Recently the world celebrated the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. In one of the news articles that ran, one woman who survived that camp said that what got her through it was the fact that 1) she was imprisoned with her mother and childhood friends, and 2) they helped her remember herself so that, rather than losing her identity in the number on her arm, she kept alive within herself her own story: that she has a name and a family, memories and feelings and experiences that are entirely her own. She feels that generalizations or groupings are not useful. She even dislikes being called "a survivor" because there are many different things people have survived, and each experience is different. She sees the world as a world of individual stories.
All through the gospels, Jesus meets individuals. He must have met hundreds, probably thousands of people, but we only know of a few dozen, and we know them through their stories. A woman with an issue of blood. The demoniac of the Gadarenes. The daughter of Jairus. Zacchaeus, the short publican. And my favorite this week, the centurion with a paralyzed servant. Each of these is healed or taught (and used to teach others) in a totally unique way.
In Matthew Chapter 8, the centurion takes up a total of 9 verses, but he leaves his mark. He lives in Capernaum. He comes seeking Jesus. He's not worthy for Jesus to come to his house, but, as a man of authority himself, he understands the power Jesus holds. He knows Jesus can simply tell his servants (the elements, unclean spirits, even the bodies of other people) what to do and they'll do it. He knows Jesus can heal this servant just by saying the words miles away. His faith is so strong that it says, "Jesus marvelled" and says "I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." And then Jesus does a curious thing. He considers this guy - Roman, a non-Jew, a military leader - and teaches his followers a critical point: it's the personal faith that matters. It's the individual, not the group. He sees this man wholly and clearly for who he is. And for the reasons that really matter. And he says to his followers, "many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." You can almost see him holding his hand out toward this man to say, "Like him."
I can't help but imagine what the kingdom of heaven will look like. Pretty eclectic from the sound of it.
And this is the message I get from this week's reading: 1) God sees us as distinct individuals. We see ourselves that way. God sees and judges us that way. He sees far deeper than, say, our race or occupation or even the religion we happen to belong to. Not that these things do not matter. They all matter because they inform our lives and shape our stories, but they are never the ultimate distinction. The ultimate distinction is what we believe and whether or not we believe in him. Because if keeping our identity alive for ourselves (I have a name, I have a family) means we can overcome the most horrific of experiences in this life, what about keeping alive a deeper identity? We belong to a broad and holy family. God has called himself our Father for a reason.
2) We do last. Maybe our life as it is doesn't last (we see the changes around us, the minutia shifting or dying, or we live through the world turned upside down), but we do. That is why the kingdom of heaven is there, couched in future tense and glimmering with the faces of the biblical fathers. They are waiting for us to bring our selves to the table, to pull up a chair.
All through the gospels, Jesus meets individuals. He must have met hundreds, probably thousands of people, but we only know of a few dozen, and we know them through their stories. A woman with an issue of blood. The demoniac of the Gadarenes. The daughter of Jairus. Zacchaeus, the short publican. And my favorite this week, the centurion with a paralyzed servant. Each of these is healed or taught (and used to teach others) in a totally unique way.
In Matthew Chapter 8, the centurion takes up a total of 9 verses, but he leaves his mark. He lives in Capernaum. He comes seeking Jesus. He's not worthy for Jesus to come to his house, but, as a man of authority himself, he understands the power Jesus holds. He knows Jesus can simply tell his servants (the elements, unclean spirits, even the bodies of other people) what to do and they'll do it. He knows Jesus can heal this servant just by saying the words miles away. His faith is so strong that it says, "Jesus marvelled" and says "I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." And then Jesus does a curious thing. He considers this guy - Roman, a non-Jew, a military leader - and teaches his followers a critical point: it's the personal faith that matters. It's the individual, not the group. He sees this man wholly and clearly for who he is. And for the reasons that really matter. And he says to his followers, "many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." You can almost see him holding his hand out toward this man to say, "Like him."
I can't help but imagine what the kingdom of heaven will look like. Pretty eclectic from the sound of it.
And this is the message I get from this week's reading: 1) God sees us as distinct individuals. We see ourselves that way. God sees and judges us that way. He sees far deeper than, say, our race or occupation or even the religion we happen to belong to. Not that these things do not matter. They all matter because they inform our lives and shape our stories, but they are never the ultimate distinction. The ultimate distinction is what we believe and whether or not we believe in him. Because if keeping our identity alive for ourselves (I have a name, I have a family) means we can overcome the most horrific of experiences in this life, what about keeping alive a deeper identity? We belong to a broad and holy family. God has called himself our Father for a reason.
2) We do last. Maybe our life as it is doesn't last (we see the changes around us, the minutia shifting or dying, or we live through the world turned upside down), but we do. That is why the kingdom of heaven is there, couched in future tense and glimmering with the faces of the biblical fathers. They are waiting for us to bring our selves to the table, to pull up a chair.
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