All Her Exes Were Not From Texas

All her exes were not from Texas.  They were most likely from her home town of Samaria.  All five of them. I’m thinking of this Sunday’s (March 27^th) Gospel lesson—the encounter at the well between Jesus and the Samaritan woman.  Many remember this story and the meta-communication as Jesus and the woman talked.  She came for water; Jesus offered her water, but not the potable kind.  I think she finally got it, but she kept the verbal game going.  And so did Jesus, until her thirst was quenched.

I once stole a sermon about this story from Dr. James Forbes.  Well, I re-imagined his thoughts and spun my own story about the woman’s return to Samaria to tell about this most amazing rabbi, Jesus, “…the man who told me everything I have ever done.”

She went back to Samaria, and the first person she told about her encounter with Jesus was her first husband.  They were so very young when they married, and he was so very cute.  But she found that “cute doesn’t last.”  And she wandered…and wandered…until the marriage eroded, and she left her cute husband for someone cuter.  She, now forgiven and understood by Jesus, sought forgiveness and understanding from her first husband, still cute, but with thinning hair and a bulging middle.  “He forgave me; he accepted me.  Will you?  I’m so sorry, but we were so young and immature.  Please forgive my unfaithfulness.”

Although it was painful for her, she located her second husband.  There were many bad memories…many.  He had seemed so mature, kind, and understanding.  The first time it happened, she brushed it off.  Just a bad day.  He simply lost control.  It really didn’t hurt that much.  A glancing blow with some minor bruising.  But it happened again and again and again.  Finally, she summoned the courage to leave him.  She would not be abused again.  She, now forgiven and understood by Jesus, wanted to forgive her second husband.  “He forgave me.  I forgive you.  Will you accept my forgiveness?”

Her third husband was quite old by now.  He was much older than she when they married.  She had been abused. This time she wanted to be taken care of, and he had the means to do so quite well.  Although there was quite an age difference, his money made up for it.  Yes, why not, she thought…why not marry for security and money and the comforts money can buy?  But he got older, and soon the money didn’t make up for whatever it was she was missing.  So…she left him, and through some sly manipulation took a lot of his wealth with her.  As she approached him, he barely recognized her with his failing eyesight, but he remembered her voice.  She, now forgiven and understood by Jesus, begged the elderly ex-husband’s forgiveness.  He gave it freely.  They both rejoiced.

She was not surprised to learn that her fourth husband was on his third wife.  He seemed so sincere and committed when they married, but she began to sense the distance between them.  She tried to stay close, but he drifted farther and farther away.  All the way into the affections of another.  So, she left him.  And she had never forgiven him for his unfaithfulness.  But it was different now.  She, now forgiven and understood, wanted to forgive her fourth husband.  “I forgive you.  Whether you need my forgiveness or not, I forgive you.  I, who am forgiven, forgive you.”

She finally found her fifth husband.  Since their divorce, he had tried to keep to himself, avoiding the inquiring public.  When they married, he was kind, understanding, warm.  He listened to her, and he accepted her failings and limitations.  She thought it odd that he didn’t seem interested in physical affection, but she never insisted.  It became no real surprise to her when he confessed that although he had a male’s body, that was about all.  He left her for another man.  Although not surprised, she suffered public humiliation.  She needed to forgive all three of them for not being honest.  She, now forgiven and understood by Jesus, said to her gay ex-husband, “He accepts you as he accepts me.  Just as you are.  He expects nothing of you but to consider his acceptance. He welcomes you into his presence and his life.”

And, as the scripture records, “Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done’” (John 4:39).

Bumper Sticker Theology...

Surely someone has already written the article or the book about the theology of bumper stickers.  But I remember one I saw many years ago.  Stopped at a traffic light, this is what I read on the bumper sticker on the car in front of me:  Watch out for the idiot behind me.

Immediately, I looked in the rear view mirror to see about whom the bumper sticker was referring.  Then I realized that I was the one being referred to in the message.  Watch out for the idiot behind me.

Well…sometimes I do things that may be judged as idiotic.  Like trying to make something out of silly bumper stickers.  And sometimes I say things which may sound like idiocy.  When I was a pastor and worship leader, I remember saying something like, “Let us pray together this morning.”  If “us” pray, then we will be praying together. And if we pray then, we will be praying that morning.  What a waste of words! 

So, I’ve said and done some foolish things, but I’m not an idiot.  The bumper sticker was wrong.  But it may have something to say anyway.

What if the bumper sticker said, Watch out for the person behind me?  Now that might make some good sense.  In what ways am I watching out for myself?  Are you watching out for yourself?  Watch out for yourself. Now, that’s some good advice.

Taking care of ourselves.  We all need to strike a balance between taking care of others and taking care of ourselves.  Sometimes it is more blessed to receive than to give.  What do you need to receive?  Maybe a word of affirmation that you’re basically a good person.  Well, you are!  And so am I.

Maybe you need to receive self-given permission to take a break from whatever it is you need a break from.  Relax.  Do nothing for a few hours.  Don’t just do something; sit there.

Or maybe what you need to hear from yourself or what I need to hear from myself is something motivating.  Don’t just sit there; do something.  Get up and get moving.  Take a walk.  Get your heart rate up.  Take care of yourself or someone else.

Watch out for the idiot behind me.  Got my attention. 

Giving Up Lent for Lent...

Several years ago my good friend told me what he was giving up for Lent, the forty days of spiritual preparation before the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus.  He decided to give up three C’s…Chocolate, Caffeine, and Cigars.  He did it.  From Ash Wednesday until Easter Sunday, he gave up three of his addictions.  I applauded his decision and his discipline.  He’s the authority on his cravings and how they affect his spiritual well-being. 

In addition to the spiritual benefits of asceticism, I know my friend also saved some money.  He doesn’t drink grocery-store swill disguised as coffee; he doesn’t eat the processed muck packaged and peddled as chocolate; and, he doesn’t light up machine-rolled stogies that pass for real cigars.  He has class, my good friend, and he’s taught me much about the enjoyment of the good things in life. 

I once gave up radio-playing while driving during Lent.  I learned that there’s plenty of music without the blaring of an automobile audio system.  Another Lent I gave up frustration…or I tried to give it up.  My failure to do so led to more frustration, which is a damnable thing that probably has more negative effects than some luscious Belgian chocolate or an occasional hand-rolled cigar.  But, I confess that I’m not very good at giving up something for a set season.  I simply don’t have the stuff to give up stuff during the season of Lent.

If I did have what it takes to give up something for Lent, and if what I give up is something that distracts me from pondering the mysteries of Christ’s Passion, which is one of the reasons to observe Lent, then why should I give up this distraction for only 40 days, leaving the other 325 days vulnerable to my distraction?  If it’s good enough for Lent, it’s good enough for Ordinary Time, the longest season of the Christian year.

Really…I’m not giving up Lent for Lent.  I am giving up a familiar notion of Lent—that it’s a time to give up something.  Lent might be a time to hold on to something.  “Put it behind you,” someone says of whatever it is that interferes with whatever doesn’t need interference in one’s life.  “Let it go” is another simple, clear, easy…and wrong piece of advice for the complexity of letting go.  “Move on,” pop advice teaches, but sometimes there are too many pieces to pick up and just plant somewhere else.

Rumi, the Persian poet, wrote “This Being Human,” which begins, “This being human is a guest house; every morning a new arrival…”  This wise bard teaches me to welcome and attend every visitor, even if a meanness or depression or sorrow or regret or difficulty comes knocking at my door.  Greet these visitors as a way to welcome my humanity—not fearing them, not putting them behind me or letting them go or moving away from them.  This is radical hospitality.  Faces of my humanity are not my enemies.

If I let some fear or distracting habit go, it may return to haunt me.  If I put something behind me, I can’t see it…and I can’t trust it not to attack me from behind.  If I give up a trait or trial that has seemed to dog me all my life, or try to, then I lose control.  If I move on to leave some trouble behind, I may end up a nomad. No…I want to hold these bits of my humanity.  Not tightly, as if to strangle them. I waste energy trying to kill off these daily travelers. I just want to hold them, look at them, and view them from all angles and in different shades of my temperament.  I want to keep them gently in the palm of my being and befriend them. 

After all, these daily visitors to the mansion of me are what give me individuality and uniqueness.  When the guests pop in for an unexpected sit, the measure of my hospitality is the measure of the condition of my soul.  Welcome, meanness…you’re not so mean after all.  Come on in, jealousy…you’re not looking so green this morning.  Well, look who’s here, another addiction…I have just the spot for you.  Regret, it’s you again…well, come on in; you know where your place is.

So…this Lent I’m not giving up anything.  I’m not “letting go,” “putting behind,” or “moving on.” This Lent I’m going to enjoy my home and ruminate upon Rumi.  I’m practicing radical hospitality.  I’ll welcome all the old friends and kin to my house called “Being Human.”