I didn't post last week, but if I had it would have been more about John's gospel and all the references Jesus makes to eating his flesh and drinking his blood. This week, we move into Mark's gospel where in Chapter 7, Jesus tells the Pharisees that it is NOT what we ingest, but what we exude from our bodies that really and truly matters.

Okay, this is the problem when we try to read things as absolute and literal. On one Sunday we preachers are to stand up and proclaim to our congregations that "You are what you eat," then the next Sunday we are compelled by the texts to stand up and proclaim "Don't concentrate on what goes into your body!" If we are not very careful, our churches will quietly and politely send us to the psychiatric hospital or, worse, just stop listening.

Luckily, Jesus turns to scripture himself to explain what he means, "Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written, 'This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.' You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition."

In other words - I think - we can say from this focus of Jesus that we aren't really talking about food here or washing hands. What we are really talking about (and should be preaching on) are the ways in which we humans have of taking traditions created to protect God's children and turning them into anchors around the necks of all those we don't like. It feels like Jesus may be at his wits end. Exasperated, he says, "Could we please focus on what is really important here?" I'm sure there are none of us who have ever felt that way in a church meeting!

Maybe, just maybe, the lectionary texts this week are calling us to a more healthy approach to living the life God has given us. At the same time that Jesus says it isn't about what food we eat or how we wash our hands, James speaks of looking into a mirror, then walking away and forgetting what we saw there. The Song of Solomon certainly focuses more on the body than mind while Deuteronomy tells us to make sure we follow the rules!

I think it all comes down to James' proclamation to be "doers of the word." Or is it "doers of the Word"? If we have some kind of understanding that what is happening in every aspect of our lives effects our relationship with God and with others, then we will seek to follow Jesus in every way possible. Focusing on washing hands instead of feeding the hungry, preaching the gospel without actually living it day in and day out are ways in which we get out of whack. And, that is the medical term for it. Our bodies are not in agreement with our minds. Our minds are not in agreement with our spirits, and so on. In order to truly be disciples of Jesus, we should be seeking to be whole, to be the children that God created us to be.

I recently read a book called "How to be a Woman" by Caitlan Moran (if harsh language offends, do not read this book!) and in a chapter in which she was describing herself as an obese teenager, she says she thought of herself as "a brain sitting in a jar." In essence, Moran says that she considered feeding her brain a healthy diet much more important than feeding her body the same. She goes on to discuss the ways in which she was liberated once she became attuned to understanding her body better and treating it as well as she did her mind.

Balance. I guess that is what I am getting from these scriptures today. We can carry our traditions and rituals so far that they become detrimental to us. On the other hand, we could also use these words of Jesus to make ourselves feel better about eating an entire cake in one sitting or drinking ourselves into a black out. "Well, Jesus said that it isn't what goes into the body!" Mind. Body. Spirit. With all that comes with those three - intimate love, feasting with friends, studying the word, keeping the rules that are for our own good, and serving our neighbors because we want to put into action our faith. Mind. Body. Spirit. I can't help but wonder if reaching equality of effect among these would be heaven on earth.

If you are a pastor, maybe you can relate to this. I attend more funerals than one person should and I often hear family members say things like, "Well, it was God's will." Because I am a pastor with a at least a tiny sense of good pastoral care, I usually smile knowingly, hug their necks, and say something like, "May the peace that passes all understanding be with you." It occurs to me that I may lean on this phrase "passes all understanding" because I do not understand it at all. God's will? Really? This is God's will? That we should grow to love others only to have them ripped from this world by death? I can't understand it and I certainly don't want to blame God for it!

So, the passage from the deuterocanonical Wisdom of Solomon which reads, "God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living" brings me great comfort and makes more sense to me than "It was God's will."

Uncle Pete died this last week. He wasn't really my uncle and in adulthood I must admit that I didn't see him often, but as a child I spent more time with he and his family than with most of my other "real" uncles. Uncle Pete was my dad's best friend and he had been since they were teenagers. At his funeral, his son told me that he had a picture of my father next to the TV so that he could look at Daddy throughout the day. When my father died, Uncle Pete was more distraught than any of us. At Pete's funeral on Friday, my husband mentioned to me David and Jonathan. Not surprising to find that the reading from 2 Samuel for this upcoming Sunday is David's lamenting Jonathan's death. "How the mighty have fallen." No passages about God needing Jonathan in heaven or God's will being fulfilled. Just good and honest grief over his best friend's death.

I still grieve my father's death. I want him here laughing with us again. There is comfort in knowing that he is alive, made whole again in eternity, and that he and Uncle Pete are reunited. That is what I give God credit for - resurrection, life, light in the midst of darkness.

Jairus had a 12 year old daughter who was very sick (from the Mark text for this week) and marched up to Jesus and asked for help. On the other hand, a woman whose name we do not know, sneaked up through the crowd to simply touch Jesus' clothes. She had been bleeding for the entire time that Jairus' daughter had been living. She was at her wits end and felt she had only one last shot at being made whole again. And, she was right. The Giver of Life provided her with healing, with health and wholeness. In other words, he brought her back to life - because she was an outcast unable to live the life she had dreamed for herself, being shunned because she was unclean - lonely and lonesome, broken and abused. This healing, this stoppage of bleeding, made her whole again, brought her back to life. In the meantime, the wealthy man's daughter died and all seemed lost, but not so with Jesus. He walks up to her and tells her to get up . . . and . . . she did! Life from death, wholeness from brokenness, light from dark.

Death. That seems to be the theme in this week's lectionary texts. Is it time to talk about how the Church seems to be on life support and needs a miracle? Is it time to address a congregation's brokenness? Is it a day to ask for healing? Is it time to stop just talking about resurrection and actually experience it? (See 2 Corinthians passage.) Whatever we choose to focus upon, may we not simply smile and nod and give pat answers. May we call out death for the evil that it is. May we seek healing from the only one who can give it. May we celebrate resurrection. May we proclaim The Giver of Life! And, may we live into that life with everything that we are.

The Lectionary texts this week read like a story from Exodus to Matthew. There are gaps in the story and problems with the plot in places, but if we look at the pages just right, we can see how the story of God's relationship with God's people is very clear.

In Exodus 20, we have the life changing moment of Moses presenting the 10 commandments - laws given to the people to help them, to make life easier, a little clearer, ground rules to follow in this new life outside of Egypt. The people responded to this gift by asking that God never speak to them again.

The story moves forward and God is witnessing the results of the people's selfish behavior. In a song, the writer of Isaiah 5 laments the fact that even though the vineyard has been planted and cared for with love and understanding, it has not produced as it should have. The owner decides to give up, let it go, allow it to wither away.

Both of the Psalms join in the story by presenting the character of the people. Psalm 19 reminding us to follow the laws of God and Psalm 80 crying out to God to restore the vineyard, to give us another chance, to allow us to grow once again.

Philippians' part of the story is to point us toward the character of Jesus. With Paul reminding us that without Christ, we are nothing. In fact, it is stressed through Paul's boastful language that even at our very best on our own we can't begin to live up to our best in Christ Jesus. This is the second chance of all second chances. If we want to be the productive vineyard that God desires of us, then we have to allow Jesus to help us.

Then, we have Matthew's part of the story with a story in a story. Here we have another parable of Jesus that leaves us asking lots of questions. As we come to the end of this week's story, the lectionary brings us back around to the Isaiah text as Jesus tells of a vineyard owner who cared for and planted those grapes and waited to see what wonderful things would occur. There is a twist this time, though. All good stories have them. It is a nasty and scary twist. In the climax of this week's story, the vineyard isn't simply left to wither away, but those who have been given the opportunity to tend the vineyard are murderers and thieves. They even go so far as to kill the owner's beloved son. (Remind you of anyone?) And, Jesus leaves the chief priests and elders to whom he was speaking with the question of what they think that owner will do. Repay them, of course. Kill them, get rid of them for good, and find someone who will do what they should have been doing in the first place. (These elders are none too happy when they realize that they have been made the bad guy in the story.)

It is a story with lots twists and turns. It also has characters that we don't like and morals that make us squirm. Are we to believe that God will allow us to wither away? Worse yet, are we to believe that God will punish us if we do not tend the vineyard like God wants? Remember how the story began? God gave us these commandments as a gift to help us in this life. They are not rules made to give God a reason to get angry with us, but they are safety nets for us to use so that our lives are the very best they can be. Instead, we ask God to stop speaking to us. So, God finds other ways to provide those gifts to us, stories of vineyards, Paul's dramatic turn-around, and Jesus, God incarnate, providing grace upon grace upon grace.

A fellow pastor in the Lutheran Church, Delmer Chilton, puts it this way:

That is the story this week. It is the story of God's relationship with God's people. It is a story that is often filled with pain. And, it is a story that ends with healing and restoration.

Listen to Another Parable by The Brick Testament 
Fall Grapes 
The Vineyard Parable

Blood on Our Hands

God's Story by Jason Watson

Relationships - can't live with them and can't live without them. Living in community with others can be so difficult. We are reminded on a daily basis (if we are paying attention) that how we treat others matters. Whether we are talking about a spouse or a co-worker or a sales clerk, the way in which we relate can be life-affirming or life-depriving.

It goes without saying that Pharaoh didn't think much of the lives of the Israelites. They were cheap labor to him, pieces of property. In this week's Exodus text, his life-depriving actions come back to haunt him in a most horrific way. As the Israelites prepare themselves for the Passover, he is unknowingly spending his last moments with his first-born son.

There is something happening around these lectionary passages about relationships. Though, as I write that, I wonder if that couldn't be said for most passages of scripture. We are a people of community. God calls us into relationships. God is a relational God. The way we treat others matters. It matters a great deal.

The details of the ways in which that first Passover was to be observed remind me that even these 3000 plus years later, this meal is about relationships. As families and faith communities gather to remember, they are connected to those first families in Egypt, all the families since, and they are connected to the God who gave them this ritual.

But, relationships are hard. When we have a relational God, there can be many questions that arise. What are we to make of the children who were killed not because of their own sin, but because of the sin of those to whom they were related? Relationships are hard. They cause difficult questions and sometimes they lead to difficult answers. Relationships can be life-affirming or life-denying.

As soon as we ask the question of God we are sent into the Ezekiel text that has God replying, "I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked." The Ezekiel passage is a further reminder that we not only live in relationships, but those relationships often do not turn out the way we had hoped.

Matthew gives us a pretty good outline for how to deal with things when they do get all mixed up. Jesus explains the ways in which we should deal when relationships get off track. And, what are those ways? In community, of course. The ways in which we treat others matter. They matter a great deal.

The Romans text supports this fact by reminding us that "love is the fulfilling of the law." With words of warning about guarding against satisfying the flesh, the emphasis is on following Christ's commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves.

There are times in my life when I think it would be a lot easier to live on an island all alone. Maybe I could become a hermit, live in a hut on a mountain where I never had to speak to anyone again. These moments arise when relationships get to be difficult - and they always get to be difficult. Whether it is a silly statement I made that someone else hears in a hurtful way or years of history with my spouse that requires constant navigation or the death of my father or the woman in the check-out line that is so very rude, being in community can be difficult at times. And, at times I wonder if just not being in community would be better. This, of course, is a classic question which leads me to the often quoted Tennyson poem:

"I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all."

This is not only true for romantic love, but for all kinds of relationships in our lives. Romans reminds us that love is the main thing. Exodus reminds us of what can happen when we don't love our neighbors as ourselves. Ezekiel reminds us that how we treat others matters a great deal. And, Matthew gives us a guide for dealing with the conflict when it does occur so that relationships have the best chance of being restored.

It isn't a new idea, but it is an important one. We are relational people serving a relational God. Whether we think living on an island alone would be better or not, we are called to live in relation to others serving a Messiah that builds community through the most unlikely of alliances. Christ calls us to be life-affirming in our relationships. I wonder what the world would look like if all life-depriving relationships came to an end. I happen to think it would look a whole lot like heaven.