Showing posts with label John 3:16. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John 3:16. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Gospel Echoes in God's Beloved World: Truth-Telling

A benefit of reading the lessons from The Daily Office lectionary first thing in the morning is that those passages from Scripture often give an amazingly fitting framework to the rest of the day. Today was one of those days when the themes of the Gospel lesson helped reveal a pattern in things that came up during the day, especially issues related to the environment.

The Gospel lesson today was John 3:16-21:

 ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
 ‘Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.’

God’s love for the world and God’s lack of condemnation for the world are clear themes here. I’m drawn in this passage to the idea that we make our own mess when we love “darkness” – evil – more than the good light. What we do in the light is visible to all; when we choose evil, we try to hide our actions from others and even from ourselves. Looking at this passage with others later in the morning, we talked about transparency and truth-telling.

During the course of the morning, I did some checking on the story of the contaminated water supply in and around Charleston, West Virginia. While residents are being told the water is now safe for most people to drink – pregnant women and children being the exceptions – there are reports that the smell of the contaminant is still present in the water and many people are wary of drinking it or using it for washing dishes and themselves. Straight answers are hard to come by.


I saw the usual stories about climate change: a draft UN report says that delay in acting on climate change has brought us to the point where “another 15 years of failure to limit carbon emissions could make the problem virtually impossible to solve with current technologies”; a drought emergency exists in California, possibly the worst drought since record-keeping began there; Australia began 2014 with the continuation of an extreme heatwave. I wondered again how we can know these things and continue to live as if nothing is happening.

I’ve been reading Verna Dozier’s The Dream of God: A Call to Return. As I took a break to read a bit more of it and looked at my notes, I noticed this passage that clicked with everything else:

Again and again God calls us to return. I think the calling still goes on today, but I believe the Christian church has distorted the call, narrowed it from a call to transform the world to a call to save the souls of individuals who hear and heed a specific message, narrowed it from a present possibility to a future fulfillment.

Today’s reading from John is one those passages that is often taken to be solely about individual salvation, about hearing and heeding a specific message, despite John’s clarity that this is about God’s love for the entire world and about the way that belief in Christ changes the way we act in the world, moving us from darkness into light.

Two recent New York Times stories that came to my attention later in the day echoed the themes of God’s call to live in the light, to choose to respond to God’s love by living in truth.

Nicholas Kristof reports on the results of an invitation for readers to suggest “neglected topics” that reporters have failed to cover sufficiently. The winner was the topic of climate change. Kristof observes that “You would think that we would be more attentive, with the federal government a few days ago declaring parts of 11 states disaster areas because of long-term drought. More than 60 percent of California is now in extreme drought.” He goes on to build a good case for us to start learning about, thinking about, and responding to what scientists know about climate change. He builds a case for bringing the topic into the light.

Skillful politicians and the powerful people who influence them have succeeded in sowing doubt where there is scientific certainty, of making it appear that there are two sides to the issue of climate change when there is in fact only one side with any sort of credibility. We shrug and take this as “politics as usual”, but it is in fact indicative of a spiritual failing among political and business leaders, reporters, and citizens who fail to question the falsehoods we are offered. The practice of Christianity and the unquestioning acceptance of lies are incompatible.

On Sunday, climate scientist Michael Mann’s piece If You See Something, Say Something argued that the crisis is at a point where climate scientists have a duty to enter public policy discussions and make clear what is at stake. He asks:

How will history judge us if we watch the threat unfold before our eyes, but fail to communicate the urgency of acting to avert potential disaster? How would I explain to the future children of my 8-year-old daughter that their grandfather saw the threat, but didn’t speak up in time?

Yes, it’s past time for reporters and scientists to end their silence. It’s also time for those of us who are Christians to honor the God who created and loves the world. It’s time for us to set aside our excuses for keeping ourselves in the dark about topics that are sometimes hard to understand and emotionally hard to accept; it’s time for us to accept Christ’s offer of true life and follow him into the light.






Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A Lenten Celebration

Since the last Green Sprouts post, the number of migrating sandhill cranes stopping in the Platte River valley has increased dramatically. The cranes are now easily spotted in fields during the day and on the river at sunset and at dawn.

Last Thursday I was driving home from Grand Island in the late afternoon, and had the delight of seeing cranes very near the road where I was driving. Several of them were dancing, jumping up into the air and spreading their wings.

This sight always thrills me and lifts my sprits. I’ve been thinking about why so many of us have this same reaction to the cranes, and I suspect it’s a combination of factors that make these birds so special to us. Their time with us each year is comparatively short, only six weeks or so; since their company is comparatively rare, we learn to value it. Their size coupled with the surprising grace with which they dance fascinates us. The sound when they gather at the river in the evening or when they take off in huge groups in the morning is surprisingly loud and difficult to ignore. They are a reliable sign of spring in our part of the world, an assurance that winter is nearly done.

For me, though, the biggest awe factor may be the history of this migration. According to the Rowe Sanctuary crane facts, the cranes have been making this annual trip for over nine million years. The Platte River itself is 10,000 years old, a short time in comparison. Moreover, they look ancient, like something that stepped out of a prehistoric diorama at a natural history museum. People who visit places like the Holy Land or ancient Greece or the ancient Celtic sites in Ireland are awed by the knowledge of the age of these sights and what that says about the human journey. The cranes are so much older than any of these things that we can’t even conceive of this length of time.

When people describe their experiences of seeing the cranes, they use words like ‘awesome’, ‘breathtaking’, ‘like nothing else I’ve ever experienced’. As they talk about these experiences, it becomes clear that crane-watching is a spiritual experience for many people, though they might never use that language to describe it. When we connect with these ancient birds, we somehow also connect with the Holy, with God.

The crane migration is observed in south central Nebraska with crane viewing tours, art shows, lectures, literary readings, and sporting events. At St. Stephen’s in Grand Island, we decided that it was time for the church to be involved in the celebration, to name this spiritual experience for what it is. To do so, we are planning a liturgical celebration of the sandhill crane migration for this Sunday. Since we are in the middle of Lent, we are planning carefully, balancing between the solemnity of Lent at this point of the liturgical year, and the joy of our experiences in the fields and along the river at this point of the Earth year.

Most Americans know how to have fun celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day during the season of Lent, wearing a lot of green as the earliest green shoots appear in fields and gardens. Healthy spirituality seeks a balance. Our liturgical year provides much of the balance, but being aware of tensions like those between our observance of Lent and the urge to celebrate these early signs of spring in our part of God’s creation keeps us from a narrow, rigid focus that is not especially healthy for our spirits.

You can share some of the joy and awe of crane-watching, especially at sunrise and sunset, through the web camera provided by the Rowe Sanctuary. You Tube has several videos of dancing cranes, including this one. And visitors are very welcome to join us at Saint Stephen’s in Grand Island at 10:30 this Sunday, March 22, for the Fourth Sunday in Lent and a liturgical celebration of the migration of the cranes.




Our text for this Sunday is John 3:14-21 – “For God so loved the world…”