On Listening and Pointing

In the illumination above, Jesus tells Mary Magdalene not to hold on to him because he has not yet ascended to the Father.  This story always reminds me of how we want to hold on, to remain fixed, to avoid the messy flow of a living discipleship.  We are not always attuned to God's plans and vision.

The Episcopal Diocesan Convention has occupied my mind and body for the last three days.  It was one of the best conventions I have ever attended in terms of spirit, enthusiasm, and genuinely promoting the idea that we need to be listening to one another and God.  In essence that sounds simple, even basic.  But in many ways we have failed because we want to hold on to what has been rather than be open to what can be.

This reality reminded me of a quote from Bonhoeffer in Life Together: The first service one owes to others in community involves listening to them. Just as our love for God begins with listening to God's Word, the beginning of love for other Christians is learning to listen to them …. Christians who can no longer listen to one another will soon no longer be listening to God either; they will always be talking even in the presence of God. The death of the spiritual life starts here, and in the end there is nothing left but empty spiritual chatter and clerical condescension which chokes on pious words.

I appreciated in our convention that Bishop Kendrick invited us to dig deeper, dialogue and listen.  We spent our second day focused on these table talks. In our participation at tables, I saw a genuinely humble posture emerge like that of John the Baptist: we need more of God, less of us.  This in turn reminded me of my pastoral care seminary professor who had this painting displayed in every class.

It is not the style of art I am drawn to naturally.  But, it became a powerful symbol and reminder of who we are as disciples in God's Kingdom.

As we were told, the theologian Karl Barth had this painting by Matthias Grunewald in the wall of his study. In the painting there is an image of John the Baptist with his extra long, "bony finger” raised in a way so it is directing and pointing the onlooker to the cross of Jesus in the center of the painting. The story indicates that when Barth would talk with a visitor about his work (writing and theology), he would direct them to John the Baptist in the painting, and he would say, “I want to be that finger.” "I want to be a sign pointing to the victory of Christ."

We've all done some form of finger pointing in our lives; unfortunately it probably came when we had failed to listen, didn't get our way, or did not want to take responsibility.  We could all in this Lenten season stand to commit ourselves to being that "bony finger" in new and more faithful ways.  

Our Gospel lesson this week, ironically, refers to Jesus as a mother hen gathering her chicks and sheltering them under her wings. As comforting as that is (or as challenging as that is for those who wanted a warrior Messiah), we are still called to be signs of God's Kingdom breaking in, of the beauty that is possible in God's transforming grace. We don’t wait for the world to change or for everyone else to change first. We can go ahead and be changed, be transformed. We can point others to Christ, to abundant life in community now, today. 

A prayer from Walter Brueggemann:

We are your people and mostly we don't mind,

except that you do not fit any of our categories.

We keep pushing

and pulling 

and twisting

and turning,

trying to make you fit the God we would rather have,

and every time we distort you that way

we end up with an idol more congenial to us.

In our more honest moments of grief and pain

we are very glad that you are who you are,

and that you are toward us in all your freedom

what you have been toward us.

So be your faithful self

and by your very engagement in the suffering of the world,

transform the world even as you are being changed.

We pray in the name of Jesus,

who is the sign of your suffering love.

Amen.