7th August Trinity 2016, God's Hands (Redux)

7^th August Trinity

Luke 10:25-37

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when

Van Gogh

he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.  A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.  So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.  But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.  He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

7th August Trinity

Sept 4, 2016

Luke 10:25-37

Corinne Vonaesch

Love manifests not only in thoughts and feelings but most importantly in deeds.

The man who was robbed and beaten represents that part of all of us traveling on life’s path -  a part of our soul has been robbed of our spiritual wealth and beaten down until our souls are half-dead. There also lives in each of us a priest and temple servant who serve the first part of the commands of the law, the part about serving God with one’s whole heart, mind, and strength. It is a holy office, requiring that one show up at the appointed time, ritually clean, for a service performed on behalf of the whole people. And we all have an inner Samaritan, a foreign stranger traveling through life, who is under no tribal obligation to help a Hebrew from Jerusalem. And yet help he does, purely out of human compassion. He fulfills the second part of the commandment, the part about loving whoever one stands next to. He does so not only by  ministering personally to the wounded but also by paying someone else to continue his efforts.

Charalambos Epaminonda

What Christ is saying is that our ritual observances toward God are only a part of what serving God means. We also need to fulfill the second part of the commandment, the commandment of love for our fellow human beings. We need to find within ourselves healing ways to serve the God within others. This does not necessarily have to be dramatic. But we need to be able to inwardly pause and help others we encounter along the way. We can comfort with a kind word or even a smile. We can offer something that helps heal a wounded soul. We can help someone in whatever way we can toward their own healthier future. We can even make it possible for someone else to do it for us. And we can always pray for others.

We turn towards God with all the strength of all our soul’s capacities. And we turn toward our fellow human beings with the strength of our love. For we are God’s hands on earth.

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6th August Trinity 2016, Hand That Loved Me (Redux)

6th Trinity August

Mark 7, 31-37

As he was again leaving the region around Tyre, he went through the country around Sidon to the Sea of Galilee in the middle of the region of the ten cities of the Decapolis. They brought to him one who was deaf and who spoke with difficulty, and asked him to lay his hands on him. And he led him apart from the crowds by himself, laid his finger in his ears, and moistening his finger with saliva, touched his tongue, and looking up to the heavens, sighed deeply and said to him, “Ephphata, be opened.” His hearing was opened and the impediment of his tongue was removed and he could speak properly. And he commanded them not to say anything to anyone. But the more he forbade it, the more they widely they proclaimed it. And the people were deeply moved by this event, and said, “He has changed all to the good: the deaf he makes to hear and the speechless to speak.

6th Trinity August

August 28, 2016

Mark 7, 31-37

A wall separates two spaces. A doorway is an opening between the two. And the door itself opens or shuts. It regulates the flow between them.

Our senses are the doors between the inner life of the soul and the outer life of the world. In sleep, the doors of the senses are closed.  Upon waking, all sensory doors open. They will remain open or close, depending on where we choose to direct our attention. Being absorbed in the activities of the world, all doorways are open; being absorbed in the inner life can close the doors of the senses, making us oblivious to noise, for example.

The deaf mute’s sense organs for hearing and speech had become permanently closed. An exchange of words had become impossible. His friends bring him to Christ, the Logos, the Living Word. At Christ’s intimate and loving touch, at His fiery word – Ephphata! Be opened! – the closed doors open. The man can hear and speak again. He can fully engage with the world.

At the same time, Christ has opened the same doors in the crowd. And though He tries to tell them not to proclaim the event far and wide, they will talk. They represent that in us which cannot yet regulate our speech, which cannot yet recognize when to close the door.

Christ said of Himself: My I AM is the Door. He is that capacity in us that is able to choose to open or to close, and to know when it is time to do which. Both capacities, opening and closing, are necessary for the soul. It is only the extremes – always open, or always closed – that are unhealthy. Christ, the Door, helps us to know when we are to open and when to close.

The deaf mute’s experience of Christ is expressed in a poem by Antonio Machado:

Tissot

From the door sill of a

dream they called my name…

It was the good voice,

the voice I loved so much.

“—Listen: will you go

with me to visit the soul?…”

A soft stroke reached

up to my heart.

“With you always”… And

in my dream I walked

Down a long and

solitary corridor,

Aware of the touching

of the pure robe,

And the soft beating of

blood in the hand that loved me.*

*Antonio Machado, translated by Robert

Bly, from the book

Times Alone: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado (Wesleyan Poetry in Translation)

5th August Trinity 2016, Looking Upward (Redux)

5th Trinity August

Christ Heals the Blind Man, Gioacchino Assareto, WikiCommons

Luke 18, 35-43

It happened as he approached Jericho: a certain blind man was sitting by the road begging. Hearing the crowd going by, he wanted to know what was happening, and they told him Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. He cried out in a loud voice: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Those leading the way threatened him and wanted him to be quiet. But he cried all the louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stopped and had him led to him. And Jesus said to him, “What do you want that I should do for you?”

He said to him, “Lord, that I may look up and see again.”

And Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight. Through your faith and your trust, the power for healing has been awakened in you.” (Your faith has healed you.)

In that moment his eyes were opened. He followed Him and thus revealed the working of the divine within the human being--and all who saw it praised God.

5th Trinity August

Brian Jekel

August 21, 2016

Luke 18, 35-43

In today’s reading, a human being, blind and begging, hears Christ Jesus passing by. He recognizes an opportunity for healing. What he asks for is to be able to ‘look upward and see once again.’ This implies that he wants to ‘raise his sights’. It implies the restoration of something lost.

We can perhaps remember a time in our own lives, perhaps in childhood, when everything we looked at was kissed by the ineffable. Everything sparkled with a kind of gentle magic. Part of the underlying sorrow of adolescence is due to the loss of the numinous. A kind of blindness sets in that makes everything now seem common and ordinary, colorless.

What created the magic was a child’s lingering relationship to the living world of the divine spirit.  We still partially saw through heavenly eyes.

It was part of the course of human evolution that we should lose this kind of connection in order to gain our freedom and self-awareness. The sense of being cut off and blind is a necessary step on the way to seeing again in a new kind of way.

Now we have the freedom to ask for a healing of our vision. Christ gives us the capacity to look up and to see everything through the eyes of love. Our eyes can be saturated with wonder and awe; they can radiate gratitude and compassion. This is the renewed working of the divine within. This is the holy, healing spirit that drenches our beholding with spiritual light. We can see the healing spirit, shining in all that we behold. 

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