I was reading...

Here is another post from the Multiply days.  This one is from 2010 and still relevant, perhaps ever more relevant as things continue to get weirder.  I pray that I will be like the seven brothers and like Eleazer who scorned to take refuge in subterfuge but boldly defied the evils of his day.

 

The Maccabees are two interesting books--really a pity more people aren't actually acquainted with those books outside the Protestant canon that were part of the old canon....but then again, it's also sad that more people are not even acquainted with the "usual" books of the Bible, and I digress.  The point of this was to talk about II Maccabees.

The book is addresses to the Jews of Alexandria as an abbreviated history of the events it describes.  But at the very beginning it has this beautiful blessing written: "May God prosper you, remembering his covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, his faithful servants.  May he give you all a heart to worship him and to do his will with a generous mind and a willing spirit.  May he open your hearts to his Law and his precepts, and give you peace.  May he hear your prayers and be reconciled with you, and not abandon you in time of evil."(iiMac.1:2-6)
I had been going to share that a few evenings ago, but said "tomorrow," which didn't happen.  So it is this evening that I again thought, "tomorrow," but decided to go ahead and write tonight.
It is some chapters later into the history of this particular time.  The treasurer was envious of Onias the godly high-priest and exaggerated how much money was in the treasury to the king, who sent Heliodorus to collect the money.  Onias protested against this and made it clear that the money was for the orphans and widows and they could not break the trust of those who had placed the money there.  Onias and the priests then pray to God and Jerusalem follows their example.  Heliodorus is prevented by a miraculous apparition from looting the temple treasury.  His followers ask Onias to pray for Heliodorus life, which he does, and the glory is given to God. 
Time passes and Onias has been displaced by his brother Jason a hellenizer, who in turn was deposed by someone even worse.  People have taken to following pagan practices even on the temple ground. Jason attacks his successor in ch. 5 and is repulsed but when the king hears, he figures Judea is in revolt and attacks Jerusalem killing indiscriminately the inhabitants and even penetrating the temple and "with his unclean hands he seized the sacred vessels;...Antiochus, so much above himself, did not realize that the Lord was angry for the moment at the sins of the inhabitants of the city, hence his unconcern for the Holy Place....the Lord had not chosen the people for the sake of the place, but the place for the sake of the people;" That really struck me.  The temple was set aside for the sake of the people--a place to present sacrifices and worship God....How often do we act as though the church building is more sacred than the church itself?  We don't want to profane the church (referring to the building) but it's fine to tear down the Church (the body of Christ) by our actions and words....?  It is we humans who were chosen, the buildings and places are secondary.
The book continues.  Abominations are carried on within the temple grounds and Jews are being forced into pagan practices, being killed for noncompliance.  There is this old man Eleazar, though, who spits out pig's flesh that was forced between his teeth.  "Those in charge of the impious banquet, because their long-standing friendship with him, took him aside and privately urged him to have meat brought of a kind he could properly use, prepared by himself, and only pretend to eat the portions of the sacrificial meat as prescribed by the king;" Eleazar could escape death this way, but he refused because the example it would set for others.  People would think he had conformed and might be led astray, and he would much rather die a positive example, "of how to make a good death, eagerly and generously, for the venerable and holy laws."  His companions then turn on him and bludgeon him to death and his dying words: "Th Lord whose knowledge is holy sees clearly that, though I might have escaped death, whatever agonies of body I now endure under this bludgeoning, in my soul I am glad to suffer, because of the awe which he inspires in me."
The next chapter tells of a mother and her seven sons who are tortured for their  faith but likewise remain resolute. When the third son was asked for his tongue after the first two have already been tortured and killed he makes the statement, "It was heaven that gave me these limbs; for the sake of his laws I disdain them; from him I hope to receive them again."  It continues until the youngest.  Antiochus asks the mother to encourage her son to relent.  She has been forced to witness the deaths of her other six sons but she still holds to the faith. "My son, have pity on me; I carried you nine months in my womb and suckled you three years, fed and reared you to the age you are now (and cherished you). I implore you, my child, observe heaven and earth, consider all that is in them, and acknowledge that God made them out of what did not exist, and that mankind comes into being the same way.  Do not fear this executioner, but prove yourself worthy of your brothers, and make death welcome, so that in the day of mercy I may receive you back in your brothers' company."  and the son says, "What are you waiting for? I will not comply with the king's ordinance; I obey the ordinance of the Law given to our ancestors through Moses.  As for you, sir, who have contrived every kind of evil against the Hebrews, you will certainly not escape the hands of God.  We are suffering for our own sins; and if, to punish and discipline us, our living Lord vents his wrath upon us, he will yet be reconciled with his own servants."

They were faithful.  They took on themselves, in a way, the guilt of the people and willingly accepted death.  Could these stories have encouraged the early church who suffered persecution similarly?
I don't want stuff like that to happen, but I do wonder, how would I respond?  Would I take the chance to live that was offered to Eleazar?  or would I scorn to make use of that sort of subterfuge and accept death willingly for the sake of my fellow people and my convictions and remaining faithful to my God?

I Thirst

 

“I thirst.” and the damp settled.

And my languid arms like languid branches

Sagged beneath unwanted weight.

A cloud, a breeze would cheer

Or butterfly with bright orange wing

Would lift a smile in a moment

For a moment.  Then in dry heat

Again, it settles, wearied with that old

        Hunger. 

                I seek. 

He whispers, “Take and eat.”

Around I look and see the waving

Of singing branches, my eyes

Too full of tears for singing.

Soon this all is dust.

There, beneath my feet I feel

The forgotten cracks throughout this crust

Of earth in which I stand. A sense

Of something warm, immense--

A whisper, “Come and drink.” 

 Sink my roots more deep. He says,

“Eat and Drink. And you 

                       shall never die.”

There touches fire

That does not consume.

Revived, my branches lift and face the sun

Ah, there are those from whom I come--

One smiles, “Where your roots?”

“What you have found beneath this ground,”

One says, “cannot be truth.”

Roots deep, veins aflame, branches sweep

In breeze and sun--what shall I say?

"Come and see, that Heart

                that never lies."

Just wondering. . .

(Another old post from the Multiply days, but the initial question is one I still ponder from time to time.  Now, though, I realize that a big part of the problem is interpretation and authority.  We need the Church to guide us in that reading of scripture and living out its precepts.)

 

 What if all follower's of Christ read the Bible and sincerely tried to live out its precepts?  

I read 1 Peter on the bus today and different verses just really stood out like: "[Have] your conversation honest among the Gentiles: that, whereas they speak against you as evildoers, they may by your good works, which they shall behold, glorify God in the day of visitation."  Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between some labeled Christians and labeled others in ordinary conversation. In simpler terms, I am sometimes a bit shocked by the amount of profanity and vulgarity of some who profess to be Christians. 
"Honour all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honour the king."  What if we did make a regular practice of honoring everyone else?  Showing God's love? Loving our fellow Christians? wow, that would be amazing.  Gossip wouldn't go far. What about giving God the proper reverence and honour? I think that would create in me a greater love for the rest of humanity, also.  I wouldn't think so much about little personal sacrifices as I would His glory.
What if we gave authorities the respect due to them? "Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear; not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward."  You people, respectfully obey your authorities even if you think they are unnecessarily mean and harsh.  That would be pretty amazing.
Look at our example, Jesus Christ, himself: "Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously:"
We are to bless, not to return evil for evil "but overcome evil with good"
So if we suffer, Christ suffered before us. We have no cause to be ashamed when we suffer though not guilty.
Part of all this is humility. I could use some more of that. 
"the God of all grace, who hath called us unto His eternal glory by Jesus Christ, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.  To Him be glory and dominion forever. Amen."

catchy tune, but what does it say?

    (Originally posted on Multiply.  This is from a long time ago, back when I was at Lindenwood University.  The lesson was memorable and definitely influenced the way I listen to music to this day.)

       

     I had previously pretty much gave a brief on the LCF lesson by the same title (but it was stolen by evil computer gnomes) but now instead I will tell about it with only a few particulars and –well, you will see.

            The discussion was about the messages that songs tell.  We listened to a variety of music, “secular” and “Christian” and discussed what the song said and what the Bible had to say concerning what it said. 

            It was interesting to note that even in secular music there can be found “echoes of the truth” (the world’s in trouble, something wrong with our eyes, we cannot save ourselves) while there are some “Christian” songs with a less than scriptural message (Everything is fine because God believes in you, everything matters if anything matters because you). 

    Point: consider the messages that you allow to be in your head.  What are you listening to?  What are they saying?  On the note of what are they saying–The two songs that were hardest to understand were perhaps the most strikingly dissimilar in word.  The first was bitter and vengeful (not a Christian song even in pretense) the last told how nothing mattered compared to knowing God, and asked Him to purify and renew the heart.  

            So I wonder, what am I listening to?  I can’t control what they play in the office, but what do I listen to on my computer or when I turn on a(n internet) radio?  Most of it actually lacks words, but not all the time.  What am I putting into my head?

 

(Right now, “Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been”   I’m sorry for who I was, I’m ready to change,)

Is it akin to Nostalgia?

What is it, when you find yourself in a place unfamiliar yet it feels like home? It is as though one was to go to the other side of the world and discover a path that feels oddly familiar, like you had been there before somehow, perhaps in a dream. It is like hearing a song of which you know the tune before you ever heard it.

The first time I remember this sort of experience was when I attended mass for the first time. From the first moment of walking in I noticed an utter difference to what was familiar in “going to church”. It was quiet. There was an awe-inspiring austerity and beauty. 

Instead of painted walls and industrial lights in a building that used to be a wellness center there were cinder-block walls, stained glass windows, and great wooden beams to a pointed wooden ceiling for a building built for the worship of God. Instead of a band around a stage with the drums center back was a place for the altar and a crucifix in the center back. Where the drums had been flanked by guitarists and bassist and fiddle off to the left, the crucifix was flanked by statues of the Virgin Mary and Joseph the Carpenter. Off to the left was a tall, small wooden table on which was a round metal case with a cross up top; the cross being the only visible part usually, as it was covered with a cloth. Instead of a long time of singing, a little scripture, and a long sermon, that might also be a long prayer service with lots of singing, was a structured service of prayer and scripture with a short sermon and the focal point obviously being Holy Communion.

Almost none of the songs were familiar, and yet, when the psalm was being chanted (as it was that first mass), it just fit. That first time, I don’t know that there was any choir or organ, but when I did become aware of it, I noticed that the choir loft was out of sight up and behind the congregation. This instantly made sense to me, to have the choir out of sight. The notes of the organ hovered above us inviting us to join in the song, but the eyes were left free to contemplate our crucified Lord.

I mentioned the quiet. People would talk about church being a house of prayer, I remember being prayed over to receive the Holy Spirit in a prayer meeting. The person praying was obviously trying to effect something, but it felt hollow. A friend of mine spoke in tongues at one such event. It was a common occurrence to hear the babble of tongues whether during “praise & worship” or during a prayer event. In contrast, when I walked into St. Catherine’s for the first time and it was quiet, it was obviously an actual house of prayer.

There was also this sense of questions being answered without words. The praise team up front had been a familiar feature of churches that I attended while growing up, but when I was asked at the previous place about playing my instrument with them, it suddenly seemed very questionable. Why were they up front? Why did they often seem to overshadow the preacher in a way? They might leave when he was preaching, but the instruments would remain in place; the drum kit in the center particularly stood out. The comparison between a concert and “Sunday morning worship” was too apt. So, when we went to St. Catherine’s and the organist and choir were all hidden away, it just seemed so obviously right. Here, the choir was serving as an aid to something higher and more important than themselves. Whether the individuals were personally modest or not is irrelevant, the placement of the choir was modest.

One would have to verbally ask and get a response to know what was the focus of the congregation in the former wellness center. As soon as I walked into St. Catherine’s, the crucifix proclaimed this central mystery of the gospel in one striking image—the incarnation and suffering of God. I would learn the messages of the windows later.

Going to mass was like nothing I had ever experienced, and yet I knew that it was good to be here, that it, in a manner of speaking, felt like home.

I am more accustomed to feeling like a “stranger in a strange land” wherever I am. Even so, when I go to mass, now more than ever, I know that in point of fact I am home; I am am where heaven and earth meet in the sacrifice of Christ. I am in the midst of the communion of saints adoring our Eucharistic Lord.