bring all of this to the foot of the cross and are met there by the Lord whose love casts out all darkness.  In this place we are safe - for our Lord expects nothing from us but the truth, and offers to us nothing less than his perfect, life giving love.

Ash Wednesday is one of the Church's treasures.  Confession, God's
Word, Bread and Wine....as simple as that.  If you missed it yesterday, today is never too late.
Return to the Lord your God for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Joel 2

stop making me feel guilty....

I am called to be a pastor of this Church, the Christian one, a Lutheran persuasion.  So to be clear up front, I am well aware of the failures of the Church  - times when our humanness overshadowed any connection we might have had with the divine.  The Church has been guilty of supporting slavery, the Spanish Inquisition, burning Joan of Ark and John Hus at the stake....and a thousand other sins, large and small.

Local congregations have been guilty of moral judgmentalism, hypocrisy, petty conflict and both greed and parsimony in equal measures.  All these things are true.  If anyone should be aware of our own imperfection, it is the Church.

That however, doesn't change the perfect gift that is the grace of God in Jesus.  God called Jesus beloved and Jesus calls us the same.  The connection between the Divine and the Human was broken open through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  It's an open connection.  You are invited.  You are welcome.  You are loved.

I cannot fathom why this is not good news to folks.  I can understand that some folks think that it is irrelevant news of no interest to them.  But I cannot fathom how some can conceive of it as bad news.....but here is a possible clue.....

Stop making me feel guilty.  Stop saying I am doing stuff wrong and doing wrong stuff.  If you cannot say something that is uplifting and affirming than don't say anything at all.

OK but even if I remain silent, you will still feel guilty.  Because you already know that what you have done and what you have failed to do has caused this world to be a less friendly place.  Sometimes your actions arise from ignorance or inattentiveness.  Sometimes it's intentional, sometimes it's not.

I know this is true about you because it is true about me, and every other person I've ever met, and this kind of thing often becomes a burden we haul around everywhere.  We already know this stuff.  No one has to tell us.  But each of us does have to decide what to do with this truth about ourselves.

Jesus says, "Come, tell me the truth.  I already know it, but say it aloud so we can move past this road block.  Aren't you tired of the race to perfection?  Rest here, and let's put this behind us."  In Church language, we call that forgiveness.  You are welcome to call it whatever you like, but be assured it is a powerful release from the dance of perfection and pretending.  Say it like it is.  It will set you free.

The other option is to pretend you are not the kind of person who has ever done something that harms another.  You can use your energy to run and hide (from yourself and others) and put on a different face for the world.  You can even scold the church for making you feel guilty.  It won't work, but you can try.