Thursday, February 2, 2012
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Monday, January 2, 2012
Start at the very beginning
As I read the first few chapters of Genesis and Matthew, I was reminded again that the first line of any book gives significant information about what's in store for you as the reader.
"It was a dark and stormy night . . . ."
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . ."
This is true even for jokes:
"knock, knock. . . . "
"A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar . . . ."
That's why the first verses of the books of Genesis and Matthew need to be remembered as we read for the next several weeks. Genesis, of course, starts the entire biblical journey with God's activity of creating the world, moving on to more specific parts of creation, and landing on the ancestors of the people Israel.
Centuries later, the author of Matthew refers back to this first book of the Old Testament, although you can't see that in most English translations. Matthew 1:1 in Greek literally reads: "Book of genesis of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham." Quite different from the NIV, which has "An account of the genealogy of Jesus Christ . . . ." or the New English Bible's "A table of the descent of Jesus Christ." These translations were chosen because of the genealogy that follows in verses 2-17.
But Matthew 1:1 is much more than a section heading for the genealogy. It tells us what to expect in this gospel: a story like the long involved saga in the book of Genesis, where God repeatedly acts on behalf of humankind. "Father Abraham" is a key figure here because the covenant God makes with him is not just with Israelites, but extends to "all the nations." Matthew is sometimes thought of as the "Jewish gospel" (more on that in later posts), but the author is looking beyond that toward how salvation also comes through God's Emmanuel to the nations/Gentiles (it's the same word in Greek). Notice: the magi are Gentiles, and they are the first to recognize and worship Jesus.
We know that the first generation or two of believers conflicted over how to handle the fact that God unexpectedly redeemed people from the "nations/Gentiles." This makes me think about the broader issue of how Judaism and Christianity have dealt with exclusion vs. inclusion. As I read, I'm going to keep an eye open for this struggle in all of the biblical books.
By the way, I've never blogged before, so I'm going to be wrestling with how to make these comments sound "interesting" rather than "educational." Your feedback would be most welcome.
Friday, December 23, 2011
It All Begins January 1st
http://events.constantcontact.com/register/event?llr=wobgnedab&oeidk=a07e5gs37vs8d4a10b5
Thursday, December 16, 2010
LESSONS FROM THE MAGI
“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go with others,” my Tanzanian friend James Kesanta said to me earlier this year. It’s an African proverb that informs young children as they travel several miles for water; friends tell this proverb when they lean on each other to bring in their crops, or band together to survive the droughts; mothers recite this saying while they grind and cook together.
I could feel the growing resistance in myself when I heard it. How about just getting some similarly fast friends? I wondered.
Who wants to slow down? Doesn’t the worm go to the early bird and the prize to the one who finishes ahead of the rest?
I thought of this proverb as I sat around the table with a group of ministry leaders discussing the urban redevelopment of our north side neighborhood. All of us could have seen each other as rivals for the same pool of potential congregants. Truth be told we likely had seen each other through that lens at one time or another. But today was a new day as we discussed the recent shooting of a beloved shopkeeper, the re-opening of a neighborhood school and brainstormed programming ideas that would bring our diverse community together in our public park. Perhaps this is your year to travel with others.
I went home that night to read again the story of the magi, the three friends who traveled more than 2,000 miles together. That’s pretty far. And I saw some patterns for long lasting ministry; patterns that were present in our group that day too.
First, the magi collect their information; pooling it together to plan their path and establish their coordinates. They don’t assume a journey of this importance would be undertaken alone. No one of them thinks, “I, alone am the only one who receives revelation on the next step. “ Ouch. We’d never say it quite like that but we know the feeling I bet. The magi understood God’s revelation in the context of relationship; it was given legs by each other.
Secondly, while the magi travel together they don’t travel in isolation from the broader world. They don’t travel in their own self-contained confidence. They stop and ask directions. What a concept! Imagine if more of our church leaders were listening and asking questions of the community we live in. Church leaders - me included – are so often guilty of giving The Answer before I even really hear the question.
Finally, the magi remain open to new directions, new insights and guidance. They return home by another way – a different way. The future journey requires a different route. And they are free to explore that new path…together.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Making the "Other," "Us" | Congregational Resource Guide
Making the "Other," "Us"
By Laura Truax
As originally submitted to Congregational Resource Guide on October 27, 2010 at 8:59 pm
I remember the day clearly.
I had gotten up extra early that Sunday morning. The “close” on the sermon wasn’t working too well and I needed to tighten up some transitions; I was hosting a young adult dinner that night and needed to get the laundry out of the living room; And it was our community’s monthly potluck lunch. By 8:00 AM, I had my contribution simmering in the slow cooker and dropped it off in the church kitchen on my way to preach our early service.
I was exhausted when I reached that potluck – like most pastors I was the last one to leave the sanctuary and almost the last to arrive at our lunch. The serving table held nothing but a few crackers and lettuce leaves.
But glancing around the crowded room I saw tables full of our homeless congregants with two full plates of food in front of them -- a veritable feast.
I felt my cheeks flush with anger and my stomach start to tighten.
****
Five years earlier our church had begun a ministry that was largely for folks “out there.” Those who were hungry and homeless in downtown Chicago. We had a thriving program with family style served meals, live music, weekly medical check ups. The warmth and love everyone felt from our Breaking Bread ministry gave our guests hope that they would be welcomed and embraced in worship on Sunday morning as well.
And they were embraced and loved. But at a distance. The guys sometimes smelled, so others didn’t want to sit too close. Some of our new attendees liked carrying their “stuff” with them. Everywhere. This became a problem in our crowded services. We would try and accommodate that - even though it meant a live person may not have a place to sit because of the “stuff.”
We said we loved. We said we were in relationship with each other. But really we were tolerating.. Our lives weren’t really open to one another. Instead we were playing stock roles in a well known play: we were providing resources and they (“the other”) were taking them. We had a long way to go before we began to model the kind of true hospitality Christine Pohl talks about in her book, Making Room.
As I stood that morning in fellowship hall I realized that being in relationship with others asks something of each party. To live in love means that you are both giving and receiving. I realized in the moment that I had a responsibility to these men – whom I love – and they have a responsibility to me. “Much is required” from both of us. I am blessed to have a kitchen and have the responsibility of providing food; they are blessed to be able to save some for me – to hold off on having seconds until all of their other brothers and sisters have had a share as well.
It sounds basic. But it was transformational. Over the months and years that have followed our relationships started to change. Our worship services were less about charity to and more about being with. We started to treat each others as equals – as family. And we slowly began to better understand the real meaning of being friends with those who are often on the sidelines – the kind of friendship my friend Christopher Heuertz models so well and discusses in a recent interview at Duke Divinity school: Gradually we are taking steps to change -- together. And in doing so became more like the family Jesus was calling into existence.