Kingdom - Part 1

"As as you go, preach, saying 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.'" Matthew 10:7. New American Standard.

Over the last year, I've become infatuated with the hit HBO series, "Game of Thrones." In this fantasy fiction, multiple kings are vying to take the Iron Throne of King's Landing, and so far every attempt at overtaking the throne has failed. To me, the show opens my mind not only to the concept of kings and kingdoms, but to the diversity of philosophies that drive each king or queen to capture the main throne. 

Since I live in America and not a kingdom, it's hard to imagine the kingdom culture that the author of Matthew had Jesus talking about so much. The kingdom culture then revolved around the throne of Rome - the ever-growing, ever-expanding, and power-driven empire that sought to rule the world. If the author of Matthew was writing today in America, he might call it the "goverment of heaven" or the "rule of heaven."

No one really knows what the author of Matthew, Mark, or Luke were talking about when they coined the terms, but many have interpreted what they may have meant. And this is my interpretation of that oft confusing phrase. 

In my belief, Jesus was a Jew and he was mostly talking to Jews. While his message was intended for everybody "who has ears," his audience was mostly Jewish. So, we have to try to understand the kingdom of heaven through 1st century Jewish eyes. For the 1st century Jew, rule came in two levels - the rule of Rome and the rule of the religious leaders. In the Hebrew scriptures, the term "kingdom of heaven" is never used, so this would've been a new concept to Jesus's Jewish audience. 

Now, to talk about a "rule of heaven" or "rule of God" while living in the midst of a powerful ruling Roman presence was tricky business, but Jesus insisted nevertheless. He believed there was an alternative route to falling prey to both forms of reign. And that way was what was deemed the "kingdom of heaven." 

It's a stretch for us Americans since we live in a mostly free society, but for some people, the reign of Rome and religion translate to the American reign of government and religion. While I don't believe the context of modern political and religious culture comes anywhere close to the context of Jesus's kingdom culture, we can sort of see a glimpse of what he was talking about. To some people, the burden of high taxes represent a sort of government tyranny, and for others the marriage of religion and politics represent a sort of tyranny. Either way, there is more than one way to interpret this saying of Jesus because the truth is not known. It is a belief system as of yet.

My belief is that the idea of the "kingdom of heaven"has left its Jewish roots to evolve into a Christian version of transcendence. Since there is no comparison between American government and religious rule today with that of yesterday, the idea has evolved to take on a more eschatological appeal. Since times have changed along with the exit (for the most part) of tyrannical kingdoms and religious parties, mainstream Christianity has whittled the term down to encapsulate the afterlife and even a more conservative version of a literal reign of a heavenly God over the earth. In this version, Jesus will come back and rule in person, placing a judgment on every human being who ever lived. But I believe the ideas of "Jesus the judge" and "God the ruler" have evolved from the human experience of earthly authority. 

You reap what you sow on earth, so why not in heaven? Or, you do the crime, you do the time.

Except in this case, the time includes a trip to eternal hell which includes an added misery of conscious torment. God, being the ultimate ruler, will line everyone up at some point and stand them on trial for their life's accomplishments and misdeeds. The ledger will reveal all God needs to know in order to make the final decision.  

So, Jesus's "kingdom of heaven," I believe, has evolved into an extra-sensory and extra-physical experience that takes place somewhere else rather than right here and now. And I don't believe Jesus intended for his use of the phrase (if he even used it) to have anything to do with anything outside of the physical reality of life on planet earth among us humans. 

In that case, what did Jesus mean when he talked about such things?

First of all, I believe his message was intended for everyone whether they were devout Jews or adamant pagans (non-Jews or non-religious folks). So, it wasn't an exclusive idea for the spiritual elite. It was an idea that involved everyone who was sick and tired of being sick and tired of feeling that their lives were run by the bogus systems of this world. Those bogus systems took flesh and blood form of real government tyranny and real religious tyranny. And he offered an alternative - a path of transcendence that took one's mind off the current bogus systems and turned one's mind to the altruistic dimension of life. 

Jesus encapsulated the crux of this phrase through his infamous Sermon on the Mount. This great sermon wasn't so much a list of commands as it was a new identity for those who were seeking a way out of the systems they'd fallen so prey to. Jesus was introducing his audience to a new reality - one that turned the mind to the abundance of blessings that were found by acknowledging not the Roman way of life or the religious way of life as the ways to spiritual transcendence, but the way of altruism as the key to opening one's heart to experience the divine.

So for Jesus, the kingdom of heaven wasn't about eschatology or mysticism, but about flesh-and-blood, practical, love of neighbor. A simple concept, but easier said than done. 

Jesus, throughout chapter ten of the gospel of Matthew, seems to outline what this "kingdom of heaven" lifestyle looks like, and over the next series of posts, I'll be diving into what these different aspects look like both for the culture of his time and the culture of ours. I hope you join me on this journey, as it's my first time to take this sort of look at this often misconstrued phrase which I believe outlined the heart and soul of Jesus's message.

Conversion

"These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: 'Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel.'" Matthew 10:5-6. New International Version.



I once went on a mission trip to Alamo, Texas to deliver school supplies to the very poor population of people who lived there. I remember distinctly on the way there, as we were traveling down a dusty road, passing a weird looking house. It stood alone, and had all kinds of trinkets and crosses hanging from the roof of the porch.

As we passed the house, the leader of the trip announced to everybody on the bus that "this is the house of a witch." 

As I stared at the house, I was fascinated with the idea of seeing the house of a witch. From all the movies I'd seen, the only thing I knew about witches was they flew around on broomsticks and were only out at night. But later that view was changed when I watched Robin Hood. That movie showed me that witches didn't really fly around on broomsticks, but sat around and made potions with eggs, blood, and hair. 

So as we passed by the witch's house, I imagined there was an old, decrepid lady inside swirling her finger around in a pot of eggs, blood, and hair, placing a curse on the passing van of missionaries. 

As a young teen, I had no experience with witches in real life, so the announcement about the witch was surely a way to keep it that way. The leader might as well have said, "Stay away from the witch's house, because bad things will happen to those who go near it."

According to the author of the scripture above, the Jewish people had their own version of witches - Gentiles (people who didn't follow Judaism) and Samaritans (Jewish people who claimed the sanctuary of God was at Mount Gerizim and not Jerusalem). 

If I were to translate this passage into modern, Christianese terms, it would sound something like this: "Do not go among the atheists or enter any town of the Mormons. Go rather to the lost sheep of Christianity." And not surprisingly, this is a pretty fair account of how things really have played out.

I will say one thing that strikes me as odd, even though it doesn't really fit in with what I'm trying to write. After all the writing we have about what Jesus said and did, why don't we have anything written by Jesus himself? Is there some lost memoir hidden beneath the sand dunes in the Middle East, waiting to be unearthed? In a way, I hope to never find anything written by Jesus, because I'd hate to find out that he really said some of the things that have been written. And this passage is one of those things. 

Why would the author of Matthew 10:5-6 want to have Jesus telling Israel to only carry his message to Israelites? Why not non-Jews? Why not people who believed a hair differently than the "one true clan?"

Judging from the passage, there must have been a less than harmonious relationship between Jesus' Jews and the surrounding territories. Possibly, there's a hint by the author of exclusivity or racism. Maybe the outsiders wouldn't understand the message of Jesus, or maybe they'd be offended, and Jesus didn't want to stir up controversy with the neighbors. 

Regardless of why this passage was written, it's plain to the reader that the Jews were to keep it in the family. No venturing outside the familial lines to "the witch's house." Bad things happen to those who go there. 

If this were to be taken literally (which as a Christian it can't be taken literally since Christians weren't who Jesus was talking to), then it would obviously mean that people outside the Christian tradition weren't to be bothered with, right? 

But it's so contradictory to Jesus' overall theme of carrying the good news to the ends of the earth. 

Just like in one of my previous posts, I deem this passage as an example of 1st century prejudice. If it was written by Matthew, it was written at least sixty years after Jesus died. Streams of reformed Judaism (or Christianity) would've been sprouting up throughout the Roman Empire and beyond. And no doubt, the author was one of the ringleaders of the Christian tradition. So, when he (or she) wrote "the lost sheep of Israel," he must have meant "those Jews who have yet to become Christian." 

The roof of Israel kept housed two siblings who didn't get along - the Jews and the reformed Jews. To the author, Jesus wanted the reformed Jews to work on converting all the traditional Jews before they ventured out to the outsider nations. 

But I have such a hard time believing that Jesus's program was about conversions. I have an equally hard time picturing Jesus even caring about religious beliefs. I, however, don't find it surprising to find early Christians painting a picture of "one true religion," that excludes those outside of the tradition. 

Jesus was known for going into the darkest, most sordid places to bring light and hope and love where it didn't previously exist. He was famous for congregating with the sick, the poor, and the despised, which usually meant venturing way outside the normal Jewish social boundaries. Jesus single-handedly abolished social norms everywhere he went. So why was the author of Matthew so intent on keeping Christianity inside of social norms that Jesus worked so hard to eradicate?

I think it's because at some point after Jesus died, the message transformed into a tool for conversion, but the conversion wasn't about showing compassion to the world as much as it was about getting people to believe in the right things. Get as many people as you can to join the clan, and you'll have yourself an empire in no time. You'll have an unshakeable, unwavering, powerful hold on religion, society, and politics. Onward Christian soldiers. 

From what I see, the powerful, unshakeable, unwavering force we call the Christian church is still alive and strong in the conversion arena. There's no doubt about it. But I wonder, will it ever transform back into the way of Jesus? Will it ever get back to the point where the message is less about believing the right things and more about sharing a common humanity and bringing string-less love and compassion to the Gentiles and Samaritans or the atheists and Mormons. 

I think only time will tell, but it's not gonna happen within the powerful, unwavering streams of mainline Christianity. It'll happen on the outskirts. It'll happen on the margins. It'll happen where beliefs aren't so rigid and headstrong that they exclusivise Jesus's message. It'll happen where Christians are meeting atheists and actually dialoguing about what the future looks like and how they can together make the dreams of Jesus and Ghandi come to fruition. It'll happen where Christians and Muslims are sharing dinner together, talking about how they can finally bring peace to each others lands. It'll happen where Christians start sharing stories with Mormons and start finding that they share more in common than previously thought. It'll happen where the doctrines of eschatology are being replaced with doctrines of hospitality, and doctrines of original sin are being replaced with doctrines of everyone's in. It'll happen where doctrines of just war and being replaced with doctrines of just peace. 

No, I won't buy into the ideology that Jesus had bones to pick with the outsiders or conversion programs outlined for the unbelievers. That's just not the Jesus I see and envision.

Harvest

"Then Jesus made a circuit of all the towns and villages. He taught in their meeting places, reported kingdom news, and healed their diseased bodies, healed their bruised and hurt lives. When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd. 'What a huge harvest!' he said to his disciples. 'How few workers! On your knees and pray for harvest hands!'" Matthew 9:35-38. The Message.

When I was in my teens, I went on several mission trips to Mexico. I think I've been there at least ten times in fact, doing everything from handing out tracts to shingling roofs. And I'll never forget this one trip. From what I remember, we'd brought with us a huge trailer fully equipped with stadium style sound equipment. Evidently, since the translators were few, speaking louder English would help the poor Mexicans understand what was being said. 

And so, the first task was to get as many pounds of rice and beans to the villagers as possible. And while doing that, hand out Spanish invitations to the middle-class white American version of Vacation Bible School. 

Looking back, the logistical nightmare of herding hundreds of people into one centralized spot was simplified through many years of practice. If you could get them all to take their kids to VBS, you could plant the sound equipment with a loud and obnoxious man preaching right in the middle of the crowd. And so the process was flawless. There was a harvest and we had the workers, so there was no better way than to lure in the fruits of the harvest with brightly wrapped pieces of candy. Never mind that the loud and obnoxious man yelling into the microphone wasn't speaking English. As long as people heard the message, the spirit would translate for them. And after the spirit would translate for them, they would willingly oblige to walk down the aisle and get saved. 

Saved from what?

Saved from the inevitable fiery and tormenting destination they were all headed to if they didn't let the words of the loud and obnoxious man ring their eardrums and awaken them to the reality that heaven was waiting. 

The harvest was plentiful that day. The gum and the candy and the tracts and the loudspeaker all worked just as planned, and many hearts accepted a Jesus whose soul responsibility was to save souls from hell and damnation and guarantee them a place in paradise. 

It usually shouldn't take more than five days to make all this happen, and the people should be set up to start doing the good work of gathering their own harvests after the white Americans leave. 

That's the mission trip I grew up with. Lure 'em in, save some souls, and get the heck outta dodge so you can get home and tell the church about it. 

From what I understand, this is still the basic outline of how mission trips work today, with the exception of some additional humanitarian work thrown in as part of the bait and switch. But my question is, "Is this really what Jesus meant by 'the harvest is plentiful but workers are few'"?

 You've probably guessed that I don't think this is what Jesus meant. 

As far as I know, Jesus didn't need to lure anybody in to hear the message he was preaching. He didn't need to throw tricks to catch people's attention. He was almost a lone wolf save the hesitant disciples who I think were more confused by his antics than anything else. 

Jesus looked upon a city that needed a shepherd, not an authority figure. He saw a population of people who were convinced they needed the religious elites and government authorities to tell them how to live in order to find the good life. But Jesus saw underneath the surface. He saw what the religious elites and Roman authorities were doing to the people. They were manipulating them to the point of getting something in return. The lure of the manipulation was so sweet and so promising that the people didn't even know they were following a dead end road. 

The taxes - both temple and state - were bearing down on the lower classes. The religion of the times told them to give, give, give, and in the process they'd be smiled upon by both God and government. Caesar was Lord and so was the temple sacrifice. The business of saving souls was already a staple when Jesus arrived on the scene. And the religious leaders had found a way to convince the people that if they could just hope in a better place after death, they wouldn't be so concerned about the horrible place they were living in currently. 

And Jesus knew this. He knew it because he'd grown up with it. He knew the peasant life. He knew the religious life. He knew the political life. He'd seen how the temple authorities demanded much but offered little. He'd seen how the government demanded higher and higher taxes in exchange for "peace." He'd seen the torment involved in having to choose between paying the temple tax or eating dinner that night. 

So was Jesus really about joining in with the same crowd of people, preaching the same message of theological escapism, or was he about digging into this life so fully that once you got around the facade of status quo, you stepped into a completely different "dimension" of existence that welcomed in qualities like peace, trust, compassion, and love?

I go with the latter. Jesus wasn't about saving souls and gathering as many people as he could find to save more souls. 

He was about teaching people how to become fully human. He wasn't about going to other neighborhoods and telling people they needed to change their lifestyles, or telling people they needed to pray a prayer, or getting people to walk down the aisle and ask him into their hearts. 

He was about teaching people how to go deeper right where they were. And to go deeper for him meant to acknowledge that real oppression existed throughout their daily lives, but also real beauty. Real manipulation was happening all around them, but also truth. 

Jesus had a message for the peasant, the tax collector, and the Roman soldier. It didn't matter how deep into the bogus world system the person was. He had a message that transcended all of that. And he pointed to a God who lived within and not without. He pointed to a God that could be discovered by digging deeply into one's own heart. He pointed to a God that didn't demand taxes or sacrifices, but that resonated with the heartbeat of a common humanity. 

He pointed people to the God that they'd already experienced glimpses of - the still, small voice inside that most of the time got blotted out by the loudspeakers of religion and state, sacrifice and taxes. 

So, as a follower of Jesus, how do I interpret his message of gathering harvesters in today's world?

Help people awaken to the presence that's already within - the ultimate reality that's already dwelling within their own hearts and minds. Help people lose their fear of death, and gain courage to embrace this life fully to the point that life is made of millions of loosely strung moments in which the divine intersects the humane. 

The harvest is plentiful but I'm afraid the workers are few. You see, Jesus wasn't so caught up in the religious game that he saw people as unsaved or saved, lost or found, Jew or non-Jew, heaven or hell bound. He saw people as deeply emotional, profoundly spiritual, and truth seeking human beings. He didn't have a dogma to pour down peoples' throats, but had a message of a God who loved and cared deeply and that already resided in the hearts of each. 

Today, I want to participate in the movement that Jesus initiated. I want to be a part of embracing my own journey of becoming fully human, but also to help other people embrace what that means as well.

Kashrut

 

"But go and learn what this means: 'I desire compassion and not sacrifice,' for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Matthew 9:13. New American Standard.

"We are not saints." page 60. Alcoholics Anonymous.

I have a fried who loves going to drag shows. It's something that brings him life, helps him to breathe, and I imagine drag shows do for him what a binge watching of Game of Thrones does for me.

And one night, a group of friends and I got to join him at one of these drag shows. I had never been to one, but my preconceived notions told me they were to be avoided at all costs. I imagined a room full of people having a gay orgy. I had all the mental stereotypes that a recovering Baptist should have. Drag shows were nothing but a bunch of sin happening in a confined area.

But, there were two reasons why I wanted to join my friend in this endeavor. First, I wanted to be concerned about what he was concerned about, so he would know that I didn't think whatever he did was wrong. And second, I wanted to find out for myself what exactly happened at drag shows so I could have my preconceived notions smashed and replaced with first-hand experience.

The thing about the preconceived notions was, they were a bunch of rules engrained in my head since the day I was a child. And this set of rules happened to be about gay people and sexual immorality. I had a choice to make. I could either uphold my preconceived notions and sacrifice the drag show, dishonoring the commitment I'd made to my friend, or I could suspend my preconceived notions and attend the drag show, letting my friend know I was in solidarity with him.

Obviously, I chose the latter, and I'm glad I did. I saw a side of my friend that I'd never seen before. He came alive. He was happy. He didn't have a care in the world. And, it changed our friendship for the better. Besides that, I got to see some hairy men put on girl clothes and do some pretty amazing dances! Now that's entertainment!

In the passage above, Jesus is found eating dinner with tax collectors and prostitutes. That's a no-no if you're a good Jew, and there are consequences.

When the religious leaders find out about Jesus' heretical behaviors, they threaten him. 

Jesus responds with, "Who did I come to call? The righteous or the sinner? It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick."  

As usual, Jesus puts some spin on a passage from the Torah that everyone would've been pretty black and white about. 

Jesus has figured out that if he's to live out his beliefs, then he's gonna be hanging out with some pretty unusual people. And in his belief, God desired compassion over sacrifice. Now, there could be some arguments about what kind of sacrifice this entails, but I'm gonna define it as conviction.

Compassion over conviction.

And sharing dinner with someone had all sorts of religious rules surrounding it. But, while there were all sorts of rules about what kind of food should be eaten and how that food should be prepared, there weren't any rules about who got to come over for dinner. It was open to everybody, Jewish or not.

And the religious leaders who caught Jesus in the act of Kashrut with non-Jewish sinners, assumed that Jesus must have been breaking every rule in the book. But Jesus was a good Jew. It was the fallacy of "guilt by association."

Jesus made a very important statement when the Jewish leaders confronted him. He basically told them, "There are gonna be times when your convictions and your compassion enter into conflict. Choose compassion always."

While I'm not suggesting that everybody needs to go check out a drag show when they get the chance, I am saying that more times than not, our convictions conflict with our compassion.

There are times when I have to make a decision that compromises one or the other. And Jesus would say to err on the side of compassion. My beliefs are good up to the point that they start hurting or dishonoring somebody else. After that, they're invalid and useless. They hold no bearing except an intense need for self-preservation at all costs.

And I will say that I struggle with this concept more than any other. I can't understand why people believe certain things. I can't understand why some people believe women shouldn't be in leadership. I can't understand why some people believe that Jesus literally rose from the dead. I can't understand why some people believe that they're going to a mansion in the sky after they die. And so, in an effort to make myself feel better about how I believe, I'll use my beliefs as ammunition and self-defense. Sometimes, I'll go into attack mode without any provocation besides what's in my head.

It goes both ways. It's easy for me to go to show solidarity with gay people but it's not easy for me to show solidarity with biblical literalists and republicans. Why? Because the latter doesn't fit into my ideology box. In order to find solidarity, I would need to choose compassion over conviction.

If I want to put the teachings of Jesus on display in my own life, yes, I should be open to hanging with the folks society deems worthless. But, I also need to be open to hanging with the folks who are in the mainstream, and believe differently than I do about social issues, politics, and theology.

The the religion that I'm most familiar with, which is Christianity, there have been tons of rules created - much like Jewish traditions - that tell us where to go, who to hang out with, and how to do so. But, most of these rules are divisive and create wholesale segregation within our society (and that includes church society). The rules naturally separate one group from another group prevent the groups from becoming intertwined.

The one that comes to mind is, "Do not be yoked together with unbelievers."

Without getting into hermeneutics (which no one does anyways), this is a rule that pervades our society. Taken literally, it is used as an attempt to separate Christians and non-Christians in the realm of marriage. But, this rule (if taken out of context) has the potential of being not only divisive but destructive when it comes to relationships. In this case like many others, conviction wins out over compassion, and no one benefits except the convicted party who's caught in the trap of unquenchable self-preservation.

What kind of rules am I following that place conviction over compassion? If I pay attention throughout the day, I'm sure I'll find some of them because they have to do with people. They have to do with being human, and I'm about as human as they come.

And maybe I'll find that the only way to grow spiritually is to let go of some of these rules that I've been following unconsciously. Maybe I need to have some coffee with someone I would normally not associate with. Maybe I need to strike up a conversation with someone I normally don't want to talk with.

Forgiven

"Seeing their faith, Jesus said to the paralyzed boy, 'Take courage son because you're sins are forgiven." Matthew 9:2. New American Standard.

"If we are sorry for what we have done, and have the honest desire to let God take us to better things, we believe we will be forgiven and will have learned our lesson." Alcoholics Anonymous. page 70.

I have a friend who has a moderate case of cerebral palsy. It affects his ability to walk, talk, and socialize, and it'll never go away. Since he's still able to get around, he can do most of the things anybody else can do except drive. I've known him for a long time, and he's done a lot of great things like help lead the youth program at church, serve communion, and he recently graduated college. He's always enthusiastic about helping other people. 

But, I've also witnessed something else that happened over the years. As he got older, he developed this notion that everybody looked at him as a diseased person. He stopped talking in social settings. He started getting really co-dependent with people who he believed didn't see him as a disease. And he started getting really depressed. No matter how much I told him that he wasn't just the sum total of his physical handicaps, he wouldn't and couldn't believe it. His mind was set on the false notion that he was nothing more than a cripple. And that concept brushed through his entire life to the point that he didn't want to live any longer. 

Now I don't know what caused him to believe this. Maybe someone did say something hurtful to him. Maybe he had a horrible experience that changed his mindset. I don't know. But, one thing was for sure: you couldn't change his way of thinking no matter what you said. 

In his case, the disease of shame became more destructive than the actual disease of cerebral palsy. 

And then there was me, an alcoholic. I always thought that if I just quit drinking then my life would be perfect. I wouldn't get into any more trouble. My relationships would all right themselves. I'd feel better about myself. But the opposite was true. Yes, I quit drinking. But, the result was almost more devastating than the worst spree. It turned out that shame had just been waiting for a chance to come out and play for many years. And it definitely got its chance. 

No sooner than I took my last drink did the tidal wave of my past misdeeds come flooding through my conscience. It was as if an emotional dam which had been holding back millions of gallons of thoughts finally broke, and the only thing I could use to help break the thoughts was alcohol. Except, I didn't want to drink. There is nothing worse than not drinking and at the same time not knowing how to deal with the emotional dam breakage. It's a living hell and most people don't last long before going back to the tried and true solution of drinking. 

In the passage above, we're told a story about a paralyzed boy. Jesus shows up to the boy's town, and some friends take him to Jesus in the hopes that he'll do something, anything. 

The first thing to notice is, the boy doesn't say anything. And the friends don't say anything. For some reason, the authors thought it wasn't necessary to insert a dialogue between Jesus and the boy (we'll get to that in a bit). 

What does Jesus say when the boy is brought to him?

Take courage son because your sins are forgiven.

Now, among the onlookers are some highly learned Jewish scholars. They've devoted their whole lives to memorizing and obeying the Torah. And, as good Jews would, they view handicaps as a result of "generational sin." There are instances of this concept in other New Testament scriptures as well. This was a widely held view of why humans act the way they act. It was the mainstream religious thought of the time. And one of the byproducts of this way of looking at things was, you were separated from God because of your sins. 

And in those days, if you were a paralytic, then the gods really had something against you. 

You or your parents must have done something really bad in the sight of the gods. 

That's why you're crippled. 

I know it sounds archaic and cruel but this was mainstream religious thought. We've advance beyond this sort of thinking, but we still see remnants of it. Current examples would be certain views on depression. Although it's an uncontrollable (without medication) condition, people still blame depression on current or past sins, or something along the lines of a "spiritual sickness."

  The second thing we need to notice is, when Jesus tells the boy his sins are forgiven, the religious elites who are watching the whole thing get really angry. They can't believe what Jesus is saying, and they call him a blasphemer, or, a "mocker of the gods."

They catch Jesus insulting what they believe is the only true view of God. And there's nothing that'll rile up a group of old-time religious folks than insulting their concept of God. 

That's a different message though. A good one but for another time. Back to the no-dialogue-between-Jesus-and-the-boy.

First, a little word about dialogue. Dialogue is a verbal exchange. You ask for something, and get something in return. You say thanks and the receive a "you're welcome." You say sorry, and receive (most of the time) I forgive you. 

You with me up to this point? 

Dialogue requires an exchange. And, in the views of that religious culture, so does forgiveness. 

In order to be forgiven by God, you had to be able to offer something in exchange. Prayers, sacrifices, goats, doves . . . whatever recipe was instructed by the high priest at the temple. 

But, if you're paralyzed, how in the world are you going to get to the temple, and how in the world are you going to be able to physically do the things that are demanded of you in order to be forgiven by God?

Essentially, the religion completely excluded paralytics because they couldn't make the exchange like the rest of society. So, in the religious elites mind, they couldn't be forgiven. They had to live in a state of unforgiveness, and couldn't do anything about it. 

And so the words of Jesus in this passage are extremely profound. They're breakthrough. What he's saying is essentially, Your standing with God isn't based off an exchange. You're already right with God, you've always been right with God, and you'll always be right with God. 

Jesus is making an extreme religio-political statement here that goes against everything in mainstream religious thought. He's saying that God doesn't need our apologies, our sacrifices, or our prayers in order to dispense forgiveness like a gumball machine. 

God is a constant state of forgiveness.

Now fast forward to 2015. What's the most telling characteristic of a person's standing with God? In Christianity, it's confessing verbally that Jesus is God, or, inviting Jesus into one's heart. 

Yet, in this passage, Jesus does all the talking. The boy says nothing. He just receives. Jesus doesn't interrogate him about his dysfunctional belief systems, he doesn't make sure that the boy said his prayers that morning, he doesn't tell the boy to go to church. He just reminds the boy that he's forgiven, and it takes courage to walk in the light of forgiveness, especially when society is telling you that you haven't followed the proper religious rules in order to do so. 

When all you've been told is how much effort is required of you to get into right standing with God, and then someone comes along and tell you you're already there without you're having to do anything, how can you not be afraid to walk embrace that belief?

Jesus tells the boy he's forgiven independently of his beliefs, his confessions, his prayers, and his motives. 

The dialogue has been replaced with the reminder of what already is. You're forgiven. I'm forgiven. We're forgiven. 

These simple words carry the power to set someone in a new direction. They did for me. I was the paralytic living in the shadows of religious requirements, letting everyone else define what my standing with God was, or who God was, or how God was like. It took a crazy amount of courage (which requires a crazy amount of fear) to step out of that box and start walking in a new direction. 

The verbal exchange isn't necessary anymore, just the courage to walk in the light of what already is and what already will be.

Burial

"Another of the disciples said to Him (Jesus), 'Lord, permit me first to go and bury my father.' But Jesus said to him, 'Follow me, and allow the dead to bury their own dead.'" Matthew 821-22. New American Standard.

I've been stuck on this passage for about two weeks now, and it's affected my ability to write in the mornings. Since I've been using the directives of Jesus as my writing prompts for a few weeks now, I just haven't been able to navigate around this seemingly harsh bit of writing. 

And so, I'm gonna give my honest reaction to this passage and sort of maneuver around to see if I can come to a new understanding - one of those understandings that require some digging. 

So, for the honest reaction first. 
As I prepare to go through with funeral preparations for my good friend Hal, I can't help but get an emotional response to this passage. At first look, which is always a literal look, the author has Jesus telling one of his fellow Jews to disregard the richness of Jewish burial practices and to instead follow Jesus. There are some questions that arise out of this.

Why would Jesus - a devout, practicing Jew - tell a fellow Jew to disregard his father's burial?
Why would Jesus direct a fellow Jew to break the commandment of honoring father and mother?
If Jesus cared so much about the death of his friend Lazarus, why would he want a fellow Jew to not care about his own father's death?

These are just a few questions that come out of this. I could ask many more because the answers are definitely not found by just reading the scriptures. Sure, I can go back to the Old Testament to find out what exactly those burial practices required. I can find out all the Jewish traditions involving burial and death. But that will not answer the question "why?"

So . . . why?

First of all, if Jesus really said this, and said it verbatim, then he's a contradiction and no one should follow his teachings. He obviously didn't practice this himself because he cared so much about seeing people die that he went out of his way to see them live again (see the story of Lazarus among several others).

Second of all, we're not told how many people Jesus buried himself. Since he was a devout Jew, the practice of burying and mourning was not a foreign practice to him. He would've had his share of practice in that rich tradition.

This is one of those passages in which the scriptures and the literalism confound me. If I take this literally, there's no way in hell anyone's going to be honored by my actions. And I don't know of any literalist who's gonna take this passage and not construe it in such a way that allows them to do what their heart chooses. If I was to choose to disregard the funeral procedures and the mourning of my friend Hal, I would for one let our mutual friends down by not helping out. And two, I would have to convince myself that there is nothing sacred about a funeral. If I could muster up these ideas and be courageous enough (or cowardly enough) to walk away, I guess I'd be a good literal Jesus follower. 

And the thought of a Jesus who would demand such a thing sounds ridiculous, arrogant, condescending, and rude. 

In order to proceed further, I need to delve into the question "why" just a bit. It makes sense that since the Bible doesn't answer the "why" question most of the time (unless the question involves some piece of historical data that can actually be researched and found), there are all sorts of "why's" that flow out of interpretation of the scriptures. In other words, the "why" has to be interpreted. It's not there, and "because Jesus said it" doesn't work anymore for me. It's not a valid answer. 

"Why did Jesus say that?" 
"Because Jesus said that. That's why."

See how silly this reasoning sounds? I do. 

Reading the scriptures at face value will get me into trouble if I leave it at that. And so, the only meaningful option outside of reading at face value is to interpret. Sure, their are all sorts of commentaries, dictionaries, encyclopedias and everything else under the sun, but all those are just mimics of the same desire - to interpret however one wishes to interpret. 

And so, we're almost to my interpretation (an honest one). But first, let me point out a couple of the more common interpretations of the passage. 

Some people like to insert the word "spiritually" before the word "dead." Since it seems way to harsh on a material level, just turn it into an abstract concept where only the spiritual elite can understand it. It's the religious elite's get out of jail free card. That's one way. 

Others like to get deep into the burial practices. And so, they'll talk about the decomposition of the flesh and what that means, and how when the body dies it goes into some sort of purgatory and waits to be atoned for its earthly sins, and the bones are put into an ossuary and left alone for a year. And in all, the whole process lasts up to a year. So, to them Jesus is saying that "if you want to follow me, cut out some of those lengthy traditions so we can get to the real business of saving souls." 

And still others would say that Jesus never actually said this at all. They would say that since the passage is only found in Matthew and Luke (which were written by authors who would've never heard Jesus say anything), that it must have been borrowed from a source outside of the canon - or - the selected scriptures that make up the commonly accepted Bible of today's standards.

This passage is neither referenced by Paul (the earliest writer of the New Testament) nor the author of Mark (the second earliest writer of the New Testament), and so (the critics say) the passage must have been taken from the Q Gospel, a term similar to the i in mathematics. 

I tend to hold with the last version of interpretation. I don't believe Jesus said it at all. I believe it was doctored by obviously non-Jewish authors to convince their audiences that Jewish traditions were no longer an acceptable form of worship. 

In other words, "follow Jesus or Jewish tradition." "Follow God or go bury your father, friend, mother, sister, brother . . . "

In today's culture, it would translate to something like "follow God or go to school and get a good education." Or, "follow God or get a job." It just doesn't make sense, but I'm sure that since I'm thinking it doesn't make sense, there are some people out there who are clinging tight to the literal sense of this passage for the sake of being a good follower and believer. 

And so, as I prepare to celebrate the life of my friend Hal, I also prepare to experience something sacred, something profound. I prepare to experience the richness that comes with joining with friends to survey the life of someone we loved, someone we shared life with, and someone who brought more to the table than he ever knew. 

I believe Jesus would've done the same thing. I believe Jesus would've viewed all of life through the lens of the sacred. I believe the real Jesus would've told his friend to go and do the same with his father.

Hal

Let me tell you about my good friend Hal. 

I first met Hal at a homeless church in Downtown Houston. We didn't talk much, but I kind of watched him from a distance. Some of my friends who I played in the band and served food with took a better liking to him than I did. He didn't really fit my personality type, so we never really had any deep conversations while we were there.

However, my friend Jody fell in love with the guy. And after awhile, Jody got the sense that Hal was willing to do whatever it took to get off the streets. He was an anomaly for a homeless person. He didn't drink, didn't do drugs, didn't have any mental disorders, and wanted to get on his feet. I have yet to meet a homeless person who's met all of these criteria like Hal did.

And so, Jody and Hal began the long, hard process of getting him from the streets and onto his feet again. It'd been five years on the streets, so as you can imagine there was a long haul ahead. From getting a driver's license, to getting a job, to even getting a pair of shoes, there was a lot of work to do. But Hal insisted. At sixty or so years old, he was willing to go to any length to start his life over. One of the things he made sure to tell me several times was, "I never flew signs. I don't know how people could do that. I could never do that."

Through the help of Jody and our other friends from Ecclesia Clear Lake church, we were able to watch as Hal went from sleeping on sidewalks to sleeping in his own bed and making his own coffee. 

And that's where I came in. 

I lived in Bacliff at the time, and had a two room house. No one was occupying the other room, so when Hal was ready to live somewhere, it made perfect sense to come live with me. I didn't have a family or a roommate, and it was kind of lonely living there by myself. 

Right off the bat, I knew we were gonna get along well. And as it turned out, we never once had an argument or a fight. The first night he moved in, I thought it'd be a good idea to take him out on the town. So, the first place we went was a hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant in San Leon called Gilhoolie's. He'd never had fried catfish before, so that's what he got. I forgot, however, that the restaurant was cash only, and all I had to pay for the food was my debit card. That put me in a real awkward position. I assumed that since Hal had just come off the streets, he didn't have any money on him. If he did, he probably didn't have enough to make it through the week if he paid for the meal. The meal was forty dollars.

When I told Hal about the dilemma, he just said, "Don't worry about it! I've got this. You've done enough for me already." I kept trying to argue that I could go to the ATM at the nearby store to get some money because I was humiliated by the thought of putting Hal in this position. But he wasn't having any of it. My humiliation turned to humility as I accepted that Hal had just as much to offer as I did, and probably more. 

After we ate, I took him to the Kemah Boardwalk and we rode the roller coaster. He loved it, and I loved seeing a sixty year old giggle like a child. 

I was going to school at the time, and was taking an anthropology course that required me to do several interviews. The topic I chose to interview on was money. I had to get two different perspectives on money. So, I chose Hal as one of my interviewees. It really helped change my perspective on Hal. My other interviewee was a pastor in Texas City. 

The most interesting thing I took from the interviews was, Hal's theme was saving money and not going into debt no matter what. And the theme in the pastor's interview was spending years getting out of debt. I found it striking that the one who had all the money had spent most of his years building up debt. The one who didn't have money spent most of his years putting as much away as possible. 

Hal was an anomaly in my eyes.

He was the best roommate I'd ever had. He never complained. He never lied. He always kept his word. He was always willing to listen but also willing to respectfully ask hard questions. 

He would surprise me sometimes with a Dr. Pepper or a Hershey's bar hidden in the door of the fridge. He took a liking to the stray cats that would show up on our porch looking for something to eat. He loved on our neighbor who happened to be a big-time drug dealer, and earned the right to have meaningful conversations with the guy. 

He loved old Westerns, especially John Wayne movies. Every time I'd walk into the house, he'd be watching some old black-and-white movie that I'd never heard of. But he also loved modern shows as well, like Big Bang Theory. His laugh was contagious. It was real. It would make me laugh just listening to it. 

Hal didn't really have any family besides a brother who lives in Georgia that he hadn't seen in over thirty years. He came from a family that was severely dysfunctional. Both his parents were alcoholics, and they split up when Hal was very young. Hal went with his dad and his brother went with his mom. They would only see each other a couple more times after that. The experiences he had with his parents taught Hal that drinking was not an option if he wanted a good life. And neither was financial debt. 

When I first met Hal, I had a lot of bias about homeless people. I always looked at it as one person helping the other. The rich man helping the poor man. The person who had it all helping the person who had nothing. But it didn't take long for Hal to smash this concept for me. He completely transformed my thinking on the subject. What he brought to the table were things that I couldn't provide and didn't know how to provide. The relationship between us was never dependent, but always interdependent. We cared for each other. 

A week ago today, Hal died from a cancer that had spread its way all throughout his body. He was diagnosed less than a year ago, and up until two weeks prior, he was talkative and energetic. But the last two weeks really took a toll on him. He couldn't muster up the strength to talk, much less get out of bed.

But Hal was ready. He'd made it clear to the nurses that if he was in a position where he wasn't conscious, then he was ready to go. He didn't want to further his life if he couldn't be a willing participant in the process. But he had accepted his fate long before his last  breath, and he lived every breath to the fullest. 

Hal was an anomaly, and he left a legacy behind that those of us who knew him will remember for the rest of our lives. 

We miss you and we love you buddy. Grace and peace.