Wilderness Grace

 

March 10, 2024 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Psalm 107, Ephesians 2:1-10

I’ve been thinking a lot about the wilderness lately. Just this week, for instance, the child of one of my friends from Seminary has started their trek along the Appalachian trail. Morgan has been posting about the trip, about what they’re taking and what they’re shipping along the way for resupply.[1] They’ve got 2200 miles of trail to travel, and will experience so many challenges along the way. Now, Morgan isn’t alone out there – in fact, after the trail reopened in 2021, around 3000 people have hiked from Georgia to Maine within twelve months of their starting date. Still, I hope that you will join me in praying over the next several months for Morgan’s safety and endurance on their thru-hike.

Packing for such an adventure is a challenge – how do you carry all that you need, while still being light enough to hike for tens of miles, day after day? Along the trail, especially within the first 100 miles, are places where hikers leave gear, tools, and even food that they realized they didn’t need. Like our blessing box, the things are left in protected boxes for others to use. In this way, the hikers become “trail angels” for each other, offering things you may have forgotten, or find works better for you than for someone else.

This is a wilderness grace – sharing what we have for those who may need it, and taking what is shared when we need it most. In experiencing these moments of grace, we naturally begin to think of the greater grace shown by God. Psalm 107 reminds us that even those who follow God’s trail can get lost on the way:

Some of the redeemed had wandered into the desolate wilderness, and they couldn’t find their way to a city or town. They were hungry and thirsty, their lives were slipping away. So they cried out to the Lord, and God delivered them from their desperate circumstances. God led them straight to human habitation. (Psalm 107:4-7)

When we recognize that God leads us to each other – to help each other out – we can celebrate with joy. That’s what this pink Sunday, in the middle of Lent is all about –celebrating that we’re not alone on this Lenten journey! God has led us to each other, led us back from our aimless wandering, and back to the trail of love, mercy, and grace. I wonder how God is calling you, right now, to the trail made just for you?

But even if we’re back on the right trail, we may have a pack that’s too heavy. After all, there’s always a trade off, between weight (or volume) and utility. Sure, it may sound like you want to curl up with a good book at the end of a day of hiking, but carrying a library of hardbacks with you probably isn’t worth the extra weight and space. Things like that are a luxury on trail – and maybe, if you take a day to stay in a hostel or a cabin along the way, you’ll find a book to be just the pick me up you need. But it gets more complicated when you’re packing gear that’s not as obviously extraneous. What you pack in your bag reflects your needs – but also your fears. You need a shelter – but do you pack the deluxe tent, a camping hammock, or just a simple tarp? Or maybe your rain jacket could work? To lift you off the hard ground, maybe a quarter inch of foam, rolled up is enough for you. Or maybe you need an insulated, inflatable mattress. Choosing what you need is an endless series of decisions and trade-offs.

I mentioned that you might “pack your fears” – this is an expression that hikers use to mean adding extra gear, “just in case.” Sure, you have a down quilt – but what if it’s still too cold? Just in case, you better pack a camping blanket. Or, if one method of water filtration is good, then surely three is better, just in case the first two break. What if you encounter a bear? Better pack a set of bells, bear spray, and bear cannister. As you add more and more to your pack, it gets heavier and heavier, fuller and fuller, and you slow to a crawl along the trail.

In life, sometimes we metaphorically pack our fears. We might look at how we treat others. As a teenager, maybe you were afraid of not being cool enough. So, you learned to just lean on things and not say much. And it became a quirk. “Hey, it’s Jordan Catalano. I just like how he leans against stuff. He leans great.”[2] Other times, it may not have been safe to be yourself, for any number of reasons. And so, you may have learned to deflect conversation, to bottle up or pack away what you felt. As the world has changed, some of those strategies that became quirks or became habits – well, it may be time for an emotional pack review. I wonder, what do you need to keep? What might you be able to do without? How can you be more of who you are inside, who God has called you to be?

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul talks about the aftermath of just this sort of spiritual/emotional pack review:

You used to wander around like the people of this world. You followed the rule of a destructive spiritual power… All of you used to do whatever felt good and whatever you thought you wanted, so that you were children headed for punishment just like everyone else. (Ephesians 2:2-3 selected)

Whatever vices we’ve packed, the problem comes when we don’t consider the way our actions affect each other. We are not meant to wander in the desolate wilderness, but to wander together, as part of God’s family. Loving each other means being able to be authentically ourselves with each other. Being able to call out something harmful, or to be able to say, “Hey, I see God working in this way through you!” And that’s what Paul does next, too: he writes, “God is rich in mercy. He brought us to life with Christ while we were dead as a result of those things we did wrong. He did this because of the great love that he has for us. You are saved by God’s grace!” (Eph. 2:4-5)

“You are saved by God’s grace.” Or, to put it another way, no matter how heavy, how unwieldy our backpacks become, God helps us pare it down to what we need. Everything you’re struggling with, God understands, and helps to carry the weight. That’s why, as Jesus says, “My yoke is easy, my burden is light.” We’re not called to go alone – but to know that we are yoked together, following in the footsteps of Jesus, and with our packs lifted by God’s good grace.

Sometimes, though, we can become too zealous in removing things from our packs. I recently have been experimenting with hiking in a great kilt, or feileadh mòr in Gaelic.[3] This is a wonderful multi-functional garment – it’s essentially a five-yard long wool blanket that is pleated and hung over a belt. While hiking, you can pull the ends over your shoulders for warmth, or even secure it like a hoodie for rain protection. Since it’s made of wool, it keeps 80% of its warmth even when its wet, and the natural oils in the wool act like a water-resistant coating on modern clothing.[4] All of that is wonderful – and so, I got a little full of hubris, and decided to hike with only a tarp, hammock, and my kilt for warmth for an overnight at Robbers Cave state park. I figured it’s been warm enough lately, so I don’t really need to worry about it getting too cold at night. Surely the warm wool of the great kilt would be enough?

Turns out, in my efforts to push back against “packing my fears,” I went too far the other way. Though I love hammock camping, I’d forgotten that you need to protect against heat loss in two directions – above and below. The kilt was great at keeping me warm as an overblanket, or as an underquilt – but not both at once. Compounding the problem, the temps fell to the low forties over night, when I was expecting mid-fifties at worst. Fortunately, on my way out of the house before leaving for the hike, I had remembered that I had been given a very small, very lightweight emergency mylar blanket as a gift for Christmas. I grabbed it, as a “just in case” – and it fulfilled its purpose, keeping me warm enough to not get hypothermia and actually sleep for a short while. So, thank you Faith, for your gift was the grace I needed to make it out of the wilderness.

I learned only after this misadventure that the Gaelic for the Great Kilt - feileadh mòr – derives from two or three sources. One is a Latin root – velum – meaning curtain or veil – later, a sheet, as in a sheet of paper or the sail of a ship. The other roots are Proto-Celtic, which meant generosity, modesty, and/or a festival vigil. A “modesty sheet” – a “blanket of wakefulness” – or a “celebration of generosity.” Somehow, all three roots seemed appropriate.

As we reflect on the journey of wilderness grace, we see that it encompasses our challenges and fears along the way. Like thru-hikers on the trails of life, we pack our metaphorical backpacks with both essentials and excess baggage. But the good news is that God is our ultimate trail angel.

Just as hikers leave supplies for each other along the trail, God offers us the grace we need for our journey. The psalmist reminds us that even in our wandering and desperate circumstances, God leads us to human habitation, to each other. Ephesians tells us that we are saved by God’s grace, and no matter how heavy our burdens, God helps us pare down to what we truly need. However, there’s a delicate balance in this journey. We shouldn’t become so zealous in removing things from our packs that we overlook the essentials. As I learned on a chilly night at Robbers Cave, sometimes we need unexpected gifts – like the emergency blanket – to keep us warm and safe.

So, my friends, as we celebrate our shared journey through Lent, and our shared journey through life, let us embrace the wilderness grace of sharing and receiving. Let us be grateful for the trail angels God places in our lives, those who offer the essentials we need when we least expect it. And may we, in turn, be trail angels for one another, sharing God’s grace generously. Amen.

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[1] Morgan’s story is used with their permission.

[2] Referencing ABC’s My So-Called Life.

[3] Pronounced “FAY-lee MORE.”

[4] Thanks to Tom from Fandabi Dozi for the overview of the Great Kilt’s utility.

Cross in a Circle

 

February 25, 2024 @ Trinity Bixby

Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel

Mark 8:31-38, Romans 8:5-18

Sitting in a circle like we are today, we see things a bit differently than in our comfortable rows. The change, even after a few weeks, still feels new and different – perhaps subtly wrong, even – and we find ourselves looking both at the symbols of our faith, that are sitting on the table in the middle – AND at the people sitting across from us. Our attention may wander, as we see movement in many places, hear sounds that we’re not used to – but a phrase may pull us back into connection with the worship service.

Maybe it’s something you’ve heard in church a hundred times, but it sparked your interest today. Maybe it’s a window you’ve never seen before, or really looked at deeply. Is this wrong? We’re certainly taught to pay attention to one thing at a time, especially in worship settings. If you ever lose your path, there’s a map in your hands – the bulletin. Where are we? Oh yes, in the sermon time. Good, that’s comforting.

It's normal and good for us to see things in new ways from time to time, and it’s also normal and good for us to want to return to the familiar ways we’ve known before. Sometimes, we can, and sometimes we can’t. That’s certainly a part of living life, of facing new changes and recognizing that the path we’re on leads us past them, or back through them, sometimes multiple times.

Jesus’ path led him through times of difficulty, of suffering, at many points. From ditching his folks to go to the temple at age 12, to fasting in the wilderness, to the exhaustion of long travel, and of course, the strong suffering of what we call Holy Week – Jesus was no stranger to suffering. Yet, when he tells his disciples of some of what he is soon to face, Peter reprimands him, telling him such bad things could never happen, that God would protect him.

Jesus’ response is stronger than anything we’ve heard him say before: “Get away from me, Adversary! You are seeing things from a human point of view, not from God’s.” Jesus then calls the whole crowd together with the disciples to hear his next words. This is sure sign that what he’s about to say is meaningful, and will need to be remembered.

Jesus then says, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it.”

As powerful and straightforward as this is, it caused confusion with the crowds then, and confusion within us today, too. Part of the trouble, then and now, is the lack of context. Before Jesus suffering, death, and resurrection on the cross, the expression “take up your cross” probably sounded incredibly odd. And even today, we still are lacking the context of life after resurrection – what will it be like to see the world from God’s viewpoint instead of our own?

Let’s unpack this statement a bit, starting with the first line. “Deny yourself” is better translated as in the version of scripture we read this morning, “give up your own way.” Stop following yourself, and only yourself – like a puppy chasing its tail, and wearing itself out in one place.

Perhaps you’ve been on a car journey with a number of others – whether your family, a school trip, or something like that. When we’re excited, the volume can naturally rise, as each conversation group tries to speak louder than the last, until absolutely no one can hear themselves think over the din. Then, the roar from the driver cuts through – “Quiet down! I will turn this car around, if I have to!” Usually, that’s enough. Conversations settle down, but inevitably, they’ll bubble up again and again. No one person in any of the conversations has control over the full volume – it’s only collectively that the volume can be changed. And to do that, it takes everyone being on the same page about it – that the volume levels in the car are important, and matter, despite the individual excitement.

This presents a choice, then, that is echoed in many places in our lives – the choice between following our own desires, heedless of the ramifications for others – and the choice to put our own needs behind someone else’s – even many someone elses’ at once. When we “give up our own way,” we can look at the impact of our choices, noticing that little Thomas has been covering his ears for the last ten minutes, because the noise is just too loud. Then, we choose to keep our voice lower – to benefit everyone, and especially those who were suffering previously.

When we sit in the round like this, it becomes easier to pay attention to each other. To see someone shiver in the AC – and be able to offer them a blanket. Our own focus shifts from ourselves to the cross at the center of the circle – and to the people gathered together. In his letter to the Romans, Paul puts it this way, “The attitude that comes from selfishness is hostile to God… But you aren’t self-centered. Instead, you are in the Spirit… If Christ is in you, the Spirit is your life because of God’s righteousness.”

So, we are called to give up our own way – and then “take up our cross.” I wonder what this means. Does it mean that we must seek out suffering? Or even death? Or is suffering and death only Jesus’ cross, and our cross is different? I wonder what the crowds around Jesus would have understood this to mean. In Greek, the word that means cross is much older than the torture device used by the Romans. It means “stake” or “pole” – and was also used for fence posts, for tentpoles, and for wide beams that support roofs. From there, you can get a sense of how it might also be used for what we call a cross. Given that, it’s not clear to me what the crowds might have understood. Take up our fenceposts? Pick up your tent? Or, perhaps, bear your part of the weight of the house. I wonder, too, if there’s a bit of both-and in this. Take up your fences – we are not to be separated. Pick up your tent – this is a trip, and it seems to be one-way. When you take your cross, you lighten the load for everyone else.

Once again, the cross in the center of the circle reminds us that Jesus has born our burdens, and we can help share each others burdens, too. Every one of us who takes up our cross finds that it is, indeed, our part of the one Cross of Christ. The fear we’ve had, of taking up this burden, is eased when we find that it is shared not just with each other, but with the one who created the universe. Surely, together, we can proceed as Jesus leads us.

As Paul puts it, “All who are led by God’s Spirit are God’s children… You received a Spirit that shows you are adopted as God’s children… But if we are children, we are also heirs. We are God’s heirs, and fellow heirs with Christ – as we suffer with him, we will be glorified with him.”

So, we have eschewed our own way, taken up our part of the burden of the cross, and found our leadership in following Jesus. In focusing on the cross at the center of our circle, we naturally look to each other, too. We encourage each other to grow closer together – for as we get closer to the cross, we also get closer to each other. In the same way, as we get closer to each other, we also get closer to the cross – so long as we are not following our own way, away from the center.

My friends, during this Lenten season, let us support each other, recognizing that by sharing in each other’s burdens, we reduce the suffering for all of us. When we turn to follow Jesus, we turn to help each other. Our lives will all contain parts that are difficult, and parts that are easy, just as Jesus did. Together, we can follow Jesus, helping to distribute the weight of our difficulties and the joys of our differing perspectives around the circle.

May you hear the good news of resurrection when Christ calls you to follow. May the Spirit fill you with God’s grace and love, that you would have the strength to reach out to others when you are in need. May God’s presence with you always give you the will to help lift up the burdens of those around you. Amen.

Heavenly Starlight

 

January 7, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Isaiah 60:1-6, Matthew 2:1-12

Over a decade ago, I was living in Nome, Alaska, working for a Catholic radio station while I began the process of finding my first call – the first church I would serve as a pastor. I remember, early one morning, I heard back from a church that wanted to interview me – and how special it felt that things were moving forward. We scheduled a time to talk, and I got to thinking about how God’s call to ministry takes some odd twists and turns. After all, there I was on the Bering Sea, a half-continent away both from my home state of Michigan and from the church that wanted to interview me, in New Mexico. That evening, my four roommates and I got another exciting call – one we had been hoping for since we moved in! The Aurora Borealis, the northern lights – they were shining in the skies above the tundra! We all rushed to get our warm clothing on, hopped in the one car that we shared, and drove out of town to a remote hillside, where we plopped down on the tundra, and watched the skies above.

If you’ve seen pictures of the Aurora, you know that it’s usually shimmering with a green light. That’s how this began, too – a soft green ribbon, shimmering across the sky. Bands of color, waving in the celestial wind. But then – something unexpected. Some of the bands changed color, fading from green, and back into a bright pink! It was hard to look away, despite the cold and frozen ground, but it seemed like the whole world around us was lit up with green and pink light, each casting shadows in different directions. And every now and then, a white streak would light up the sky, more brightly than the northern lights, even if just for a few moments – these shooting stars were a coincident meteor swarm! Awestruck at the beauty of the heavens above, my roommates and I stayed put for over an hour and a half, mostly in silence. When the Aurora had dimmed a bit, and we were solidly cold, we stood up, and marveled again – for, while the cold of the permafrost had seeped into our bodies, we had transferred heat back into the ground below us. Without even trying, we had made “permafrost angels” shaped to our bodies – a melted spot that continued to look upwards even as we warmed up at home with cocoa and conversation.

I’ve often remembered those lights above – the beauty and majesty, even glory, of a sky illuminated not just by stars but by curtains of light and streaks of meteors. In the world before electric lighting, such an amazing display would have been more frequently seen – especially by peoples around the world who tried to interpret meaning from everything that takes place in the skies above.

The sky was considered God’s home by the ancient Hebrew people – God is referred to in several places in the Bible as El elyon – God-from-on-high. The lights of the stars and the moon and the sun are all referred to as reflections of God’s glory – and the prophets play with this concept frequently, referencing the light of God shining from people, just as it shines from the heavens. As Isaiah says, “Arise, shine, your light has come; the Lord’s glory has shone upon you. Though darkness covers the earth and gloom the nations, the Lord will shine upon you; God’s glory will appear over you…. Lift up your eyes, and look all around…. Then you will see and be radiant; your heart will tremble and open wide.”

Perhaps, then, it’s no wonder that Magi, who were ancient astronomers and advisors to kings in Persia, Parthia, and beyond, would take note of special signs in the skies. While there were no cameras at the manger, and we’ll never have a complete picture of the star of Bethlehem that the Magi followed westward, I can only begin to picture its beauty by remembering the aurora. Yet, most of our imaginings of the star of Bethlehem, that famous Christmas star, do so as a linked set of crosses, a horizontal one in the form of St. Andrew’s cross, and a vertical one with a very long tail, pointing downward. It’s rare to see any movement depicted in the star – yet, clearly the Magi followed something. I like to imagine it as akin to the aurora, pulsing and waving through the atmosphere above in pinks and greens and whites, beckoning all who see it to stop and look up at the marvel of God’s creation – and then down, seeing the Word made flesh, God choosing to become fully human. Perhaps this is only visible in hindsight, but the radiance of God shone from the heavens, and from Jesus, and from all who followed the Way that Jesus taught.

That light from God is not any less beautiful when we can’t see it. Indeed, we continue to shine with its invisible lovelight, that occasionally flares into the visible world. As my great-grandfather put it in a prayer-poem:

Stars that shine above, tell of God’s love.

For even when clouds hide, still they are there.

So we, dear Father, though shadows hide Thee,

Know Thou art keeping watch with tenderest care.

Beauty and love, visible and invisible – God is our constant companion, now and always. Along with the Hebrew people, along with the Magi, along with the early church, and along with our neighbors, we follow God’s light in our lives. The Magi found wisdom in their journey, and returned with word of the divine in the world. Yet, amid their search, shadows emerged – Herod’s deceit veiled by the guise of reverence, threatening the purity of the newborn’s light. This paradox, where shadows seem to cloak divine radiance, echoes our own reality – an imperfect world where darkness and light contend with each other. But pure light would blind us as surely as pure darkness – perhaps this is why God’s presence, though constant, is only occasionally visible.

Our souls resonate with the celestial dance of stars, the heavenly starlight, bearing witness to God’s unwavering presence in all places – the heavens above, on earth below, and within our hearts. The cosmic ballet reminds us that God’s light persists, guiding, comforting, and revealing. Even its shifting colors remind us that life is always in motion – reforming and reorganizing according to the will of God.

Our lives are woven with moments of unexpected beauty, unexpected turns, and unseen connections. It’s in these intricacies that God’s guiding hand manifests – a vibrant reminder that amidst life’s twists and turns, God’s light persists, illuminating our paths and inviting us to reflect the light in our daily encounters. In the busyness of our lives, it’s easy to overlook the divine choreography unfolding around us – a dance of grace, love, and unexpected joy.

As we navigate our early pilgrimage, let us remain attentive to the hues of God’s presence. The lights above are not limited to those who look up, as we reflect God’s light in our lives. So, let us heed the divine invitation – becoming bearers of God’s radiant revelation. Let us marvel in the majesty above, and leave “angels” of our presence behind us, from the warmth we share with the world. Let our lives echo the Magi, who sought wisdom, and were willing to listen when God sent them warnings – and also were able to marvel at God’s presence in the world.

May you follow the light of God wherever it leads you. May you be filled with the light of the Holy Spirit to shine from you on every path you take, whether it’s the one you expected, or not. May the light of Jesus shine from the face of all you encounter, that you can know that we are all children of the Light. Amen.

 

Sharing the Way

 

December 24, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Luke 1:5-17, 57-80

Today is a day of unexpected things happening – it is, after all, “Christmas Eve” – but right now, it’s morning. Our story from the Bible is about a Holy Family – but not the Holy Family. And that holy family – of Elizabeth and Zechariah – had given up hope of having a child, yet God has acted to bring about John’s birth. The unexpected continues in the story – Zechariah doesn’t expect to be struck mute, nor do the friends of the couple expect them to name their son Yehochanan, which means, “God is Gracious.” And I highly doubt that anyone expected Zechariah to burst into song after at least nine months of silence!

In our context today, telling the story of John’s birth is unexpected, because for so many of us, John seems like an ancillary character in the Christian story. Supporting cast – important, but maybe not all that memorable without the crazy costume and diet. But in the ancient world, John was the one who was widely known – and his connection to Jesus was the surprise! The historian Josephus, who was Jewish and writing in the first century, described grown-up John this way: “…John, that was called the Baptist… was a good man, and commanded the Jews to exercise virtue, both as righteousness towards one another and piety towards God, and so come to baptism,” washing their bodies to indicate that their “soul was thoroughly purified beforehand by righteousness.”[1]

Of course, all of that is about John later in life than we greet him this morning, at his birth, circumcision, and naming. Luke’s story of John’s birth intertwines with Jesus’ – John is born first, and is ready to “prepare the way” for Jesus. John is the forerunner – the vanguard – the trailblazer – and he knows it. His birth is very much a miracle to Elizabeth and Zechariah, and they have been warned to raise him as one dedicated to God, never touching alcoholic drinks, just as the prophets of old. Indeed, he has no need for spirits, since he’s filled with the Holy Spirit![2] I should note here, by the way, that not drinking alcohol was considered risky in the first century CE – it’s not like they had water filters, or pop, or even coffee or tea! Unfiltered water from wells and rain caused a great deal of sickness – whereas that same water, mixed with wine or beer, was much safer to drink. Fresh-squeezed juice – and milk – would have been available at least for part of the year, though.

So, Zechariah hears all of this from an Angel while he tends to the temple – and like Abraham and Sarah before, Zechariah doubts that he and his spouse will be able to have a child. He’s struck mute – perhaps as an encouragement to listen more carefully – but is able to communicate through writing. When Elizabeth becomes pregnant, you can picture the great hope and expectation with the couple – and a few months later, she learns that her young cousin, Mary, is also pregnant. Elizabeth is better at interpreting the signs that God sends her way – when she feels John leap within her womb, she recognizes it as a sign that Mary’s child-to-come will also be holy. The birth of John and Jesus, she figures, will be the beginning of a great time of transformation. And John will blaze the trail for Jesus to follow, recognizing that anything he does to prepare the way for Jesus will make that transition all the smoother.

Here's another unexpected moment: John is tasked with preparing the way for the Way – for Jesus says, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” But Zechariah’s song, his Holy-Spirit-Inspired-Prophecy, contains the instructions for John’s great task:

My child, as prophet of the Lord

you will prepare the way,

to tell God's people they are saved

from sin's eternal sway.

Then shall God's mercy from on high

shine forth and never cease

to drive away the gloom of death

and lead us into peace.

 John – the one named “Gracious is God” – is tasked with telling the world that there is forgiveness for sin – that God’s grace is here. That light will break through the darkness, even the shadow of death itself. That the Lord – the Holy One – is on the way.

That’s why we tell John’s story, even on Christmas Eve – because he shares the way with Christ Jesus. He shares the way to Jesus – recognition of ways in which we have fallen short of God’s plan for us – and he shares the way with Jesus – in the total immersion into God’s radical grace and peace. And John shares the Way itself, as we’ll see in a few weeks when we get to the story of John baptizing Jesus at the river Jordan.

Now, as we ponder the unexpected – in all the ways that John is set to prepare the Way – we can be reminded of the unexpected ways that God works in our lives, too. Just as John was tasked with guiding hearts toward forgiveness and grace, we too are called to embrace unexpected paths, to prepare and make room for the transformative power of God’s grace in our lives. Just as John’s family recognized the unexpected power of God working in their lives, so too should we see God at work with us. And just as John listened to God’s call to share the Way, we are also called to pave the way for reconciliation, forgiveness, and peace – even immersing ourselves in the radical love and grace of God, every time we remember our baptisms.

As we approach the celebration of Jesus’ birth, let us remember that this season is not merely about the expected trappings of tradition, but about embracing the unexpected grace that God offers. May we, like John, become heralds of hope, sharing the Way of love and peace in our communities and our hearts. I encourage you, when you have a quiet time in the midst of the holidays, to ponder on all the ways that God is calling you. How are you being led to prepare the Way – to live the Way – to share the Way? Where do you feel God’s grace most in your life?

May you hear the voice of the Holy Spirit, see the love of Jesus Christ, and live in the righteous grace of God. Amen!

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[1] Antiquities book 18, chapter 5, section 2.

[2] Please pardon the anachronism of this joke – the term “spirits” meaning “alcohol” is a medieval usage that would not have been used before distillation technology was invented.

Pound Wise

 

Roman Bronze As (pound) coin
Obverse - head of Janus. Reverse - Prow of a ship

You've likely heard the expression "penny wise and pound foolish" - meaning that you can pay attention to the details and still miss the big picture. This, of course, makes more sense when you understand that the penny and pound are units of money from the UK - not a mixture of money and weight as it first appears in the US. We are so used to decimal currency - 100 cents in a dollar - that it's easy to forget that currency hasn't always been like this. Before the radical attachment to multiples of ten, in both currency and metric measurement, usually the importance was in being able to break something into pieces of equal value.

Foiled Expectations

 

November 12, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Proverbs 9:1-6, 10-18; Matthew 25:1-11

“Jesus’ parables are like a wrapped gift – part of the joy is in carefully unwrapping it, and being surprised by the contents.” Those were the opening words of a children’s message given at the church I attended and served in Seminary, and they’ve stuck with me all these years later. There’s a number of things that stood out to me – first, the casual assumption that kids will carefully unwrap a gift. I definitely was one to tear the paper, throwing it aside, rather than carefully lifting the tape and folding up the paper to use again. Next, the idea that parables, these “short stories by Jesus” as AJ Levine puts it, that these needed unwrapping. How often have you heard someone say, “the plain text of the Bible says…” or something to that extent? If a parable needs to be unwrapped, then the “plain text” readers are looking at the paper, and ignoring what’s in the box. But, it’s also important to not only look at what’s in the box – the meaning – and ignore the wrapper entirely. You can’t summarize the parables easily, ignoring how they’re put together. The wrapping paper and box’s contents go together. Jesus’ parables are a master craft in setting up expectations, and then foiling them.

The parable of the Bridesmaids, for instance, begins in the middle of the story. Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven will be like ten young bridesmaids who took their lamps and went out to meet the groom.” Jesus is relying on folks knowing what a wedding ceremony was like. But our context for weddings is very different, and so it’s like we have an extra, unintentional wrapping. A gift bag, pretty in its own right, but it’s important to take the gift out of the bag.

For us, weddings are usually a ceremony in a church or other special place, followed by a reception nearby, and then the couple goes off on their own. We celebrate them, and they head off on their way to either a honeymoon, or at least a time of newlyweds, setting up their life together. But in Jesus’ day, the engaged couple would often live at the bride’s home, and the wedding would take place there, once the engagement was over. Then, the newlyweds would travel to the groom’s home, where his family and friends, and maybe even the entire village, would spend around a week with them, feasting and celebrating the wedding. It was a bit like the honeymoon came to the couple – and was combined with the reception!

The parable of the lamp-wielding women, then, starts in the middle of the story. The wedding has already happened, but the couple hasn’t yet arrived for the feasting. Jesus sets us amongst the expectant women – perhaps the family members, perhaps the friends – and involves us in their preparations to welcome the couple. Five of the women are wise, and five are foolish – and the only difference is the amount of oil they bring with them.

Now, let’s unwrap a corner of the parable – you’re probably expecting this to be about preparation. “Surely, Pastor Lucus, the foolish ones are foolish because they didn’t recognize that they didn’t have enough oil.” Certainly, that’s one way of reading the parable. Except – no one knew how long the journey would be for the couple to arrive. The way of the procession to the groom’s home was usually not by the most direct route. Even if they both lived in the same village, they would wind out of the cluster of homes, through the fields, over mountains, and then return. The journey was a road trip – an intensive way to get to know your new spouse in relative solitude. Plus, couples could get “distracted” on their journey, as newlyweds are wont to do.

That’s all to say – there was no way to know how much oil was needed. The expectation would be, perhaps, that you would take turns with the watch – saving the oil to light all the lamps when the couple arrived. But, our expectation of this is foiled, when in Jesus’ story, all ten light their lamps and fall asleep with their lamps burning. The wise and the foolish together – so that it is only when the groom calls out that the lamps are trimmed, oil re-added, and light shines forth again. At that point, however, the foolish ones have run out of oil – and so are told to go buy more from the marketplace.

This is another foiled expectation – that the wise ones, who have extra oil, do not share with the foolish ones. “But kindness! But generosity!” The only response to this is, “But relationship!” Let me explain. The foolish ones don’t have oil to keep their lamps burning. This doesn’t make them bad people, or even unworthy of being part of the party. Yet, they feel bad – and don’t want to be seen as foolish by the wedding party. Instead of greeting the couple, they run off to the market – and miss the arrival that they had been so excited for!

Now, the parable that Jesus tells has another reference in the wrapper that we should take a look at. By calling five of the women wise, and five of them foolish, Jesus is calling back to the tradition of the book of Proverbs, where Wisdom and Foolishness are personified as women. A brief note before diving in here: the first nine chapters of Proverbs are written as a letter from a father to a son, sometime around 1000 BCE. That means that, well, its discussions of a woman as “something to get” are fairly gross by our standards today, filled with a not-so-subtle “male gaze”. As it’s put in Proverbs 31, “Who can find a woman of valor? She is worth far more than rubies.” All that said, I still love these passages for all that they lift up about wisdom – and I love that, even in the patriarchal worldview, the ideal of wisdom was personified as a woman.

 So, in Proverbs 9, we encounter a direct comparison between Lady Wisdom and Dame Folly, a sort of Goofus-and-Gallant story. Lady Wisdom calls to you to feast at a big banquet, and she has prepared all the food, and even gone so far as to build the very house where the banquet will be celebrated! The food’s all ready, the doors are wide open, and even the wine has been pre-mixed with water, so that everyone who attends can feel warm inside without losing their head to drunkenness.

Meanwhile, Dame Folly looks to trap passersby into providing her the feast – she hasn’t prepared anything, but intends to get the attendees at her feast to steal the food and drink. The warning is that, on the surface, they look a lot alike – both Lady Wisdom and Dame Folly invite you in with the simple phrase, “Come in with me!” We likely expect Lady Wisdom to be like Glinda the Good, all shiny and bubbly, and Dame Folly to be Elphaba the Wicked, cackling in the corner with her green skin – but no – it’s not until you see how they act in private that the differences are evident.  

Too often, I think, we end up continuing along the path that either Wisdom or Folly have set before us without thinking. Is all that matters which you first heard call out to you? No – we are called to use judgment about the character of those calling us in, and leading us. It’s right to change course when you realize you’ve been duped by someone who sounded ok at first, but then is encouraging you to steal and cheat for their favor. Wisdom encourages those who attend her banquet to “begin to live and learn to use good judgment.” In contrast, Folly’s guests “are in the depths of the grave.”

So, let’s get back to the wrapped parable of the light bringers. As it stands, the light from the five torches is sufficient to greet the couple – there was clearly no need for five more! But if the wise ones had divided what they had equally, there wouldn’t have been enough light. I’m more and more drawn to the idea that the wise and foolish aren’t all that far apart here. Yes, the foolish ones might have noticed the extra oil – but they would have had enough if only they hadn’t left all ten lamps burning while going to sleep. Then, if they hadn’t run off, but had stayed, they could have been part of the reception – which is what the couple really wanted! In trying to cover up a mistake, they end up making an even bigger one.

Here, then, is the gift under all the wrapping – we all make mistakes. But what matters most is remaining connected to each other and to God, rather than trying to hide those mistakes. You see, throughout this parable, your expectation was for the oil to be the most important part – but your expectation for oil was foiled! Ultimately, whether you have a lot or a little, God is hoping to see you – to see you at the gate, to see you at the feast, to see you in the light your lamp burns, or that of your neighbor, if your lamp has run out.

The parable reminds us that life is a series of foiled expectations, where what we thought was most important may not be, and where our perceived mistakes can lead to unexpected revelations. As we journey together on the Way of Christ, let us embrace the imperfections of our own oil lamps – acknowledging that mistakes are not roadblocks, but opportunities to learn and grow in love for God and each other. May we always prioritize connection over perfection, finding our individual lights, whether flickering or blazing, are all welcome at the feast.

May God’s grace fill your lamp with the oil of faith. May the love of Jesus Christ prepare you for a more-than-life-long commitment to the Source of Love. And may the light of the Holy Spirit shine from you, guiding others to the joyous celebration of knowing God. Amen.

Saints Alive!

November 5, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Psalm 34:1-5, 8-9, 11-19; Revelation 7:9-17

As I was preparing for the sermon this week, I learned something interesting about the history of All Saints’ Day. We Presbyterians have only officially celebrated this special church holiday since 1932! That’s the year the first Book of Common Worship was published, linking the major Mainline denominations in the United States, and helping us follow the same church calendar and common lectionary. Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, Reformed Church and Presbyterians, the UCC, the Disciples of Christ, the American Baptists, and many Unitarians, Mennonites, and even some Catholic churches agreed to work together, to follow the same calendar, and use the same schedule of readings in Worship. Some of the churches are more flexible about it than others, but at least there was unity in concept!

But why did Presbyterians not have an All Saints Day before then? The primary reason is, of course, that most Protestants had negative associations with the word “saints.” In the thirty years war and the religious league wars of the Reformation, “saint” became associated with “Papist Propaganda.” The Scots Confession, in particular, is filled with vitriol over the Catholic church and the connection to saints. And, in fairness to the Reformers, Protestant theology leaned heavily into the idea of the “Priesthood of all Believers” – that there was no need for an intermediary between your prayers and God. Instead of praying to the Saints and asking them to put a good word in with God, Protestants believe we can ask God directly – and confess to God directly, too.

But, while we have differing understanding of what a saint is, the concept of telling stories of God’s action in our lives is still strongly with us. Indeed, for us, a saint is not a separate, “almost-perfect” person to emulate – but someone who is trying their best to follow God’s way. This is how Protestants think about saints today – just as we have the “priesthood of all believers”, to some extent, we have the “sainthood of all believers”, too. Technically, the term sanctification means the lifelong process of a believer making choices to live more in the Way that Jesus has taught us.

In the Moravian church - which is one of the earliest Protestant denominations, predating even Luther – members are encouraged to write spiritual autobiographies, noting especially places where God’s presence was felt in their lives. Libraries full of these autobiographies are available for members and non-members alike to read in Moravian communities throughout the world. These are still a valuable resource to people to be inspired by the lives, choices, and actions of those who have come before them. In many ways, these stories of divine connection serve as windows into the “saints” of the church – the ordinary people, whom have encountered the divine acting in their lives. We’re all, in a way, saints alive!

We can also see this in ways that we teach people to follow the faith, whether as children or as adults. Psalm 38, for example, gives us wonderful advice, wherever we are in our faith journey. The Psalmist encourages us to follow God’s way, by blessing and praising God, honoring God and being radiant with joy in God’s presence. How does one honor God? By telling the truth, turning from evil, seeking peace and going after it. Praise God, honor God by always being truthful, turn from evil, and you will be radiant with God’s joy. It’s a simple premise – and, truthfully, sanctification sounds simple on the surface. Once you have committed to follow God’s Way, then follow it.

Of course, nothing is as easy as it seems. But God promises to be there through it all – God was there before you even committed to start on the path, and God will still be there holding you when your baptism is complete and you transition to heaven. The Psalmist even says, “the righteous have many problems, but the Lord delivers them from every one.” No matter what you face in life, God is there with you. And when your journey is complete, you will be with God, delivered from even the memory of evil, pain, and suffering!

Even when things are at their worst, the Psalmist reminds us to “taste and see that the Lord is good – Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in God!” Christians connect this with the communion table, of course – tasting the goodness of God through the grace-filled sacrament. Beyond this connection, though, is the idea that when you most need to take refuge with God, God will provide for you. At the most basic needs, God provides. Food, drink and shelter are wrapped in God’s love for you – with every taste you experience, you can recognize God’s presence. To extend the metaphor, every bite of food is alive with God’s presence. Every shelter from the wind and rain is alive with God’s presence. Every breath you take is alive with God’s presence. To recognize this is to lean into being a saint alive!

Of course, the saints alive today will transition to the saints eternal and triumphant, as has always happened. John the Revelator experienced something of this, through his dreams and visions during his exile on Patmos:

I looked, and there was a great crowd that no one could number. They were from every nation, tribe, people, and language. They were standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They wore white robes and held palm branches in their hands.

John notes that the people come from everywhere, knowing in the divine vision what would be impossible to know at a glance. They are beyond counting – and are varied in feature and language while still being unified in their symbols of victory, the white robe and palm branch. It testifies simultaneously to the universal scope of God’s love and salvation and to God’s ultimate victory over pain, evil, and violence. It shows John – and through his writing, us – that God’s plan of redemption extends far beyond whatever boundaries we might impose on it. It dismantles notions of exclusivity, and leads us to embrace a vision of God’s family – of the saints alive and saints beyond – who transcend cultural, linguistic, and ethnic barriers. We saints alive are blessed to be a part of this boundless reach of God’s grace, with all those who have gone before us.

John’s revelation also includes a difficult vision – that the white robes worn by the multitude are made white by being “washed in the blood of the Lamb.” There are songs and songs that use this rather disturbing description for all sorts of purposes, but I do not plan to do so today. Instead, I want to note two things – first, that the process of sanctification does not begin with anything we do or choose. Instead, it is God’s own actions of salvation, of Jesus’ sacrificial love for all the world, that makes it possible for us to be saints alive and saints beyond life. The “blood of the Lamb” is the paradox of life and death – but ultimately, it is in God’s initiating action in which we are saved. This is justification – the start of the sanctification process. We are made right with God through God’s own action, and not through our own. Yet, we still take the time to wash our robes carefully – the profound spiritual cleansing and renewal through our faith journey. We are called to respond to God’s grace and love with gratitude, and doing our best to follow in God’s Holy Way.

The saints we remember on this All Saints Day are people like us, with flaws, imperfections, and vulnerabilities. But they opened themselves to God’s transformational love. They embraced their calling with humility and trust, allowing God’s grace to work through them. And through learning their stories, we are likewise called to share God’s love in our lives.

How do we keep acting as saints alive? By being vessels of God’s love, extending that love through a hand of welcome and acceptance to all. By speaking truth and turning from evil. By telling our stories – and showing how God has been at work in our lives, as we take refuge in God when things are at their worst, and share the best of God’s radiant joy in everything we do.

 As we reflect on the saints who have gone before us, and those who stand among us today, it is clear that God’s love is active in the power of unity in diversity. Just as the many denominations found common ground in the Book of Common Worship, despite their differing understandings of what being a saint alive means to them, we are united in our belief that God’s transformative love is at the heart of our faith.

After all, we see God’s love transforming us in different ways, yet with the same core. Unity in God’s love does not require uniformity in our experiences. Let us continue to tell our unique stores of God’s work in our lives, for they are a testament to the richness of God’s love. May we be inspired by the unity we find in God and the diversity we cherish in one another. As we taste and see that the Lord is good, may we continue to be transformed by God’s love. May we follow in Christ’s Way, as saints alive. And may the Spirit guide us always to remember the lives of those who have gone before us, as saints beyond, until we are united again in heaven and the new life to come! Amen.

Ten Words

 October 8 & 1, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby

Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel

Today begins a sermon miniseries on the ten commandments – a two-parter, just as there were two stones on which the commandments were written. I’m borrowing a persistent idea in this series – that the commandments were divided across two tablets, and that the first three deal with God’s relationship with humanity, while the last seven are about humanity’s relationship with each other. However, this is not the only way to see things – and I think, by the end of the series, you’ll have a greater appreciation of the way the ten commandments have affected us – and, in turn, how we have affected the ten commandments!

First of all, let’s set something aside: no where in the Bible are these words referred to as the Ten Commandments! “But, Pastor Lucus!” I hear you saying, “What about Exodus 34:28?” You are very clever to have the verse number memorized! I’m very impressed. If you read it in the King James version, from 1611, it does, indeed say, “And [Moses] was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights; he did neither eat bread, nor drink water. And he wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten commandments.” Most English translations since then have used the same words, “the Ten Commandments.” But the Hebrew word used is not the word for commandment! It is, instead, the word for “things” or “words.”[1] Asheret ha’Devarim. The ten words – the ten terms – the ten utterances – the ten things. We do not have a word in English to hold all of what this entails. However, Hebrew does have a word for commandment – and it’s one you’ve likely heard before. Mitzvah is one part of the promise that God offers Isaac in Genesis 26:4-5 – “I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky… because Abraham listened to my voice, kept my charge, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws.”

Hebrew is not shy about using the right word for the right thing. So, the ten commandments should properly be called the ten words – and some English translations are starting to do this now, despite the weight of tradition against it.

So, the ten words are something like the overview of a contract, the terms and conditions of a website or app, or maybe like the outline for the lessons to follow. After all, all of the ten words are given greater detail later in Exodus and Deuteronomy. Like a list of terms and conditions, we often just skim through them to the bottom and hit “ok!” – but if we look carefully at them, we can learn quite a bit of what God’s expectations are for those who follow God’s way.

The first thing that God establishes is that this agreement is an exclusive one. If you agree to the conditions, then you must worship God alone. And who is God? “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” The very first statement establishes who God is – and what God has already done! Before the covenant has been established, God has already rescued the people from slavery. And God doesn’t want to have us confuse our actions with God’s actions. “You must have no other gods before me! Do not make idols and worship them, when you know me! Without me, evil and sin may take three or four generations to compound before it resolves, if at all, whereas with me, you will have steadfast love and grace for thousands of generations.”  

So, first of the ten words – keep the covenant exclusively with God. Don’t let the things we make take the place of God in your life. Great – that’s easy, right? After all, the idol manufacturers guild has long been out of business. While we may not make literal statues and fall down to worship them, we certainly still make idols in the world. Maybe it’s the stock market – worshipping the bulls and bears. Maybe it’s not of the market, but offering devotion to work itself. “Nope, too busy working to care for neighbor!” Maybe it’s a person – “Mister Big Man on Campus can do no Wrong!” – or maybe it’s a group – “I have to have the solid gold toothbrush model 2050, since it’s the only one recommended by the American Dental Lobbyists!” – or maybe it’s an idea that you worship – “The pursuit of happiness is more important than any other thing. If I’m not happy, no one can be.”

Following up on that idea, of not letting anything get in the way of worshipping God, the second of the ten words is, “don’t use God’s name lightly.” In ancient Egypt, where the Hebrew people had spent centuries, oaths and promises were sealed by invoking the name of the deities that were believed to ensure compliance. “By Thoth, I will not reveal this secret process for making beer.” But, of course, the Hebrew people followed only one God, so it became a reflex to offer oaths and promises in God’s name. The second word, then, is a rejoinder to think about what you promise in God’s name.

Of course, this means not using God’s name as part of profanity – but also to not claiming to represent God while acting against what God has taught. Don’t use God’s name to justify harmful actions that go against the principles of love, compassion, and justice. Don’t use God’s name to make yourself look pious, exploiting your religious ties for personal gain. And, following directly in the tradition of the Hebrew people, don’t use God’s name to make your own truth seem more genuine.

So, the ten words so far teach us that the covenant is exclusively with God, and we are not to invoke God’s name lightly. The third word reminds us to rest, remembering that God has freed us from endless work. “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt, but the Lord your God brought you out of there.” And the Sabbath Rest is not just for those in the covenant directly – but, as far as it is in your power, to offer rest to all, including foreigners, employees, and even the animals! Humans are not meant for endless grinding, but should instead emulate God, who takes time to rest. Maximum productivity is not the end goal – instead, we are called to balance work, study, and rest!

Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. The first three words of the covenant with Moses and the people of God.

Jesus encouraged the keeping of these words, despite those then and now who insist that Christians don’t have to do anything from the “dusty old testament.” Indeed, Jesus specifically said, “Don’t even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven’t come to do away with them but to fulfill them.” Jesus took the covenant seriously, and extended the direct meaning of the words. He taught, again and again, that it was love that was at the very core of God’s covenant with us. Part of exclusively keeping the covenant with God is to recognize when our actions against each other prevent us from carrying out God’s work in the world. In Matthew 5:23-24, Jesus says, “If you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that you have caused harm to your sibling, drop what you’re doing and go make things right – then, return and worship.” He’s saying, if you have caused harm to someone, that making that harm right, reconciling, healing, is of primary importance. It emulates how God has treated us. Just as God forgives us, frees us, and loves us, we are called to love, free, and forgive each other. That is how we keep God first – by remembering and honoring what God has done for us!

Today, we have discussed the first three of the ten words. Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. These are the words that talk about our relationship with God – but the other seven deal with our relationship with each other. We’ll dive into those next week! For now, let us take time to worship and to rest!

May God free you from the burdens you carry. May Christ lead you in forgiving others. And may the love of the Holy Spirit shine throughout your life! Amen.

___

Today, we are continuing the 2-part miniseries on the Ten Words. Last week, we talked about the way that the Ten Words – also known as the Ten Commandments, or the Ten Statements – are sometimes divided into two parts – God’s relationship with humanity, and our relationship with each other. The first three words, in plain English, are: Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power.

These ten words are unique among covenants with humanity in the Bible, because they are the only ones described as having been not just given by God, but written by God directly on tablets of stone. First, according to Exodus 19 and 24, Moses hears the Words and more from God, brings them to the Hebrew people, and returns with the collective will to agree to the covenant. Then, seventy-four leaders of the people – elders of the tribes – go up, and see God’s feet, resting on a floor of Lapis Lazuli – the bluest stone known in the ancient world, something like the stone on the bulletin cover this morning. Moses is called before God, ascending into the cloud, and the people are left below for forty days, after already agreeing to the covenant. That’s when Moses returns to find them worshipping a golden calf idol, and throws down the stones that God provided him, shattering them on the ground, representing the fact that the covenant had already been broken. But God calls him up again, and he returns with the stones containing the essence of the covenant, the ten words. Jewish tradition states that the stones were from the foundation of God’s throne, made of the bright blue lapis lazuli, the color of the sky itself. This is why the tassels on Jewish prayer robes are blue – to remind the people of the blue stone of the covenant. It’s why Lapis Lazuli was part of the garments worn by the chief priests. And it’s why the flag of Israel today uses sky blue as part of its design.

With that background, let’s turn to the fourth of the words written on the tablet: “Honor your father and your mother, exactly as the Lord your God requires, so that your life will be long and so that things will go well for you on the fertile land that the Lord your God is giving you.” I wanted to read out the whole text, as it’s often just summarized “honor your father and your mother” as though the connection back to God, long life, and the land is just incidental. Like the previous statement (for Sabbath), God provides the reasoning behind this one – honor those who have gone before you to show honor to God, and to make things better for you going forward.

Number four, then, is a cross-over Word – a transition from relationship with God to relationship with each other. In honoring your parents, you show that you are willing to keep the covenant that God is establishing. It is, in essence, a call to gratitude – to show thankfulness for those that have raised you, supporting them in turn when they need it. It is a reminder that the blessed ties that bind us together should begin with family – and it’s also why the genealogies appear throughout the Bible. Being able to trace your family back was a way of showing honor, and recognizing your place in the world as a part of God’s chosen people.

Now, about the word “honor” – in Hebrew, this word is kavod, the same word used for glory. But, it’s meaning is more direct – it means give weight to, like a thick woolen robe gives weight to the person bearing it. Glory and honor are recognition of the weight or burden of those who have lived long lives and carry the experiences with them. The elders of the families and tribes of Israel were chosen based on the weight of their experiences – often the eldest in the tribe would fill the role, but actual age wasn’t the most important consideration. The fourth Word, then, is about taking what your parents say with the proper weight – they won’t always be right, of course, but they’re right more often than kids tend to think! In honoring your parents, and teaching your children to honor their parents, the mantle of wisdom gains weight and continues to pass on through the generations, adding to the long life of all to follow. And ultimately, it is God’s great gift, of wisdom handed down, that allows the land to be worked properly and productively.

Give weight to what your parents say, and continue to pass the wisdom on. Great! Now, we’re into the words that actually are single words in Hebrew. These three words are Murder, Adulter, and Steal – and all carry the prefix of negation, lo – becoming not-murder, not-adulter, not-steal. And yes, “adulter” is a single word and concept, rather than the cumbersome, “commit adultery” that we have in English. Unlike every Word before, there’s no explanation for these. They are meant to stand on their own, with recognition of their importance.

But, we run into a problem of translation, again. In English, “murder” has a connotation of premeditated, illegal killing. The Hebrew word here, ratsach, has a much wider range of meaning. It comes from a root word that means “dash to pieces,” and it is used for violence of humans against each other – whether intentional or not, and whether or not the violence has been sanctioned by law, as in an execution. So, execution, manslaughter, and murder – all in a single word. It’s clear that the ancient Hebrew people also struggled with this – what does it mean to be called to war? To accidental death? Wrestling with the interpretation is something that we must continue to do today – but I tend to prefer “not-murder” as the intention here. Not killing each other, I think we can agree, is a good rule to live by.

In contrast, not-adulter and not-steal are pretty straightforward. Together with non-murder, these three words are about the actions we should not take. Don’t murder, don’t cheat on your spouse, or cause another’s spouse to be unfaithful, and don’t take what isn’t yours. The last of these, not-steal has another component in Hebrew that is missing in English – it also means “not-deceive.” Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you, yes, not even by deception.

That provides a great transition into the next Word – don’t bear false witness, as it’s traditionally rendered. A more literal reading would be, “do not respond with evil testimony against your neighbor.” This includes both making up a lie in court – the way we tend to think of bearing witness – but also the sense of don’t lie to your neighbor outside of court, too. Don’t speak evil words is my summary of this one, hopefully getting both senses together.

Give weight to your parents, and carry on their wisdom. Never participate in murder, adultery, or theft and deception. Don’t speak evil words.

That leaves us with two more to go – and these are more delicate. Now, instead of the actions and words, we’re dealing with sin of the heart and mind. “Don’t covet your neighbor’s wife and don’t covet your neighbor’s house or field, or servants, or ox, donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.” I’m going to deal with these two words separately, but make this note first: in Deuteronomy, the words for coveting of a neighbor’s spouse and coveting a neighbor’s things are different words. Even in the ancient world, the difference between people and things was clear. But we’ll come back to that in a moment – first, let’s talk about coveting.

Covet is an interesting word – we understand it, I think, as related to want or desire, but it’s rare that we use it in everyday conversation. Wanting and desiring something are a part of being human, though – we want and desire all sorts of things, and that’s not a bad thing, nor is it against the covenant. We might want to eat food, or want a place to live, or want a meaningful relationship. We might desire to change the way we look or feel, or a better job, or time away from the daily grind. But coveting goes beyond desire or want. It’s not seeing a neighbor’s new car, and thinking, “Hey, I really like that EV – I want to get one myself!” Instead, coveting is an intense, unchecked and envious desire for something specific that belongs to someone else. It often comes with a sense of entitlement and disregard for rights, feelings, or possessions of others.

Instead of “I want to get one like that for myself,” coveting would be thoughts like, “I want THAT exact car, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have it, even if it means taking it from my neighbor.”

Not surprisingly, coveting something is a very bad idea. In many cases of theft, the criminal had been stewing over the specific object for some time, cultivating an internal sense where taking the thing was justified, because the criminal thought it “would be better taken care of” by themself. The Word against coveting things is a warning against cultivating that depth of desire – recognizing it as a trap, and being able to turn your thoughts in a different direction.

Now, I mentioned that Deuteronomy uses two different words for covet in these two of the ten Words. It’s a subtle distinction, but the Hebrew for coveting a neighbor’s things means something like, “desire to take possession of” whereas the Hebrew for coveting a neighbor’s spouse is closer to “desire to take delight or pleasure in.” Some versions render this as “lust after” – which is fine in this context, but falls apart when the same word is used in Proverbs 1:22 – “and the scoffers delight themselves in scoffing” or in Song of Songs 2:3 – “in his shade, I took great delight and sat down.”

Add to this that, of course, there is no gender-neutral word for “spouse” in ancient Hebrew, so the Hebrew reads eshet, meaning woman or wife. However, the implication is clear – no matter the genders involved, “don’t crave delight with your neighbor’s spouse”.

 Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. Give weight to your parents, and carry on their wisdom. Never participate in murder, adultery, or theft and deception. Don’t speak evil words. Don’t crave delight with your neighbor’s spouse. Don’t covet what your neighbor has.

As we reflect on these Ten Words, we see how they form the framework for a life of righteousness, compassion, and reverence for God. They guide us in navigating our relationship with the Divine and with one another. Through these commandments, we’re reminded of the weight of our actions, the importance of gratitude, and the value of wisdom passed down through generations.

May we carry the wisdom of these commandments in our hearts, living them out in our daily interactions. Let us honor our parents, respect one another’s lives and property, speak truth and guard against envy. In doing so, we not only honor the covenant with God, but also contribute to the flourishing of our communities.

May the Ten Words be a beacon, illuminating our path toward a life lived in accordance with God’s gracious plan. May we find strength we need to love and serve one another, thus fulfilling the sacred covenant between God and humanity. Amen.

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[1] I continue to find it fascinating that the Hebrew understanding of words and things are contained in a single word! (עֲשֶׂרֶת הַדְּבָרִים)