The Rich Man and Lazarus
Luke 16:19-31
19 Jesus said, “There was a certain rich man who was splendidly clothed in purple and fine linen and who lived each day in luxury. 20 At his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus who was covered with sores. 21 As Lazarus lay there longing for scraps from the rich man’s table, the dogs would come and lick his open sores.
22 “Finally, the poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried, 23 and he went to Hades, the place of the dead. There, in torment, he saw Abraham in the far distance with Lazarus at his side.
24 “The rich man shouted, ‘Father Abraham, have some pity! Send Lazarus over here to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue. I am in anguish in these flames.’
25 “But Abraham said to him, ‘Son, remember that during your lifetime you had everything you wanted, and Lazarus had nothing. So now he is here being comforted, and you are in anguish. 26 And besides, there is a great chasm separating us. No one can cross over to you from here, and no one can cross over to us from there.’
27 “Then the rich man said, ‘Please, Father Abraham, at least send him to my father’s home. 28 For I have five brothers, and I want him to warn them so they don’t end up in this place of torment.’
29 “But Abraham said, ‘Moses and the prophets have warned them. Your brothers can read what they wrote.’
30 “The rich man replied, ‘No, Father Abraham! But if someone is sent to them from the dead, then they will repent of their sins and turn to God.’
31 “But Abraham said, ‘If they won’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they won’t be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead.’”
Jesus often teaches in parables. He tells stories which serve to illumine something about the way life is ordered when we are connected to God in life-giving ways. Sometimes the images are all positive, speaking in affirming ways about our God-connection. Other parables include examples of persons who sleep through invitations to a life of meaning and fullness. The story of the Rich Man and Lazarus falls into the latter category.
As stories which impart spiritual wisdom, parables are not to be taken at face value. Most often, these spiritual stories are layered, nuanced, and invite a different kind of seeing. To read and understand them at a surface level may allow the hearer to have some understanding of what the parable is trying to say; however, a surface reading will also miss many of the undercurrents flowing beneath the story’s surface.
These undercurrents are suggested by symbols and images which show up in parabolic language. Much as you would do in dream-work, it is helpful to notice the symbols, to trace their meanings, to track where they lead, and to explore the multiple meanings held within a single symbol or image. This kind of investigative work will allow you to find the place where your own soul resonates with some idea or some invitation in the parable.
(Your soul’s language is most often not a verbal language, but a language of images and symbols. You will recognize in your own dreams that what you most remember are not the words spoken in your dream, but the wild symbols and images which point beyond themselves to deeper realities within yourself and in the world.)
So given all this background, I’ll say that the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus is not first of all a commentary on the afterlife. The story is not trying to give a description of heaven, or the place of the dead, or any aspect of life after death. Thus, the story does not make a statement about whether there are different levels to which people go after death, nor is it about whether people can communicate across “chasms” after death. The story is basically about our living years. In the landscape of this parable, the “after death” aspect simply sets up a teaching about the way to live life with God in a way which gives life to the world.
Second, when looking at the parable, you do well to notice the many symbols in the story as Jesus tells it. Rich images appear everywhere. In working with the story, I made nearly a page-long list of the images contained in it. I spent some time following the trail of some images that seemed most crucial to the wisdom of this teaching story.
• rich
• poor
• Abraham
• Abraham’s bosom
• far distance
• great chasm
• death
• Hades (place of the dead)
• clothed in purple and fine linen
• lived luxury
• dogs
• sores
• gate
• scraps
• rich man’s table
• dip finger in water
• cool my tongue
• agony
• fire
• good things
• bad things
• send Lazarus
• five brothers
• Moses and the prophets
• rises from the dead
These images enliven the story and allow the reader to explore it for himself or herself.
The point of the parable seems to be about how we live now, in our living years, in light of death and the afterlife. How do we use our goods and our riches? How do we see our “resources”? Are we generous, miserly, hospitable, protective?
The Bible does not throw blanket condemnations on wealth and riches. Neither does it subscribe to the prosperity theory that God wants everyone to have an abundance of worldly riches . . and it certainly doesn’t teach that faithfulness to God = material blessings, which is a distortion of the Gospel.
In fact, while the Church has been obsessed with matters of sexuality – it seems like forever – the scriptures are much more concerned with the dangers of money and possessions. I sense that many of us are more comfortable demonizing certain elements of sexuality because we can objectify them or pretend we are not interested. But acquiring a lot of money not only is socially acceptable, it is encouraged, seen as a sign of ambition, drive, and creativity. But I digress . . .
In the parable, the Rich Man hides behind gates and doors, without interacting with the world’s need, which is personified by Lazarus. If not a picture of miserliness, at least the Rich Man is a symbol of self-protection, of luxury, of an “eat, drink, and be merry” lifestyle that lives oblivious to others or their needs. In the Rich Man’s world, the other does not even exist.
As I pointed out above, this story has a treasure trove of rich images . . . doors and gates . . . purple, fine linens versus body-sores and dog’s saliva . . . finest foods versus hunger . . . Father Abraham . . . life and death . . . chasms, separation, and alienation . . . the place of the dead . . . fire and water . . . luxurious excess or scraps from the table . . . on and on it goes. Any and all of the symbols are worth exploring.
The story portrays two rich persons . . . or even three, if you consider some of the alternative ways Lazarus was rich other than in possessions. (Each of us is rich in some way . . . just not always financially. In fact, sometimes financial wealth is the most impoverished state of all. Many persons are impoverished in compassion, or peace, or contentment, or generosity, or hospitality . . . you see how it goes.)
One man in the story is labeled “Rich Man” and he is portrayed in a negative light. But Abraham is also a wealthy man – the Hebrew scriptures describe his vast holdings of livestock . . . he was a wealthy man in his time – and it is Abraham who makes a place for Lazarus in his heart. He is a wealthy person who is generous, who opens himself to the other. He stands in contrast to the Rich Man who feasts solo behind closed doors and locked gates.
The parable turns on the Rich Man’s insistence that had he known better, his life would have been different . . . and at the very least, that his family should be warned so their fate will not be the same as his. There is no repentance, no real change of heart, just the thought – occurring too often among the privileged – that someone else should do something in order to alleviate their suffering.
But the moral of the parable is that everything you need to live a life of compassion and generosity has already been given. In the frame of the story, Moses and the prophets – especially the 8th century prophets – advocated compassion and kindness for the poor, the widows, and the orphans. If you don’t heed their call, you will not heed even someone who rises from the dead (see what Jesus did in that twist?).
There are many ways to slice the parable. I’ll leave most of them for you to explore. But I’ll suggest this basic question, which the story seems to ask in a most pronounced way: “Are you are child of Abraham (gracious, welcoming, generous) or are you a child of the world (gate-making, door-locking, door-not-opening, shielding, guarding, protecting, indulging)?”
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Tuesday, August 7, 2018
Spirituality as Subtraction, not Addition
Decades ago my wife and I knew a man who loved to tinker with woodwork, doing some minor carpentry around his house. At some point, he decided to build an extra room onto his house. With family members helping in the project, he added the room. But one room was not enough. Soon he decided he needed another . . . then another. I don't know how many rooms he added in all, but over the years his house took up nearly every foot of his city lot. This amateur carpenter never took anything down, only adding to his existing house until it ate up his entire property.
We were guests in his house a couple of times, and when he would give us the tour of the latest project, we would walk through a room to a doorway cut in the strangest place, spilling into a misshapen hallway that led to the next room, where the same pattern would be repeated. It was the only way he could get everything to fit together. I suppose in an emergency there was only one way in and one way out, because the home seemed like an endless chain of rooms and angled hallways that had to be navigated single-file. The entire layout was connected, to be sure, but was only loosely held together by the builder's latest whim. While I'm sure the layout made sense to him, to others nothing seemed to cohere.
Because we regularly passed the house in our coming and going, my wife began calling it the "Add-on Extravaganza." It became something of a game to drive by and see what the latest project was, the next "add-on" in the extravaganza.
His way of adding on to his house was far removed from a renovation or refurbishment, in which walls are taken down, the existing arrangement of the house is altered, and the old bones of a house are given new life. In a renovation, something has to be subtracted before something else can be added. If you want more space for a kitchen, you demolish a wall and open up space into a dining or living area. In the end, you most always have to get rid of something in order to make space for something else.
In our desire for a deepening connection with God, persons who engage an intentional spiritual path often thrill to find new prayer methods, retreat experiences, spiritual books, conferences, and classes that hold the promise of another step toward awakening. I know this temptation well. The appeal of a new book or a gifted teacher can be overwhelming. It is quite easy for any of us to begin to add this teaching to that experience . . . to add this prayer practice to my bagful of spiritual disciplines . . . to add a new understanding of my own inner landscape to all the understandings of myself I've accumulated through the decades. Add add add add add. . . .
Jesus told a short, "the kingdom-of-heaven-is-like . . ." parable.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field." (Matt. 13:44)
It's one of my favorite parables on many levels. The field represents many things, including your life. If the field is your life, then treasure is within you. But the parable emphasizes that in order to apprehend the treasure, you much first sell what you have.
**Sell what you have in order to buy the treasure.
**Empty yourself of whatever fills your interior rooms in order to make room for the treasure.
**Spend whatever you currently have in order to receive this priceless treasure.
**Make any sacrifice necessary in order to claim the treasure.
And all this giving-up in order to receive does not happen in the context of a grinding, regretful sacrifice, as if spending and emptying were onerous tasks to undergo. The treasure is of such magnitude that the "selling" is undertaken with joy, what St. Clare of Assisi called a "laudable exchange." We exchange the small joy we have in our hands for the greater joy or the "pearl of great price" . . . the unimaginable joy -- because it cannot be imagined -- of this treasure.
There is an unmistakable "sell-buy" dynamic at work here. We cannot simply keep adding on, adding on, adding on, without at some point acknowledging that finding this treasure means there are things I have to release in order to apprehend it. I must let go of some things in my life-world in order to fully receive -- or "buy" -- some other things that bring life.
In other words, I cannot hold onto life as it is or life as I experience it now, and merely add-on components of the spiritual life if I want to become the person God created me to be. Spirituality is not an add-on extravaganza! In reality, it is more about subtraction than addition. Some things must be sold, released, emptied, and let go of, in order to make space within us for the treasure we seek.
Personal transformation is more like home renovation than an add-on extravaganza. Bit by bit, some walls are coming down, colors are changing, modes of access are becoming more spacious. There is some demolition involved, and very often the deconstruction is painful. But also, something new and beautiful is being built from the old bones of our lives.
In the life that is continually becoming, this process will take us to our final breath.
We were guests in his house a couple of times, and when he would give us the tour of the latest project, we would walk through a room to a doorway cut in the strangest place, spilling into a misshapen hallway that led to the next room, where the same pattern would be repeated. It was the only way he could get everything to fit together. I suppose in an emergency there was only one way in and one way out, because the home seemed like an endless chain of rooms and angled hallways that had to be navigated single-file. The entire layout was connected, to be sure, but was only loosely held together by the builder's latest whim. While I'm sure the layout made sense to him, to others nothing seemed to cohere.
Because we regularly passed the house in our coming and going, my wife began calling it the "Add-on Extravaganza." It became something of a game to drive by and see what the latest project was, the next "add-on" in the extravaganza.
His way of adding on to his house was far removed from a renovation or refurbishment, in which walls are taken down, the existing arrangement of the house is altered, and the old bones of a house are given new life. In a renovation, something has to be subtracted before something else can be added. If you want more space for a kitchen, you demolish a wall and open up space into a dining or living area. In the end, you most always have to get rid of something in order to make space for something else.
In our desire for a deepening connection with God, persons who engage an intentional spiritual path often thrill to find new prayer methods, retreat experiences, spiritual books, conferences, and classes that hold the promise of another step toward awakening. I know this temptation well. The appeal of a new book or a gifted teacher can be overwhelming. It is quite easy for any of us to begin to add this teaching to that experience . . . to add this prayer practice to my bagful of spiritual disciplines . . . to add a new understanding of my own inner landscape to all the understandings of myself I've accumulated through the decades. Add add add add add. . . .
Jesus told a short, "the kingdom-of-heaven-is-like . . ." parable.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field." (Matt. 13:44)
It's one of my favorite parables on many levels. The field represents many things, including your life. If the field is your life, then treasure is within you. But the parable emphasizes that in order to apprehend the treasure, you much first sell what you have.
**Sell what you have in order to buy the treasure.
**Empty yourself of whatever fills your interior rooms in order to make room for the treasure.
**Spend whatever you currently have in order to receive this priceless treasure.
**Make any sacrifice necessary in order to claim the treasure.
And all this giving-up in order to receive does not happen in the context of a grinding, regretful sacrifice, as if spending and emptying were onerous tasks to undergo. The treasure is of such magnitude that the "selling" is undertaken with joy, what St. Clare of Assisi called a "laudable exchange." We exchange the small joy we have in our hands for the greater joy or the "pearl of great price" . . . the unimaginable joy -- because it cannot be imagined -- of this treasure.
There is an unmistakable "sell-buy" dynamic at work here. We cannot simply keep adding on, adding on, adding on, without at some point acknowledging that finding this treasure means there are things I have to release in order to apprehend it. I must let go of some things in my life-world in order to fully receive -- or "buy" -- some other things that bring life.
In other words, I cannot hold onto life as it is or life as I experience it now, and merely add-on components of the spiritual life if I want to become the person God created me to be. Spirituality is not an add-on extravaganza! In reality, it is more about subtraction than addition. Some things must be sold, released, emptied, and let go of, in order to make space within us for the treasure we seek.
Personal transformation is more like home renovation than an add-on extravaganza. Bit by bit, some walls are coming down, colors are changing, modes of access are becoming more spacious. There is some demolition involved, and very often the deconstruction is painful. But also, something new and beautiful is being built from the old bones of our lives.
In the life that is continually becoming, this process will take us to our final breath.
Thursday, August 2, 2018
The "Who" and "What" of Wheat and Weeds: Part 2
Jesus then told them this story:
The kingdom of heaven is like what happened when a farmer scattered good seed in a field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and scattered weed seeds in the field and then left.
When the plants came up and began to ripen, the farmer’s servants could see the weeds. The servants came and asked, “Sir, didn’t you scatter good seed in your field? Where did these weeds come from?”
“An enemy did this,” he replied.
His servants then asked, “Do you want us to go out and pull up the weeds?”
"No!” he answered. “You might also pull up the wheat. Leave the weeds alone until harvest time. Then I’ll tell my workers to gather the weeds and tie them up and burn them. But I’ll have them store the wheat in my barn.”
(Matt. 13:24 - 30)
In the parable's landscape, if the field stands for my life or your life, then the wheat and weeds represent those qualities or characteristics which make up who we are, how we see ourselves, and what we do in the world. I'm calling these aspects of ourselves the "what" which lies within the field of my life or yours. We may judge some of those qualities as positive and helpful (wheat), while considering other characteristics to be negative, harmful, or unwanted (weeds).
The parable suggests we cannot presume to know what is wheat and what is weed within our interior field; therefore, Jesus encourages us to allow everything to grow in the field and leave the work of separating the two to God.
This "letting be" can be arduous work in itself. Our notion of what is right and what is wrong can be deeply ingrained within us, and to find something within the field of our lives that does not sync up with our vision of what it means to be "religious" or "spiritual" can prompt us to move heaven and earth to remove the "weeds." At the very least, finding weeds within the plot of our lives can lead to overwhelming guilt and shame.
"Let everything grow in your field," the parable teaches.
Who
There is another level at which the parable may be read, this one suggested by Jesus himself. It is social in nature. In this interpretation, the field is the world. The wheat and the weeds represent various people in the world -- the "who's" sown in the field -- some who do good and work for life . . . others who are more destructive and whose presence diminishes life. But people, scattered throughout the world, embody the images of wheat and weed.
[I would argue that no single person is completely "wheat" or completely "weed." Rather, each of us exist as some combination of wheat AND weeds, some confused mixture of the two . . . with most of us trying to maximize our wheat and trying to hide or minimize our weeds. . . . all a matter for another essay at some other time.]
Some people who are sown in the world look appealing. They appear to be doing good for others (perhaps advocating for a cause we find admirable or beneficial) or seem to be successful in their own right; however, in reality they cause fractures. They divide and separate. Appearances notwithstanding, they do not bring life and healing to the world. The parable acknowledges that we cannot presume to know, from the ways things appear, what impact this person has on the well-being of others and the planet.
On the other hand, there are some who appear to be weeds. They live on the fringes or they seem disreputable. We might think of their behavior or lifestyle as scandalous. We can see little in their lives which seems life-giving to us; yet, some of these people are wheat, according to the parable. They are subversively bringing life and wholeness to the world.
The parable admonishes us to allow everything in the field to grow without trying to rid the world of one thing or the other. I find this a remarkably difficult stance to take in current culture, given my own observation of what seems to be life-threatening and harmful. I want to judge, to presume to know who is good and who is bad, who to support and who to protest.
The ongoing, insidious temptation for religious people is the tendency to judge others. Those on an intentionally spiritual path are not exempt from this tendency to judge, and in fact may be more prone to judgment than others.
I find it easy enough to judge others according to the light I have at the moment. Further, I presume my way is THE Way, and then judge those who have chosen some other way. Of course, in such judgments, I am always the wheat and you -- if you don't agree with me -- are always the weed.
Don't be quick to judge others, the parable teaches. Don't be presumptuous enough to label either wheat or weeds in the world. Don't assume what you see is all there is. Any assemblage of people, whether the Church, the coffee group, or those gathered at the halfway house, is a strange and confusing combination of wheat and weeds. Every person in the field of the world is full of complexity and holds within themselves an awkward mixture of wheat and weeds.
Including me. And you.
The kingdom of heaven is like what happened when a farmer scattered good seed in a field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and scattered weed seeds in the field and then left.
When the plants came up and began to ripen, the farmer’s servants could see the weeds. The servants came and asked, “Sir, didn’t you scatter good seed in your field? Where did these weeds come from?”
“An enemy did this,” he replied.
His servants then asked, “Do you want us to go out and pull up the weeds?”
"No!” he answered. “You might also pull up the wheat. Leave the weeds alone until harvest time. Then I’ll tell my workers to gather the weeds and tie them up and burn them. But I’ll have them store the wheat in my barn.”
(Matt. 13:24 - 30)
In the parable's landscape, if the field stands for my life or your life, then the wheat and weeds represent those qualities or characteristics which make up who we are, how we see ourselves, and what we do in the world. I'm calling these aspects of ourselves the "what" which lies within the field of my life or yours. We may judge some of those qualities as positive and helpful (wheat), while considering other characteristics to be negative, harmful, or unwanted (weeds).
The parable suggests we cannot presume to know what is wheat and what is weed within our interior field; therefore, Jesus encourages us to allow everything to grow in the field and leave the work of separating the two to God.
This "letting be" can be arduous work in itself. Our notion of what is right and what is wrong can be deeply ingrained within us, and to find something within the field of our lives that does not sync up with our vision of what it means to be "religious" or "spiritual" can prompt us to move heaven and earth to remove the "weeds." At the very least, finding weeds within the plot of our lives can lead to overwhelming guilt and shame.
"Let everything grow in your field," the parable teaches.
Who
There is another level at which the parable may be read, this one suggested by Jesus himself. It is social in nature. In this interpretation, the field is the world. The wheat and the weeds represent various people in the world -- the "who's" sown in the field -- some who do good and work for life . . . others who are more destructive and whose presence diminishes life. But people, scattered throughout the world, embody the images of wheat and weed.
[I would argue that no single person is completely "wheat" or completely "weed." Rather, each of us exist as some combination of wheat AND weeds, some confused mixture of the two . . . with most of us trying to maximize our wheat and trying to hide or minimize our weeds. . . . all a matter for another essay at some other time.]
Some people who are sown in the world look appealing. They appear to be doing good for others (perhaps advocating for a cause we find admirable or beneficial) or seem to be successful in their own right; however, in reality they cause fractures. They divide and separate. Appearances notwithstanding, they do not bring life and healing to the world. The parable acknowledges that we cannot presume to know, from the ways things appear, what impact this person has on the well-being of others and the planet.
On the other hand, there are some who appear to be weeds. They live on the fringes or they seem disreputable. We might think of their behavior or lifestyle as scandalous. We can see little in their lives which seems life-giving to us; yet, some of these people are wheat, according to the parable. They are subversively bringing life and wholeness to the world.
The parable admonishes us to allow everything in the field to grow without trying to rid the world of one thing or the other. I find this a remarkably difficult stance to take in current culture, given my own observation of what seems to be life-threatening and harmful. I want to judge, to presume to know who is good and who is bad, who to support and who to protest.
The ongoing, insidious temptation for religious people is the tendency to judge others. Those on an intentionally spiritual path are not exempt from this tendency to judge, and in fact may be more prone to judgment than others.
I find it easy enough to judge others according to the light I have at the moment. Further, I presume my way is THE Way, and then judge those who have chosen some other way. Of course, in such judgments, I am always the wheat and you -- if you don't agree with me -- are always the weed.
Don't be quick to judge others, the parable teaches. Don't be presumptuous enough to label either wheat or weeds in the world. Don't assume what you see is all there is. Any assemblage of people, whether the Church, the coffee group, or those gathered at the halfway house, is a strange and confusing combination of wheat and weeds. Every person in the field of the world is full of complexity and holds within themselves an awkward mixture of wheat and weeds.
Including me. And you.
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
The "Who" and "What" of Wheat and Weeds: Part 1
Jesus then told them this story:
The kingdom of heaven is like what happened when a farmer scattered good seed in a field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and scattered weed seeds in the field and then left.
When the plants came up and began to ripen, the farmer’s servants could see the weeds. The servants came and asked, “Sir, didn’t you scatter good seed in your field? Where did these weeds come from?”
“An enemy did this,” he replied.
His servants then asked, “Do you want us to go out and pull up the weeds?”
"No!” he answered. “You might also pull up the wheat. Leave the weeds alone until harvest time. Then I’ll tell my workers to gather the weeds and tie them up and burn them. But I’ll have them store the wheat in my barn.”
(Matt. 13:24 - 30)
For years I've heard this parable used as a text on discernment, that is, how to distinguish wheat from weeds, good from evil. With even a casual reading of the parable, however, you can see that interpretation runs counter to what the parable teaches. Rather than instruction on how to determine what is wheat and what is weed, the parable in essence says, "Don't bother with worry over what is weed and what is wheat. In many cases you won't be able to figure out one from the other. In pulling out what you think is bad, you may in fact be rooting out something life-giving. And in cultivating what is good, you may be encouraging something detrimental to wholeness. Let it be for now, and trust God to do the weeding out when the time is right."
Thus, the parable serves as a cautionary word against judgment and presuming to know how to sort out the good from the bad. After all, our notion of wheat and weed is most often personally or tribally referenced, so that our investment in what is good or bad shapes how we see. Something I see as completely wheat is seen by another person -- perhaps from a different political party, a different nationality, a different race, a different sexual orientation, a different worldview -- as weed. Only in our arrogance do we stand in our own center and claim our own view to be absolute Truth. Yet, such arrogance lives within each of us. It is the arrogance of our own presumed "knowing" that Jesus cautions against in the parable.
Let me offer you a couple of levels, beyond the background above, on which to consider the parable. I'll write about the "what" today, and then shift the field a bit to reflect on "who" in the next essay.
What
Consider the parable as a story about your own inner world. In the parable's language, your life is the field. And in the field of your life, the Farmer has scattered good seed, wheat-seed. There is treasure within you, and the capacity to do good in the world. You have gifts woven into your unique DNA, that when shared with the world bring life and light and healing. Inside you is the image of God, the God-seed if you will, that is full of life and waits to germinate, blossom, and produce fruit. Within you there is wheat.
But according to the parable, there is also weed scattered within you and me. We are each neither fully wheat nor fully weed. The field is not "either-or," but "both-and," both wheat AND weeds.
Each of us acts daily out of self-interest, an ego-centrism that is hard to weed out. Or perhaps we carry within our body some condition that limits our capacity to do what we'd like to do, and we think of that limitation as a weed.
The "what" of the parable -- at least as I'm presenting it -- are those qualities, traits, and characteristics within me or you which we want to characterize as wheat or weed. In fact, the "what" may include all the interior material that makes up my life, what it means for me to be me and you to be you.
And the teaching of the parable simply says, "None of us can accurately see what is wheat and what is weed in our own life. We may find some personal trait unpleasant . . . or we may struggle with some condition that feels debilitating . . . or we may think of some very good qualities about ourselves. . . . But we are not God, who alone sees all the way through us."
The parable cautions us against pulling too many of our interior weeds, those things -- I'm calling them "whats" -- that make up our interior world. I have learned this lesson the hard way. Once I became intentional about my connection with God years ago, I immediately wanted to get rid of the bad habits, debilitating conditions, and unpleasant feelings I felt hindered my connection to God. My language was, "I'm going to obliterate them!" as if I knew what was best for my life. Now, decades later, I am still learning that some of the experiences which seem most unpleasant to me, difficult and even paralyzing, are the ones shaping me most, deepening my connection with my own self, God, others, and the world.
I don't always resist judgment, just as I can't stop presuming to know what is best -- I'm finding this open stance to be especially difficult in the contentiousness of contemporary life, in which I want to presume to know what is wheat and what is weed -- but I am a work in progress. I recognize my limited ability to see what is true and what is false, what is wheat and what is weed, at least this morning as I write this piece.
Practical Helps
**In your prayer, ask God for the grace to give you a spirit of generosity, especially with yourself. "God, I'm asking for the grace to be generous with myself." This is a very Ignatian form of prayer which acknowledges that we do not generate this generosity (or whatever you are asking for) on our own. Rather, we receive it as a gift, as grace.
**Pray the Freedom Prayer:
"God, free me from the need to control what my life looks like."
"God, free me from my need to be perfect."
"God, free me from my impulse to judge myself."
"God, free me from my need to control my relationship with you."
**Regularly practice some form of Christian contemplative prayer, perhaps Centering Prayer or Christian Meditation. These more interior forms of prayer each have at their heart a continual letting go of thoughts, images, and mental commentaries. Practicing the prayer regularly, you will find that the "letting go" which takes place during the prayer time may be extended to ordinary life. Then, the compulsion to judge yourself or to presume that you know what is best for your life can be released in everyday life just as it is in the time of prayer.
I'll share some reflections on the "who" of wheat and weeds in the next post.
The kingdom of heaven is like what happened when a farmer scattered good seed in a field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and scattered weed seeds in the field and then left.
When the plants came up and began to ripen, the farmer’s servants could see the weeds. The servants came and asked, “Sir, didn’t you scatter good seed in your field? Where did these weeds come from?”
“An enemy did this,” he replied.
His servants then asked, “Do you want us to go out and pull up the weeds?”
"No!” he answered. “You might also pull up the wheat. Leave the weeds alone until harvest time. Then I’ll tell my workers to gather the weeds and tie them up and burn them. But I’ll have them store the wheat in my barn.”
(Matt. 13:24 - 30)
For years I've heard this parable used as a text on discernment, that is, how to distinguish wheat from weeds, good from evil. With even a casual reading of the parable, however, you can see that interpretation runs counter to what the parable teaches. Rather than instruction on how to determine what is wheat and what is weed, the parable in essence says, "Don't bother with worry over what is weed and what is wheat. In many cases you won't be able to figure out one from the other. In pulling out what you think is bad, you may in fact be rooting out something life-giving. And in cultivating what is good, you may be encouraging something detrimental to wholeness. Let it be for now, and trust God to do the weeding out when the time is right."
Thus, the parable serves as a cautionary word against judgment and presuming to know how to sort out the good from the bad. After all, our notion of wheat and weed is most often personally or tribally referenced, so that our investment in what is good or bad shapes how we see. Something I see as completely wheat is seen by another person -- perhaps from a different political party, a different nationality, a different race, a different sexual orientation, a different worldview -- as weed. Only in our arrogance do we stand in our own center and claim our own view to be absolute Truth. Yet, such arrogance lives within each of us. It is the arrogance of our own presumed "knowing" that Jesus cautions against in the parable.
Let me offer you a couple of levels, beyond the background above, on which to consider the parable. I'll write about the "what" today, and then shift the field a bit to reflect on "who" in the next essay.
What
Consider the parable as a story about your own inner world. In the parable's language, your life is the field. And in the field of your life, the Farmer has scattered good seed, wheat-seed. There is treasure within you, and the capacity to do good in the world. You have gifts woven into your unique DNA, that when shared with the world bring life and light and healing. Inside you is the image of God, the God-seed if you will, that is full of life and waits to germinate, blossom, and produce fruit. Within you there is wheat.
But according to the parable, there is also weed scattered within you and me. We are each neither fully wheat nor fully weed. The field is not "either-or," but "both-and," both wheat AND weeds.
Each of us acts daily out of self-interest, an ego-centrism that is hard to weed out. Or perhaps we carry within our body some condition that limits our capacity to do what we'd like to do, and we think of that limitation as a weed.
The "what" of the parable -- at least as I'm presenting it -- are those qualities, traits, and characteristics within me or you which we want to characterize as wheat or weed. In fact, the "what" may include all the interior material that makes up my life, what it means for me to be me and you to be you.
And the teaching of the parable simply says, "None of us can accurately see what is wheat and what is weed in our own life. We may find some personal trait unpleasant . . . or we may struggle with some condition that feels debilitating . . . or we may think of some very good qualities about ourselves. . . . But we are not God, who alone sees all the way through us."
The parable cautions us against pulling too many of our interior weeds, those things -- I'm calling them "whats" -- that make up our interior world. I have learned this lesson the hard way. Once I became intentional about my connection with God years ago, I immediately wanted to get rid of the bad habits, debilitating conditions, and unpleasant feelings I felt hindered my connection to God. My language was, "I'm going to obliterate them!" as if I knew what was best for my life. Now, decades later, I am still learning that some of the experiences which seem most unpleasant to me, difficult and even paralyzing, are the ones shaping me most, deepening my connection with my own self, God, others, and the world.
I don't always resist judgment, just as I can't stop presuming to know what is best -- I'm finding this open stance to be especially difficult in the contentiousness of contemporary life, in which I want to presume to know what is wheat and what is weed -- but I am a work in progress. I recognize my limited ability to see what is true and what is false, what is wheat and what is weed, at least this morning as I write this piece.
Practical Helps
**In your prayer, ask God for the grace to give you a spirit of generosity, especially with yourself. "God, I'm asking for the grace to be generous with myself." This is a very Ignatian form of prayer which acknowledges that we do not generate this generosity (or whatever you are asking for) on our own. Rather, we receive it as a gift, as grace.
**Pray the Freedom Prayer:
"God, free me from the need to control what my life looks like."
"God, free me from my need to be perfect."
"God, free me from my impulse to judge myself."
"God, free me from my need to control my relationship with you."
**Regularly practice some form of Christian contemplative prayer, perhaps Centering Prayer or Christian Meditation. These more interior forms of prayer each have at their heart a continual letting go of thoughts, images, and mental commentaries. Practicing the prayer regularly, you will find that the "letting go" which takes place during the prayer time may be extended to ordinary life. Then, the compulsion to judge yourself or to presume that you know what is best for your life can be released in everyday life just as it is in the time of prayer.
I'll share some reflections on the "who" of wheat and weeds in the next post.
Monday, July 30, 2018
A Consideration on Planting the Mustard Seed
He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which someone took and planted in a field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”
He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”
Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable. So was fulfilled what was spoken through the prophet:
“I will open my mouth in parables,
I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world.”
(Matt. 13:31 - 35, NIV)
The two short parables in today's reading, taken from Matthew 13:31 - 35, subtly depict situations of scandal. The mustard tree (or bush, depending on which commentary you read), was an undesirable plant that most persons would prefer to root out of their field or garden.
Yeast was a symbol of that which was unclean and generally unwanted. (Note that the Jewish festival celebrated "Unleavened Bread," not "leavened bread.") The presence of yeast was scandalous.
Yet, these two undesirable elements are likened in differing ways to the kingdom of heaven.
The first image has often been misrepresented in preaching and teaching. Matthew records Jesus' words, not as, "the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed," but as, "the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in a field." While there may be connections between the mustard seed and the kingdom of heaven (the tiny seed having influence beyond its proportionate size), at least here, Jesus connects the kingdom of heaven to the entire process of planting the mustard seed in a field.
In other words, it is not enough to hold a mustard seed in your hands and say, "this is what the kingdom of heaven is like." No, the kingdom of heaven is like holding that scandalous seed, and then throwing the seed where it does not seem to belong, where you would not want it, where the seed does not seem to fit.
As an undesirable plant, one that has a corrupting influence on its surroundings, it will take over. [I wonder if mustard trees/shrubs were the "kudzu" of the Ancient Near East. Kudzu is the invasive vine that has taken over much of the Southeastern United States over the past couple of decades. I saw a couple of acres of kudzu last weekend on a road trip through rural Arkansas, and was reminded of its corrupting, invasive nature. It had overtaken trees, telephone polls, and even houses alongside the highway.]
So the kingdom of heaven is likened to the act of putting something small and subversive where it doesn't seem to belong . . . planted into human lives . . . tossed into political systems . . . sown into social dynamics . . . dropped into vocational decisions . . . this small seed gets thrown into places it doesn't seem to belong and it begins to alter the shape of those realities in what some might consider perverse or counter ways.
The seed of this kingdom is sown in me . . . in humans . . . in the landscape of the world. The act of sowing, planting, throwing, and scattering is an unmistakable part of the kingdom of heaven, so that the scandal of the kingdom is embedded where it does not seem to fit.
He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”
Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable. So was fulfilled what was spoken through the prophet:
“I will open my mouth in parables,
I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world.”
(Matt. 13:31 - 35, NIV)
The two short parables in today's reading, taken from Matthew 13:31 - 35, subtly depict situations of scandal. The mustard tree (or bush, depending on which commentary you read), was an undesirable plant that most persons would prefer to root out of their field or garden.
Yeast was a symbol of that which was unclean and generally unwanted. (Note that the Jewish festival celebrated "Unleavened Bread," not "leavened bread.") The presence of yeast was scandalous.
Yet, these two undesirable elements are likened in differing ways to the kingdom of heaven.
The first image has often been misrepresented in preaching and teaching. Matthew records Jesus' words, not as, "the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed," but as, "the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in a field." While there may be connections between the mustard seed and the kingdom of heaven (the tiny seed having influence beyond its proportionate size), at least here, Jesus connects the kingdom of heaven to the entire process of planting the mustard seed in a field.
In other words, it is not enough to hold a mustard seed in your hands and say, "this is what the kingdom of heaven is like." No, the kingdom of heaven is like holding that scandalous seed, and then throwing the seed where it does not seem to belong, where you would not want it, where the seed does not seem to fit.
As an undesirable plant, one that has a corrupting influence on its surroundings, it will take over. [I wonder if mustard trees/shrubs were the "kudzu" of the Ancient Near East. Kudzu is the invasive vine that has taken over much of the Southeastern United States over the past couple of decades. I saw a couple of acres of kudzu last weekend on a road trip through rural Arkansas, and was reminded of its corrupting, invasive nature. It had overtaken trees, telephone polls, and even houses alongside the highway.]
So the kingdom of heaven is likened to the act of putting something small and subversive where it doesn't seem to belong . . . planted into human lives . . . tossed into political systems . . . sown into social dynamics . . . dropped into vocational decisions . . . this small seed gets thrown into places it doesn't seem to belong and it begins to alter the shape of those realities in what some might consider perverse or counter ways.
The seed of this kingdom is sown in me . . . in humans . . . in the landscape of the world. The act of sowing, planting, throwing, and scattering is an unmistakable part of the kingdom of heaven, so that the scandal of the kingdom is embedded where it does not seem to fit.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
The Journey of Unknowing (part 1): The Parable
In the summer of 2000, I was newly unemployed and seeking direction for the days ahead. My spiritual director suggested an 8-day retreat to help me see more clearly where I was standing, and how I might step into the coming days. So I went off for an 8-day directed retreat (after the fact I learned it was a retreat with the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola), during which I met daily with my spiritual director. She provided me with scripture and material for reflection (from the Spiritual Exercises). I spent the days praying and meditating, then talking with her about my experience of prayer.
It must have been obvious to her that I had my life-plan mapped out. Though jobless, I had already decided there was a certain kind of person I wanted to be and a certain kind of work I wanted to do in order to be that person.
Early in the week, she handed me this parable, instructing me to pray with it for the next 24 hours.
Jesus also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.”
(Mark 4:26 - 29)
Of course, I had read the parable before, in fact many times through the years. But its meaning had never been so clear. I was reading these words from a different place, and hearing them as if for the first time. The seed grows, whether the farmer is asleep or awake. The seed grows, not dependent on the farmer to know how it happens or to control the outcome. The seed grows, and the end result is out of the farmer's control.
Perhaps I could have reacted to this new revelation with dismay, but I did not. Rather, a flood of relief fell over me, a lightness of being I had never experienced. My life is not about how well I control it, how well I manage my surroundings and my situation, how well I manipulate the environment in order to get the outcomes I prefer.
Most humans are controllers. If there is a scale, I probably rate higher than average on the control-meter. I cannot say I was forever changed by this moment in the summer of 2000. It was a beginning point, but these 18 years later I'm still working out what this means for me, how to enter each day without squeezing the life out of it, how to go with the flow, how to surrender my tendency to manage people and things toward my desired wishes.
The spiritual life is, by definition, an endeavor of God's Spirit. Human knowledge and understanding are not the cornerstones of the spiritual journey. To be sure, you and I are invited into this life of connection with God which makes a difference in who we are with God, self, others, and the world. We are participants, and our intention to set ourselves to the journey is crucial. But according to the parable, we are not the final determiners of the harvest.
In fact, much of the growth of God's kingdom within us happens when we are in the darkness, when we are asleep, unconscious, unaware. I've come to believe this is so because for many of us, literal sleep is the only time we have our hands off the remote control, the only time we are not managing our world. We lay our defenses down and go to sleep . . . for a few hours giving God's Spirit an opening into our well-defended life.
[I've heard entrepreneurs and other people considered "highly successful" by society talk about how little they sleep at night because they are driven to be successful. Society at large applauds that ambitious drive. I wonder, though, if some of their sleeplessness is simply the fear of taking their hand off life's remote control, even to sleep . . . the anxiety that something may happen while they are asleep that they cannot manage or manipulate . . . so their fear masquerades as the drive to succeed!)
Through the years, some people have said to me this is why they will not participate in a silent retreat . . . because they would have to lay aside their newspaper, put away their cell phone, and be out of touch for a few hours. One person actually said to me, "What if something happened in the world while I was on retreat, and I knew nothing about it?!" It was impossible for her to imagine being out of control and out of "the know", even for a few hours.
In the landscape of the parable, Jesus describes a farmer who scattered and tended the seed, but who both slept and stayed awake, and who experienced that the growth of the seed did not depend on his efforts, nor on her understanding. It is a wonderful little parable, and a marvelously clear image of how spiritual growth and fruitfulness, are not functions of my planning, my manipulation, my management, my control, my expertise. Other forces are at work and other designs shape how the seed grows.
For today, listen to the parable for yourself.
What does it say to you about your spiritual journey?
What invitation do you hear in it?
Is there some action which would help you step more fully into God's invitation as you hear it in these words?
It must have been obvious to her that I had my life-plan mapped out. Though jobless, I had already decided there was a certain kind of person I wanted to be and a certain kind of work I wanted to do in order to be that person.
Early in the week, she handed me this parable, instructing me to pray with it for the next 24 hours.
Jesus also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.”
(Mark 4:26 - 29)
Of course, I had read the parable before, in fact many times through the years. But its meaning had never been so clear. I was reading these words from a different place, and hearing them as if for the first time. The seed grows, whether the farmer is asleep or awake. The seed grows, not dependent on the farmer to know how it happens or to control the outcome. The seed grows, and the end result is out of the farmer's control.
Perhaps I could have reacted to this new revelation with dismay, but I did not. Rather, a flood of relief fell over me, a lightness of being I had never experienced. My life is not about how well I control it, how well I manage my surroundings and my situation, how well I manipulate the environment in order to get the outcomes I prefer.
Most humans are controllers. If there is a scale, I probably rate higher than average on the control-meter. I cannot say I was forever changed by this moment in the summer of 2000. It was a beginning point, but these 18 years later I'm still working out what this means for me, how to enter each day without squeezing the life out of it, how to go with the flow, how to surrender my tendency to manage people and things toward my desired wishes.
The spiritual life is, by definition, an endeavor of God's Spirit. Human knowledge and understanding are not the cornerstones of the spiritual journey. To be sure, you and I are invited into this life of connection with God which makes a difference in who we are with God, self, others, and the world. We are participants, and our intention to set ourselves to the journey is crucial. But according to the parable, we are not the final determiners of the harvest.
In fact, much of the growth of God's kingdom within us happens when we are in the darkness, when we are asleep, unconscious, unaware. I've come to believe this is so because for many of us, literal sleep is the only time we have our hands off the remote control, the only time we are not managing our world. We lay our defenses down and go to sleep . . . for a few hours giving God's Spirit an opening into our well-defended life.
[I've heard entrepreneurs and other people considered "highly successful" by society talk about how little they sleep at night because they are driven to be successful. Society at large applauds that ambitious drive. I wonder, though, if some of their sleeplessness is simply the fear of taking their hand off life's remote control, even to sleep . . . the anxiety that something may happen while they are asleep that they cannot manage or manipulate . . . so their fear masquerades as the drive to succeed!)
Through the years, some people have said to me this is why they will not participate in a silent retreat . . . because they would have to lay aside their newspaper, put away their cell phone, and be out of touch for a few hours. One person actually said to me, "What if something happened in the world while I was on retreat, and I knew nothing about it?!" It was impossible for her to imagine being out of control and out of "the know", even for a few hours.
In the landscape of the parable, Jesus describes a farmer who scattered and tended the seed, but who both slept and stayed awake, and who experienced that the growth of the seed did not depend on his efforts, nor on her understanding. It is a wonderful little parable, and a marvelously clear image of how spiritual growth and fruitfulness, are not functions of my planning, my manipulation, my management, my control, my expertise. Other forces are at work and other designs shape how the seed grows.
For today, listen to the parable for yourself.
What does it say to you about your spiritual journey?
What invitation do you hear in it?
Is there some action which would help you step more fully into God's invitation as you hear it in these words?
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