Saturday, July 25, 2020 Feast of Saint James, Apostle (today’s lectionary)
St. James’ Infirmary
Even after nearly enough sleep I woke up exhausted. All my joints and muscles sore, my eyes bleary, I twisted my head around and tried to get a little relief. Then my shoulders and my torso twist, stretch, straighten, breathe.
The weather was beautiful at 7 am. The chickens were surprised to see me so early, and raced outside as soon as I opened their gate.
My eyes were not bleary enough. I looked around and noticed how chaotic and unfinished our brown back yard is. Sitting under a red umbrella, trying to savor the cool sweet air, I listened to Bill Bryson talk about Shakespeare and closed my eyes.
I thanked St. James, who is the patron saint of rheumatism! I felt grateful Herod did not cut off my head before I’d barely begun. Like Paul, I could choose gratitude for my soreness and nausea. Right?
We hold our treasure in earthen vessels.
Paul’s poetic complaints sound more like rejoicing.
We are afflicted in every way BUT NOT CONSTRAINED.
We are perplexed BUT NOT DRIVEN TO DESPAIR.
We are persecuted BUT NOT ABANDONED.
We are struck down BUT NOT DESTROYED.
Paul wrote this in his mid 40’s maybe. He had “carried around” his body for four decades. I’ve carried mine for seven. And more and more there is pain involved in this carrying around.
We are always carrying around in our bodies the death of Jesus.
We who live are constantly being given up to death for the sake of Jesus.
But this is a deeper experience than my reluctant searching for some joy in my morning stiffness.
The life of Jesus will be manifested in our mortal flesh.
Death is at work in us.
Paul might be confusing himself with his constant equation of life and death. He is certainly confusing me. But I don’t think James the Apostle was confused when Jesus looked right into his eyes and shared his own equation.
Whoever wishes to be great among you SHALL BE YOUR SERVANT,
Whoever wishes to be first among you SHALL BE YOUR SLAVE.
You must live as I do:
The Son of Man did not come to be served BUT TO SERVE AND GIVE HIS LIFE.
Jesus called his life “a ransom for many.” He knew our helpless state, kidnapped by our sin and seduced by Satan to believe we are out of reach, unable to be redeemed. Jesus will not leave me there.
As I write the morning is breaking. Birds sing. Two squirrels, not twelve, chew on a block of corn. Our neighbor’s fancy mower is kicking into gear. He’ll drive it onto his trailer and go mow some grass. I remember to breathe. I will keep stretching, and keep my mouth mostly shut, except for the singing.
(2 Corinthians 4, Psalm 126, John 15, Matthew 20)
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