Category: Community

the common good

Early in the book of Acts, we are given a glimpse of the Jesus movement in the city of Jerusalem in the weeks and months after his execution. Their life together reflected the contours of the ministry Jesus proclaimed among the peasants of Galilee: love one another, care for one another, support one another, and share generously with one another.

Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at one house after another and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.[1]

Later, we read this similar account:

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the possessions belonging to him was his own, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.[2]

It appears from these texts that community members were not required to sell everything and become homeless. They met and ate in one another’s homes, indicating that they still maintained private home ownership and their furnishings, but sold other land and income property beyond what was needed for their own shelter. The message of Jesus was that the accumulation of personal wealth for one’s future was a spiritual problem. It can lead to self-concern and selfishness. Sufficiency for the day was the goal. Everything beyond that was dedicated to a common purse to help clothe, feed, and house the less fortunate in the community and those who fell on hard times.

He invited them to share their resources generously with others, even with strangers, trusting that this generosity would be shown to them in return. The followers of Jesus could do this because they were surrounded by a new family of brothers and sisters who would willingly support them in difficult times. The paradigm of Jesus only works within the context of a caring community.

For several hundred years after the death of Jesus, it was their distinctive behavior—the sharing of goods, the welfare of the destitute, a radical social equality, and a commitment to nonviolence—that set Christian communities apart from mainstream culture. From the first small peasant communities in rural Galilee and urban Jerusalem to the rapidly spreading house-churches of Paul in the trading towns of the Mediterranean and Aegean seas, the early Christian movement consisted of countercultural groups existing on the margins of society. In the beginning, they were composed of marginalized people—tenant farmers, fishermen, day laborers, slaves, and social outcasts—although soon they attracted artisans, merchants, and a few wealthy elites to their ranks. They became communities of radical equality that cut across class differences, economic status, ethnic backgrounds, and gender roles. These communities developed a lifestyle outside of accepted Roman norms that offered their members security in an insecure world without social safety nets. Each tight-knit community of compassion provided its members with food, shelter, and material support when necessary.

Pope Clement I (birth date unknown) served as an early bishop of Rome from 88 CE until his death in 99 CE. He described the motivation of the early Christian movement in this way:

He [the Christian] impoverishes himself out of love, so that he is certain he may never overlook a brother in need, especially if he knows he can bear poverty better than his brother. He likewise considers the pain of another as his own pain. And if he suffers any hardship because of having given out of his own poverty, he does not complain.

A very early manual of Christian living, the Didaché (dee-dah-KAY), written sometime in the mid to late first century, stated that a Christian must never claim that anything is their own property, but must share all things communally with their brothers and sisters.

You shall not turn away from him that is in want, but you shall share all things with your brother, and shall not say that they are your own.[3]

These fictive families were simply kindred spirits who were to be as close as or closer than any biological family. The Didaché (Greek for “teaching”) was a brief overview of the lifestyle of the Way—just sixteen concise chapters (really no more than sixteen short paragraphs or lists)—that was most likely used as a catechism for those who sought membership in the fledgling communities. It did not include a set of beliefs, but instead a compilation of behaviors and actions that were the essence of the Jesus movement. Topics included humility, compassion for others, radical generosity, helping the poor, welcoming strangers, loving and praying for one’s enemies, control of anger and jealousy, and nonviolent resistance to oppression. It is reported that the adult catechumens often studied for two years before being admitted to the ritual mysteries of Christianity—baptism and Eucharist—indicating that becoming part of the movement was nothing to be taken lightly and that there would be significant expectations and demands once one entered fully into fellowship. The Way was not about accepting a set of beliefs, but about embracing a radical lifestyle. Completion of catechumenal study led to adult baptism and inclusion in the Eucharistic rite (commonly known as the Lord’s Supper or Holy Communion).

Justin Martyr (100–165), a second-century apologist (meaning he was a vocal advocate of the faith to Roman authorities), described the Christian lifestyle this way:

We who used to value the acquisition of wealth and possessions more than anything else now bring what we have into a common fund and share it with anyone who needs it. We used to hate and destroy one another and refused to associate with people of another race or country. Now, because of Christ, we live together with such people and pray for our enemies.

Irenaeus (130–202), a second-century bishop in what is now Lyon, France wrote:

Instead of the tithes which the [Hebrew] law commanded, the Lord [Jesus] said to divide everything we have with the poor. And he said to love not only our neighbors but also our enemies, and to be givers and sharers not only with the good but also to be liberal givers toward those who take away our possessions.

Lucius Caecilius Firmianus Lactantius (240–320) was a third-century Christian thinker and writer who became an advisor to the Roman emperor Constantine and served as a tutor to his son. He described the Way of Jesus in this manner:

If we all derive our origin from one man [Adam], whom God created, we are plainly all of one family. Therefore it must be considered an abomination to hate another human, no matter how guilty he may be. For this reason, God has decreed that we should hate no one, but that we should eliminate hatred. So we can comfort our enemies by reminding them of our mutual relationship. For if we have all been given life from the same God, what else are we but brothers? . . .  Because we are all brothers, God teaches us to never do evil to one another, but only good—giving aid to those who are oppressed and experiencing hardship, and giving food to the hungry.

Basil of Caesarea (330–379), a fourth-century bishop of Cappadocia in what is now Turkey, spent his family inheritance to benefit the poor of his diocese. He bought grain from wealthy landowners and then organized a soup kitchen, hospital, and shelter, distributing food to the poor during a famine that followed a drought. He wrote passionately that:

The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry man; the coat hanging in your closet belongs to the man who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the man who has no shoes; the money which you put into the bank belongs to the poor. You do wrong to everyone you could help, but fail to help.

The second-century Christian writer and theologian Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, known as Tertullian (160–220), writing from Carthage in North Africa about 170 years after the death of Jesus, explains that members of early Christian communities contributed to a common fund to aid their work with the poor in their town or city. It is in marked contrast to the radical economic sharing of the Jerusalem community as recounted in Acts a century earlier, yet it still shows a commitment to provide funds for the common good and care for the needy.

On the monthly day, if he likes, each puts in a small donation; but only if it be his pleasure, and only if he be able: for there is no compulsion; all is voluntary. These gifts are, as it were, piety’s deposit fund. For they are not taken thence and spent on feasts, and drinking-bouts, and eating-houses, but to support and bury poor people, to supply the wants of boys and girls destitute of means and parents, and of old persons confined now to the house; such, too, as have suffered shipwreck; and if there happen to be any in the mines, or banished to the islands, or shut up in the prisons . . . One in mind and soul, we do not hesitate to share our earthly goods with one another.[4]

Throughout the first three centuries of the Jesus movement in its many forms, people were more attracted to the early church communities for how they lived than for what they preached. It was compassionate service to those in need, not a theology of personal salvation leading to a heavenly afterlife, that attracted people to the faith. Tertullian wrote:

What marks us in the eyes of our enemies is our loving kindness. “Only look,” they say, “look how they love one another.”[5]

The very earliest communities were communalistic (even communistic in the truest sense), composed of persons who were willing to risk their economic future—income, wealth, and possessions—in a common venture. At first, they did not just make contributions at their comfortable discretion, but radically put everything they had into a pool to maintain the common welfare. That is a risky way of living, relying on the community to respond generously in turn when one’s own needs are on the line.

Throughout history, nearly every society has favored an elite group of individuals and families at the expense of the majority of less-fortunate inhabitants. For thousands of years, economic elites have rigged society in their favor by crafting systems that would benefit their prosperity and ensure their control over the nation’s political and economic affairs. Historically, they have used unjust economic systems to extract wealth from the sweat of slaves, peasants, serfs, laborers, and the working class while contributing little to the common welfare. Social control has been maintained with violence and military might, often supported by religious institutions. These societies have invariably been patriarchies where the authority and desires of men have dominated the lives of women and children. The system has frequently favored one race, tribe, or ethnic group over others.

Biblical scholar Walter Wink (1935–2012) has referred to these societies as manifestations of an enduring domination system that has been part of the human story since the rise of civilization in the ancient Near East. Wink describes the domination system in this way:

It is characterized by unjust economic relations, oppressive political relations, biased race relations, patriarchal gender relations, hierarchical power relations, and the use of violence to maintain them all. No matter what shape the dominating system of the moment might take (from the ancient Near Eastern states to the Pax Romana to feudal Europe to communist state capitalism to modern market capitalism), the basic structure has persisted now for at least five thousand years, since the rise of the great conquest states of Mesopotamia around 3000 BCE.[6]

We easily observe the domination system in the structure of kingdoms, empires, and dictatorships. It has been embodied in traditional customs and religious teachings throughout history. But when democratic systems in a largely secular culture are controlled by wealthy and powerful forces, the same results occur. Massive tax cuts for the wealthiest, bloated military budgets, welfare for giant corporations, vast prison systems, and cuts to social services for the poorest Americans are all signs of a domination system.

Walter Wink notes that the teachings of Jesus were a prescriptive remedy to the domination system of his time. The kingdom of God that he described is an antidote to the disease of the domination system. The vision of Jesus stands in direct opposition to the political and economic aims of these pervasively unjust social structures. It is a vision of the domination system turned upside-down. Therefore, every act of resistance to the domination system, every protest of its unjust laws and structures, every effort to transform it for the common good is a sign of the coming kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed.

A radically loving, generous, sharing, and serving kinship became the hallmark of the early Christian communities. For over 300 years, these innovative small groups, based on the teachings of Jesus, remained as distinctive communities of generosity, justice, nonviolence, and hope in an oppressive world. Then, in the fourth century, the Roman emperor Constantine invited the church to participate in the power of global empire and everything changed.

Today in America, thanks to Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, we have minimal government to help the poor, the elderly, and the infirm. But conservative Christians claim that Jesus would not have wanted us to support them this way. They point to the fact that Jesus never called upon the despotic governments of his time to play this role. But this fails to take into account that governments of his day never played a role in helping the poor. Rather, the rich took all the tax money and distributed it among themselves, spending on lavish palaces, public buildings, roads, and armies. The alternative communities of Jesus had no choice but to help themselves.

But things are very different today. We established a government to provide for the common welfare. And ask any Christian social service agency and they will tell you that without government aid, they could not meet the overwhelming needs of suffering people. Christians who think that they can do it on their own are simply dreaming. Christians these days are just not that radically generous anymore. We must all contribute out of our common purse, and that means using our tax dollars to benefit the common good.

We cannot eliminate the dark side of our human condition, but we can summon the better angels of our nature to make us a more humane, kind, and decent people. Even if persistent social selfishness cannot be eliminated, it can be mitigated and minimized by people of good will. The hope of the reign of God is that a transformation of the politics of selfishness is possible through the efforts of transformed individuals who are committed to nonviolent social change and motivated by love and compassion.

 

[1] Acts 2: 43–47

[2] Acts 4:32-37

[3] Didache, Chapter 4.

[4] Tertullian, Apologeticus, Chapter XXXIX.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Wink, Powers That Be, 39–40.

the judgment of Jesus

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.

—Jesus, according to Matthew

 

I have recently received feedback from people who feel I am judging and shaming those who hold political views that harm marginalized people in our society. Many people believe that Jesus taught only spiritual truths and did not care about the politics and economics of his day, even though they had a great impact on the poor peasants and fishermen who followed him. A close reading of the gospels tells a different story. Jesus was very concerned about oppressive political regimes and an economy of commercialized agriculture that was impoverishing the peasants of Palestine at an alarming rate, and he offered a contrasting vision of society—the kingdom of God.

moral choices

Throughout our lives we are faced with moral choices, both personally and politically. According to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus will someday judge between those individuals who choose to practice compassionate action (the righteous) versus those whose indifferent inattention does nothing to help the conditions of poor and marginalized people. His judgement was not meant solely for interpersonal interactions, but also for the corporate actions of social groups—the “nations.” Surely no follower of Jesus believes that their personal charity and service can be separated from their social and political actions. You cannot serve two masters.

The word righteous in this text may need some clarification because the common understanding of righteousness is 1) being morally right, or 2) being right with God. But a more holistic biblical understanding of righteousness is standing up for what is right—doing what is right and just. Righteousness means seeking justice in human society. A righteous person is one who seeks economic and social justice for poor and marginalized people.

The terms righteousness and justice are often linked in biblical texts. That is because they are synonymous, redundant terms. In the original languages of the Bible, the word for justice also means righteousness. The Greek word dikaios (DIK-ah-yos) in the New Testament and the word tzedakah (tze-dah-KAH) in the Hebrew Bible have this dual meaning. Righteousness implies a personal and individual dimension, while justice implies a social dimension, but they both have the same objectives—acting on behalf of those suffering from hunger, poverty, sickness, injustice, discrimination, and imprisonment.

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the complicity of moderates in Nazi Germany

This blog post is a follow-up to a previous post, “the complicity of moderates.” It apparently offended a small number of self-disclosed moderates on Facebook who felt that my intention was to shame them. That was not my intention. Some claimed that they actually took stands as needed, but then their stand would have been necessarily toward one extreme or another, to the right or to the left, because there is no clearly defined middle way to respond to evil.

As a response, I will use an example from my first book.[1] It has to do with the Protestant Church in Nazi Germany, a nation of about 60 million people. In the early 1930s, two-thirds of the population was Protestant (about 40 million members) and the remaining third was Roman Catholic (about 20 million). Less than 1 percent (600,000) were Jewish.

Because the modern state of Germany was created from of a number of small independent principalities and kingdoms in the late nineteenth century, the Lutheran and Reformed (Calvinist) Protestant churches of Germany remained separated as 28 independent regional bodies reflecting their origins as small state-sponsored churches (Landeskirchen) with the local ruler as head. In 1922, they formed a loose federation to participate jointly in mission activities, but they did not come together as one unified church until April 1933 when the German Evangelical Church (Deutsche Evangelische Kirche) was created under the direction of Adolf Hitler.

Only months earlier, in January 1933, German President Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934) had appointed Adolf Hitler (1889–1945) as Chancellor of Germany. When Hindenburg died the following year, Hitler combined the offices of chancellor and president and became the nation’s dictator. Many Christians in Germany openly welcomed Hitler’s National Socialist (Nazi) party to power as a historic moment of Christ’s work on earth for and through the Aryan Volk (German for people).

As it rose to power in the 1930s, the Nazi message was that in spite of their God-given destiny, the nation was threatened from within by the insidious presence of Communists, Jews, and liberals in their midst. Hitler told the nation that their duty was to purify themselves of these influences to prepare for their divine vocation as God’s anointed nation. His message was that he would make Germany great again.

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Jesus, Justice, and the Law

 Justice, and only justice, you shall pursue.
Deuteronomy 16:20 (the Law)

What does the Lord require of you but to do justice?
— Micah 6:8 (the Prophets)

Strive first for the reign of God and God’s justice.
— Matthew 6:33 (the Gospels)

Was Jesus a law-abiding citizen? Or did he teach us to step outside the law when needed in the name of compassion and justice? Traditional orthodox Christianity claims that Jesus was perfect and sinless, fulfilling the Law of Moses and the Prophets of ancient Israel. Therefore, he obeyed the Hebrew Law completely. But the truth is more complex, illustrating the tension between written and oral laws and the biblical call to justice.

During his life, Jesus experienced three despotic structures of government organized for a privileged few at the expense of the common good of the majority. Upon the death of Herod the Great (73–4 BCE), his kingdom was divided among his three sons. Galilee was a monarchy ruled by his son Herod Antipas (born before 20 BCE – 39 CE). After the removal of his brother Herod Archelaus (23 BCE – 18 CE) by Rome in 6 CE, Judea was ruled directly by a Roman Procurator who reported to the governor of Syria. However, the day-to-day operations were entrusted to a wealthy oligarchy (meaning the ruling few) of the Sadducees, sometimes referred to in the gospels as “the leaders of the people,” or “the chief priests and the elders.” In conquered territories, it was always Rome’s practice to find indigenous collaborators to rule on their behalf. And they always chose people from the wealthy class who saw it in their personal interest to support power when it advantaged them. On top of these structures was an emperor in Rome—first Augustus (63 BCE – 14 CE), and then Tiberius (42 BCE – 37 CE)—who was essentially a self-appointed dictator. So Jesus was confronted by a monarchy in Galilee, an oligarchy in Jerusalem, and a dictatorship in Rome.

There were obviously overlapping legal systems in place in this conquered nation, but the one that is usually discussed in regards to Jesus is the Hebrew Law found in the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. At the time of Jesus, there were three levels of Hebrew Law. At the core were the Ten Commandments, which we are told were given on stone tablets to Moses by Yahweh.[1] Surrounding these were 316 laws (mitzvot) found in the Covenant Code[2] of Exodus, the Holiness Code[3] of Leviticus, and the Deuteronomic Code[4] of Deuteronomy that were written over hundreds of years. The three codes are significantly different in the range of social and religious issues they cover, the style in which they are written, and the fundamental rules they establish. They can broadly be conceived of as the law of the tribes, the law of the Temple, and the law of the royal court. They show a progression from a primitive tribal confederacy to a sophisticated temple-state ruled by a king. Debating specific interpretations of the Law was an ongoing activity, resulting in an oral law developed by the Rabbis and Pharisees. They viewed it as creating a ‘fence’ around the Law to keep its precepts from being violated.

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a eucharistic prayer

The bread of life for all who hunger.
The cup of compassion for a broken world.

The Eucharistic prayer

L:         For the gentle power of love
in human life and history,
we give thanks and praise.

Long ago our ancestors knew love’s power
and they became the tellers of love’s tale.
Love bound them in covenant,
gathering them in community
with compassion and concern
for the poorest among them.

Yet centuries of domination and violence
shaped a different kind of community
based on selfishness and inequality,
and the lust for wealth and power.

In the struggle against oppression,
Jesus became the face of love,
showing us the way to abundant life.
In word and deed, he announced
love’s new reign of justice, reconciliation, and peace.
Filled with the courage and passion of love’s spirit,
he gave his life to challenge the unjust systems of this world.

On the night of his arrest,
as he shared a meal with his friends,
Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it,
and gave it to his followers, saying:
“Share this bread among you; this is my body, broken for justice.
Do this to remember me.” 

When supper was over, he took the cup, gave thanks,
and gave it to his disciples, saying:
“Share this wine among you; this is my blood, shed for a better world.
Do this to remember me.”

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they shall be nourished.”

God of love, spirit of compassion,
bless us and this bread and wine.
May this meal be food and drink for our journey—
renewing, strengthening, and sustaining us.

When we eat this bread and drink from this cup
we remember the life of Jesus
and dedicate our lives to his vision of a world
where all are fed with dignity and hope.

The table is ready. All are welcome. Come, for the feast is spread.

As the bread and wine are shared, these words are said:

The bread of life for all who hunger.
The cup of compassion for a broken world.

The blessing after the meal:

L:         May this meal nourish us and refresh us,
may it strengthen us and renew us,
may it unite us and keep us in God’s gracious love,
now and forever. Amen

L:         Let us pray.
God of love, we give you thanks for satisfying our hungry hearts with this meal.
Send us from here to reveal your love in the world.
Inspire in us the resolve and the courage, the compassion and the passion,
to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with you. Amen

Dismissal:

L:         Go forth in service, remembering to fight, work, and pray
for those who suffer unjustly in our world.

 


Note:  Martin Luther wrote in 1519—

When you have partaken of this sacrament, therefore, or desire to partake of it, you must in turn share the misfortunes of the fellowship . . . all the unjust suffering of the innocent, with which the world is everywhere filled to overflowing. You must fight, work, pray and—if you cannot do more—have heartfelt sympathy.


 

© 2016 Kurt Struckmeyer

no longer male and female

I recently heard of a wedding ceremony in which the pastor charged the couple with two tasks—for the bride: to be submissive to her husband, and for the groom: to lead as the head of the family. These are not unusual expectations for couples in conservative Evangelical churches. In fact, they have been considered normal marital obligations for men and women for the past two thousand years.

We find biblical texts supporting this hierarchical relationship in early church letters attributed to both the New Testament figures of Paul and Peter.

First, there is this in Paul’s letter to the Colossians (3:18–4:1):

Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.

Husbands, love your wives and never treat them harshly.

Children, obey your parents in everything, for this is your acceptable duty in the Lord.

Fathers, do not provoke your children, or they may lose heart.

Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything, not only while being watched and in order to please them, but wholeheartedly, fearing the Lord . . .

Masters, treat your slaves justly and fairly, for you know that you also have a Master in heaven.

Second, there is a more elaborate version is found in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians (5:21–6:9):

Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.

Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands.

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her . . .  In the same way, husbands should love their wives as they do their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right . . .

And, fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

Slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as you obey Christ . . .

And, masters, do the same to them. Stop threatening them, for you know that both of you have the same Master in heaven, and with him there is no partiality.

Finally, a third version is represented in the first letter of Peter (2:13–3:7):

For the Lord’s sake accept the authority of every human institution . . .

Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.

Wives, in the same way, accept the authority of your husbands, so that, even if some of them do not obey the word, they may be won over without a word by their wives’ conduct, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives . . .

Husbands, in the same way, show consideration for your wives in your life together, paying honor to the woman as the weaker sex.

In these instructions, the expected ethical behavior is listed in pairs reflecting typical social relationships of the first century, addressing first the person who plays  a subordinate role and then the person of superior standing .  These injunctions maintain the traditional social hierarchy. Those in the inferior position are always urged to be obedient to the one whom society gives the upper hand.

In the nineteenth century, German biblical scholars labeled these parallel moral injunctions as the Haustafeln (household tablets), which are New Testament laws for everyday domestic relations. They were intended to imitate the typical social behaviors of the Roman and Jewish traditions in which the early church developed. Some scholars contend that they reflect similar admonitions by Greek Stoic philosophers who shaped the predominant Roman culture. In the past, many traditional scholars have argued that although these hierarchical relationships seem inconsistent with the teachings of Jesus, they were simply an attempt to accommodate the radical new faith to the cultural norms of the empire of Rome in the first and second centuries, so that Christians could blend in with their neighbors. But the followers of Jesus were never meant to blend in. Rather, they were to present an alternative lifestyle to the world. Continue reading

all are welcome

The sign outside the church
said “all are welcome.”

Perhaps they meant to say
all who look like us are welcome,
all who think like us are welcome,
all who believe like us are welcome,
all who wear masks like us are welcome,
all who don’t make a ruckus are welcome,
all who don’t shine the light of truth on us are welcome.

Come on in,
make yourself at home.

This is such a warm and friendly place,
such a nice community.

And we mean to keep it that way.

 

 

© 2014 Kurt Struckmeyer

the Lord watch over your going out

Do you ever find it odd
that worshipers are greeted
as they leave the sanctuary?
This rite of transition
from comfort to challenge.
The grasping of hands, a warm smile,
a word of encouragement
as if to say
this was just the prelude—
worship begins outside these doors.
The one you seek is not here
he has gone ahead of you.
You will find him
amid the brokenness of the world.
For true worship does not consist
of heartfelt words,
of fervent prayer,
of bread and wine,
But of lives well lived
among those who need our love.

 

 

© 2014 Kurt Struckmeyer

the arms of love

I went to the funeral home last night
to see a friend whose life was entwined with mine.

Someone once told me
that if you want to know the truth about a person’s life,
go to their funeral.
Job, wealth, and possessions have no meaning.
Relationships and love are the only real measures
of one’s true worth.

The visitation is always a study in contrasts,
the living gathered around the dead,
the laughter amidst the grief and sorrow.
Photos of the past carefully displayed,
triggering memories of happier times.
Old friends meet again
reunited by relationships forged in youth.
We gather in community to say goodbye.

They say that she left us some time ago
lost in the arms of dementia.
Yet she died surrounded by those who loved her
in the warm embrace of her children.
And even though they may have seemed like strangers
she did not die alone.
She died in the arms of love.
And for that we are thankful.

 

 

© 2014 Kurt Struckmeyer

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