Luke 16:19-31 - First thoughts

Well this week, we've got a pearly gates story.
 Luke 16:19-31
And like a modern pearly gates story, it has elements of tradition about it, that don't necessarily fit in with what heaven is actually like.

I mean, I don't know about you, but I don't actually believe that St Peter stands at the pearly gates all day, interviewing people who want to get into heaven.
But there he is, in every joke you've ever heard on the subject, bumbling along, doing something daft to make us laugh. If he really was that stupid, surely God would have sent somebody else out to do the job by now.

So my first thoughts about this story are that it must be like that. It must have some traditional elements that everybody recognises, but which aren't necessarily true.
Such as Father Abraham.
Such as the fiery flames of hell.
I don't know exactly which ones are true and which belong to this glorious tradition, but it make me cautious about assuming that the afterlife is going to look like Jesus' description of it here.

That's how I get round the problem of not taking his words literally.
Now if you're a fundamentalist I expect  I've upset you for ever.
If you're a secular sceptic you probably wonder why I'm even mentioning it.

But for me,  it's part of taking the Bible seriously.
I need to work out what sort of text I've got, as a first step in interpreting it.

So I reckon we've got a traditional story, told not as a joke (though people might have found it funny back then) but told to make a point.

Have we got the same Bible?

In the news yesterday, a US pastor defiantly plans to burn as many copies of the Koran as he can on September 11th.
Terry Jones, from the Dove World Outreach Center in Florida, is reported as saying "It is possibly time for us in a new way to actually stand up, confront terrorism."
Makes me wonder if he and I have got the same Bible. Today I was reading Luke chapter 6.  It has stuff in it about loving your enemies, doing good to those who hate you, and not reverting to  a kind of tribalism: only scratching the back of those who you can reasonably expect to scratch yours in return.
So if (and it's a big if, so big I can't personally swallow it whole) Muslims are my enemies, Jesus tells me to love them, do them a favour, help them out. If they steal my coat, I should offer them my shirt. In short, I should do to others as I would  have them do to me.
I'm puzzled. How does Terry read his Bible and come to this conclusion?
Has he really got the same one as me?

Sermon struggles

I'm meant to be writing a sermon this morning. Sometimes that's an easy task, but on occasions like today, I just don't know where to begin.
I've been given the story of Jesus healing a woman in the synagogue on the sabbath, to the indignation of the religious types, who think that he's making a point against them. "There are six days on which he could do a miracle!" the protest, "Why does he have to do it on the sabbath?"
Jesus in reply calls them hypocrites, says, that even on the sabbath they look after their animals, leading them out for water and so on, so shouldn't they look after their people as well? What sort of religion is it that cares for rules more than people?
Mine, I suppose.
Rules are easy and safe. You know where you are with rules.
Yep, I like rules. Do this, do that. If x happens, don't do y. Easy.
Much better than the horrible feeling of "Did I say the wrong thing? Have I offended her? Did I misunderstand what he was saying?"
But I can't stand up and say that. Play safe! Rules are easy.
So what can I say?
There's always recent experience to draw on - have I had an experience recently that's relevant that I can bring in?
Errrrrrr ... nope.
What books have I been reading?
Aha! I've just finished Graham Poll's book, Seeing Red. All about a football referee.
There must be something in that.
Something about applying the rules but knowing when to break them? Something about rules being a good servant but a bad master? Poor old Graham Poll will always be remembered for making a mistake - showing three yellow cards to a player before sending him off. Like a goalkeeper who fumbles the ball, (remember Robert Green, Scott Carson or Paul Robinson?) one error ruins your career.
Yeah maybe.
I need to go away and think. What does God want me to say this week to these people?
Hold on, I need to consult the rule book.

The blog of despair

What do you write in your first blog post? Something optimistic, surely? Some words of hope about the blogging marathon you are cheerfully committing yourself to?
Well, I had to be different.
I have a realistic impression of how many readers I'm going to get.
None.
There, I've said it. I'm talking to myself, and I know it.
I can only hope that at least God is listening in. If he had any junior angels spare with nothing much to do, surely by now they're all fully employed 24/7 keeping up to date reading the latest posts from the world's lonely bloggers. Of whom I am the latest.
Not that I'm lonely - far from it. Often I crave more time to be alone, or at least, alone with God.
The hermits do much the same - justifying loneliness in order to get close to God.
My trouble is that I'm lonely for God. I miss him. I don't find enough time to be with him, and I feel stretched too thin, like butter on too much bread, as Bilbo says.
First blog posts should contain a mission statement. What I intend to achieve with my new window on the (cyber)world.
Do me a favour, gentle angel reader. Read again the sentence about being stretched too thin and wanting to be with God more.
Will that do as a mission statement? Is that something worth your time in reading this?