Monday Meditation
One of the delights of my service in San Miguel de Allende has been to re-engage St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians with a small group of church members. I discovered the challenges facing that fledgling congregation to be similar to those facing contemporary congregations.
On Thursday we concluded with a conversation about citizenship and colonization. Both topics have contemporary resonance, and are often contested. On citizenship, for instance, Paul, writing from a prison, is emphatic that the believers gathered in this Roman colony give their allegiance not to Rome, not to Caesar but to Jesus. It’s a risky challenge. Philippi was a colony where the majority of the citizens were military veterans and civil servants, quite proud of their affiliation with Rome. There was certain benefits that came from being a Roman colony of which one was security, another status. The small band of believers felt the pressure cultural assimilation. They were being scrutinized for for loyalty to the state. After all, Paul was suffering for his faith, making clear in his letter they are partners in suffering, as well as rejoicing. Paul is saying “Do not let the benefits of citizenship lead you astray. You have dual citizenship, and one is greater than the other.”
He makes the equally radical claim that believers belong to the colony of heaven. Rather, he urges them to bring the life and rule of heaven - peace, justice, mercy, forgiveness, etc. - to bear on earth, in their city. (Similar to the Lord’s Prayer: “your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.) Heaven is not sentimental pie-in-the-sky. It’s a way of life. Whereas, de-colonization is the preferred option these days, Paul is not interested in de-colonizing their status as citizens of heaven with a calling to represent their true home with all the virtues here and now on earth.
Paul addresses the pervasive anxiety and fear of that community. Worries about the future, anxious for their safety, not knowing what is coming - these all echos among us.
Once more, Paul answers with a steady, calm call to surrender. Surrender your anxiety. Let it go. Day by day. Surrender into an abiding faith. Do not lose sight of the God to whom you belong. He reminds them there are practices for these days of anxiety and fear. The principal one is the prayer of surrender: let go into God those things you cannot control. Let go into God, the anxieties about the future. Let go into God your grief. Let it all go. Surrender. The deep peace of God will sustain you. This is not Pollyanna and sentimental piety. Having urged them to a life of surrender, grounded in God, Paul summons them to a set of virtues that are very much public. Let your common life be a beacon in this bewildered, cynical world.
“Finally, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things … and the God of peace will be with you.”
It’s a remarkable call to a way of life that is hopeful, defiant, courageous and deeply joyful under all conditions.
This flowing fountain is five minutes from our home. It’s a perpetual reminder of living water. Such fountains, statues, painting, sculptures are all over San Miguel, living signs.