As a member of the newly reconstituted Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth, I am interested in connecting with other Episcopalians, both within this diocese and beyond, who are engaged in environmental ministry.

With this blog, I intend to pull together a variety of resources--links to what is happening in the wider Episcopal Church, books, programs, other diocesan ministries--to assist Fort Worth Episcopalians in theological and practical engagement with the environment, both locally and worldwide. In addition, when possible, I am posting my own reflections as an experiment in reading the daily lectionary through an environmental lens. These reflections are purely my own and do not necessarily reflect an official position of the Episcopal Church.

I look forward to engaging in conversations with others with similar concerns.

Friday, July 1, 2011

1 Samuel 13 :19-14:15 Acts 8 :1-9 Luke 23:26-31 (NRSV)

What immediately strikes me from the reading of 1 Samuel is the imbalance of technological power coupled with the absence of fear on the part of these young people, Jonathon and his armor bearer. Of course, rather than bravery, we may be seeing merely the foolishness of young people. Then again, he Hebrew Bible isn’t shy about championing the weak over the strong: Isaac over Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, even Joseph’s foolish recounting his dreams to his envious brothers. In fact, in numerous stories Israel triumphs because of the brave (and foolish?) actions of people swimming against the current, people like Rahab, Judith, and David.

The Acts passage gives us a look at God’s call, shaping, and commissioning of just such a person. The zealous Saul is transformed (from an authority officially sanctioned by the religious hierarchy) into Paul. The encounter on the Road to Damascus moves Saul from the center of power to the fringes. Paul is a man first broken then re-formed by God. It is a transfiguration that does not build on his status and achievements; he disappears from the halls of power where he is respected, and appears as an unwelcome, distrusted outsider among the people he had despised. Neither does his transformation involve the erasure of all that he had been; Paul brings to service his remarkable genius and passion. Saul/Paul’s revolution costs him everything—and wins him everything.

Who are the heroes in this scene from Luke’s gospel? Are they representatives of the social, political, and religious establishment? Of course not. Typically for Luke, the heroes are a man impressed into service on behalf of a condemned criminal, and the criminal himself. Yet it is from this most powerless of positions that we are challenged to reevaluate our own understanding of what is important and what is not. Jesus is no victim; he pushes the women to a new take on reality: “Do not weep for me.” It is the world that condemns him, the order that executes him, a worldview that blinds to the significance of its actions that is the proper object of pity.

Where do we stand? Whom do we allow to shape our sense of good and bad, important and expendable? Whose voices do we listen to? How can we align our heart with God, that we may see through Divine Eyes?