RCL: Year A: Second Sunday of Easter

(This week’s readings)

As we look at the story of Thomas, let us step into the story (or rather, pull the story forward into our lives.) Who are we? Are we Thomas, the doubter? I think most of us are likely to make this identification first, and there are certainly times when this is appropriate. Often we cry out with the father from Mark 9, “I do believe. Help my unbelief.”

But let us look from another angle. Perhaps we are Jesus? The church is called the body of Christ, his hands and feet. If we are Jesus, then who is Thomas? Who are the doubters among us? How ought we to respond to them?

I think it significant that Jesus’ wounds are open; they are not scarred over. Further, it is only when Thomas touches Jesus’ wounds that he believes. What does this say to us? We are the wounded body of Christ, his nail-pierced hands and feet, his gored side. How willing are we to leave our wounds open and uncovered for all to see? The moment of faith for those who doubt is likely to come as they put their fingers in our wounds. How willing are we to allow this?

Our wounds are deep. They pierce our heart. From them flow our tears and blood. This blood is now Christ’s blood for we are Christ’s body. In our blood the New Covenant is reaffirmed and sins are forgiven. As we forgive one another, so Christ forgives us.

More than individual, our wounds are relational, for we are the body of Christ. The wounds that ignite faith are seen as we live in communion with one another.

More than personal, our wounds are missional, for our wounds are in our hands and feet. These are our tools for work and travel, for touch and communication.

We are the Wounded Body of Christ.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me,

Body of Christ, save me,

Blood of Christ refresh me,

Water from the side of Christ, wash me,

Passion of Christ, strengthen me,

O good Jesus, hear me,

Within your wounds, hide me,

Let me never be separated from you,

From the powers of darkness, defend me,

In the hour of my death call me,

And bid me come with you,

That with your saints I may praise you

For ever and ever. Amen.

(Brother Roger of Taize)

Books: Dave Fleming: Leadership Wisdom from Unlikely Voices

I mentioned a while ago that I had received a couple free books as a result of my involvement in Reneé Altson’s virtual book tour. One was Brian McLaren’s A Generous Orthodoxy. While I enjoyed it – and, in fact, I find ideas presented in it coming to mind on many occasions – I had few comments to make. McLaren has a way of making me think. He has never failed to poke a stick into the hornet’s nest of my mind. It takes time for the (sometimes) angry, searching thoughts and ideas to find their way home, and when they do they usually step in quietly. So, I rarely have an immediate

response to his books. Instead, I find that somewhere, down the road, I have been changed.

The other book was Leadership Wisdom from Unlikely Voices by Dave Fleming, and I finally finished it. To be fair, I am a slow reader, and I didn’t start the book until March. I read the first half intensely, and I found myself thinking the book to be only so-so. Much of this I attributed to health (It’s been a long winter of colds and bronchitis for all of us.) and life-season. At the moment, I’m on a sort of leadership hiatus. Much of his talk about teams, for example, just doesn’t apply to me right now, so I found it hard to connect. Again, I don’t think you can blame Fleming for this.

Nevertheless, I wanted to get thru the book, so about half way thru I started skimming. When I did, a funny thing happened: The book grew on me. I found it easier to consider what Fleming was saying in the context of my family. Perhaps my situation began to change a little as well. Regardless, I came away appreciating the time I had spent with the book, and looking forward to a return visit sometime down the road.

The best parts are the Unlikely Voices that Fleming introduces. Culling text from personal journals and biographies, these Unlikely Voices, speak in fresh tones. Only Neo, the fictional character from McLaren’s A New Kind of Christian series, was a bit contrived. Being fictional, he lacks the impact and authority of the others. Regardless, these Unlikely Voices, from the Desert Fathers to Mother Teresa, were wonderful to hear from.

One last comment. Fleming begins the book with a fire metaphor, comparing the art of leadership to the art of tending a flame. There is much worthwhile here, but I only want to talk about the ephemeral nature fire. It is process, not matter, and that fact alone should alter the way many of us approach leadership and community, for these, too, are process. We cannot wrestle and mold them into the shape we desire with brute force. Instead we must tease and tend, stoke and surrender, directing while never making the mistake to think that we are in control.

Leadership Wisdom from Unlikely Voices by Dave Fleming is a worthwhile addition to your library.

A Response: Does Prayer Change God’s Mind? (Part 4)

I’d like to change tact for this last installment and ask you to indulge me. I realize I run the risk, but I think it will yield some benefit to us.

For just a moment, let us walk in God’s shoes. Let us consider what it is like to be the one to whom prayer is directed. God is, after all, a person. Well… sort of. We must think of God as a person on some level if we are to have any understanding at all. So, with care, I think it is fair to consider how we might respond if every prayer were directed to us. Let’s give ourselves the benefit of divine patience, so we don’t get overwhelmed by sheer volume. So, what might it be like?

Any parent whose children have begun communicating has a starting point for this exploration. Samantha’s litany is endless: “Mommy, can I have this? Daddy, can I have that? Why can’t I have this? When can I get that?” ad nauseam. I am amazed though at how clever Samantha can be at times. Beyond begging, she attempts to reason and persuade. Jacob is less eloquent, though no less direct. He prefers to open his mouth, lean forward, and say, “Aah!”

Some requests, such as those for product stocked in the grocery store check out lane, are trivial. They can be dealt with or even ignored with no harm. Now, I say they’re trivial, but to Samantha that bag of Peanut M&Ms is the end of the world.

Other times, the issue is more complex. For example, last week Samantha wanted to go to her friend’s birthday party. That had been the plan until she came down with a cough and a fever. “You can’t go,” we said, “because we don’t want the other kids to get sick.” This was an explanation she at the same time both understood and didn’t as four year olds are able to do. “That’s not fair!” she said. All we could say was, “Your right.”

I think we can make the connection to prayer and God’s responses. There are times when children are beyond reasoning with, and aren’t we all really children when we get down to it? Christians are (supposedly) people of a child-like faith, one full of hope and trust as well as a hint of naivete and pomp. Should we be surprised to find ourselves acting as we do sometimes? Further, should we be surprised to find God, the Heavenly Father, acting as he does?

Sometimes I think we’d rather God were a machine, perhaps a video game like my old Nintendo Entertainment System. If we could just find the right combo for prayer – up, up, down, down, A, B, A, B – then we could unlock the response we desire. But God isn’t a machine. That’s probably a good thing. My NES won’t work unless you blow on the cartridge just right.

*****

Does Prayer Change God’s Mind: Part 1

Does Prayer Change God’s Mind: Part 2

Does Prayer Change God’s Mind: A Poetic Interlude

Does Prayer Change God’s Mind: Part 3

Does Prayer Change God’s Mind: Part 4 (Last)