Rev. Dr. Monte Canfield's Open Salon Blog

Good Friday Reflection: How Low Must God Go?

Wed, 4 Apr 2012 15:04:57 -0400

Note to Readers:

This post is aimed primarily at practicing Christians and at those who wish to know more about Christianity. I preached this brief sermon at Zion UCC, Baltic, Ohio on Sunday, March 18. It is based on a study I did of the subject matter which was posted here on Open Salon, on Feb. 15, 2009.

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Today's question is how low must God go to prove his love for us? We begin our search for the answer at the Cross.

Jesus has been driven with whips, carrying the instrument of his own death on his back, struggling up a dirty hill outside Jerusalem in utter agony, and then nailed to the Cross on which he hangs.

There is something cruelly human about Luke's description of the crucifixion because, however some might want to pretty it up, it is simply the unceremonious death of Jesus, hanging from a tree as a criminal, an event unremarkable in that time and place!

Yet all the power, the might, the majesty, and the glory of God is hanging there: being spit upon, a sword thrust into his side, humiliated, left to die one of the cruelest deaths man could conceive.

Since Jesus has all the power of God, does he seek from his Father retribution? No. His love unwavering, he says, "Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." (Luke 23:34)

And what is their response to that? They shout more insults! What does it take to get through to them? How low must Jesus go to prove he loves them?

That question is valid today and applies to us. Put simply, How low must God go to prove that he loves you? Jesus went as low as the Cross, and yet only one person on earth understood it that day, a poor thief hanging on a cross beside Jesus.

We need to get a clear mental picture of that scene: THREE crosses, Jesus in the middle, a thief on either side. When we have that picture before us we will soon see that there are no depths to which God will not sink to offer the gift of divine love. We will be able to see that the key meaning of the Cross is sacrificial, steadfast, unconditional LOVE.

This explanation of "love" as the key meaning of the Cross comes from William Barclay, a writer of Bible commentaries for ordinary people. For Barclay atonement and forgiveness of our sins is not enough to describe what Jesus did for us on the Cross.

For him, and for me, the Cross is the ultimate sign of God's complete and unequivocal love for humanity. Barclay said that God was saying to each of us, and I quote him here: "Nothing you do can make me not love you. You can disappoint me, break my heart and grieve my Spirit, you can spit on me, scourge me, beat me, ridicule me, and even kill me -- but you can not make me stop loving you. See that Cross? I love you like that!"

Yet an unrepentant thief hanging next to Jesus sees nothing of that gift in Jesus' self sacrifice. Instead he mocks Jesus and says, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" (v.39)

Although the question is rhetorical and sarcastic, it’s still an important one. If Jesus is simply a great teacher who has met an unfortunate end, then the story of the Cross is touching, but not relevant to Christian faith.

Christians believe that Jesus was, in fact, a great teacher. But that is no basis for worshiping him. The irony of the unrepentant thief's question to a Christian, is, of course, that Christians believe that Jesus is, indeed, the Messiah -- but that thief could not see it.

The repentant thief asks the one who continues to mock Jesus: "Do you not fear God?

In other words, if this man, Jesus, is God's Messiah, have you no fear in continuing to hurl abuse at him? Luke records no response from the unrepentant thief, but leaves it that, even at the outer limits of his mortal existence, this man has no room for the possibility of God working in the life of Jesus! This thief is in deep pain and anger with a soul closed to the possibility of redemption.

That’s a scary place to be. This poor, pitiful man is locked in a prison of absolute loneliness. There is no room in his heart for even the fear of God. And, therefore, there is no room for hope.

But the other thief, the one often called the "good" thief believes that God is working in Jesus. He simply believes this. And hanging from his own cross that thief makes his choice: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom." (Luke 23:42)

So how does Jesus respond to this "good" thief? This man is a convicted felon but he has chosen to fear God in these final moments. And the response of God to his deepest need is instantaneous. Jesus says, "Today, you will be with me in paradise." Jesus offers the ultimate gift of love: eternity with God.

If Jesus were not the Messiah, then how could he promise this thief, "This day you will be with me in paradise?" Only the Messiah, or a deluded mad-man, would make such a promise. And a choice must be made. Which is he?

There is no middle ground to be found here. Luke does not intend to allow us to avoid the question. Either Jesus is the Messiah, or he is not.

And, if we decide that Jesus is, indeed, the Messiah, a Messiah capable of actually offering the repentant thief Paradise on that very day, that tells us much about a Messiah who is able to make such a promise.

Luke's story shows us the very radically different decisions that two thieves made. It tells us that one rejects the Messiah, while the other asks to be remembered in Jesus' Kingdom. And Jesus promises that second thief that he would, that very day, be with him in Paradise. Jesus goes far beyond "remembering" him; Jesus promises him Paradise! Christians believe that only the Messiah, the Son of God, could have offered that.

That is how looking at the two thieves helps us to understand just who this Jesus is who could offer the gift of Paradise to the one who asked only to be remembered. It also tells us how to answer Jesus' most important question to all of us. Do you remember what that question is?

Long before the Cross Jesus has asked us, "But you, who do you say that I am?" That is the ultimate question of Christian faith. Let me remind you of the clearest answer to that question. In the 16th chapter of Matthew, St. Peter says succinctly: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God." (verse 16)

It is belief in that truth that causes Christians to gather each Lent at the foot of the Cross. We gather to strengthen and renew our faith in the One who offers himself as a gift of divine love. And from that gift flow peace, salvation and eternal life to those who believe that he is their Lord and Savior. Jesus is the One who says, in Barclay's words, "Nothing you do can make me not love you! See that Cross? I love you like that!"

It is that unconditional sacrificial love that Jesus showed from the Cross that gives us the answer to his great question of faith, "Who do you say that I am?" With St. Peter and with millions of Christian faithful through all the centuries since, we can boldly say, "You, Lord, are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God."

Memoir: The Earliest Years, Part One: Those who came before

Thu, 6 Jan 2011 13:01:30 -0500

Why now?

I just celebrated my 72nd birthday, and have decided that it is none too soon to begin fleshing out my personal memoir, bits and pieces of which are already written, but with huge gaps remaining. As the old saw says, "I am not getting any younger."

As a child I was usually called "Little Monte" since I was a "Junior," or "Monte Gene," because my middle name is "Eugene." A brief glimpse of my early childhood was first introduced to my Open Salon readers in the final installment of the series "A WWII Romance." There we saw a melodramatic, but all too true, tale of "Monte Gene," then 6, being secretly lowered through a window by his uncle into the arms of his mother, Wilma, followed by a quick automobile run for the county line.

This "kidnapping" was the culmination of a bitter argument between his mother and his maternal grandmother, Lola, with whom he had lived most of his life up to that time. Wilma had remarried, over the vehement objections of her mother, to a young man named Alva Galemore. Al was to Lola nothing more than "poor white trash" and she had vowed to never give Monte up to go live with the newlyweds, even if it meant a court fight.

My life up to that time had been relatively uneventful from my point of view, but, from the perspective of the other parties involved, a center of controversy from the start. And it is there that my story really begins, long before I could have any actual memories of the history or the events.

However, all of the parties to my earliest years were eager, through the years that followed, to convince me of the truth of their versions of my earliest years. And, out of that cacophony of biased opinion, as I grew older, I pieced together my own version of my earliest years. That my version may be wrong in this or that detail is likely the case. But that the quilt that I pieced together from these multiple memories molded my understanding of human nature, family dynamics, my identity, and of life itself cannot be denied. That, of course, is a mixed blessing.

None of the key parties to this earliest story are alive, save me. And there is little that can be remotely called "evidence." There are, of course, a few photos, some crude information, what I have been told, and my personal memories which go back to about the age of three.

I am told there are those folk who remember their first birthdays, but I claim no such extraordinary abilities. And I only know that my memories go back to about three because there are pictures of me inscribed as taken at "age three" at events about which I remember details not in the pictures. Before that there are pictures, but I remember nothing about them other than what I have been told.

Before the Memories

But we must start even before my memories, because earlier events shaped those who shaped me, and I have distilled from them some background of those people who were vital to my formative years.

My father, of whom I have only the vaguest memories prior to age 12, was Monte Eugene Canfield. The version of my birth certificate filled in by the doctor, gives me that same name, but another certificate, the official state version, lists me as Monte Eugene Canfield, Jr.

In any case, there is some undocumented genealogical information on the Canfield side so we will start there. There is no genealogical information on my mother's side.

According to family records, my particular branch of the Canfield family emigrated from England to New England in 1639. My direct ancestor, Matthew Canfield, was born in 1604 and died in 1673. Later generations emigrated From New England, first to eastern Ohio when Ohio was a territory, part of the Western Reserve, and, later, to Kansas territory.

[Ironically, by shear accident, I have retired into the same eastern Ohio area of the early Canfield emigrants, some 60 miles southwest of the city of Canfield here in NE Ohio. I had no clue that there were Canfields in Ohio until after we moved here in 1997.]

Some 9 generations following Matthew Canfield, my paternal grandfather, Leo See Canfield, was born in June, 1892. He married my grandmother, Ola G. Montgomery, in 1915, and died in Dec, 1918 at Scranton in eastern Kansas where he owned a small town newspaper. While the records do not say why he died, that was the year of the great flu pandemic that originated in the US in Kansas, at Ft. Riley, and killed over 1/2 million people here in the US, and 50 to 100 million world wide.

My father, Monte Eugene Canfield, the first of two sons, was born in 1916.

My father's mother's maiden name was, as noted above, Ola Montgomery. I know nothing of her background other than that she was born in eastern Kansas. After my grandfather died she gave birth to her second son some three months later, my uncle, Leo. My father was then about 2 1/4 years old. In spite of those dire circumstances, rather than give up the family newspaper, and knowing nothing of the newspaper business herself, she determined to learn the trade and run the paper and print shop. This she did. She later went on to become a highly respected member of the press establishment in Kansas.

My mother was born Wilma Lee Elaine Allensworth in eastern Kansas, in 1923. In those days her friends called her "Willie." She hardly knew her father as he deserted the family when she was a very small girl and she was raised by her mother and her second husband, William Isaiah Isaacs. Bill Isaacs owned three small coal mines in Osage County, Kansas and they lived in Burlingame, Kansas, some 30 miles south of Topeka, and 6 miles from Scranton.

From the time Wilma's mother, Lola, and her stepfather, Bill, combined their two very large families, Bill Isaacs was known to Wilma as "Daddy," as he was to all of Lola's children. Wilma was given the name Isaacs as her family name, but Lola's older children were offered the choice and all chose to be known by the name of Isaacs. I did not even know that Bill Isaacs was not my grandfather by blood until I was a much older child and by then could not care less. I idolized him.

My maternal grandmother was born Lola May Barnes. I know nothing of her family background other than that there was an alleged ancestral relationship to Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, one which my grandmother was not interested in discussing. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that her family was part of the "free state" pioneers in the days of "Bloody Kansas." I judiciously never pursued that line of thought with her.

The Importance of Ancestry

The truth is that within my own family our ancestral pedigree was not very important, except for a small interest shown on the Canfield side. The general conviction on both sides of my family was that people earned their place in society by dint of hard study and/or hard work, preferably both.

As for myself the only thing I think is interesting about this little foray into my family background is that all the associated names are English in origin. I make no more of it than that.

And, I have little interest in the importance of "blood" beyond a sense of love and obligation to my immediate family, and, even then, "blood" cannot not define my immediate family.

The fact is that the man who had the most influence in my earliest years was my "step" grandfather, Bill Isaacs; the one who raised me throughout my public school years was my "step" father, Al Galemore, and the one who helped me most through my college years was my biological father's "step" father, Sam Shade.

All of those men treated me with unequivocal love as one of their own.

I have a sense of unconditional love and devotion to their memories today. They were my heroes, my mentors and my role models; and I loved them shamelessly and passionately. And I think of and miss them to this day; especially my ("step") Dad, Al Galemore.

Next: Wilma and Monte Sr. marry. And I am born, not in Kansas, but in the Oklahoma panhandle, a harbinger to an itinerant childhood.

Backing Up Your Posts/Comments to New Site is Easy

Sat, 4 Dec 2010 16:12:37 -0500

I haven't spent much, hardly any, time here lately, but there seems to be a bit of panic going on, again, on OS. This time its what happens if Salon.com sells out, folds, etc. It could happen, but does not look very imminent.

I wondered about what would happen to my stuff when a similar panic hit shortly after I came on OS. (To my recollection this is the third such panic since I came here in October, 2008). So, in addition to keeping back up files on my computer of everything I post, I decided to set up a "mirror blog" on Google's Blogspot. (Used to be known as Blogger.)

I was more concerned with keeping the formating, the pics, vids, links, etc. than just the content since it is time consuming to set up a post anywhere.

I chose Google's Blogspot over the many other available free spots to start a blog simply because I am lazy and Blogspot does almost all the work for you. They have templates you can choose from to set up the blog in any style you want, and step by step instructions about adding content.

In any case, once you have set up your account, chosen a format, and set up your blog name, etc. here is all you have to do to move content to Blogspot.

Open your Blogspot blog in one tab. In the Blogger "Dashboard" click on "New Post." That will open a window to allow you to add content.

Now, Open your Open Salon Blog in another tab and go to a given post on OS that you want to copy to Blogspot.

Right click and hold down the mouse key to highlight the post, including title, comments, etc. that you want. (You can edit out any ads, and miscellaneous stuff you don't want.) Left click the mouse and select "copy."

Then dump the copied material, pics, videos, etc. and all into the Blogspot window. (Left click the mouse and select "Paste."

Move the Title up to the title box in Blogspot. Move the "tags" into the "labels" box on Blogspot. And clean up any miscellaneous stuff that you don't want moved into Blogspot.

Click "Preview" and take a look at what you have. Edit that if necessary.

When you are satisfied it looks OK, Click on "Publish Post." You are done.

(You can edit the post further at any time, or delete it entirely.)

That's it. Several of our OS friends have started doing this and many of them have Blogger accounts. You can follow their blogs there just the way you can here, and you can send notices of your posts, etc.

Take a look at my Blogger "Mirror Site" to get an idea what it could look like, although there are MANY options how to set up your own blog using the templates.

http://montecanfield.blogspot.com/

If you have any questions let me know in the comments and I will try to walk you through any issues with doing this.

Blessings,

Monte

Links to my Advent, Christmas and Epiphany Essays

Wed, 1 Dec 2010 20:12:56 -0500

Traditional Lighted Moravian Star

These essays are part of my ongoing, and developing, Christian Calendar Series. The links are posted here for those who like to reflect on the truths, beliefs and faith associated with those who celebrate these holy days in the life of believers. It is also hoped that those who do not share the Christian faith will come to better understand the importance of this tri-part season of love, hope, peace and joy.

--- Monte

Links to Open Salon Articles in this blog:

The Rich Man and Lazarus: Approaching the Coming Holidays

An Advent Reflection - Leaning toward God

Advent Reflection: God Does Not View Us From a Distance

My Christmas Gift - -Blessings & Peace

The Epiphany -- A Reflection on The Word of God

A Story of Thanksgiving: Where Are The Other Nine?

Wed, 8 Sep 2010 13:09:56 -0400

Note: While this is written from my Christian perspective, I believe this essay raises issues for people of all faiths or of no faith at all.

Luke 17:11-19

Jesus was passing along the border of Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, ten men who were lepers stood far off and lifted their voices to him, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he heard them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were healed. One of them, a Samaritan, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorifying God he fell upon his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Jesus answered, saying "Were not ten healed? Where are the other nine? 18 Are there none who return to give glory to God, except this foreigner?" 19 And Jesus said to him, "Arise, and go on your way: your faith hath made you whole."

This little story about Jesus and the lepers is about a time of great personal crisis brought on by a horrible, incurable disease. And there is no "big deal" in life quite like being really ill, whether it is a sudden onset sickness or a chronic and incurable disease.

Serious illness is one of the worst things life can throw at us. It is not only the pain and physical misery that has to be endured; it is also the mental anguish, first of not knowing what is wrong, and then of knowing and wondering if anything actually can be done about it. All of that mental anguish is a function of being confronted with the truth of our own mortality, or of a painful morbidity that we might have to face for the rest of our life. Death is no longer an abstraction, something that happens to someone else. It is something that is happening to us. It is a time of our greatest vulnerability to the one thing we can't avoid: our own decay and death.

Serious illness is an all too graphic reminder that this life is fragile, finite and short. Even though we know that to be true on an intellectual level it is often only on our sickbed that we finally figure out that our personal earthly life is terminal. At its worst, serious illness is a foretaste of what it is like to have the world go on without you.

Perhaps that is why, when we are well, we often avoid those who are seriously ill. We may send a card or call, but we find it hard to visit. And the more seriously ill a person is the more reluctant we are. I remember that when I was a hospital chaplain back in the early 90s I would watch visitors stream in to see someone who had hernia or gall bladder surgery, or a broken leg. But I would walk down the hall to the AIDS ward and sit quietly talking to those folks and never see them get a visitor for days on end. In those days when science was just confirming how AIDS and HIV were transmitted the general public was afraid that they would catch their death from someone who had that affliction. Literally.

The many stories of Jesus and his dealings with those who had grave illnesses tell us that he understood this fear of death that we try so hard to cover over. This story of Jesus and the lepers takes place as Jesus is on the way to his own death, a death which he has foretold, in Jerusalem. Yet, on that journey he took the time to heal others. In this case, he was dealing with lepers. Ten of them to be exact.

It is hard for us to understand just how awful leprosy was in those days. Leprosy was a sentence of death, a slow, disfiguring, incurable death. But long before lepers died physically, they were essentially dead to anything approaching what we would call living. They were cast out of their homes, separated from their families, forbidden, literally, to come anywhere close to healthy people. In fact, they often lived in caves along the main caravan routes in colonies of other lepers, bound together in their dance with death, calling out for whatever alms they could get for essentials like food. They lived off the scraps of society because to society they were nothing but scraps.

When they moved about they were required to shout "Unclean! Unclean!" so that healthy people could avoid being in close proximity. Meanwhile, the relentless disease ate away at their bodies, distorting their features, even as it ate away at their pride and whatever dignity they had before they contracted the disease. Long before these unfortunates were physically dead, they were dead to their families and their community, even forbidden to practice their religion with those who were deemed "clean".

And so, into this setting comes Jesus, walking along the border between Galilee and Samaria. One of the ten lepers was even more of an outcast to a Jew than were the nine others, for he was a Samaritan. Samaritans were hated as a half-breed, syncretist race who held to a corrupt, compromised religion. That this hatred was ill founded did not really cross the minds of the Jewish leadership. And so, in the eyes of a Jewish rabbi like Jesus it should have been hard to imagine anyone lower than a Samaritan leper.

And thus the scene is set. We see Jesus walking along and, standing far off, the lepers beg Jesus for mercy. What did they want? What could they expect? Did they hope for a few coins, some bread or dried meat? Did they hope for a blessing or perhaps a kind word. Could these lowest of the low actually hope for a miracle? And why would a Jewish rabbi help them at all, knowing that the priests had condemned them to this life. How could he afford to do anything contrary to custom and law?

Well, Jesus does not break the law nor does he do anything that indicates that there is a miracle afoot. He makes no gestures of healing, does not touch them or come near to them, does not say anything to them that would indicate that he is doing anything for them at all. He simply treats them as if they are healed. And so he commands them to go and show themselves to their priests.

But, why would they? They are a mess, covered with sores, their features distorted, some beyond recognition. Why go to the priests only to be rejected yet again? Had they not suffered enough rejection for ten lifetimes? After all, the priests held their lives in their hands. They decided who was clean and who was unclean. They decided how severe the uncleanliness was and how the affected person was to deal with it.

Yet Jesus, a rabbi, told them to go to the priests as if they were clean. And here is the first miracle: they obeyed. As I have said many times before, trusting obedience is the most rudimentary form of faith: to trust and obey may not seem attractive to us individualists, but it is the first step in faith. Belief "in" something or someone comes later. We do not know why they trusted Jesus and obeyed him. Luke does not say. But many of the graces of God are not explained. I believe that their trusting obedience had to come from some place beyond themselves. It could not have come out of any grace filled experience they had up to that point in their wretched lives. It was a gift of faith.

And so, uncured, they go as they are told to do. And, as they go, the second miracle occurs: they are healed. They trusted and obeyed before they were healed, and having done so they find that they are, in fact, healed. And nine of them just keep right on going. Apparently they make no connection between their healing and the strange instruction of Jesus. Like us when we are healed, sometimes we are so happy just to be well that we forget why it happened or who brought it about.

But one leper, the Samaritan, makes the connection between the healing and the healer. He comes back, praising God at the top of his lungs, throwing himself on the ground in front of Jesus and thanking him profusely: "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

And Jesus doesn't pick him up, dust him off and tell him some little comforting parable or saying to remind him of what just happened. Instead, Jesus asks two not quite rhetorical questions. "Hey, what happened to the other nine?" and "Did only you, a foreigner, see fit to come back and praise God?" Then Jesus tells him to go on his way because his faith has "made him whole" (or, "has healed" him).

Now, I know most modern Bible translations say that the man's faith "healed" him. But that is far too obvious a conclusion, and robs the story of its extraordinary power. I believe that phrase should read "your faith has saved you." Luke is trying to tell us something vitally important here and most modern translations are missing the point. The Greek word we see here translated as "healed," "made well," and "made whole" is precisely the word used throughout the New Testament for "saved."

And here is the point I believe Luke is making: we know that all ten were "healed," or "made whole." That is obvious. But only one came back. And that one was "saved" by having done so. Only one, the Samaritan, turned back to the source of his healing and expressed thanksgiving: joyous, outrageous gratitude; thanksgiving directed at God through the instrument of his healing: Jesus. Only one felt and understood the source of his salvation.

So, what is the difference between the thankful one and the nine who do not come back to say thank you? The ten lepers were all dead people. Spiritually and socially, and, increasingly, physically, they were considered dead. And every one of them would have given just about anything to be made well again, to simply be "normal" and to live a normal life. And Jesus gave all ten of them that. So, what is the only real difference?

Just this. What Luke is really talking about here is the possibility of a spiritual resurrection: a resurrection that gives them a chance to restore relationship with God and not to be just "normal" like other people. And if they did not know that Jesus is about the task resurrecting people to more than just physical life but to be in right relationship to God, then Luke knew exactly that. Story after story in his Gospel portray this role that Jesus plays throughout his ministry.

Luke knew that all of the healed lepers were once "outside" of normal society, and he knew that all are made "insiders" once again by Jesus. But only one, the Samaritan, realizes a spiritual resurrection. This one is not only healed, he is "saved," delivered, made whole, not only in body but in spirit. He alone comes back to say "thanks." He alone realizes that Jesus has now established a relationship with him, and has renewed his relationship with God. Most importantly, he alone recognizes that he is saved and was accepted by Jesus while he was yet a leper, while he was still sick, untouchable -- before he got well.

That is the true message Luke brings to us in this little story.

Personally I believe that Jesus is saying to the Samaritan, "Your acceptance of my embracing, life giving love, your faith in me even before you knew you were healed, and your recognition that the source of your healing is God; that faith has saved you."

As for the others they too got a wonderful gift for they were healed. The healing of the leprosy came with no strings attached. There was no requirement that they turn back and thank the one who healed them. And, like us, there is little likelihood that they will. You see they are all back to being "normal." And give it a year and they will forget all about who healed them. After all, their skin is clear, their sores are healed, there is a mortgage to pay, children to raise, shopping to be done, and work to do to make all of that possible.

But for me there remains a certain pathos in that outcome for the nine. What a shame it is to have met the Lord and giver of life and to come away from that encounter only "normal."

What happened to the other nine should remind the Christian believer that we really cannot ignore the One who blesses us, and in so doing not recognize the source of life and the offer of life in Christ's name.

And for my all of my readers, Christian or not, I would hope that you come away from this essay remembering that we really do not get by in this life without the help of others. And when someone comes into our lives and comes bearing life giving, life sparing or life changing gifts, be that person divine or human, we need to ask ourselves: do we both recognize and give thanks for the gifts we are given; or do we take them for granted and believe that no thanksgivings are in order?

The choice, of course, is always ours.

Monte