a little known secret about me is that I am a complete techno-peasant. I've only ever bought a new (to me) computer when I've had no other option save an Etch-A-Sketch. I may talk about it from time to time, but I've never actually taken the step towards improving my quality of computer-life.
Ah, so this leaves me the object of pity from my father and brother. Actually, it's not so bad because then, as the object of techno-pity, they will occasionally throw me a bone when they update their own hardware, just so they're not too embarrassed by the theologian in the family.
thanks, Dad, for the new computer! it totally rocks!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Homiletics Sermon 2/John 20:19-31
Grace, and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Grace, and peace.
In a small, cramped room the risen Christ appears to a group of people. He tells them, ‘peace be with you.’ They’re glad, we read, because they had gathered in fear, and seeing the resurrected Jesus renewed their hope. Before this, they’d usually been in the open, eating with tax collectors and sinners. But that day, they gathered in a 2nd-floor room and locked the doors because they were afraid.
But Thomas wasn’t with them. They -- the other disciples who were there -- told him about seeing Jesus, but he just shook his head. "When I see Jesus – IF I see Jesus - the marks in his hands the marks in his feet, and see him drink, and eat, and burp – then I will believe you.’
So a little more than week later Thomas gathered with the other 10. Behind a locked door. Maybe a little less afraid. In front of the group Jesus appears again, bearing peace. Thomas sees him, knows him, loves him. Swears his undying devotion in front of the others. According to tradition, goes to India preaching the Gospel and is put to death for his efforts.
But before that happens by all accounts Thomas is rebuked by Jesus. "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not doubt, but believe…have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe!" Traditionally, this declaration to Thomas is seen as a reprimand.
And we have taken that statement to its abusive, irrational, incomprehensible conclusion and used it as a bludgeon for almost two thousand years. Different translations phrase it differently:
"be thou not faithless, but believing" (KJV)
"do not be faithless, but believing" (RSV)
"become not unbelieving, but believing" (YLT)
"Don't be faithless any longer. Believe!" (NLT)
"Stop doubting and believe." (NIV)
Don’t doubt. Don’t be faithless. Don’t be unbelieving. Bludgeoning people into blind obedience to some form of authority.
I remember talking to a young woman who had left her church at 17. She’d begun asking questions that made her parents nervous. They’d told her that she should just ‘believe’ and not ask her questions. Or, at least she should go to her pastor.
By the time I met her, she didn’t have any patience left for Christians, or the church. "How can you possibly believe this stuff," she asked me, "where did Adam and Eve’s sons get their wives – how can the bible be historically true, or is it really just a bunch of stories?"
"How did your pastor respond when you asked him," I said, "did he help you at all?"
"Help me?! He told me that I should just believe. He told me that if I had doubts, God would damn me because I wasn’t a true believer. After all this talk about love – where’s the love in that? I just can’t believe in something because I’m told, my mind doesn’t work that way."
She lost all sense of grace in her life, and lost the peace that she felt she had in her relationship with God.
What happens when WE can’t find grace, or peace? When in the silence of our minds – or even in our conversations – we start venturing into ground that may lead us to realize that we’re not as ‘true believing’ Christians we’d like to be?
In a small, cramped room a small woman scrawls spidery handwritten letters on a page. She’s old. She wears her age like other women wear makeup – it defines who she is, and her image is so closely associated with holiness that probably more people recognize her than they do the current Pope.
But her letters don’t let on that she’s widely considered the next best thing to a living saint. She has spent fifty years covered in the filth and detritus from a mass of humanity. Even though she’s the subject of books, has written prayers and homilies and received prized for her faith and humanitarian work, she writes:
"I feel that God does not want me, that God is not God and that he does not really exist."
Her given name is Agnes, but the world knows this tiny Albanian woman as Mother Theresa. She is the symbol of how faith can move mountains. She has dedicated her life to Jesus Christ and has undergone tremendous suffering in the name of God. Yet she is still human. She doubts. She questions.
Does that make her unworthy of the kingdom? Does she deserve the same reprimand that is delivered to Thomas every year in countless sermons? Did her doubts outweigh her faith? Did they damn her?
What about our doubts? Doubt causes anxiety – when investors doubt whether or not a government economic policy will actually work, their doubts often wreak havoc with stocks and investments. In the same way, our faith is often at the mercy of our doubts, and it can seem that almost daily we are called re-evaluate our faith in what we may assume as ‘given’.
We don’t like to be anxious, and often there are three responses to the kind of anxiety that we may have about faith:
The first is to take the roll of the parents or the preacher that I related earlier, working on the principle that if you tell yourself something often enough you’ll begin to believe it.
The second is to dismiss the church and the story of Jesus entirely,
And the third is to blindly cling to a system of belief that is harmful or hurtful, but that offers some kind of protection from that anxiety.
But there’s also a fourth response that’s not so common – to live with doubt, with the understanding that we cannot know everything, and keep the faith. As Jesus told Thomas: "don’t remain faithless – you can still believe!"
So often Jesus’ reproach to Thomas is treated as law – a statement of fact, a reprimand. Do not doubt. If you do, you will be damned. BELIEVE. The law states that we are condemned before God because of doubt – because we’re conditioned to see something to think it real. The Law is the lock on our doors that keeps our fears and doubts inside of us.
But Jesus still comes to us. Appears to us, and the message he brings is one that sets us free. The message, ‘peace be with you.’ His message, ‘blessed are those people who keep the faith.’ Blessed are we, the poor in spirit, for ours is the kingdom of God.
Jesus confronted Thomas’ doubt, but he didn’t affirm it – he didn’t make it ‘okay’ and try to smooth over Thomas’ troubled feelings. What Christ did was to stand in front of Thomas and say:
"Here’s something different: instead of you demanding proof of me, here’s what I’ll do. You’ve locked the door to your heart because of your pain and grief? Here I am. I’ll slip through the locked doors of your questions, slide under the locked door of your doubts. You want to place your hands in my side and see proof of my pain? I see your pain, and I will stop at nothing to bring you close to me. You don’t need to find me, because I will always find you."
Our society is conditioned to demand facts, and work hard at the assumption that we need to search high and low for the ‘correct’ answers. Finding evidence to back claims and declarations gives us the impression that we are responsible for proof. Hard evidence, we say, is the only way to actually prove anything. Anything else is just superstition.
This is what Thomas thought. He didn’t want to punish himself for his failure on Calvary – failure to rescue Jesus from the crowd. The sense of failure he felt for aligning himself to a movement that’s founder had just died a terrible, shame-filled death. Jesus was dead, and he didn’t want to hear any fanciful tale of Resurrection. He’d seen Jesus die. He knew, for a fact, that dead men stay dead.
Ah, but the power of this story is that Jesus didn’t, and that Thomas dared to believe that the other disciples were right. He came back with them a week later. Blustering with a little bravado, yes, but he was there. He wanted to believe again. And he saw the risen Christ, and in his affirmation revealed Jesus as the Messiah, as our Lord and our God.
And Jesus, in turn revealed to us that doubts and questions do not mean the negation of faith. They don’t cancel it out. Those questions and queries are a sign of healthy, living faith – a ‘living hope, through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.’ Living faith is tested and renewed daily through the grace of God.
Christ finds us, and brings a message for us. He tells us – "I love you the way you are. Because of the way you are. In spite of way you are. You are my beloved child, with doubts and queries. Questions, and anger. You have found me because I am always with you. Now trust in me, and let me help you find something better."
And we find grace, and peace from God our Father through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Grace, and peace.
In a small, cramped room the risen Christ appears to a group of people. He tells them, ‘peace be with you.’ They’re glad, we read, because they had gathered in fear, and seeing the resurrected Jesus renewed their hope. Before this, they’d usually been in the open, eating with tax collectors and sinners. But that day, they gathered in a 2nd-floor room and locked the doors because they were afraid.
But Thomas wasn’t with them. They -- the other disciples who were there -- told him about seeing Jesus, but he just shook his head. "When I see Jesus – IF I see Jesus - the marks in his hands the marks in his feet, and see him drink, and eat, and burp – then I will believe you.’
So a little more than week later Thomas gathered with the other 10. Behind a locked door. Maybe a little less afraid. In front of the group Jesus appears again, bearing peace. Thomas sees him, knows him, loves him. Swears his undying devotion in front of the others. According to tradition, goes to India preaching the Gospel and is put to death for his efforts.
But before that happens by all accounts Thomas is rebuked by Jesus. "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not doubt, but believe…have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe!" Traditionally, this declaration to Thomas is seen as a reprimand.
And we have taken that statement to its abusive, irrational, incomprehensible conclusion and used it as a bludgeon for almost two thousand years. Different translations phrase it differently:
"be thou not faithless, but believing" (KJV)
"do not be faithless, but believing" (RSV)
"become not unbelieving, but believing" (YLT)
"Don't be faithless any longer. Believe!" (NLT)
"Stop doubting and believe." (NIV)
Don’t doubt. Don’t be faithless. Don’t be unbelieving. Bludgeoning people into blind obedience to some form of authority.
I remember talking to a young woman who had left her church at 17. She’d begun asking questions that made her parents nervous. They’d told her that she should just ‘believe’ and not ask her questions. Or, at least she should go to her pastor.
By the time I met her, she didn’t have any patience left for Christians, or the church. "How can you possibly believe this stuff," she asked me, "where did Adam and Eve’s sons get their wives – how can the bible be historically true, or is it really just a bunch of stories?"
"How did your pastor respond when you asked him," I said, "did he help you at all?"
"Help me?! He told me that I should just believe. He told me that if I had doubts, God would damn me because I wasn’t a true believer. After all this talk about love – where’s the love in that? I just can’t believe in something because I’m told, my mind doesn’t work that way."
She lost all sense of grace in her life, and lost the peace that she felt she had in her relationship with God.
What happens when WE can’t find grace, or peace? When in the silence of our minds – or even in our conversations – we start venturing into ground that may lead us to realize that we’re not as ‘true believing’ Christians we’d like to be?
In a small, cramped room a small woman scrawls spidery handwritten letters on a page. She’s old. She wears her age like other women wear makeup – it defines who she is, and her image is so closely associated with holiness that probably more people recognize her than they do the current Pope.
But her letters don’t let on that she’s widely considered the next best thing to a living saint. She has spent fifty years covered in the filth and detritus from a mass of humanity. Even though she’s the subject of books, has written prayers and homilies and received prized for her faith and humanitarian work, she writes:
"I feel that God does not want me, that God is not God and that he does not really exist."
Her given name is Agnes, but the world knows this tiny Albanian woman as Mother Theresa. She is the symbol of how faith can move mountains. She has dedicated her life to Jesus Christ and has undergone tremendous suffering in the name of God. Yet she is still human. She doubts. She questions.
Does that make her unworthy of the kingdom? Does she deserve the same reprimand that is delivered to Thomas every year in countless sermons? Did her doubts outweigh her faith? Did they damn her?
What about our doubts? Doubt causes anxiety – when investors doubt whether or not a government economic policy will actually work, their doubts often wreak havoc with stocks and investments. In the same way, our faith is often at the mercy of our doubts, and it can seem that almost daily we are called re-evaluate our faith in what we may assume as ‘given’.
We don’t like to be anxious, and often there are three responses to the kind of anxiety that we may have about faith:
The first is to take the roll of the parents or the preacher that I related earlier, working on the principle that if you tell yourself something often enough you’ll begin to believe it.
The second is to dismiss the church and the story of Jesus entirely,
And the third is to blindly cling to a system of belief that is harmful or hurtful, but that offers some kind of protection from that anxiety.
But there’s also a fourth response that’s not so common – to live with doubt, with the understanding that we cannot know everything, and keep the faith. As Jesus told Thomas: "don’t remain faithless – you can still believe!"
So often Jesus’ reproach to Thomas is treated as law – a statement of fact, a reprimand. Do not doubt. If you do, you will be damned. BELIEVE. The law states that we are condemned before God because of doubt – because we’re conditioned to see something to think it real. The Law is the lock on our doors that keeps our fears and doubts inside of us.
But Jesus still comes to us. Appears to us, and the message he brings is one that sets us free. The message, ‘peace be with you.’ His message, ‘blessed are those people who keep the faith.’ Blessed are we, the poor in spirit, for ours is the kingdom of God.
Jesus confronted Thomas’ doubt, but he didn’t affirm it – he didn’t make it ‘okay’ and try to smooth over Thomas’ troubled feelings. What Christ did was to stand in front of Thomas and say:
"Here’s something different: instead of you demanding proof of me, here’s what I’ll do. You’ve locked the door to your heart because of your pain and grief? Here I am. I’ll slip through the locked doors of your questions, slide under the locked door of your doubts. You want to place your hands in my side and see proof of my pain? I see your pain, and I will stop at nothing to bring you close to me. You don’t need to find me, because I will always find you."
Our society is conditioned to demand facts, and work hard at the assumption that we need to search high and low for the ‘correct’ answers. Finding evidence to back claims and declarations gives us the impression that we are responsible for proof. Hard evidence, we say, is the only way to actually prove anything. Anything else is just superstition.
This is what Thomas thought. He didn’t want to punish himself for his failure on Calvary – failure to rescue Jesus from the crowd. The sense of failure he felt for aligning himself to a movement that’s founder had just died a terrible, shame-filled death. Jesus was dead, and he didn’t want to hear any fanciful tale of Resurrection. He’d seen Jesus die. He knew, for a fact, that dead men stay dead.
Ah, but the power of this story is that Jesus didn’t, and that Thomas dared to believe that the other disciples were right. He came back with them a week later. Blustering with a little bravado, yes, but he was there. He wanted to believe again. And he saw the risen Christ, and in his affirmation revealed Jesus as the Messiah, as our Lord and our God.
And Jesus, in turn revealed to us that doubts and questions do not mean the negation of faith. They don’t cancel it out. Those questions and queries are a sign of healthy, living faith – a ‘living hope, through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.’ Living faith is tested and renewed daily through the grace of God.
Christ finds us, and brings a message for us. He tells us – "I love you the way you are. Because of the way you are. In spite of way you are. You are my beloved child, with doubts and queries. Questions, and anger. You have found me because I am always with you. Now trust in me, and let me help you find something better."
And we find grace, and peace from God our Father through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Friday, March 28, 2008
more pictures!
a few more pictures of Duncan and Keiran for everyone. Not much commentary to offer, but if you have questions, ask!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Christ is risen, He's doing better than me
Oof.
We've been a week home with Keiran.
I no longer fear hell.
The reason? If I'm in hell, then I can assume I'm being punished for something. I did absolutely nothing to deserve this current torment.
It's not that Keiran is a difficult baby to get to sleep. He loves us. In fact, he loves us so much that he wants to be with us as often as possible. Since he sleeps during the day, he loves that we hold him and love him and say supportive nurturing things to him. At night, he knows that we'd just hate to miss any of his little antics, so he stays up to let us know how much we love him.
There's something disconcerting about peeking over the edge of the crib and seeing bright eyes looking back at you at 1:15, 1:45, 2:20; 3:00, 3:23 (do I need to go on?) and happy noises.
Ah well, at least he's not colicky. I can always go to class to get some sleep.
The co-director, by the way, is so overwrought with post-partum hormones that all she wants to do is go mammoth hunting in a tigerskin loincloth (which is what got us in this trouble in the first place)-- she's reverting back to the 'dawn of time' motif that some mothers find solace in. At least she still understands indoor plumbing....
the Boy, on the other hand, is being very supportive. So supportive, in fact, this his normal 1.5 hour nap during the day in now 20 minutes, tops. So supportive, in fact, that he now goes to bed an hour later and gets up an hour earlier just so he can help mummy and daddy with the baby.
Theologically, the issue here is that I believe in an infinitely grace-full and forgiving God, which really means that I don't think there's anything I can do to inexorably or irrevocably condemn myself beyond all hope of redemption. Which means that I am not in hell.
Which either means that 1) I am therefore being tested because of my great faithfulness unto the Lord God [like Job, but with baby puke and toddler tantrums instead of boils and sores]; or 2) that I am, in fact, exercising some form of free will in choosing to have children and put myself through this, which then means that children are NOT, in fact, a blessing from God, but instead penance for sins made on earth.
Or I could just be really, really, tired...
We've been a week home with Keiran.
I no longer fear hell.
The reason? If I'm in hell, then I can assume I'm being punished for something. I did absolutely nothing to deserve this current torment.
It's not that Keiran is a difficult baby to get to sleep. He loves us. In fact, he loves us so much that he wants to be with us as often as possible. Since he sleeps during the day, he loves that we hold him and love him and say supportive nurturing things to him. At night, he knows that we'd just hate to miss any of his little antics, so he stays up to let us know how much we love him.
There's something disconcerting about peeking over the edge of the crib and seeing bright eyes looking back at you at 1:15, 1:45, 2:20; 3:00, 3:23 (do I need to go on?) and happy noises.
Ah well, at least he's not colicky. I can always go to class to get some sleep.
The co-director, by the way, is so overwrought with post-partum hormones that all she wants to do is go mammoth hunting in a tigerskin loincloth (which is what got us in this trouble in the first place)-- she's reverting back to the 'dawn of time' motif that some mothers find solace in. At least she still understands indoor plumbing....
the Boy, on the other hand, is being very supportive. So supportive, in fact, this his normal 1.5 hour nap during the day in now 20 minutes, tops. So supportive, in fact, that he now goes to bed an hour later and gets up an hour earlier just so he can help mummy and daddy with the baby.
Theologically, the issue here is that I believe in an infinitely grace-full and forgiving God, which really means that I don't think there's anything I can do to inexorably or irrevocably condemn myself beyond all hope of redemption. Which means that I am not in hell.
Which either means that 1) I am therefore being tested because of my great faithfulness unto the Lord God [like Job, but with baby puke and toddler tantrums instead of boils and sores]; or 2) that I am, in fact, exercising some form of free will in choosing to have children and put myself through this, which then means that children are NOT, in fact, a blessing from God, but instead penance for sins made on earth.
Or I could just be really, really, tired...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!
Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb.
So she ran, and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."
Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first; and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in.
Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself.
Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples went back to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet.
They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." Saying this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).
Jesus said to her, "Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." Mary Magdalene went and said to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
(John 20:1-18)
So she ran, and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."
Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first; and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in.
Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself.
Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples went back to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet.
They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." Saying this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).
Jesus said to her, "Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." Mary Magdalene went and said to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
(John 20:1-18)
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Here he is....
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Meet Keiran Patrick, everyone!
(the last picture is Duncan discovering that he's far, far too big for a baby carseat)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
UPDATE:
quoth Duncan to his mommy upon meeting Keiran for the first time:
dthibobathboatrhork ahthenf oen theo k nelnf?
Translation:
"I am not amused. When will it go back into its house?"
dthibobathboatrhork ahthenf oen theo k nelnf?
Translation:
"I am not amused. When will it go back into its house?"
Welcome!
Hello friends,
I hope that you'll join with me in welcoming into the world the latest addition to our family:
Keiran Patrick Macintyre was born at 12:20 AM on March 19, 2008.
He weighed 9"10' (yes, the exact same as big brother Duncan did), was 21 and 1/2 inches long and had a head circumference of 37 cm.
labor was induced at 7pm after a day of waiting in the hospital.
Excitement came (squeamish people stop reading now) when the baby crowned as Diana was sitting in the bathroom. She couldn't make it to the birthing bed in time, so our new little boy made his way into the world on the bathroom floor as Diana leaned against me for support.
I tore my pants.
pictures to follow.
I hope that you'll join with me in welcoming into the world the latest addition to our family:
Keiran Patrick Macintyre was born at 12:20 AM on March 19, 2008.
He weighed 9"10' (yes, the exact same as big brother Duncan did), was 21 and 1/2 inches long and had a head circumference of 37 cm.
labor was induced at 7pm after a day of waiting in the hospital.
Excitement came (squeamish people stop reading now) when the baby crowned as Diana was sitting in the bathroom. She couldn't make it to the birthing bed in time, so our new little boy made his way into the world on the bathroom floor as Diana leaned against me for support.
I tore my pants.
pictures to follow.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
ultra snuggly
So apparently the new wee one is feeling ultra snuggly. Two days overdue, and counting! Meanwhile, the Boy is trying to see if he can fit in our new baby car seat. Let me tell you, it ain't a pretty sight...
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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