Now while the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them this question: ‘What do you think of the Messiah? Whose son is he?’ They said to him, ‘The son of David.’ He said to them, ‘How is it then that David by the Spirit calls him Lord, saying,

“The Lord said to my Lord,
‘Sit at my right hand,
until I put your enemies under your feet’ ”?

If David thus calls him Lord, how can he be his son?’ No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions. -- Matthew 22:41-46 (NRSV)

What is worse than a question? Perhaps it is the question to which one doesn't have the right answer, or any answer at all. The Pharisees, guys who thought they had all the answers, found that this was one where the answer they had was wrong.

In my humble opinion, questions are what make the world go around and keep it turning. Every time we think we have answers, it is like the questions change and we're back at square one, looking for answers again. The image of the toddler who is just beginning to wander around comes to mind, along with the inevitable and unending questions they always ask, "What's that?" or worse, "Why?" There are a lot of times we don't have an answer to that "Why?" but we still get our feet held to the fire by a three-year-old for whom "Because" is not a sufficient answer.

I wonder if God gets tired of "Why?" prayers. Why is there suffering in the world? Why do ducks fly rightside up instead of upside down? Why did I survive an accident where someone else died? Why are there mosquitoes? Why was this person born with physical or developmental challenges? Why can't I ever remember where I put my keys or parked my car? Why do I have this illness when I didn't do anything wrong to cause it? I don't think even Solomon could stand up to an onslaught like that. Luckily, God's got patience and, incidentally, all the answers -- the right ones.

One thing about being an EfM mentor is that I get to ask questions, lots of questions, in our TR sessions. What's even better is that I don't have to have the answers because each person's answers are usually different and geared to their own personal journey. The best thing, though, is even though I go into a TR with an idea of how I think it should go, quite often it goes in a totally different and totally unthought-of direction but I still end up having my own insights as well as sharing in the insights of others.

Humankind has always questioned and I don't think that's ever going to change. The disciples had a lot of questions for Jesus, but what they got weren't cut-and-dried, easy answers. We still ask questions of all kinds, silly ones, ponderous ones, wishful ones, even agonized ones at times, but we ask all the same. The answers I get aren't always ones I want to hear, just as sometimes I don't really seem to get any answer at all, which personally drives me nuts. Still, I question, I look for answers and I try to be open to whatever comes from the search.

My question now is what am I supposed to be doing in my life -- oh, and where do those stray socks go when only a single sock of a pair comes out of the dryer?

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Psalm 78:1-39 (Morning)
Psalm 78:40-72 (Evening)
Leviticus 26:1-20
1 Timothy 2:1-6
Matthew 13:18-23

‘Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.’ Matthew 13:18-23 (NRSV)

Many commentaries (particularly those of a more evangelical-type theology) liken the seeds in this parable to people--ignorant ones who are whisked away in the clutches of the devil, "backsliders," ones who can't resist the call of worldly temptations, and, of course, the pious and righteous ones.

But what if this parable is simply about what it says it is--hearing the Word in all times and all places? Perhaps we fail to hear the power in this parable if we go straight to it being a dire warning about eternal salvation/damnation and fail to consider that it could be about our dull moments in our ability to perceive God's constant call to us.

As we discussed in yesterday's reflection, it's important to remember that only 25% of the seeds in this parable bear fruit. In the first scenario (the seeds on the path) they never got a chance, the birds gobbled them up. It makes me wonder how many times God tells us something but we were just too distracted or too anxious, or too raw, and whatever had our focus had its way with us. In the second scenario (the rocky soil) it's easy to recall all the times in our lives when things started to take off, it all seemed good and right and clearly laid out ahead of us, but without a mentor, or an experienced guide, well...we can only get so far on our own. The time wasn't right or the place wasn't right for it to take root. The seeds growing among the thorns remind me of all the times we can be in toxic environments at home or work or church that choke us out, burn us out, or parasitize us.

Several studies over the years have assessed the speed at which we assimilate and retain knowledge, and it's long been known that it takes a person at least seven times of using or studying a piece of information before it's retained. Yet the way we usually look at this parable is with the (false) assumption we can learn something the first time we hear it. Scripture teaches us that God's call to us never lets up; it's our ability to hear and retain that is the problem.

The people who organize and present review courses for medical board exams constantly remind their attendees of the "It takes seven times to remember something," mantra. However, for two decades I have watched second year medical students studying for Part One of their boards constantly assimilating "more" study materials rather than read and re-read and re-re-read the materials they have.

We probably have that tendency as spiritual beings, too...which is part of the beauty of the liturgy in our beloved Book of Common Prayer. Whether it's the Nicene Creed, the Collect for Purity, or our responses, most of us have several chunks of the liturgy that we know by heart.

Repetition guards us from being swept away like those seeds sown out in the open. It grounds us and helps us take root, so when we grow, we are supported. It spurs us to hang out with like-minded folks rather than be caught up in the thorny world, unable to even see out, as well as calls to us to share the Good News in our thoughts, words, and actions. It's a pretty safe bet that even under huge stress, most of us could remember something from the Book of Common Prayer.

What is heartening, though, is when something we hear in God's call to us really does take root and grow, we are so fecund and so prolific that the amount of fruit borne from the process is staggering. When it's good, it's good--but there needs to be sustenance for that other 75% of the time. In that sense, it is where the words in our Book of Common Prayer matter. We hear them again and again, we know some of them in our hearts, and not only do keep us rooted to God, they send out little runners to each other and weave us into a solid mass of roots. What we lack in depth sometimes, we gain in breadth. If you've ever tried to pull out a bed of plants whose roots are bound up with each other, you know exactly what this means.

What are the words in the Book of Common Prayer that not only root you to God, but to each other? How do these words assist you in hearing God's call to you a little more efficiently?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Psalm 80 (Morning)
Psalms 77, 79 (Evening)
Leviticus 25:35-55
Colossians 1:9-14
Matthew 13:1-16

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!” Then the disciples came and asked him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He answered, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’ With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn— and I would heal them.’ But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Matthew 13:1-16 (NRSV)

Matthew's account of the parable of the sower and the seeds displays a very revealing observation (although I wonder if this was accidental) about the teachings of Jesus. In his account of this parable, he shows Jesus "breaking the 4th wall," as they say in the TV and movie trade. We see Jesus first speaking to the crowds, then turning and speaking to the disciples about what he just told the crowd, and in tomorrow's reading (a continuance of this chapter) we will see him turning back to the crowd and continuing on with the parable.

The term "breaking the 4th wall" refers to a device where the main character in a dramatic work speaks directly to the audience--not just in a short aside, but in some way, actually telling the tale (or what's about to happen in the tale) to the audience. It comes from the notion of a stage having four walls, with the fourth wall being an imaginary or iconic one separating the reality of the play from the reality of the audience. It creates a level of meta-fiction within a fiction, and acts as a sort of Venn diagram, with the intersection being the character making those two realities meet--fully a character in the play, and fully a real person speaking directly to you and the rest of the gathered faithful. (Sounds a little like "fully human, fully divine," doesn't it?)

In modern movies, we see this device being used in films such as Goodfellas and Fight Club, and perhaps even a little in Raising Arizona. But the three all-time masters at this were Groucho Marx (Animal Crackers is the perfect example,) George Burns in his old TV show with Gracie Allen, and Bugs Bunny. All three of them had a habit of looking directly into the camera and cutting you in on the secret. One could claim that Bugs even broke a 5th wall, since he was a cartoon character, and we are treating his breaking of the 4th wall like we would a human being!

Matthew lays this chapter out in a way that allows us to enter into the story, not just as a listener to the parable, but with a choice as to which level we want to hear about the parable. We can learn from it just as a person in the crowd that day did by simply hearing the parable's own story and not worrying about the dialogue in the middle--or, conversely, we can learn from it in the way a resident physician learns from a skilled teaching physician. ("Let me tell you how I handle this situation...You heard me when I talked to the patient and it was clear he didn't get what I was telling him...now watch when I go back in and ask the patient some questions and go back to what I said before...")

Let's start by looking at the first half of this passage. Jesus has told the crowd, "Okay, here's a story about four situations with the sowing of seed." It's clear from the get-go, if this were a multiple choice question, "D" is the correct answer. Choices "A," "B," and "C," will result in a bad outcome for the seed. Everyone wants to be choice "D." Seems like a no-brainer, right?

Now we move to the second half. The disciples are saying, "Why don't you just tell them outright?" and the short version of Jesus' answer is, "To teach you how I teach, so you can teach them." He points out that the disciples are the smart kids in the classroom, but it's not about them showing their theological prowess to him. It's about sharing the Gospel and the story of the Good News in Christ with "them"--the nebulous "other."

It's clear that 75% of the seeds in this parable will not bear fruit. Some will never grow. Some will begin to grow quickly, but never bear fruit. Some will be stymied by a bad situation. Only a quarter of the seeds will bear fruit, but the fruit they will bear, over time, will surpass our original amount of seed exponentially. Matthew's account of this, though, by allowing Jesus to break the 4th wall and letting us hear the story in much the same way he and the disciples did, illustrates that this exponential growth happens partly because the smart kids in the class learn how to share the Good News. They find a way to invite everyone to listen and learn on their own, to allow them to make their own insights. They find a way to make the Good News about the people who are hungry for it, rather than using the Good News to stroke the egos of the righteous. They become the good soil--the substrate for spontaneous growth--rather than engage in the futility of trying to control the elements.

Those of us who regularly read (or write) text studies can fall into a terrible trap. We enjoy the intricate details of the Bible to the degree we can make our Christianity all about ferreting out the little details of the Bible and feeling good that we are so clever at it. But too much of that puts us in peril that we will be like the seeds in choice "B"--we grow quickly, but unless we are in good soil that lets us put out roots both downward and laterally, we will bear no fruit. Matthew, however, shows us the antidote for that--it is in following Jesus' example and breaking the 4th wall. It's in simultaneously sharing the Good News both in the place where 75% (or more) won't "get it" at first, yet providing special care and feeding to the seeds that we notice are growing quickly. It's in the understanding that some people are just in a place where they can't grow at the moment because their soil is too thin, or in a place where circumstances are choking them, yet we must both keep sowing the seed and offering good soil.

Where are you called to break the 4th wall in proclaiming the Good News in Christ?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Psalm 93, 96 (Morning)
Psalm 34 (Evening)
Leviticus 25:1-17
James 1:2-8, 16-18
Luke 12:13-31

The Lord spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, saying: Speak to the people of Israel and say to them: When you enter the land that I am giving you, the land shall observe a sabbath for the Lord. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in their yield; but in the seventh year there shall be a sabbath of complete rest for the land, a sabbath for the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your unpruned vine: it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. You may eat what the land yields during its sabbath—you, your male and female slaves, your hired and your bound laborers who live with you; for your livestock also, and for the wild animals in your land all its yield shall be for food.

You shall count off seven weeks of years, seven times seven years, so that the period of seven weeks of years gives forty-nine years. Then you shall have the trumpet sounded loud; on the tenth day of the seventh month—on the day of atonement—you shall have the trumpet sounded throughout all your land. And you shall hallow the fiftieth year and you shall proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: you shall return, every one of you, to your property and every one of you to your family. That fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you: you shall not sow, or reap the aftergrowth, or harvest the unpruned vines. For it is a jubilee; it shall be holy to you: you shall eat only what the field itself produces. In this year of jubilee you shall return, every one of you, to your property. When you make a sale to your neighbor or buy from your neighbor, you shall not cheat one another. When you buy from your neighbor, you shall pay only for the number of years since the jubilee; the seller shall charge you only for the remaining crop years. If the years are more, you shall increase the price, and if the years are fewer, you shall diminish the price; for it is a certain number of harvests that are being sold to you. You shall not cheat one another, but you shall fear your God; for I am the Lord your God. Leviticus 25:1-17 (NRSV)

The concept of the jubilee year in Leviticus is an interesting one, and one that is quite foreign to our modern way of thinking--that every minute of every day must be "productive."

As I grew closer and closer to age 49, the concept of a jubilee year intrigued me. In many ways, my late grandfather had hit the nail on the head in his assessment of many aspects of human nature. I remember him once explaining to me as a teenager that so much of how we defined "who we are" was by those ways we felt "one up" in a situation. The rules in Leviticus for a jubilee year imply that no one is one up in a business deal. What you see is what you get. Your fields are rich enough that they can stand to lie fallow for a spell and live off the natural issue of them. Consider the possibility that one's life, just as it is, turns out to be a rich and abundant one.

So I lined out the parameters for my own version of a jubilee year that would start on my 49th birthday. I would pay off all my debts, save my house mortgage. I would no longer leave unpaid balances on the charge card. I would cease buying excessive things on a whim. I would only replace the clothes that truly wore out. I would let my penchant for "accumulating" lie fallow.

Now, I wish I could have told you that every day I woke up to sunshine and that every day of that year was an amazing, uplifting spiritual experience. In my mind, of course, my big ego had conjured up a fantasy that my mere obedience to such a decree would cause the stars and the planets to move about me like I was the center of the universe, and I'd be blessed in ways beyond measure. Unfortunately, several things which mostly had very little to do with me, or ones that turned out revealing I had less control than I thought, ended up stealing the show. My best friend in town finally sold her house and moved away. I had faced the reality that I had to give up being the sole owner of my practice and affiliate with a larger group. The abbey where I used to go on retreats imploded. Some perilous truths came to light in my home parish, in my workplace, in my family, and in my own soul. Frankly, I never felt more in mortal spiritual danger, more financially impotent, and more out of balance than that year. Had you asked me "How'd that jubilee year thing go?" on day 364 of that year, I'd have told you it was a miserable failure.

But a few years have passed now, and the wonderful thing about hindsight is that I can now tell you about the seeds that were divinely sown with essentially no input from me. I began my online EfM class that year, which has turned out to be one of the greatest spiritual gifts I've ever been given. Because I felt so rudderless, I began to seek stronger personal connections with people I knew a little from the Episco-blogging world and Facebook. I began to ask for and accept help for several things that my answer had always been, "Never mind, I'll do it myself, because I can't trust anyone other than me." I began to feel the very strong pull that God had distinct plans for me within the framework of our church. I don't think I would have seen those graces had I continued my habit of accumulating things to feel in control. I don't think I would have understood the beauty of the good things in my life had not several bad things created a conjunction of dysfunction. I came to understand that a jubilee year is not about "that year." It's about what happens after that year.

I doubt one has to wait until their 49th birthday to declare one nor claim it's too late if one's 49th birthday has passed. Has the possibility of a jubilee year ever crossed your mind?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying: Say to the Israelite people thus: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts. You shall not work at your occupations; and you shall bring an offering by fire to the LORD.

So Moses declared to the Israelites the set times of the LORD. -- Leviticus 23:23:44 (*Tanakh, Jewish Publication Society, 1985 ed.)

Leviticus is a book of law, ritual and practice, things with which the person we call the Priestly writer was intimately concerned. It is a book that is probably one of the harder ones in the Bible to read and to really get into, but it is important because it transmits not just God's wishes and commands but also establishes the way life is supposed to be lived, with God and the worship and reverence of God at the center of it all.

In this passage, God gives Moses instructions on religious observances that are to become annual events, feasts that will become hallmarks of Israelite and later Jewish religious life. The first and second days of Tishri, the seventh month, are called Rosh Hashanah, a celebration of the beginning of the new year. It arrives with the blowing of the shofar and was an opportunity to examine mistakes of the past year and resolve to do better in the new one. Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, comes eight days later (the tenth day of Tishri) and is the most solemn day of the calendar, a day of fasting, prayer and repentance. The fifteenth day of Tishri marks the beginning of Sukkot, the festival of booths, a joyous time when the harvest is celebrated but also where the people build simple shelters reminiscent of the temporary ones the their ancestors made on the journey to the promised land. Sukkot is also called the Feast of Tabernacles, although the only Tabernacle was the temporary structure that went with the Israelites and served as their temple during the journey.

It seems from all the activity that Tishri was a really busy month. God planned out a lot of days where sacrifices were to be made, and a lot of time for repentance and rejoicing. What strikes me, though, is that it seems that there is a lot of down time, times when anything to do with any creative work was forbidden. There are actually 39 different classifications of "work" which include things as varied as gardening or growing crops, sewing, ripping out, slaughtering animals for meat, shearing, spinning and weaving, cooking anything that wasn't started before sundown on Shabbat, kindling a fire, using a hammer, carrying things in a public area, or even writing two letters (like A and B, not whole missives) as well as eliminating or erasing two letters. Sabbath is serious business, and the holy days and festivals of Tishri contain all the regular weekly sabbaths plus more.

What I think God had in mind for those extra days when work was forbidden wasn't just to give people time off, like vacation days or what is occasionally called in today's working world as "personal days." No, God had those extra days put in for people to stop and have time to really consider what was important -- where they were, what they had done, what needed improvement in their personal relationships with God and their fellow human beings, and what they could do about it. Yes, repentance came into it, but it wasn't the same kind of repentance that most Christians think about, the sackcloth-and-ashes kind of repentance that makes us call ourselves "miserable offenders" and feel like totally unworthy creatures. Repentance such as that practiced on Yom Kippur is more a reorientation toward God and living in harmony with the earth and its inhabitants. Sabbath time gives a person the opportunity to do that in a Godly-mandated way, a way that doesn't make it fight for time and attention with all the other things of life; it's built into the schedule.

Something the people of this world really seem to need but seldom take is time off from work to just rest and recuperate. Most of us have weekends off from work, but the weekend hours are often filled with stuff we didn't have time to do during the week and activities that we have been waiting to enjoy when we can sandwich it in between the kids' soccer games and karate classes, getting the lawn mowed and the laundry done. If we make it to church, it takes a while to settle into the quiet and a lot of effort not to think of what has to be picked up from the grocery store on the way home or has to be finished up before Monday morning comes around again. There's really very little time to really think about God much less actually spend terms cultivating the relationship.

For each of the Jewish festivals and holidays in Tishri, there are designated sabbath days that are like bookends, days before the festivals to contemplate, repent and return, days after to firm the resolve, rejoice and go out to live a more God-connected life. I wonder what life would be like if we all had those sort of mandated Sabbath days where work was forbidden and only rest, refreshment and worship were permitted? I wonder how much better we'd not only feel but actually be. For those who practice a rule of life, a discipline such as the Daily Office can be a bit of Sabbath time that one consciously chooses to do, despite whatever else is going on in life at the moment. What it does is add balance, a chance to slow down and breathe as well as connect with God. Instead of shoe-horning time for God into an hour on Sunday morning, there's a little time every day that is as important as watering the plants or tidying up the kitchen. It puts things in order and encourages growth. That, in God's wisdom, is what we are offered with Sabbath and sabbath time.

I wonder -- how might I more consciously and constructively use Sabbath time in my own life? What would it mean to me, my health and my faith? I have a feeling it would bring nothing but good, and the world would move along just fine without my having to spend every waking moment being busy, keeping the world, or at least my little part of it, humming along. I have a feeling there might be at least a few less heart attacks and stress-related illnesses as well.

But then, I have a feeling that's what God intended, just as surely as the opportunity for connection through prayer, fasting, worship and good works were. God had it all planned out; all we have to do is to do it.

Shabbat Shalom

*Reproduced from the Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright 1985 The Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

‘Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgement you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. Why do you see the speck in your neighbour’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbour, “Let me take the speck out of your eye”, while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbour’s eye.

‘Do not give what is holy to dogs; and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under foot and turn and maul you.

‘Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

‘In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets. -- Matthew 7:1-12 NRSV

There are days when the readings for the Daily Office sort of leave me scratching my head and wondering that all that means to me. Then there are days when there is so much that it feels almost impossible to take it all in. This is one of those passages. There are four paragraphs and enough there to keep a mind busy for years contemplating them.

There are so many familiar lessons here: as you are judged, so you will be judged; the log in your own eye vs. the speck in your neighbor's; don't throw pearls before swine; ask, seek and knock; do to others as you would have them do to you. These were all precepts I was taught in Sunday School as a child and still haven't been able to master despite hearing them again and again for years. They don't seem difficult, when I read them on the page, but why are they so difficult, even impossible, to live out so much of the time?

Take judging. I have an awareness that I am doing it but control it? That's something else. So why do I do it? Very possibly because it ties in with the next bit about the beam and the mote. In one situation, I feel judged because there are notes all over the databases I work in, pointing out errors that individually wouldn't amount to a hill of beans but collectively feel overwhelming. I judge in return, partly to remind myself that the person leaving the notes is far from perfect themselves. I know I'm wrong, but I seem to do it without really thinking. Why not just be more careful? I do try, but I still make mistakes. I judge the log in their eye because I feel that they don't seem able to see it; I also don't forget I've got a rather large one in my own.

The part about "do unto others" sounds so easy to do. If I want to be treated politely then I need to be polite myself. If I need a hand, I have to not only ask for it but also have to be alert to the potential needs of others that I can fill. If I don't want to be judged --- well, that's harder because it is putting a behavior on someone else that isn't mine to put on them. Perhaps if I look at it a little differently, maybe looking at it as judging others as I would expect God to judge me. Is it fair for me to expect God to use a six-inch ruler when I use a yardstick? If it weren't a challenge, it would be automatic and everybody would be doing it. As it is, it is a challenge I need to take up as I start my day and prepare to go to work to face it head on.

Jesus didn't give these lessons just to hear himself talk. He expected them to make a difference in the lives of those who heard him. Because more than two thousand years have happened between then and now doesn't dilute those lessons or excuse halfhearted hearing and little action. Sunday School lessons have a way of applying to the whole life, not just an hour on Sunday mornings.

I think I need to go back to school. I can recite the lessons but I hope God grades on the curve when I actually get to the test based on those lessons. I pray for the grace to grade others on that same curve I want for myself. I've got some lessons to relearn and homework to do to practice those lessons.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

John 15:9-17

There’s something about human experiences that, well, amazes you. Quick impressions are a case in point: apparently, the effects of what we absorb in the blink of an eye, for example, are highly significant.

I read about an experiment that was testing this hypothesis. A group of high school students were given lists of unconnected words, and from those lists, were to pick four words and compose a sentence.

They did this but what the researchers were actually observing was what happened after the test. The students left the room together and moved as a group, walking slowly and lethargically down the hall.

Scattered throughout the rows of words were specific words that related to old-age, words like elderly, aged, senior, senility, and the like. Without knowing it, these adjectives had slipped into their thoughts and the young people waddled away like a mob of geriatric monkeys.

Being a bit of a wordsmith, wondering about the impact of words and thoughts is a matter of life-style for me. Even if those words seem to skim across our brains like flat stones across the water, they can have a significant impact.

In this context, then, the Gospel this week is quite remarkable. Throughout the Reading, John uses the word ‘love’ at least nine times. He’s making the obvious point that to follow Jesus is to enter into a deep and intimate relationship with him and, through him, to the Father.

Without this love, everything disintegrates and falls to the ground. Or, as last Sunday’s Gospel put it, we become like a fruitless vine.

People – and even Jesus himself – call this the “New Commandment” but I ask: what’s new about it?

Is it because it’s different from the love revealed in the Old Testament? That it contrasts with the love described there?

Hardly. The love of neighbours is strongly emphasized in The Law, as is the love of strangers and foreigners. Take a gander at the Book of Leviticus (not the most riveting piece of literature, I admit) and you’ll see this illustrated over and over.

John’s Gospel doesn’t have any contrasts with the Old Testament in mind. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. In Matthew’s Gospel, for example, we get “You heard it said … but I say to you …” but there’s nothing remotely like this in John.

Instead, the command of Jesus to love one another gets quite an airing: we can overlook its impact but it’ll be there, none-the-less. Maybe the reason why it’s new is because it is a command of Jesus, not simply a feeling or just a good idea.

There is a further twist: not only is this love shown as something to be obeyed, it is also an intimate and personal gift from God to us.

It’s as if He’s instructed us to love then, almost in the same breath, given us the wherewithal to actually fulfil that commandment. How good is our God?

It is in Christ that the whole banana is peeled and laid bare and we see love as it is: he loves the unlovable. He loves the insignificant and wayward. He loves those who hate him and those who don’t. What’s more, he meant what he said by giving his life ‘for his friends’ (verse 13) because that’s what is meant by ‘no greater love’.

Of course, this has an effect on everyone, not just the Christians and to that degree, love is universal: it is up for grabs from everyone and is for everyone.

There’s more yet. The love of which Jesus spoke is new because it has been extended to each of us personally by Jesus. He lived in this world; he breathed this air; he knows our joys and satisfactions; he knows our sorrows; he knows our disappointments and defeats.

He invites us into an intimate and deep relationship with him. It is extraordinarily personal because it is offered to each one of us as if we were the only person in the world.

The Rev. Ian McAlister is the Ministry Development Officer in the Diocese of Queensland and blogs at Reflections from the HIll

Readings for the feast day of Gregory of Nazianzus, May 9:
Psalm 37:3-6, 32-33
Wisdom 7:7-14
Ephesians 3:14-21
John 8:25-32

Almighty God, you have revealed to your Church your eternal Being of glorious majesty and perfect love as one God in Trinity of Persons: Give us grace that, like your bishop Gregory of Nazianzus, we may continue steadfast in the confession of this faith, and constant in our worship of you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; for you live and reign for ever and ever. Amen.
--collect from Holy Women, Holy Men, p. 365

Although we remember Gregory today mostly because of his golden-tongued oratorical skills and his ecclesiastical duties as Bishop of Constantinople, it's actually one of his big failures in life that catches my attention--his falling out with his friend Basil the Great. It was a breach that never was repaired, from the time Gregory was sent by Basil to be Bishop of Sasima in 372 until Basil's death in 379.

Basil and Gregory had a great deal of history together, first as fellow students, later as co-ascetics and co-authors of the Philokalia, an anthology of Origen's writings. Their combined theological minds were a great force in the understanding of Trinitarian theology at a time Christianity was threatened by the Arian heresies. But despite Gregory's intellectual prowess in all this, he carried some serious wounds and some heavy resentments. All Gregory ever wanted was to be a simple monk. Yet, despite his wishes, his father insisted that he be ordained as a presbyter. One can imagine that these resentments he held towards his father "primed the pump" when Basil, by that time, Bishop of Caesarea, had Gregory ordained as Bishop of Sasima. This appears to have been a strategic move on Basil's part to put a heavy theological hitter in a spot that would strengthen his position against Anthimus, Bishop of Tyana, but it was definitely in the boonies. Gregory once described Sasima as, "an utterly dreadful, pokey little hole; a paltry horse-stop on the main road... devoid of water, vegetation, or the company of gentlemen."

Gregory never got over this slight, as he perceived it. The move irreparably tore their friendship asunder, and it was probably the theological equivalent to the breakup of the Beatles.

The story of their breakup is a reminder how old resentments and ego can create a never ending feedback loop of blame, where two people continually pace in a circle, eyeing the other, but never getting around to taking a step forward to break the pattern. What great theological truths might have been uncovered or what knowledge could have been revealed, had they patched up their differences well enough to collaborate again?

All of us, when we think back and allow ourselves to touch our own woundedness, can recall times of irreconcilable differences with people who once were very close to us. Ex-intimate partners, of course, quickly come to mind, but we are not exploring this fully if we only confine our thoughts to "those whom with we've shared sexual intimacy." It's ironic that our jargon these days talks about BFF's--"Best friends forever," when at some point, the truth is very few BFF's seem to be around a decade, let alone "forever."

How many times has a resentment towards another person or situation come out sideways in our present relationships? What great works could be accomplished if we could reconcile with those people again? How many times does our inability to reconcile seem bound up in our own feelings more than the slight that actually caused the breach? But more importantly, how do we take that first step towards the green grass in the center, when we've perfected pacing in a circle?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Tuesday, May 8, 2012 -- Week of 5 Easter
Dame Julian of Norwich, c. 1517

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 963)
Psalms 61, 62 (morning) // 68:1-20(21-23)24-36 (evening)
Leviticus 16:20-34
1 Thessalonians 5:1-11
Matthew 6:7-15

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

The late J. Neville Ward was an early influence on me. He was an English Methodist who wrote wonderfully insightful books on prayer and spirituality. He had an annual practice to read a different book about the Lord's Prayer every year, and in 1981 he published his own reflections -- The Personal Faith of Jesus: As Revealed in the Lord's Prayer.

I flipped through some of the book this morning, noting a few of my underlines:

There is a sense in which everyone has faith, and everyone behaves quiet loyally and consistently with what he believes, that is to say, what he believes about himself and life. That faith, hugely important as it is, is not the sort that can be or ever is set out in a creed and spoken aloud in some ceremonial rite for all to hear. It is part of the inner life of the mind, the drift of secret thoughts whose precise character we are not sharp enough always to note but whose atmosphere we are breathing all the time.

When he accepted Jesus' view that God wants us to embark on a relationship of trust and love with him instead of a struggle to improve ourselves, a new response to life began to form in him. (p. 15-16)

[Jesus] was certainly drawn to the weak and sensual and broken who know it and long to see life changed into something that will make up for the wasted years, and to those who wait for someone in whose presence they can put down a tremendous burden they have been carrying all their lives. (p. 33)

Grant us now, this very day, the sense of that holy day when all will be satisfied with that which alone truly meets human desire and need. Grant us here and now the joy and affection of that time, and its sense of God, as much as it is possible for them to be enjoyed here and now and by people like us. (p. 51)

Not long ago I read of a boy who was murdered while doing his morning paper route. How can his parents think compassionately about the man who murdered their son? Never, without God. Yet there does not seem to be much hope for us unless they can manage it. Their fury must increase unless they, their son, his attacker, are called into some new kind of life in which people look mercifully at one another, refreshed by understanding. Glimpses of such a life come. The trouble is that they vanish too. It sometimes seems that a thousand eucharists, a thousand Our Fathers have left us much as we were.

...What matters is that as a result of the hundreds of eucharists, Lord's Prayers, and many other experiences mulled over as best you can, you come to understand what it means to live life in the light cast on it by Jesus, and to live it with the new shadow you are trailing now you are in his light. (p. 70, 71)

Monday, May 7, 2012 -- Week of 5 Easter
Harriet Starr Cannon, Religious, 1896

Today's Readings for the Daily Office (Book of Common Prayer, p. 963)
Psalms 56, 57, [58] (morning) // 64, 65 (evening)
Leviticus 16:1-19
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Today in Leviticus we read Moses instructions about the liturgy of the atonement, a complicated rite of purification involving diverse sacrifices, incense, blood, vestments, curtains, altar, drama and ritual. One of the most interesting parts of the liturgy is the role of the goat for Azazel. After Aaron has made atonement for himself and his house, Aaron takes two goats and casts lots over them. One goat is sacrificed to God as a sin offering for the people, but the other goat is left alive and sent into the wilderness to Azazel.

It may be that Azazel is the name of a goat-demon who was thought to inhabit desolate places. The second goat is driven into the remote wilderness, far from the community, into the wild and dangerous regions.

One goat for God. One goat for Azazel.

There is something powerful about making offering to the dark and wild places. We have emotional and psychological energies that are deep and dangerous. At one point Jesus speaks sharply and dismissively about these urges, "Get thee behind me, Satan." There is some danger in becoming fascinated with the dark side and it's deathly urges. It is not good to dabble with evil.

But many people find spiritual richness when they allow their dreams and subconscious material to rise into consciousness where it can be recognized and acknowledged in order to give our conscious self some power over it. There is a reality and freedom that comes when we outgrow mere repression and gain awareness of the destructive patterns of our thoughts and behavior.

We can recognize that each of us has the potential for terrible acts. We can confess our sins to God and be forgiven. We can also acknowledge our potential for the evil that we have not acted upon. Maybe it is helpful to give those energies to something like Azazel, to the demons in the wilderness where the wild and dangerous things are. We are not to act upon our most primitive urges, but it may be helpful to acknowledge their reality in us, and to give them their due. May thay always remain in the wilderness, away from community.