What I’m Thinking: Sabbatical

In February I begin a three month sabbatical, and I’m thinking about my plans for that time.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking not about a Scripture text for this coming Sunday, but about the next three months. In February, March, and April of this year, I will be on sabbatical: refreshing myself, learning new things, and working on some projects before I step back into the pulpit and take up the responsibilities once more of being pastor of Church of the Holy Cross.

There are two items on my “To-Do” list for this sabbatical. One is simply to visit the other islands of Hawai’i. In eight years of service here — nearly nine, actually — at Church of the Holy Cross, I’ve spent the vast majority of my time (appropriately) on Hawaii island. I’ve only been, I think, to Maui three times, and I’ve probably spent less than twenty days total on O’ahu. I haven’t been to Kauai or Moloka’i or Lana’i at all. So it’s time fix that, to learn a little bit more about my neighbors here in the Hawaiian Island chain, and also to encounter some of the special beauties, the unique features, of each of these islands.

My first trip, ironically enough, is scheduled for O’ahu — there are reasons for that — but I am planning to get to Kauai in the beginning of March.

The second project, and the one that will I think take up the bulk of the time, is to look over the stories that I’ve been telling in worship for the last few years, and to make a collection of some of them and prepare them to be published. That’s going to mean reworking them in some cases for a printed format. It will also, I hope, mean towards the end of the time that I’ll begin working with identifying a publisher and persuading a publisher that this is a good idea, and see what we can do about getting that part of the process going.

I really don’t have much idea of how long all this will take. I’m told that even with a head start I have with, frankly, the bulk of the material already written, that it will still take longer than the three months that I’ve given it to get this process rolling. But that is the idea, and with any luck at some point I’ll be able to tell you during one of these What I’m Thinking episodes that there is a book out there with a collection of stories available for you to read.

This does mean that What I’m Thinking will also take a sabbatical, because during this time I will not be doing this regular production. So look for me once more in May as I take a look at the Scripture that I’ll be preaching on that first Sunday in May, and letting you know what I’m thinking.

Well, that is what I’m thinking and I am curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Good News to the Poor

Jesus began his ministry by announcing his priorities: Good news to the poor. Relief to the oppressed. Freedom to the captives.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the fourth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 4:14-21). This, in Luke, is Jesus’ first sermon: reading from the scripture of Isaiah in a synagogue in Nazareth of Galilee.

Jesus read from the 61st chapter of Isaiah. What Luke recorded doesn’t precisely match our text of Isaiah. Why that is, is pretty much impossible to say. Jesus, no doubt, read what was before him. What did Luke have before him? We don’t know.

What Jesus read, or at least what Luke quoted, was that the Spirit of the Lord had come to bring good news to the poor, to lift up the oppressed, to let the captives go free, to declare the year of the Lord’s favor. Jesus then said, “This scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Those words, in Luke, defined Jesus’ purpose, passion, and drive for his ministry: to speak good news to the poor, to relieve the oppressed, to set the captives free. It was not a message of power or self-aggrandizement. It was not a message of pomp and circumstance. It was a message that centuries before had given an exiled people hope, and in that moment, gave them hope once again that their current circumstances — which were serious and in some cases desperate — would be relieved by the grace of God.

Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing. The poor have good news preached to them. The oppressed are raised up. The captives are set free.

I urge you to listen to all other messaging in this era. Compare that to the words of Isaiah, and compare that to the foundational ministry of Jesus. Are the words we’re hearing words of good news? Do they lift up the oppressed? Do they set captives free? If so, then God’s promises are fulfilled in our hearing!

And if not, then you and I must work and pray and struggle to see that those words are fulfilled in our time, as well as in Christ’s.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Program Note

There’s one more edition of What I’m Thinking before I take a sabbatical, and therefore What I’m Thinking takes a break for the three months of February, March, and April. Next week, my plan is not to reflect on the upcoming scripture texts, because that will be the responsibility of our sabbatical interim, the Rev. Diane Weible. Instead, I’ll talk a little bit about my sabbatical, what I intend to do, and what I hope happens in order to fit me out for renewed ministry come May.

So: one more edition of What I’m Thinking before the month of May begins, and I hope that you’ll tune in, and I hope that you’ll let me know what you’re thinking.

What I’m Thinking: Compassion for a Wedding Host

In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ signs reveal something about him. At the wedding at Cana, he revealed his care and compassion for the wedding host.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the second chapter of John’s Gospel (John 2:1-11). It’s the story of Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana. This took place early in Jesus’ ministry; John described it as the first of his signs.

Now, John used “signs” in a very particular way. For John, a “sign” was some kind of unexplainable — miraculous if you like — action that Jesus performed that revealed something about him. Jesus didn’t expect to perform a sign at this wedding. In fact, he and his disciples attended just because they’ve been invited. It was his mother that realized that the hosts had run out of wine.

This was a problem. At a wedding the host was supposed to be hospitable, and hospitality meant you don’t run out of the necessities: and one of those was wine. Jesus didn’t want to do it, but his mother told the servants to do whatever he told them.

There is so much here. As usual in his Gospel, John took some time with this story, included details that the other gospel writers simply did not linger for. The back and forth between Jesus and his mother is frankly rather delicious. I mean, what mother really pays attention to what her son has to say, right?

But mostly what strikes me is that this sign revealed something very important about Jesus. He was not just there for the wedding to increase the joy of the newly married couple and of their families. He was also there to make certain that all went well for them in the wedding feast and in the years beyond. He would not see that family tagged with the label of being inhospitable at a crucial time.

This first sign that revealed Jesus’ glory, revealed the depth of his love. Well, maybe not the full depth of his love, but revealed that it was deeper than others had expected (except, perhaps, his mother). May we see in this sign and in all the other signs Jesus’ love, compassion, and care for us, that we, too, might celebrate, rejoice, and believe.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Baptism and the Holy Spirit

The Holy Spirit, so much a force at Jesus’ baptism, remains the source of Christian inspiration and power.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the third chapter of Luke’s Gospel, the baptism of Jesus (Luke 3:15-17, 21-22).

The lectionary jumps around just a little bit. We get a couple of verses from John the Baptist and then we skip just a couple of verses to get to the description of the baptism itself. They have something in common.

John told his listeners that there was one coming who was greater than he, who would baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. And then in the description of the baptism itself Luke told us that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus like a dove. Then came the voice from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.”

The connection, of course, is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit that John promised would be the baptism of those who followed his successor, the Holy Spirit who inspired Jesus himself.

The Holy Spirit remains not just a vital thought but a vital force in the Christian Church and in individual Christians to this very day. We understand the Holy Spirit as being not just an attribute of God, but a person of God in the Trinity. This is the One who gathers the Church together; this is the One who energizes and organizes the Church. This is also the One who inspires and guides and empowers individual Christians as they seek out their way of living out God’s call.

So the question is not, “Is there a Holy Spirit?” The question is, “How is this Spirit guiding you? How is the Spirit guiding me? How is the Spirit guiding us in the fulfillment of God’s will?”

Jesus… well, Jesus left the place of his baptism and spent quite a long time alone in the wilderness to try to figure that out. Only then did he begin his preaching ministry. So you and I we may very well need time to understand what God’s call is to us in this place and time.

But when we do understand it — when we accept it — then the Holy Spirit will be with us not to carry us, but to accompany us, to strengthen us, to renew us, as we do the work to which God has called us.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Child in a Manger

Jesus’ birth in a stable overturns our expectations once again, confirming that God works in marvelous ways.

Here’s a transcript:

It’s Christmas Eve, so I’m thinking about the second chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 2:1-14). Actually, I’m thinking about one verse:

“She gave birth to her first-born son, and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

Christianity is an odd and challenging faith. We believe that the most significant person to have ever lived upon the planet was born in a is stable. We believe that he was not born in the place where his parents lived, but in the place that they had had to go at the whims of a somewhat arbitrary government. We believe that he was not wrapped in fine cloth but in whatever scraps of cloth they could find. How could a person in such circumstances become the Anointed One, the Messiah, the Christ?

The answer, of course, is because this is how God works.

God works in the unexpected ways. God works in the ways that overturn our expectations. God works in the ways that are based upon love and growth and grace.

And those are not the ways of power or privilege, are they?

On this Christmas, remember that the Christ child teaches us that any child can become a follower of Christ. Any child can emulate the Savior. And also any adult, whatever kind of life they’ve lived up to that point, whether it’s been one of poverty or one of privilege, any human being can also become one who imitates Christ.

Let that be said of us, that we followed the way of the Savior: Love, and growth. and grace.

Merry Christmas to you one and all.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

The next episode of What I’m Thinking will be posted on Tuesday, January 7, 2025.

What I’m Thinking: Mary’s Song

Mary’s Song is not just about what God had done for her or for her cousin Elizabeth. Her song is about what God has done for us.

Here’s a transcript:

As we approach the fourth Sunday in Advent, I’m thinking about the first chapter of Luke (Luke 1:39-55): the Magnificat, Mary’s Song.

Mary spoke or sang this song (it’s hard to tell) when she visited her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth was also expecting a child somewhat unexpectedly, a child who would turn out to be John the Baptist. Mary, of course, would become the mother of Jesus. And Elizabeth, greeting her, praised her for being the mother of the Savior. And so Mary responded with this song.

The song has relatively little to say about Mary’s own situation. It doesn’t mention the prospect of becoming a mother; it barely refers to any kind of Messiah. Instead, this is a song about the things that God has already done and, by extension, the things that God may do in the future.

It is a profound reversal of fortunes, that the poor are lifted up, and the rich sent away empty.

Appropriately, our worship this week will not include a sermon from yours truly. Instead, we will be having something of a reversal. The message will be brought not by somebody with gray hair, but by the youngsters amongst our congregation, as they present the children’s pageant, the children’s Christmas pageant.

And it’s not just about cuteness. It’s also about the reality that “a little child shall lead them.” It’s about the way that God does unexpected things amongst human beings, the way that God disregards those whom we call great and important, and works through those whom we would dismiss or disregard.

“My soul magnifies the Lord and my soul rejoices in God my Savior, for the Mighty One has done wonderful things for us.”

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Preparing Hearts

John the Baptist tends to disrupt our expectations of a festive preparation for Christmas, but his advice to those who came to him helps us prepare our hearts to receive Christ.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the third chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 3:7-18). Each Advent we want to prepare for Christmas in a celebratory manner. Each Advent our expectations get blown away on the winds, because along comes the preaching John the Baptist.

Here in the gospel of Luke we also hear at John’s most famous and most pointed phrase: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” People came to John because they had a sense, not just that things were not going well, but that they themselves were not doing well. And John had some advice to them: advice which was clear and, frankly, fairly simple and straightforward.

He said to the tax collectors, collect only that which is necessary, which is required. Don’t line your pockets with extra demands. He said to the soldiers, be content with your wages. Do not extort more money from the people around you. And he set a standard for Christian sharing which we hold to this day: those who have two coats, give one away to someone who has none.

Honestly, Jesus was more demanding.

Still, I’m not eager to call anybody a brood of vipers. Yet I do ask: What are the simple and straightforward things that we should refrain from doing in these days? What are the simple and straightforward things that we should be doing that we are not? What is the equivalent for you of that extra coat in the closet, something that you can share with someone who is needy? What is the equivalent of extorted money that you are doing that you should not?

What are the things that you need to change, and thereby find a baptism of repentance, and thereby receive the forgiveness of sins?

These are not ways to celebrate for a festival, but these are ways to prepare to welcome the living Christ into our hearts.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: What Really Matters

What really matters? It is the question of the ages. The answer is rooted in love, knowledge, and insight.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the first chapter of Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi (Philippians 1:3-11). Paul wrote it while imprisoned — a circumstance that he said was actually helping to spread the good news — but his writing it to the church in Philippi appears to have been more in the way of comforting them than it was in the seeking their consolation.

Above all, the apostle praised them for their faithfulness and their kindness. And in this opening section, he wrote that he hoped that their love would overflow with knowledge and insight to help them know “what really matters.”

And that is the question for all of us, isn’t it? What really matters?

Oh, there’s plenty of people who will tell you what really matters. In the newspapers, on the television, on the radio, there are lots of people who will tell you that what really matters, especially in this season, is the purchase of this, that, or the other thing to make your life (or the life of someone else) better. That is what really matters. Others will tell you that what really matters is your physical health. They’ll tell you what really matters is your mental health. They’ll tell you that what really matters is the global economy. They’ll tell you that what really matters is some sort of sense of pride. And indeed, all of these count.

It’s good to be physically healthy. It’s good to have a sound global economy. It’s good to have a sense of self-worth. It’s good.

If we want to know what really matters, or what Paul thought really matters, well, it’s best to read the rest of the letter of Philippians, because, after all, he had the rest of the letter to reflect on it, but the clues are there, even in the way he put it. “Let your love overflow with knowledge and insight.”

These are the ingredients for what matters: knowledge and insight. These are things that we achieve through effort, through study, through asking questions of people and not simply sitting around and observing and assuming, but of studying and considering and, above all, when you don’t know: ask. But even knowledge and insight are not enough, because where does it begin?

It begins in the overflow of love, the overflow of compassion, the overflow of consideration of someone (or someones) else. This is the foundation of what matters.

As we go through this Advent season, as we prepare for the holiday of Christmas, as you go out and look for all those wonderful things that the advertisers would like you to buy, remember that what really matters is the overflow of your love through knowledge and through insight.

That is what really matters.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Return of the Messiah

When Jesus spoke about the coming of the Messiah figure, the warning signs he named had already happened – and he, of course, was already here.

Here’s a transcript:

We’ve just got a couple of days to get ready for our Thanksgiving celebrations, but I’m thinking about Advent. This coming Sunday, the first of December, is also the First Sunday in the Advent season, in which we are preparing for yet another great holy day: the celebration of Christmas.

We also change gospels, moving from a year with the Gospel of Mark to a year with the Gospel of Luke. And as you might expect to begin a season preparing for the celebration of Jesus’ birth, this week’s text is in the twenty-first chapter of Luke (Luke 21:25-36).

Jesus spoke these words to his disciples in that last week before his crucifixion, in the Jerusalem temple, and talking about, well, the end of the world.

He talked about signs of earthquakes and of panic and of wars and of great waves. He spoke of more prosaic kinds of things, that you can see when trees put forth roots to become leaves, you know that summer is coming. And so you’ll know, Jesus told his followers, that end times are coming when you see end times kinds of events.

The problem, of course, is that the end times kind of events that he described, things like earthquakes and great waves and people in panic: they happen all the time. So when, we might ask, will the Son of Humanity — the Christ, the Messiah — draw near.

Apocalyptic used that kind of imagery so that authors could talk about the things that were going on in their own time in a kind of coded way, so that they could criticize rulers and powers without running quite as high a risk of being targeted by them for oppression, arrest, even death. Using the imagery of apocalyptic, Jesus once more made the case that the promised one, the Messiah, was already here. All these waves, all this panic, had already occurred, and Jesus was here.

The very beginning of his ministry, and throughout it, Jesus’ core message was that the reign of God is at hand: repent and believe in the good news.

So as we come into Advent we anticipate something that has already happened: the birth of Jesus. As we come into Advent we anticipate something that has not quite already happened: that is, the return of Jesus. Of course, in his resurrection he did return.

In this Advent let us remember that Jesus is always here, always with us, so that we can get through the storms and the wars and the panics not alone, but accompanied by the one who loves us best.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Light and Thorns

What distinguishes great leadership from poor? Great leadership brings light. Poor leadership brings thorns.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the twenty-third chapter of Second Samuel (2 Samuel 23:1-7), which opens by saying that these are the last words of David.

The short poem makes 2 points. The first: that those who rule in the fear of God are like the light of the morning. Second: that the godless are like thorns that are cast away.

The later writers who assembled these words (and many other histories and documents and stories) into that great series of books from Joshua and Judges all the way to First and Second Kings: they made this difference between light and thorns into a great evaluative theme. They considered each of the leaders and rulers and asked, “Did they bring light or did they bring thorns?”

The Deuteronomic History is not a dispassionate and even-handed kind of review of history. It is, instead, a theological work, looking for the signs of those who ruled in the fear of God — and frequently finding the signs of those who did not.

To be honest, I can’t be certain in advance what any ruler will do, and I find it difficult often to discern just from someone’s words whether they fear God or not, whether they respect God or not, whether they endeavor to bring the righteousness of God to their lives and to their leadership. It’s hard to tell.

It’s easier to tell from what they’ve done. Thorns, you see: they harm. They scratch. They bite. Thorns, remember, were placed upon the head of Jesus Christ.

And light? Light enables us to see. Where there… where there are things that are hidden, where there are lies, where there is something that is not mystery but menace, well: that is not light, now is it? Light reveals. Light defines. Light warms and comforts.

Centuries after this poem was written, Jesus stood before Pilate. Pilate asked him if he was a king. Jesus said, my realm is of truth, and Pilate asked, “What is truth?” Well, truth is what happens when we bring light. Light reveals truth. And one of the things that revealed Pilate for who he was, was his inability to (or refusal to) go into not just the nature of truth, but the reality of truth, and discover there what it means to honor God.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.