Upon The Waters
Stories
Based on Revised Common Lectionary texts:
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Lord of the Covenant" by Gregory L. Tolle
Shining Moments: "Baptism" by Constance Berg
Good Stories: "Upon the Waters" by Frank R. Fisher
"Finders Keepers" by Henry Scholberg
Scrap Pile: "Repentance" by Sil Galvan
What's Up This Week
Water is the common thread of this week's readings, as the familiar story of God's covenant with Noah following the great flood is juxtaposed with Mark's "just the facts ma'am" description of Jesus' baptism. This edition of StoryShare follows up on that theme, featuring "Upon the Waters," an imaginative dream-like story by Frank Fisher based on the Genesis text. In addition, this week's Story to Live By ponders the "Lord of the Covenant" -- and what that means for us. There's also material addressing Jesus' temptation and his emphasis on preaching repentance, two other facets of this week's Gospel lesson.
A Story to Live By
Lord of the Covenant
by Gregory L. Tolle
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, "As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth."
Genesis 9:8-11
Legend has it that after the Fall, Adam was walking past the Garden with his sons Cain and Abel. One of the boys asked, "What's that?"
Adam replied, "Boys, that's where you mother ate us out of house and home."
It was, of course, both Adam and Eve's fault. There was plenty of blame to go around. The act of eating the forbidden fruit was more importantly an act of disobeying God. It was the first sin. Theologians call it original sin.
From that point on, humanity changed. We were inclined to do wrong.
And wrong we did. As Genesis tells us, there was so much sin and wrongness in the world that God decided to wipe it out with a flood and start over.
According to Genesis, only Noah and his family had been obedient to God. They were left to revive humanity after the flood. But what happened? Just a few verses later, good Noah becomes bad Noah -- getting drunk and cussing out his family. Noah's son was accused of showing disrespect for his parents and disregard for his traditions.
The great scrubbing that God had attempted in the flood did not clean the stain of original sin off the soul of humanity.
Perhaps you've read William Golding's book Lord of the Flies, a classic tale about a group of English schoolboys who are stranded on a deserted island after a plane wreck. At first the boys cooperate, attempting to gather food, make shelters, and maintain signal fires. Overseeing their efforts are Ralph, "the boy with fair hair," and Piggy, Ralph's chubby, wisdom-dispensing sidekick whose thick spectacles come in handy for lighting fires.
Although Ralph tries to impose order and delegate responsibility, there are many in their number who would rather swim, play, or hunt the island's wild pig population. Soon Ralph's rules are being ignored or challenged outright. His fiercest antagonist is Jack, the red-headed leader of the pig hunters, who manages to lure away many of the boys to join his band of painted savages. The situation deteriorates as the trappings of civilization continue to fall away, until Ralph discovers that instead of being hunters, he and Piggy have become the hunted.
Lord of the Flies, in its own way, says, "Hold on a second! Humans do need to be regulated, and they do need to protect themselves from each other."
Golding described the theme of the book by saying, "The theme is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature."
It is original sin revisited. No matter how hard they try to do the right, even for their own rules, they fail.
We cannot escape sin.
And yet, God has chosen to establish a covenant with this broken people. The rainbow reminds us that God will not wash away this sin with a flood again. God knows our imperfection and chooses to love us in spite of it -- even more so because of it. Since, as Lord of the Flies reminds us, we need protection from ourselves, what a blessing God's covenant is.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series IV, Cycle B).
Shining Moments
Baptism
by Constance Berg
And baptism... now saves you -- not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience...
1 Peter 3:21
"Oh, Mom, don't be silly. I don't need Erin baptized. I don't go to church and I would be two-faced if I only came to have her baptized."
Judy's eyes welled up with tears. Caroline's words stung -- she may as well have been slapped. She couldn't force her daughter to bring her baby to church to be baptized; it was Caroline's decision to make. She never brought up the issue again.
Erin grew up to be a beautiful girl: gentle, smart, and caring. She was strong-willed and beyond her years in maturity. At 20, she spent more hours at the mission feeding the homeless than studying. But her top grades seemed to come to her without much effort. She was compassionate. And unbaptized. It broke Judy's heart that her only grandchild was not baptized, but it was not her place to bring it up again.
The day came when Erin married a charismatic professor who loved nature and the outdoors more than anything else -- and he was a Christian. Erin and Tom had many discussions about children, wanting to start their family as soon as they were able. Erin and Tom had three children in five years. And none was baptized.
They had many arguments over baptism. Erin didn't subscribe to putting on appearances; Tom didn't want to force his convictions on Erin. They agreed to disagree. They dropped the subject of baptism.
Then Judy became terminally ill. She gathered her daughter and granddaughter around her and explained her illness to them. They cried together as they considered the injustice of it: they were the only family they had. But Judy made them laugh, recalling how Caroline would steal her mother's broom so she could play horsy; how Erin would toddle up to her gramma and ask her for just one more bedtime story long after she should have been asleep.
The three of them spent many long hours together until Judy's death. Later, Caroline found a set of Judy's journals. Eighteen books told of Judy's heartaches, joys, triumphs, and trials. The last held letters telling Caroline about Judy's belief in God, Judy's absolute assurance of being a child of God.
Caroline read of her own baptism, the day Judy had brought her to the church in front of family and friends. That day Caroline was assured that she was a child of God too:
"God came to you that day, Caroline. No matter what you have done, no matter what you have thought, no matter what you have not done, God has been with you. That day of your baptism opened the door to heaven for you. It was the day the Holy Spirit entered your life, never to leave. It was the first day you took a step toward heaven in your journey in life. It was the happiest day of my life."
It took several weeks for Caroline to gather the courage to share the diaries with Erin. She felt she had a reawakening, another beginning, a baptism of sorts. And suddenly it was too important to ignore, too important not to share with her daughter and grandchildren. Caroline and Erin and Tom spent days talking about life, about God, and about faith.
Life was too precious not to include God. Erin and her children were baptized five months later.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Good Stories
Upon the Waters
by Frank R. Fisher
Genesis 9:8-17
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
"Noah," your spouse calls out, "what's wrong now?"
"It was just a dream," you tell her with a voice still quavering from fright. "I dreamed we'd just come in from your mother's house. We'd had a hard time getting home. Everyone out on the street was drunk. And they were all arguing and fighting over the strangest things. It was like there was a huge and very nasty party going on all over the world. Well, anyway, we got home and bolted the door.
"Then out of nowhere there was a voice calling to me. 'Noah,' it thundered! 'I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence because of them; now I am going to destroy them along with the earth. Make yourself an ark of cypress wood; make rooms in the ark, and cover it inside and out with pitch. For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters on the earth, to destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life; everything that is on the earth shall die. But I will establish my covenant with you; and you shall come into the ark, you, your sons, your wife, and your sons' wives with you. And of every living thing, of all flesh, you shall bring two of every kind into the ark, to keep them alive with you.'
"So as soon as the voice quieted down, I went out and started building a ship. Everyone in the whole town was laughing at me. But I went ahead and built it anyway. And when I was done, I filled it with the most incredible zoo you've ever seen in your life. Then, the rains came and floated the ship away."
"Yes, Noah," your spouse replies. "You've had the same dream over and over for the last week. Now get some sleep. You have to get up in an hour to make sure the lions don't try to eat the emus for breakfast again."
"Yes, dear," you mumble as you turn over and fluff your pillow. But before your eyes close, her words sink in. "Lions! Emus!" you shout. "You mean this isn't a dream?!"
And you jump out of bed, run out the door, and find that indeed your dream is a very vivid reality. The sounds and smells of an incredible variety of animals assail you from every side. Your stomach twists and turns as the ark you ride on pitches in the midst of an endless sea. And your mind races as you wonder how in the world you're going to get yourself out of this mess.
Then you smile, relax your tense muscles, and with eyes lifted toward the heavens breathe forth a fervent prayer of thanksgiving. You know there's nothing you can do to get yourself out of this predicament. But you also know there's nothing you have to do -- for the Lord your God has lifted you above the flood. And though you now venture in danger upon these deep and swirling waters, you look in the sky and see the sign of the rainbow; a sign in which you know you have your Lord's promise to always guide you safely to the distant shore.
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
"Susan," your spouse calls out, "what's wrong now?"
"It was just a dream," you tell him with a voice still quavering from fright. "I dreamed I was at a cocktail party. I was trying to impress Edward Johnson, a candidate for Congress. Of course I knew Edward was an Elder in an integrated mission church. So I asked him if there was anything I could do to help his congregation. I expected he'd give me a volunteer assignment or ask me for money. But Edward opened his mouth and simply said, 'Come worship with us this Sunday.' "
"It's no dream," your husband replied. "You told him yes. And the service starts in 90 minutes."
So you stumble out of bed, get ready for church, and struggle out the door. All the way to the church you shout to the sky, "I don't want to go! I don't want to go!"
For a moment, silence reigns. Then, above the noise of the traffic, you hear one word echoing through your mind: "Go!" "But I really don't want to go," you shout back. "If you let me stay where I'm comfortable until Epiphany, I'll go there and stay a whole year."
Again through the silence, a single word echoes: "Go!"
Finally your inner fight ends as you reach the church. You open the door and shiver in the winter cold as you make your way up the steps. The minister welcomes you warmly at the door. That welcome, you find, is the only thing in the building that's warm -- for as you and seven other worshipers (including the minister, pianist, and choir) gather in the cold sanctuary you find the heat's been turned off to save what meager funds the tiny congregation still has in its possession.
"This can't be the place for me," you inwardly protest. "Nothing can make me stay here!" But something does indeed make you stay; something perhaps that's the call of the Lord your God who holds up to you the sign of the rainbow, a sign saying you will be held securely upon many troubled waters; something, it could be that's the call of the Lord your God through the waters where you were born into the family of Jesus Christ.
So you make your spiritual home in this tiny and cold place. You listen to and work with those who live in the neighboring public housing project. You learn to pray. You visit the sick and encourage both lapsed members and potential friends. Slowly, ever so slowly, your faith becomes alive and you move from an intellectual belief to the servant path of those walking with Christ.
You smile now as you think of those first days and look out at your new community life center and consider the wonder of your 400-plus rainbow-hued congregation. And you lift your eyes to the heavens and utter a prayer of thanks to the Lord your God, the one who held you close during your travel upon these new and exciting waters.
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
But then you struggle awake and find you're not in your own bed. In fact, you're not in bed at all. You're in the middle of the sanctuary and the pastor's trying to make as much noise as possible to keep you awake during the sermon.
Your wakefulness, however, hasn't chased the nightmare away. And your dream of being cast adrift on the waters may seem all too true, even in the light of day -- for the pastor's started to talk about changes: changes your church faces, changes that will happen no matter what you do. One choice, that of trying to keep everything the same, will bring the change of increasingly older members, and at some point in the future severe decline and possibly congregational death. The other choice, the one of asking God to work through you to keep this church vitally alive, will also bring change; change which may be every bit as discomforting as those caused by your other option.
But be assured, no matter what choice you make, you won't drown. For there is One whose covenant with us began with the rainbow over the waters; One who reaches to us and protects us in all our journeys upon the fiercest waters.
And wherever you go, and whatever you choose, that One will never abandon you or leave you to drown in despair.
For that wonderful gift, may all thanks and glory be given to God.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Finders Keepers
by Henry Scholberg
And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
Mark 1:12-13
Neil loved his bicycle -- it was quite adequate for his needs. Though it lacked extra gears, on steep hills such as Norway Hill, he would get off and push his bike up to the top; then he would get back on and whiz down the road at speeds sometimes in excess of 30 miles an hour.
On this day he was pedaling along Princeton Parkway when he spotted a wallet by the side of the road. It must have fallen out of some guy's pocket when he was getting out of his car. Neil dismounted, picked up the wallet, and examined it. Wow! There was money in it -- a whole lot of money! He looked around. No one had seen him pick it up. He slipped it into his pocket, turned his bike around, and pedaled home as fast as his churning legs could make him go.
At his house he didn't bother to lean his bike neatly against the garage wall as he usually did. He let it drop by the side of the house and rushed upstairs to his room. Mom wasn't home -- she was probably shopping. Dad was at work. Neil went to his room, closed the door, opened up the wallet, and emptied its contents on his bed. There were three $50 bills, a whole bunch of twenties, several tens and fives, and a few ones. This guy was rich! Neil separated the bills and counted up his find. It came to $417. Neil gazed at his treasure. Never had he seen that much money. "Finders keepers, losers weepers." That was a little rhyme he had learned when he was "just a kid." It came back to him now. Finders keepers...
He basked in the moment until a faraway voice asked him if the money was rightfully his. Maybe there's some identification in the wallet. I hope there isn't. There was. From the credit cards, driver's license, and business cards it was plain that the wallet belonged to F. Arnold Huntington of 5373 Princeton Parkway. That's right where I found it. He frowned.
This'll be my secret, he thought. I'll use the money to buy a 10-speed, maybe a mountain bike. I'll show Norway Hill what-for.
Then the distant voice cut in again. "You'll never get away with it, sonny boy. Folks will wonder where you got all that money." He had to think about that. No sweat, he figured. I'll just say I found it and there was no ID in it. Then again the distant voice chimed, "Yeah, right."
Neil heaved an enormous sigh. He stuffed the money back into the wallet along with the identification and slowly made his way to 5373 Princeton Parkway. He rang the bell and a lady answered. "Does Mr. Huntington live here?" Neil asked.
"Yes, but he's at work just now."
"Is he your father?"
"No, he's my husband. Can I help you in some way?"
"Yes," Neil said, smiling brightly and handing the wallet to the lady. "Look what I found!"
Henry Scholberg was born and spent most of his childhood in India, where his parents were Methodist missionaries for nearly four decades. Now retired, he served as the director of the University of Minnesota's Ames Library of South Asia at for 25 years. Scholberg is an award-winning playwright and actor who has written and directed numerous religious plays for churches, community theater, and television. He is the author of The Golden Bells and In the Time of Trial.
Scrap Pile
Repentance
by Sil Galvan
In this week's Gospel reading from Mark, I think that there are two things which jump out at us: first of all, that Christ was driven into the desert by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan; and secondly, that he began his public ministry by preaching a gospel of repentance.
In taking our flesh upon himself, our Lord desired to experience our lives to the full, with the sole exception of sin. Since temptation, and how we respond to it, is an integral part of our lives, he experienced it also. As the letter to the Hebrews states, Jesus was made "completely like his brothers [and sisters]. In him we have a high priest who can feel our weaknesses with us; for he was tempted in every way that we are, though he is without sin" (Hebrews 2:17-18).
As one commentator puts it: "Jesus can identify with us. He is like us in all things and ways, sin excepted. He was tempted, as we are. He was not immune to suffering, to hurt, to disappointment.... He deigned to taste of human triumph, of failure, and of death. He rejected none of our joys; he only rejected sin. This is the most profound mystery of God's love. Jesus was wholly human, but that doesn't mean that he was merely human. The fact that he was 'without sin' did not imply any lack of humanness. Sin is not an intrinsic ingredient of humanity. Quite the contrary. Sin is a fall from humanity. But otherwise he shared our weakness and our temptations." (From "Like Us In All Things But Sin," by Flor McCarthy, SDB. Reprinted with permission from New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Costello Publications, 1999.)
Once he had overcome Satan in the desert (as discussed further by Matthew and Luke), Jesus went about preaching repentance. The word "repent" comes from the Greek word metanoia, and it literally means "a change of heart." Repentance is different from merely being sorry for sin. Sorrow for sin means that we regret our past sins with no regard for the future. Perhaps we are sorry for the consequences of sin and not sin itself, because we know that God is just and will punish us. Repentance, however, means being sorry for our past sins while also promising not to sin again in the future because it offends God.
In the New York area a few years ago, Yankee fans were stunned to learn that Darryl Strawberry had failed his third drug test in five years and had been suspended from baseball for one year by Commissioner Bud Selig. One reporter noted that ever since his meeting with Strawberry and his wife, both weeping and begging, Selig had been waging his own war on temptation -- the temptation to go easy on a sick and broken man, a survivor of colon cancer. "I had no doubt that his remorse and sorrow were genuine," Selig said, "and I worried about the effect my decision would have on his health and the welfare of his family." In the end, however, Selig decided that each of us must be held accountable for our actions and so imposed the sentence. For whatever reason, the Straw man had regretted his past sins but he had fallen short of true repentance and had fallen back into his previous problems. Of course, we all know how strong these addictions -- call them temptations -- can be. When we are thrown back into a living situation which had lent itself to previous failures, success against new temptations is very difficult indeed. Success, for the most part, is dependent upon removing ourselves from the situations which have caused us temptations in the past. Unless we have a higher motivation, that is.
Consider this story author Walter Wangerin tells about an experience he had with his son Matthew. When Matthew was seven years old and in the second grade, he became fascinated with comic books -- so much so that one day he stole some from the library. When Walter found the comic books in Matthew's room, he confronted him, corrected him, disciplined him, and took him back to the library to return the books. Matthew received stern lectures regarding stealing from both the librarian and also from his dad. The following summer, however, it happened again. Matthew stole some comic books from a resort gift shop. Again Walter corrected him, told him how wrong it was to steal, and made him return the magazines.
A year later, Matthew once again stole some comic books from a drugstore. Walter decided he had to do something to get his son's attention and to underscore the seriousness of stealing. So he took Matthew into his study and said, "Matthew, I have never spanked you before, and I don't want to now, but somehow I've got to get through to you and help you see how wrong it is to steal." So Walter bent Matthew over and spanked him five times with his bare hand. Matthew's eyes moistened with tears and he sat there looking at the floor. Walter sensed that his son did not want to cry in front of his father, so he said, "Matthew, I'm going to leave you alone for a little while. You sit here, and I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, he stepped out of the study and closed the door behind him. Once out the door, Wangerin says that he was overcome at the thought of what he had just done. He broke down and cried uncontrollably. When he had regained his composure, he went into the bathroom and washed his face. Then he went back into the study to talk to his son. From that moment on, Matthew never stole again.
Years later, as Matthew and his mother were driving home from shopping, they talked about some memories of his childhood. They remembered the incident with the comic books. Matthew said, "Mom, after that, I never stole anything again from anybody, and I never will."
His mother asked, "Was it because your dad spanked you that day?"
"Oh no," Matthew explained, "It was because I heard him crying!" (From Standing on the Promises or Sitting on the Premises? by James W. Moore; as cited in "The Weeping Christ" by William J. Bausch. Reprinted with permission from More Telling Stories, Twenty-third Publications, 1993, pp. 21-25.)
The thing that made the greatest impression on Matthew was not the spanking that he received from his father, but rather the effect that his lack of repentance had had on his father. True repentance is motivated not only by a sorrow for sin but by a desire not to offend God. Offending God is a difficult notion for us to conceptualize. However, we could understand it better if we could bring it into a human situation. We know that Christ was human and was like us in all things but sin. But he was also the second person of the blessed Trinity, and therefore God. So whatever sufferings Jesus endured, God endured. To find the extent of how our sins offended God, we need to look no further than the cross.
Some 35 years ago I read a book which had a profound effect on me. Called A Doctor at Calvary, it was written in the 1950s by a French doctor named Pierre Barbet who had studied the Shroud of Turin. As a result of his findings, he was able to determine what our Lord would have suffered during his passion, and those sufferings are almost beyond comprehension.* Based on his book, I don't have any doubt that the Shroud is the image of Christ, and I really don't want to get hung up in all the scientific stuff. It's all a matter of faith anyway, just like all of our beliefs. Of course, we have no way of knowing how the full image of the body came to be on the shroud, but I would like to believe that at the moment of the resurrection his body glowed so brightly that it left that image there for us to meditate on. And it is said that those who meditate on his passion are very dear to Christ. Blessed Denis the Carthusian once said: "If we love Him not because He is good but because He is God, let us at least love Him because He has suffered so many things for our salvation." How marvelous that he has left us this memorial of his passion for just that purpose.
If we do enter fully into his sufferings, then perhaps, like young Matthew, we will be less inclined to sin due to our knowledge of what our sins have done to Christ. And perhaps we will also be more inclined to be truly repentant for our sins and to change our lives. Because he himself endured temptation, Jesus understands us and can help us. Hence, we can approach him with confidence and ask forgiveness for our sins, knowing that he will have mercy on us and grant us grace in our own time of need.
* The following is my summary of Barbet's principal findings, although it is hardly comprehensive. Barbet verifies through medical knowledge what Luke has recounted in his passion narrative -- that severe emotional stress could well bring someone to the point of sweating blood which would drop to the ground in clots. He points out that this would have made the skin very sensitized to the later flogging, which was inflicted not only on his back but also on his legs and chest.
From the evidence on the shroud, the nose had been broken and there was a large bruise on the right cheek from blows received during his interrogation in the courts of Pilate. The thorns were not those of roses but rather from a tree very common in the near East which had very sharp thorns almost two inches long. These were shaped not into a crown but into a cap which covered his entire scalp. Ironically, similar caps (called a pileus) were worn by freed slaves as a symbol of their freedom.
Christ did not carry the entire cross on the way to Calvary but only the patibulum or transverse beam, which was raised up on the stipes, or vertical beam, on Calvary. He fell several times, causing bruises on his knees which are evident on the Shroud.
Death was caused by asphyxiation, due to the inability of the body to exhale breath because of the weight of the body on the hands. This was relieved only by pushing the body up from the nail in the feet. The wounds of the nails were not in the palm of the hands but in the "place of Destot," a gap in the wrist between the bones of the arm and the hand. There, the nails would have pierced the main mesial (sensory and motor) nerve in the body, thus causing excruciating pain each time he moved during the three-hour agony. (For an analysis, consider the pain caused when a nerve in our teeth is touched -- and multiply that by the number of times Christ pushed his body up during his agony.)
Silverius "Sil" Galvan is a deacon at the Catholic Community of Saint Mary of the Lake in Lakewood, New Jersey. He has been involved in music ministry as an organist, guitarist, and sometime cantor for more than four decades. Galvan also operates www.deaconsil.com, a website offering extensive homiletic resources.
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Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Lord of the Covenant" by Gregory L. Tolle
Shining Moments: "Baptism" by Constance Berg
Good Stories: "Upon the Waters" by Frank R. Fisher
"Finders Keepers" by Henry Scholberg
Scrap Pile: "Repentance" by Sil Galvan
What's Up This Week
Water is the common thread of this week's readings, as the familiar story of God's covenant with Noah following the great flood is juxtaposed with Mark's "just the facts ma'am" description of Jesus' baptism. This edition of StoryShare follows up on that theme, featuring "Upon the Waters," an imaginative dream-like story by Frank Fisher based on the Genesis text. In addition, this week's Story to Live By ponders the "Lord of the Covenant" -- and what that means for us. There's also material addressing Jesus' temptation and his emphasis on preaching repentance, two other facets of this week's Gospel lesson.
A Story to Live By
Lord of the Covenant
by Gregory L. Tolle
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, "As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth."
Genesis 9:8-11
Legend has it that after the Fall, Adam was walking past the Garden with his sons Cain and Abel. One of the boys asked, "What's that?"
Adam replied, "Boys, that's where you mother ate us out of house and home."
It was, of course, both Adam and Eve's fault. There was plenty of blame to go around. The act of eating the forbidden fruit was more importantly an act of disobeying God. It was the first sin. Theologians call it original sin.
From that point on, humanity changed. We were inclined to do wrong.
And wrong we did. As Genesis tells us, there was so much sin and wrongness in the world that God decided to wipe it out with a flood and start over.
According to Genesis, only Noah and his family had been obedient to God. They were left to revive humanity after the flood. But what happened? Just a few verses later, good Noah becomes bad Noah -- getting drunk and cussing out his family. Noah's son was accused of showing disrespect for his parents and disregard for his traditions.
The great scrubbing that God had attempted in the flood did not clean the stain of original sin off the soul of humanity.
Perhaps you've read William Golding's book Lord of the Flies, a classic tale about a group of English schoolboys who are stranded on a deserted island after a plane wreck. At first the boys cooperate, attempting to gather food, make shelters, and maintain signal fires. Overseeing their efforts are Ralph, "the boy with fair hair," and Piggy, Ralph's chubby, wisdom-dispensing sidekick whose thick spectacles come in handy for lighting fires.
Although Ralph tries to impose order and delegate responsibility, there are many in their number who would rather swim, play, or hunt the island's wild pig population. Soon Ralph's rules are being ignored or challenged outright. His fiercest antagonist is Jack, the red-headed leader of the pig hunters, who manages to lure away many of the boys to join his band of painted savages. The situation deteriorates as the trappings of civilization continue to fall away, until Ralph discovers that instead of being hunters, he and Piggy have become the hunted.
Lord of the Flies, in its own way, says, "Hold on a second! Humans do need to be regulated, and they do need to protect themselves from each other."
Golding described the theme of the book by saying, "The theme is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature."
It is original sin revisited. No matter how hard they try to do the right, even for their own rules, they fail.
We cannot escape sin.
And yet, God has chosen to establish a covenant with this broken people. The rainbow reminds us that God will not wash away this sin with a flood again. God knows our imperfection and chooses to love us in spite of it -- even more so because of it. Since, as Lord of the Flies reminds us, we need protection from ourselves, what a blessing God's covenant is.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series IV, Cycle B).
Shining Moments
Baptism
by Constance Berg
And baptism... now saves you -- not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience...
1 Peter 3:21
"Oh, Mom, don't be silly. I don't need Erin baptized. I don't go to church and I would be two-faced if I only came to have her baptized."
Judy's eyes welled up with tears. Caroline's words stung -- she may as well have been slapped. She couldn't force her daughter to bring her baby to church to be baptized; it was Caroline's decision to make. She never brought up the issue again.
Erin grew up to be a beautiful girl: gentle, smart, and caring. She was strong-willed and beyond her years in maturity. At 20, she spent more hours at the mission feeding the homeless than studying. But her top grades seemed to come to her without much effort. She was compassionate. And unbaptized. It broke Judy's heart that her only grandchild was not baptized, but it was not her place to bring it up again.
The day came when Erin married a charismatic professor who loved nature and the outdoors more than anything else -- and he was a Christian. Erin and Tom had many discussions about children, wanting to start their family as soon as they were able. Erin and Tom had three children in five years. And none was baptized.
They had many arguments over baptism. Erin didn't subscribe to putting on appearances; Tom didn't want to force his convictions on Erin. They agreed to disagree. They dropped the subject of baptism.
Then Judy became terminally ill. She gathered her daughter and granddaughter around her and explained her illness to them. They cried together as they considered the injustice of it: they were the only family they had. But Judy made them laugh, recalling how Caroline would steal her mother's broom so she could play horsy; how Erin would toddle up to her gramma and ask her for just one more bedtime story long after she should have been asleep.
The three of them spent many long hours together until Judy's death. Later, Caroline found a set of Judy's journals. Eighteen books told of Judy's heartaches, joys, triumphs, and trials. The last held letters telling Caroline about Judy's belief in God, Judy's absolute assurance of being a child of God.
Caroline read of her own baptism, the day Judy had brought her to the church in front of family and friends. That day Caroline was assured that she was a child of God too:
"God came to you that day, Caroline. No matter what you have done, no matter what you have thought, no matter what you have not done, God has been with you. That day of your baptism opened the door to heaven for you. It was the day the Holy Spirit entered your life, never to leave. It was the first day you took a step toward heaven in your journey in life. It was the happiest day of my life."
It took several weeks for Caroline to gather the courage to share the diaries with Erin. She felt she had a reawakening, another beginning, a baptism of sorts. And suddenly it was too important to ignore, too important not to share with her daughter and grandchildren. Caroline and Erin and Tom spent days talking about life, about God, and about faith.
Life was too precious not to include God. Erin and her children were baptized five months later.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Good Stories
Upon the Waters
by Frank R. Fisher
Genesis 9:8-17
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
"Noah," your spouse calls out, "what's wrong now?"
"It was just a dream," you tell her with a voice still quavering from fright. "I dreamed we'd just come in from your mother's house. We'd had a hard time getting home. Everyone out on the street was drunk. And they were all arguing and fighting over the strangest things. It was like there was a huge and very nasty party going on all over the world. Well, anyway, we got home and bolted the door.
"Then out of nowhere there was a voice calling to me. 'Noah,' it thundered! 'I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence because of them; now I am going to destroy them along with the earth. Make yourself an ark of cypress wood; make rooms in the ark, and cover it inside and out with pitch. For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters on the earth, to destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life; everything that is on the earth shall die. But I will establish my covenant with you; and you shall come into the ark, you, your sons, your wife, and your sons' wives with you. And of every living thing, of all flesh, you shall bring two of every kind into the ark, to keep them alive with you.'
"So as soon as the voice quieted down, I went out and started building a ship. Everyone in the whole town was laughing at me. But I went ahead and built it anyway. And when I was done, I filled it with the most incredible zoo you've ever seen in your life. Then, the rains came and floated the ship away."
"Yes, Noah," your spouse replies. "You've had the same dream over and over for the last week. Now get some sleep. You have to get up in an hour to make sure the lions don't try to eat the emus for breakfast again."
"Yes, dear," you mumble as you turn over and fluff your pillow. But before your eyes close, her words sink in. "Lions! Emus!" you shout. "You mean this isn't a dream?!"
And you jump out of bed, run out the door, and find that indeed your dream is a very vivid reality. The sounds and smells of an incredible variety of animals assail you from every side. Your stomach twists and turns as the ark you ride on pitches in the midst of an endless sea. And your mind races as you wonder how in the world you're going to get yourself out of this mess.
Then you smile, relax your tense muscles, and with eyes lifted toward the heavens breathe forth a fervent prayer of thanksgiving. You know there's nothing you can do to get yourself out of this predicament. But you also know there's nothing you have to do -- for the Lord your God has lifted you above the flood. And though you now venture in danger upon these deep and swirling waters, you look in the sky and see the sign of the rainbow; a sign in which you know you have your Lord's promise to always guide you safely to the distant shore.
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
"Susan," your spouse calls out, "what's wrong now?"
"It was just a dream," you tell him with a voice still quavering from fright. "I dreamed I was at a cocktail party. I was trying to impress Edward Johnson, a candidate for Congress. Of course I knew Edward was an Elder in an integrated mission church. So I asked him if there was anything I could do to help his congregation. I expected he'd give me a volunteer assignment or ask me for money. But Edward opened his mouth and simply said, 'Come worship with us this Sunday.' "
"It's no dream," your husband replied. "You told him yes. And the service starts in 90 minutes."
So you stumble out of bed, get ready for church, and struggle out the door. All the way to the church you shout to the sky, "I don't want to go! I don't want to go!"
For a moment, silence reigns. Then, above the noise of the traffic, you hear one word echoing through your mind: "Go!" "But I really don't want to go," you shout back. "If you let me stay where I'm comfortable until Epiphany, I'll go there and stay a whole year."
Again through the silence, a single word echoes: "Go!"
Finally your inner fight ends as you reach the church. You open the door and shiver in the winter cold as you make your way up the steps. The minister welcomes you warmly at the door. That welcome, you find, is the only thing in the building that's warm -- for as you and seven other worshipers (including the minister, pianist, and choir) gather in the cold sanctuary you find the heat's been turned off to save what meager funds the tiny congregation still has in its possession.
"This can't be the place for me," you inwardly protest. "Nothing can make me stay here!" But something does indeed make you stay; something perhaps that's the call of the Lord your God who holds up to you the sign of the rainbow, a sign saying you will be held securely upon many troubled waters; something, it could be that's the call of the Lord your God through the waters where you were born into the family of Jesus Christ.
So you make your spiritual home in this tiny and cold place. You listen to and work with those who live in the neighboring public housing project. You learn to pray. You visit the sick and encourage both lapsed members and potential friends. Slowly, ever so slowly, your faith becomes alive and you move from an intellectual belief to the servant path of those walking with Christ.
You smile now as you think of those first days and look out at your new community life center and consider the wonder of your 400-plus rainbow-hued congregation. And you lift your eyes to the heavens and utter a prayer of thanks to the Lord your God, the one who held you close during your travel upon these new and exciting waters.
"Help me! I'm drowning!"
Those words hang in the air as you try desperately to rub the sleep from your eyes. Sighing, you think for a moment about going back to sleep but you don't dare -- for you're afraid that incredible nightmare will quickly return.
But then you struggle awake and find you're not in your own bed. In fact, you're not in bed at all. You're in the middle of the sanctuary and the pastor's trying to make as much noise as possible to keep you awake during the sermon.
Your wakefulness, however, hasn't chased the nightmare away. And your dream of being cast adrift on the waters may seem all too true, even in the light of day -- for the pastor's started to talk about changes: changes your church faces, changes that will happen no matter what you do. One choice, that of trying to keep everything the same, will bring the change of increasingly older members, and at some point in the future severe decline and possibly congregational death. The other choice, the one of asking God to work through you to keep this church vitally alive, will also bring change; change which may be every bit as discomforting as those caused by your other option.
But be assured, no matter what choice you make, you won't drown. For there is One whose covenant with us began with the rainbow over the waters; One who reaches to us and protects us in all our journeys upon the fiercest waters.
And wherever you go, and whatever you choose, that One will never abandon you or leave you to drown in despair.
For that wonderful gift, may all thanks and glory be given to God.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Finders Keepers
by Henry Scholberg
And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
Mark 1:12-13
Neil loved his bicycle -- it was quite adequate for his needs. Though it lacked extra gears, on steep hills such as Norway Hill, he would get off and push his bike up to the top; then he would get back on and whiz down the road at speeds sometimes in excess of 30 miles an hour.
On this day he was pedaling along Princeton Parkway when he spotted a wallet by the side of the road. It must have fallen out of some guy's pocket when he was getting out of his car. Neil dismounted, picked up the wallet, and examined it. Wow! There was money in it -- a whole lot of money! He looked around. No one had seen him pick it up. He slipped it into his pocket, turned his bike around, and pedaled home as fast as his churning legs could make him go.
At his house he didn't bother to lean his bike neatly against the garage wall as he usually did. He let it drop by the side of the house and rushed upstairs to his room. Mom wasn't home -- she was probably shopping. Dad was at work. Neil went to his room, closed the door, opened up the wallet, and emptied its contents on his bed. There were three $50 bills, a whole bunch of twenties, several tens and fives, and a few ones. This guy was rich! Neil separated the bills and counted up his find. It came to $417. Neil gazed at his treasure. Never had he seen that much money. "Finders keepers, losers weepers." That was a little rhyme he had learned when he was "just a kid." It came back to him now. Finders keepers...
He basked in the moment until a faraway voice asked him if the money was rightfully his. Maybe there's some identification in the wallet. I hope there isn't. There was. From the credit cards, driver's license, and business cards it was plain that the wallet belonged to F. Arnold Huntington of 5373 Princeton Parkway. That's right where I found it. He frowned.
This'll be my secret, he thought. I'll use the money to buy a 10-speed, maybe a mountain bike. I'll show Norway Hill what-for.
Then the distant voice cut in again. "You'll never get away with it, sonny boy. Folks will wonder where you got all that money." He had to think about that. No sweat, he figured. I'll just say I found it and there was no ID in it. Then again the distant voice chimed, "Yeah, right."
Neil heaved an enormous sigh. He stuffed the money back into the wallet along with the identification and slowly made his way to 5373 Princeton Parkway. He rang the bell and a lady answered. "Does Mr. Huntington live here?" Neil asked.
"Yes, but he's at work just now."
"Is he your father?"
"No, he's my husband. Can I help you in some way?"
"Yes," Neil said, smiling brightly and handing the wallet to the lady. "Look what I found!"
Henry Scholberg was born and spent most of his childhood in India, where his parents were Methodist missionaries for nearly four decades. Now retired, he served as the director of the University of Minnesota's Ames Library of South Asia at for 25 years. Scholberg is an award-winning playwright and actor who has written and directed numerous religious plays for churches, community theater, and television. He is the author of The Golden Bells and In the Time of Trial.
Scrap Pile
Repentance
by Sil Galvan
In this week's Gospel reading from Mark, I think that there are two things which jump out at us: first of all, that Christ was driven into the desert by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan; and secondly, that he began his public ministry by preaching a gospel of repentance.
In taking our flesh upon himself, our Lord desired to experience our lives to the full, with the sole exception of sin. Since temptation, and how we respond to it, is an integral part of our lives, he experienced it also. As the letter to the Hebrews states, Jesus was made "completely like his brothers [and sisters]. In him we have a high priest who can feel our weaknesses with us; for he was tempted in every way that we are, though he is without sin" (Hebrews 2:17-18).
As one commentator puts it: "Jesus can identify with us. He is like us in all things and ways, sin excepted. He was tempted, as we are. He was not immune to suffering, to hurt, to disappointment.... He deigned to taste of human triumph, of failure, and of death. He rejected none of our joys; he only rejected sin. This is the most profound mystery of God's love. Jesus was wholly human, but that doesn't mean that he was merely human. The fact that he was 'without sin' did not imply any lack of humanness. Sin is not an intrinsic ingredient of humanity. Quite the contrary. Sin is a fall from humanity. But otherwise he shared our weakness and our temptations." (From "Like Us In All Things But Sin," by Flor McCarthy, SDB. Reprinted with permission from New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Costello Publications, 1999.)
Once he had overcome Satan in the desert (as discussed further by Matthew and Luke), Jesus went about preaching repentance. The word "repent" comes from the Greek word metanoia, and it literally means "a change of heart." Repentance is different from merely being sorry for sin. Sorrow for sin means that we regret our past sins with no regard for the future. Perhaps we are sorry for the consequences of sin and not sin itself, because we know that God is just and will punish us. Repentance, however, means being sorry for our past sins while also promising not to sin again in the future because it offends God.
In the New York area a few years ago, Yankee fans were stunned to learn that Darryl Strawberry had failed his third drug test in five years and had been suspended from baseball for one year by Commissioner Bud Selig. One reporter noted that ever since his meeting with Strawberry and his wife, both weeping and begging, Selig had been waging his own war on temptation -- the temptation to go easy on a sick and broken man, a survivor of colon cancer. "I had no doubt that his remorse and sorrow were genuine," Selig said, "and I worried about the effect my decision would have on his health and the welfare of his family." In the end, however, Selig decided that each of us must be held accountable for our actions and so imposed the sentence. For whatever reason, the Straw man had regretted his past sins but he had fallen short of true repentance and had fallen back into his previous problems. Of course, we all know how strong these addictions -- call them temptations -- can be. When we are thrown back into a living situation which had lent itself to previous failures, success against new temptations is very difficult indeed. Success, for the most part, is dependent upon removing ourselves from the situations which have caused us temptations in the past. Unless we have a higher motivation, that is.
Consider this story author Walter Wangerin tells about an experience he had with his son Matthew. When Matthew was seven years old and in the second grade, he became fascinated with comic books -- so much so that one day he stole some from the library. When Walter found the comic books in Matthew's room, he confronted him, corrected him, disciplined him, and took him back to the library to return the books. Matthew received stern lectures regarding stealing from both the librarian and also from his dad. The following summer, however, it happened again. Matthew stole some comic books from a resort gift shop. Again Walter corrected him, told him how wrong it was to steal, and made him return the magazines.
A year later, Matthew once again stole some comic books from a drugstore. Walter decided he had to do something to get his son's attention and to underscore the seriousness of stealing. So he took Matthew into his study and said, "Matthew, I have never spanked you before, and I don't want to now, but somehow I've got to get through to you and help you see how wrong it is to steal." So Walter bent Matthew over and spanked him five times with his bare hand. Matthew's eyes moistened with tears and he sat there looking at the floor. Walter sensed that his son did not want to cry in front of his father, so he said, "Matthew, I'm going to leave you alone for a little while. You sit here, and I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, he stepped out of the study and closed the door behind him. Once out the door, Wangerin says that he was overcome at the thought of what he had just done. He broke down and cried uncontrollably. When he had regained his composure, he went into the bathroom and washed his face. Then he went back into the study to talk to his son. From that moment on, Matthew never stole again.
Years later, as Matthew and his mother were driving home from shopping, they talked about some memories of his childhood. They remembered the incident with the comic books. Matthew said, "Mom, after that, I never stole anything again from anybody, and I never will."
His mother asked, "Was it because your dad spanked you that day?"
"Oh no," Matthew explained, "It was because I heard him crying!" (From Standing on the Promises or Sitting on the Premises? by James W. Moore; as cited in "The Weeping Christ" by William J. Bausch. Reprinted with permission from More Telling Stories, Twenty-third Publications, 1993, pp. 21-25.)
The thing that made the greatest impression on Matthew was not the spanking that he received from his father, but rather the effect that his lack of repentance had had on his father. True repentance is motivated not only by a sorrow for sin but by a desire not to offend God. Offending God is a difficult notion for us to conceptualize. However, we could understand it better if we could bring it into a human situation. We know that Christ was human and was like us in all things but sin. But he was also the second person of the blessed Trinity, and therefore God. So whatever sufferings Jesus endured, God endured. To find the extent of how our sins offended God, we need to look no further than the cross.
Some 35 years ago I read a book which had a profound effect on me. Called A Doctor at Calvary, it was written in the 1950s by a French doctor named Pierre Barbet who had studied the Shroud of Turin. As a result of his findings, he was able to determine what our Lord would have suffered during his passion, and those sufferings are almost beyond comprehension.* Based on his book, I don't have any doubt that the Shroud is the image of Christ, and I really don't want to get hung up in all the scientific stuff. It's all a matter of faith anyway, just like all of our beliefs. Of course, we have no way of knowing how the full image of the body came to be on the shroud, but I would like to believe that at the moment of the resurrection his body glowed so brightly that it left that image there for us to meditate on. And it is said that those who meditate on his passion are very dear to Christ. Blessed Denis the Carthusian once said: "If we love Him not because He is good but because He is God, let us at least love Him because He has suffered so many things for our salvation." How marvelous that he has left us this memorial of his passion for just that purpose.
If we do enter fully into his sufferings, then perhaps, like young Matthew, we will be less inclined to sin due to our knowledge of what our sins have done to Christ. And perhaps we will also be more inclined to be truly repentant for our sins and to change our lives. Because he himself endured temptation, Jesus understands us and can help us. Hence, we can approach him with confidence and ask forgiveness for our sins, knowing that he will have mercy on us and grant us grace in our own time of need.
* The following is my summary of Barbet's principal findings, although it is hardly comprehensive. Barbet verifies through medical knowledge what Luke has recounted in his passion narrative -- that severe emotional stress could well bring someone to the point of sweating blood which would drop to the ground in clots. He points out that this would have made the skin very sensitized to the later flogging, which was inflicted not only on his back but also on his legs and chest.
From the evidence on the shroud, the nose had been broken and there was a large bruise on the right cheek from blows received during his interrogation in the courts of Pilate. The thorns were not those of roses but rather from a tree very common in the near East which had very sharp thorns almost two inches long. These were shaped not into a crown but into a cap which covered his entire scalp. Ironically, similar caps (called a pileus) were worn by freed slaves as a symbol of their freedom.
Christ did not carry the entire cross on the way to Calvary but only the patibulum or transverse beam, which was raised up on the stipes, or vertical beam, on Calvary. He fell several times, causing bruises on his knees which are evident on the Shroud.
Death was caused by asphyxiation, due to the inability of the body to exhale breath because of the weight of the body on the hands. This was relieved only by pushing the body up from the nail in the feet. The wounds of the nails were not in the palm of the hands but in the "place of Destot," a gap in the wrist between the bones of the arm and the hand. There, the nails would have pierced the main mesial (sensory and motor) nerve in the body, thus causing excruciating pain each time he moved during the three-hour agony. (For an analysis, consider the pain caused when a nerve in our teeth is touched -- and multiply that by the number of times Christ pushed his body up during his agony.)
Silverius "Sil" Galvan is a deacon at the Catholic Community of Saint Mary of the Lake in Lakewood, New Jersey. He has been involved in music ministry as an organist, guitarist, and sometime cantor for more than four decades. Galvan also operates www.deaconsil.com, a website offering extensive homiletic resources.
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StoryShare, March 5, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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