Bible

Gospel reading: Luke 19.29-38
(Click HERE for last Sunday's readings)

I want to start this post by saying how much I enjoy the interaction of blogging. Often there are several comments added to mine, and at other times I'll talk to someone at church and find that they've been reading as well. One parishioner simply flashed me the 'silent coyote' as he walked into church one Sunday, referencing a camp tradition that I mentioned in an earlier post. I love not only the particular insights of your reflections, but the notion that somehow we're all in this project together. So, thank you.

This week's chapter is short. It's really just a single story of a wedding gift. A South Dakota rancher had received a large family Bible from his grandfather when he married. He and his wife had delivered the obligatory 'thank yous', so they couldn't understand why this grandfather kept asking about the gift from time to time.

Eventually they pulled the Bible down from the closet where it had been stashed and found a twenty dollar bill at the beginning of every book - nearly $1300.

Kathleen Norris really doesn't elaborate much on the story, and initially I found it pleasing, but not terribly thought provoking. Then I read our gospel lesson from Sunday, and the strange combination of the two stories opened up something new.

On Sunday we read Luke's version of the 'triumphal entry' of Jesus into Jerusalem. I put triumphal entry in quotation marks because the scene has always struck me as almost comical. Maybe there were a 'multitude' of disciples there spreading their cloaks for this rabbi hobbling in on a colt. But I've never been able to imagine the scene as impressive enough to convert anybody present who didn't already believe that this Jesus was a kind of king.

Compared to the entry of an emperor, this little procession must have looked like a sad little small town homecoming parade. We locals are proud enough, and the homecoming queen is lovely, but we don't really expect the President's entourage to follow the floats.

This seems almost sac religious to suggest. But I think the comic element, the strangeness of the story is part of the good news. And it's not unlike those twenties tucked into the wedding Bible. We often find God's blessings in the most unlikely places.

Oddly enough, the triumphal entry loses some of its power if it really comes off as triumphal. Because it distracts us from something essential to our faith: this king didn't look anything like a king.

Some of the good news comes to us in the overwhelming inconspicuousness of this savior. And this news is good because when we stop looking for God in the parts of our world that seem to approach perfection, we might begin to see God in lives like our own.

I don't know about you, but my life usually feels like that small town parade at best. The local high school band might play, but I've gradually learned not to expect the Marine Band to show up. So the humbler beginnings of our faith, even the humble life of our Lord remind me that Christ still shows up at simple, clumsy, unimpressive affairs like my life.

And maybe I'll even be more likely to poke around in some unlikely places for God's presence. Maybe a blessing awaits me even in those more challenging relationships, in that stressful week at work, in that dusty old gift, lost in the back of a closet. Come to think of it, poking around for God in the world's most unlikely places is what Advent is all about.