Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 11, 2020 (today’s lectionary)
Resting in the corner of a cave
Last Sunday was all about wine. This Sunday is all about feast, in which wine is of course included. Tomorrow, on the way down to Austin for a trip we’re finally taking, maybe we will chance a feast at The BBQ Shop, once called the Dancing Pig, where we ate in 2009 on the first trip to Austin with our big Ryder truck full of Andi’s life possessions, while she was on her honeymoon with Aki. We brought the rub home, then our friends Neal and Miriam got some more for us a few years later, it’s time to replenish our supply.
Thou preparest a table for us in the presence of our enemies.
In spite of all we do to shape our lives ourselves, God is the One who does The Work.
And we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
My friend Lane loves the psalms, written as he says, mostly in caves while David was either in hiding or having a rest from fighting lions and giant men. I long for that cave, and so does Lane. May we please, Lord, each of us, settle into this evening’s luminous darkness, surrounded by stone and safe from all marauders, light a candle and write, sip sheep milk, eat a bit of cheese? Then we’ll sleep, angels attending every breath, ready to receive what dreams there are for us tonight.
I fear no evil, for thou art with me.
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Evil is held at bay. God does that work when we let him. Not that we are protected from discomfort or even sorrow and pain. That’s not what evil is. Like Aslan, God is never safe, but he’s always good. He’s the King, I tell you.
Margaret and I would like to make our Urbana home available as a retreat center, a quiet place full of books and DVDs and colored pencils, backyard full of birds. It’s the way we experience this place now, in our vintage years. A cave, so to speak. A place where you can remember that God’s the king, and evil is held at bay.
The Lord will provide for all peoples feasts of rich food and choice wines.
The Lord will destroy the veil that confuses the people and blinds them to each other
The Lord will destroy death forever.
Jesus does not promise us a rose garden. But he does promise a wedding feast, if we consent to be his bride.
My calves and fattened cattle are killed and everything is ready.
Come to the feast!
The rules are simple but require the effort of all my life. Love everything, everyone, all the time. Love God with your heart and soul and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. And don’t just put words on your thoughts, put them to work in action.
At the wedding feast, Jesus insists on this and promises stark consequences otherwise. If I crash his party without a “wedding garment,” rejection is swift.
Bind his hands and feet, cast him into the outer darkness
Where he will join those who wail and gnash their teeth.
No food or wine for me. My lack of love is returned in kind. Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. I think now is the time to learn that loving; later it may be impossible.
Many are invited, but few are chosen.
Since my love is neither conditional nor complete and therefore I fail over and over in this simple skill God teaches me, I want to learn to receive forgiveness and start again rather than be filled with fear and shame for my failures, which will finally harden my heart in denial. That choice is mine, although God’s presence, intention and covenant should make it an easy one.
May the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ
Enlighten the eyes of our hearts,
So that we may know what is the hope
That belongs to the call.
(Isaiah 25, Psalm 23, Philippians 4, Ephesians 1, Matthew 22)
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