Epiphany: War

 There will be wars and rumors of wars;

   see that you are not alarmed. (Matthew 24:6)

Dear Priscilla,

I woke up to War in Europe. It is a scary thought. Few generations, I suspect, have been as free from the reality of war as your generation. When I was in college, the Vietnam War hung over everything. College was our way out of the military—our way of staying out of the battle.

Even then, the Vietnam War was one of those left over wars from the really big war that our fathers fought—like Don, your mom’s grandpa, who parachuted with the 101st behind enemy lines. I grew up with veterans of that big war. Seems each had a story to tell; or, not to tell. Some bore the story of war on their body like the tall man in our congregation with his disfigured face and blinded eyes led around by his beautiful wife. My dad told me they were engaged when he went off to war; and, she married him when he returned.

One in particular, a tall, my dad told me handsome man, but when I saw him his face was disfigured and his eyes were blind; and, his beautiful wife lead him about by the hand (That’s the other part of the story my dad told me, how when he came back blind and disfigured, his beautiful girlfriend married him.)

As you learned in you Biblical Studies class last semester, the Bible story is a history of wars: Assyria, Egypt, Syria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome. Not to mention all those little wars with the “Hittites, Girgashites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites” (Josh 3:10). Who did I miss; oh yes… David and the Philistines, especially that Philistine giant. Little wars remains real wars for those engaged in battle.

The Big war is way behind you—long before you were born. But, come to think of it, you have known, as our Lord prophesied: “wars and rumors of wars;” haven’t you. It’s just that this one—the one I woke up to this morning; is too much like that Big one. Jesus would not have us follow the illusions of the false prophets who proclaim “‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jer 6:14). Nevertheless, as Jesus teaches us, “Don’t be alarmed; for the end is not yet” (Mt 24:6). Nations with their terrible wars will not bring about “the end.” The end is God’s doing.

 

Epiphany: Blind man of Bethsaida

“I can see people,

  but they look like trees.” (Mark 8:24)

It took some doing, but a couple more Jesus touches, and the blind man of Bethsaida eventually “saw everything clearly.” Sometimes, even a Jesus miracle takes some doing. Jesus takes him by the hand and leads him out of the village. Outside the village, Jesus puts saliva on his eyes (best done outside the village) and lays his hands on him; and then asks, “Can you see anything?” The blind man answers, “Not exactly…” Jesus sticks with him until he “could see everything clearly” (Mk 8:22-30).

That is how it went with me. While my legs were bouncing up and down, the technician, with her eyes darting between my left leg and her computer, sought to dial me in. Not exactly a Jesus miracle—too clunky and technical for that; but, something of a scientific marvel nonetheless. The left side of my Parkinson’s symptoms calmed down; but, not altogether. Tremors keep sneaking in. It is better. We had hoped “all things would become new” (Rv 21:5).

For now, I await left brain surgery to see if it calms down my right side tremors. Maybe we best prepare for “not altogether;” but better. That’s what medical science can do. It can make old things better. Like the blind man who at first only sees in part, it will take another Jesus touch before we “see everything clearly.” One can hear the Apostle’s “For now…” (1Cor 13): “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully… For now, faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”  

 

Epiphany: Show Yourself.

Don’t tell anyone,

   go and show yourself

   to the priest. (Mark 1:44)

Tomorrow, I “go and show” myself to my neurologist along with a Boston Scientific technician. They will look over what the surgeon implanted in my right brain and the stimulator implanted in my right chest.

During Epiphany, we celebrate “how Jesus went about doing good and healing all sorts of diseases” (Ac 10 & Mt 4). When Jesus healed those with the disease of leprosy; he would tell them not to make a big deal about it and humbly go to the temple, as described in the Law of Moses, and have the priest check them out. If the miracle worked, the priest would pronounce them cured and thus free to enter into public life. I feel something like that. I’m on my way to the temple of modern medicine to have my implanted stimulator programed and activated. Then we will know whether or not the science placed in my brain works. I pray it is so.

 

Epiphany: A strange concoction.

They applied to his disease,

   a dressing of figs,

   and he recovered. (2 Kings 20:7)

Woke up thinking of those figs that led to King Hezekiah’s recovery. It was the Lord’s doing. God granted the King healing and another fifteen years of life. But, somehow, a brew of figs also had something to do with it. Not just a fig or two, but some sort of medical fig concoction applied to King Hezekiah’s diseased body, brings about his God-promised recovery. Sirach tells us that “The Lord created medicines out of the earth …by them the physician heals and takes away pain” (Sirach 38). I wonder what King Hezekiah was thinking when the physicians plastered his boils with their brew of figs.

I’ve been reading up on my own brew of hi-tech figs. The technician from Boston Scientific phoned and told me to make sure my stimulator, implanted in my chest, is properly charged for Friday’s appointment. This isn’t easy. I’m not good at reading instruction manuals. It’s complicated. It has to do with charging my charger, and making sure my remote is properly charged, and then sometime tomorrow, I’ll see if I can charge up my stimulator with my charged up charger, and then check it out with my charged up remote read-out that tells me whether or not my stimulator is properly charged.  Figs sounds better.

 

Epiphany: Catholic Edition

I pray

   that they may all

   be one. (John 17:21)

Dear Rachel,

I never heard of the “Catholic Edition” of the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. How did you come across it? I discovered you are right. It is true—first published in 1966, fourteen years after the RSV was published. So, it’s been around for near 60 years and I knew nothing of it until you brought it up. Thanks for educating me once again.

I ended up Amazonian it with one click. Mom caught me: “Another Bible?” I tried to explain how it’s all your fault. Anyway, it turned out to be very interesting to me on several levels:

Level One:  Ecumenism… It reminded me of my idealistic seminary days when a group of us students and professors from Golden Gate Theological Seminary meet together with a group of  students and processors from the University of San Francisco (a Catholic Jesuit university on the “Hill Top” between the Golden Gate Bridge and Golden Gate Park). It’s a vague memory. I recall them coming to our hill and us going to their hill—maybe a total of four times. As I recall, the lines of division tended to be more conservative vs liberal, than protestant vs catholic. Father John and I ended up being buddies on the more conservative/evangelical end of things. I wish, like a lot of such encounters, we would have stayed in touch. I suppose he’s gone on to Glory—maybe then for sure.

Level Two:  The Revised Standard Version… It remains my life long personal Bible. It follows the tradition of the King James with its attentiveness to the public reading of scripture (the pastor’s first and primary duty, 1Tm 4:13). It is a translation for the worshipping community.

Level Three: A Common Bible… Since the King James Version no longer holds sway, churches can no longer settle on a common translation. It’s a dream; but wouldn’t it be great if all churches could settle on a common worship translation? We could call it our Sunday Morning Worship Bible. Then, for the remainder of the week, we could enjoy all sorts of other, helpful, even fun, translations.

Three is a good number. I’ll quit. Thank you for surprising me. It is always fun to learn stuff.

Love, DAD