Winter Oak Leaves

Like little dishrags, damp and limp they hang,

these winter leaves forlorn outside my window;

color faded from their so-brief lives,

they droop and wait for winter wind

to carry them away and bury

them beneath the white of snow.

The sun today plays hide and seek,

but now and then it glimmers bright

upon those leaves, and sudden

turns their drab to momentary

shower of almost gold; a glimmering

that hints of wonder

lying just beyond the shadow

of this valley we call death.

*

And then the sun is gone,  

but the game goes on, mostly hide

for sun and mostly seek

for the leaves, and for us, dangling

through this winter of our discontent,

praying against the earthquakes,

the wildfires, the hatred, storms, and fears,

the absence of concern from leaders who deny

earth’s warming and refuse to care for truth,

for masses hanging by a border fence

that blots out all their sun.

*

We shake our heads and shudder our despair;

we seek, but only now and then we find;

only now and then the shining

of that glimmer from beyond,

that sudden ray of justice, truth,

that momentary hope

to strengthen our resolve,

remind us we are not alone

in this valley of the dark

where all that’s wrong so grimly

seems to overshadow all that’s right.

 

An “Alternative Fact” and Its Consequences

“The Death of Sapphira”

Ambrosius Francken II (@1581-1632)

from Acts 4:32-5:11

(see end of post)

          What a story!  A simple lie ends in two deaths.  It seems that members of the early church were taking Jesus quite literally.  They were selling their properties and goods and giving all the proceeds to the common purse, to be distributed as necessary for the good of all.  Ananias and Sapphira decided they wanted to be a part of this amazing action.  But they thought it might perhaps be wise to tuck at least some of the proceeds of their sale under their mattress.  You know, just in case something unexpected turned up in their lives.  They did want to support the community generously, to be sure, but they also wanted to provide a bit of a safety net for themselves.

          They did not, however, want anyone else to know about this.  They were a proud couple, and they wanted the apostles to think that, like the others, they had given their all.  How to manage this?  Not so difficult.  A simple lie should do the trick.  Tell the leaders that their donation was indeed the total of what they had received from the sale of their property, and they could hold their heads as high as all the other members.  So together they simply created an “alternative fact” about their contribution.  They simply lied.  And both of them died as a result.  

          We all lie.  We lie at times to promote ourselves.  Sometimes to protect ourselves.  Whatever.  We hope and expect that the results of our lying will be beneficial for us.  But the Ananias and Sapphira story tells us differently.  It tells us that when we lie, whether it’s a real whopper or just a mere shading of the truth, something in us dies.  Far from being benefitted by our lies, the actual result of our lying is the loss of a part of our soul.  Thankfully, we don’t actually fall over dead each time we tell a lie.  But we are diminished.  Something in us withers away.

          This story reminds us that truth is important.  Important in our personal lives. Important in our national life as well.  This is especially critical for us to remember as we approach our mid-term elections.  We need to choose leaders (from both parties) who will speak truth.  For when we choose leaders who follow Ananias and Sapphira, something of the greatness of our nation fades away and dies.  When we choose leaders who use alternative facts over truth to promote themselves, or leaders who evade the truth in order to protect themselves, our nation is diminished; its greatness withers away. 

          Truth is important.  Un-truth brings death.  For us as individuals.  For us as a nation.  Just ask Ananias.  Just ask Sapphira. 

***

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.  With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.  There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.   They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.   There was a Levite, a native of Cyprus, Joseph, to whom the apostles gave the name Barnabas (which means “son of encouragement”).  He sold a field that belonged to him, then brought the money, and laid it at the apostles’ feet.

But a man named Ananias, with the consent of his wife Sapphira, sold a piece of property; with his wife’s knowledge, he kept back some of the proceeds, and brought only a part and laid it at the apostles’ feet.  “Ananias,” Peter asked, “why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit and to keep back part of the proceeds of the land?  While it remained unsold, did it not remain your own? And after it was sold, were not the proceeds at your disposal? How is it that you have contrived this deed in your heart? You did not lie to us but to God!”  Now when Ananias heard these words, he fell down and died. And great fear seized all who heard of it.  The young men came and wrapped up his body, then carried him out and buried him.  After an interval of about three hours his wife came in, not knowing what had happened.  Peter said to her, “Tell me whether you and your husband sold the land for such and such a price.” And she said, “Yes, that was the price.”  Then Peter said to her, “How is it that you have agreed together to put the Spirit of the Lord to the test? Look, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.”  Immediately she fell down at his feet and died. When the young men came in they found her dead, so they carried her out and buried her beside her husband.  And great fear seized the whole church and all who heard of these things.

(Acts 4:32-5:11)

 

 

Winter Still Life with Red Shovel

Not the Grand Canyon, 

not Niagara Falls;

merely the snowy deck and roof

of a neighbor’s house, a still life framed

by my dining room window,

sun-painted tree shadows lacing

the whole in intricate, abstract patterns;

steps inviting me to walk

into the picture, to sit a spell

at the empty table, to consider

that idle shovel in the corner,

bright red reminder that, though there is so much

work to be done, work to salvage justice,

work to honor truth, work to love the neighbor,

sometimes it is good to set aside our shovels

for a time, simply rest, renew, re-ground

our lives in simple still-life splendors

that abound in unexpected

corners of our lives.    

Shadowy Faith

Jesus and Nicodemus by Crijn Hendricksz, 1616–1645

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews.  He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”  (John 3:1-2)

Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus before, and who was one of them, asked, “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?”  (John 7:50-51)

After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body.  Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. (John 19:38-40)

***

          He was an upstanding citizen, this Nicodemus.  A member of the religious Council of the Jewish people.  Respected.  Probably envied by many for his position among the leaders of his time. 

          But he was very much his own person.  A quiet man, it would seem.  Not one to make a big brouhaha about his position or about his faith.  Yes, he was part of the religious Council, and he probably kept all the laws and rules that were on the books.  But he had his questions, too.  And he wasn’t afraid of those questions.  A bit afraid, perhaps, of letting his fellow Council members know that he had questions, but not so afraid that he didn’t take himself to Jesus for that midnight conversation which is so well known and has been celebrated in numerous sermons and works of art down through the centuries.

          He doesn’t seem to have had all his questions answered in that conversation, however.  He did not become an open follower of Jesus.  He rather remained a member of the Council that was always suspiciously watching Jesus’ every move, always plotting to find a way to get rid of this Upstart who was undermining their dignity and their authority.  “Why didn’t you arrest him?” they asked the Temple Police after Jesus had stood in the Temple one day, inviting any who were thirsty to come to him and experience living waters flowing through their lives. 

          “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?”  Nicodemus speaking, in response to the Council’s chiding of the Temple Police.  He wasn’t exactly proclaiming his faith in this Jesus, but he was certainly defending Jesus, even though it meant putting his own reputation at considerable risk. 

          Then came the cross.  We don’t know where Nicodemus was when Jesus was hanging on that cross, but my guess is that he was standing somewhere on the fringes of the gathered crowd, sifting through his conflicting emotions about this death.  Had the other Council members maybe been right?  Had this Jesus been merely a hoax and not really a teacher come from God as he had once believed—or at least wanted to believe?  Would God have allowed one of his prophets to die in such a cruel manner?

          Whatever his thoughts.  Whatever his questions.  Whatever his disappointment and grief, John tells us that Nicodemus teamed up with Joseph of Arimathea to help in the burial of the body of Jesus.  Made sure that this Jesus, whoever and whatever he might have been, was given a dignified burial.

          An interesting man, Nicodemus.  A man with a shadowy kind of hopeful faith in Jesus, but a faith filled with a myriad of questions.  A man with a deep longing for something more than what the Council and its religious observances and explanations offered.  A man who stood up for justice.  A man with profound human compassion.  A man who deserves our deep attention and respect.

          I have some dear friends whose middle names might well be Nicodemus.  They long for God and for a close and meaningfully deep relationship with this enigmatic Jesus of the gospels.  But they have so many questions.  So many deep questions.  So many profound questions.  So many questions, in fact, that sometimes their faith feels blown away by all the riddles that life presents.  Yet, like Nicodemus, they spend a good bit of time searching for Jesus, sometimes in the darkest nights of their lives.  Like Nicodemus too, they usually stand by and stand up for those who are being unfairly treated by others. And also like Nicodemus, they will often be found caring for the needs of others—visiting those in distress, serving at soup kitchens, loving a very difficult adult child, passing along gift cards to strangers, sitting with a dying neighbor.

          I don’t know if Nicodemus ever became an “open” believer.  I don’t know what happened to him after the night of the burial of Jesus’ corpse.  I don’t know if he ever learned about the resurrection.  I don’t need to know.  What I do know is that I wish there was more of Nicodemus in all of our lives.  More of his questing.  More of his courage and integrity in standing up for the just treatment of others.  More of his compassion. 

          In an age when so many seem so sure they have The Truth, Nicodemus and his questing spirit are so welcome.  In an age when defending The Truth seems more important than caring about justice and tending to the needs of others, Nicodemus’ words and actions point to a more humane way, a more Christ-like way, of being and believing in our oh-so-needy world.

          Jesus honored Nicodemus in that long night conversation.  John honored him in his stories of his later life.  I think we would do well to honor him as well in the way we live out our lives, in the way we live out our faith.