James 3: how different section headings would lead to a different understanding

In many Bibles, there are section headings which are not in the original text. They are added by the publisher as an aid to study and understanding. I find those headings helpful when I am scanning a hardcopy for a particular passage. But the section headings can hide connections. (Chapter breaks, likewise added after the original text was written, share the same risk.)  

While studying the book of James, in Chapter 3 in my hardcopy there are 2 sections: "Taming the Tongue" (3:1-3:12), and "Two Kinds of Wisdom" (3:13-3:18). And yet, there is a chance that the chapter is meant as single unit. Consider that 3:1 may set forward the topic for the whole chapter: Cautions for teachers. That first verse says plainly, "Not many should be teachers, knowing that we shall be judged more strictly." From that point of view, "taming the tongue" and "two kinds of wisdom" can be understood as topics specially applicable to teachers, who spend so much time speaking, striving for wisdom, and hoping to communicate something useful. In "taming the tongue" there are warnings against speech that is incendiary or inflammatory, against speech that curses others. In "two kinds of wisdom" there is a contrast between worldly wisdom -- where someone might boast or use their smarts in service of selfish ambition -- and wisdom from above which is more focused on peace and, through peace, cultivating a harvest of righteousness. The wisdom from above employs the teacher's humility to help the learners and beyond. 

And so when we open our mouths to teach, all of those warnings and instructions may have been meant for just that moment. 

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed. Alleluia! 

Blessing to all on your celebrations of Jesus' resurrection: God's promise to us that our own lives are not in vain. 

Grappling with Christ's sacrifice

The ancient sacrificial system makes little sense to me. I cannot relate to the idea of bringing goats or pigeons as an act of atonement. 

But I can relate to the idea of being in deep regret or shame, and wanting to bargain my way out of it, make some kind of substitution, any kind of substitution. What about one of those moments in life that I'd give anything to take it back? I can imagine myself bargaining ... "Anything, I see how wrong it is but there's no way to take it back. Just don't let that ruin everything!" Some people say that bargaining like that is futile, but is it? What if God said "Okay"? What if God took the deal with one condition: He would pay the price instead. 

In some ways, the question of "How could a good God allow evil?" is the question how a good God could allow agency to people who are so flawed. I've heard skeptics and scoffers list their reasons to disbelieve in God, and they are often lists of things that humans do to each other. Even on that level, God bears the shame of any wrong I've done. 

May I consider, in those moments where I feel that urge to bargain away my regrets, that God accepted. 

The Stone The Builders Rejected

During the season of Lent, we remember the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion. Jesus proclaimed himself as the fulfillment of the prophecy of the stone that was rejected by the builders, the one that still becomes the cornerstone. All of us are builders in some way. So I'd like to consider how that warning would apply across the years to us today. 

• When Jesus proclaimed forgiveness, the leaders' reaction stemmed from not knowing who Jesus was: No one can forgive sins but God alone. Or is it that on some level, leaders -- or anyone else -- can gain power by not forgiving others? When we find fault with others, our human desire is not always the good, but the desire to elevate ourselves or put down someone else. Forgiveness can rob us of a weapon. 
• When Jesus cleansed the Temple of merchants to restore it as a house of prayer, the leaders' reaction revealed that they had lost sight of the holiness of the Temple. In the aftermath, the verbal sparring showed that these particular leaders had stopped seeking truth about certain things, and had begun using knowledge (and strategic ignorance) as pawns. It had become more important to them to maintain power, prestige, and legitimacy. Those are necessary, aren't they? But it becomes part of that human picture that we are willing to gain our own prestige at others' expense. If Jesus is the cornerstone, then we are not. Our efforts -- along with our demands for prestige -- are not as vital as we would like to think. Very human to resist. 

The temptations that led his accusers astray were temptations common to us all. 

The Lost Sheep and the Prodigal Son: Different approaches for different absences

I've heard the parable of the Prodigal Son preached roughly every 3 years, and so I expect I've heard at least a dozen sermons on the text. Today I heard a new insight I had never heard before. 

The parable of the Lost Sheep -- shortly before the Prodigal Son, and part of the same conversation -- describes a shepherd who has 100 sheep until one wanders off and becomes lost. The shepherd seeks the lost sheep tirelessly until he finds it and safely returns the sheep to the flock. 

The parable of the Prodigal Son describes a young man who demands his inheritance from his still-living father, leaves home, and squanders his inheritance. After losing everything and nearly starving, he comes back home humbly. While he was still a way off, his father sees him and runs to him and welcomes him. 

The sheep who went astray was clueless and foolish. He may not have left intentionally. His separation may have been as simple as not knowing how to find his way back. The shepherd went out looking for him. 

The son who went astray acted in coldness, possibly even malice in demanding an inheritance while his father was still alive. The father did not leave everything and go looking for him. Instead, the father waited until the son came back home, and went out to meet him after he had turned back the right direction and was ready to head home. 

Those parables show the constancy of God's love and the constancy of the rejoicing in heaven over everyone who returns home safely. They also show different approaches to those who left cluelessly and those who turned away spitefully. The desire to have the lost one back is the same. But for someone who left intentionally, there may be no gain in seeking their return until they want to return. The thing that moves the prodigal son to come back is partly his hardship and his hunger. It's also partly knowing that his father loves him very much, having no doubt his father would welcome him back. The groundwork for the prodigal son's return happened before he left. 

"Purple Heart" in life

"Bear each others' burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." (Galatians 6:2)

Each Lent, it's useful to me to take up a spiritual reflection. This year I have been trying to become more aware of the burdens that other people carry. It helps me be more loving to them, more considerate, less likely to be impatient or critical. And how can we "bear each others' burdens" without knowing them? 

When a soldier has been wounded, they may be considered for a Purple Heart -- a medal that recognizes an injury received, and in general injuries are not forgotten. Life in general has no Purple Heart -- at least not officially. And yet life is full of "walking wounded" who may not get recognition, honor, or respect for what they have endured. When I find myself tending toward critical thoughts of someone, it's helpful to run through the Purple Hearts they have earned in life, whether struggles with illness, disability, loss, or any other hardship. 

May I slow down my critical thoughts, and respect and honor people for the hardships they have faced. That is one help in bearing each others' burdens. 

Forgiveness versus Excuses

I've begun to think we may not always "forgive" when we think we have forgiven someone. Speaking for myself, I'm more likely to have excused them -- that is, I have found an excuse that I found acceptable and so what was done was not really wrong, all things considered. Or I've evaluated a hurt as too small to worry about, and given it a pass. "It's not wrong enough to worry about." And it may be true, but it's also not forgiveness. 

When I'm the one in the wrong, my first try is usually for a pass (not wrong enough to worry about) or an excuse (there was a good enough reason or a greater good, so not really wrong). It's when there is no excuse that I need to squarely face the idea of forgiveness. The distinction is important because if all my thoughts of forgiveness are tangled in with thoughts of "accepting an excuse", then any talk of forgiveness can seem like excusing the inexcusable.  If my thoughts of forgiveness are tangled in with thoughts of "give it a pass" then any talk of forgiveness seems like claiming the problem isn't worth worrying about. And so forgiveness itself can look offensive or immoral, if it's considered to be no different than giving a pass or making excuses. 

Forgiveness -- as opposed to accepting excuses -- only comes into the picture when there is no way to give something a pass, no excuse that can be accepted. Forgiveness comes into the picture when there are human beings in that situation, who have done things that cannot be excused. Forgiveness comes into the picture when I realize I am one of those people too. When I sing "Amazing Grace" I sing it for me. I have real faults, not just resume faults. 

With that in mind, if someone is trying for redemption, let me not be the undertow dragging them back. If someone has gotten to the point of acknowledging they do not deserve a pass, and they do not have an excuse, then there might be redemption.