I was coming home from worship last night and my neighbor across the street invited me for a glass of wine. I accepted. In the course of our conversation, she said to me "You're the most important person in the world." (She is starting a business as a leadership coach.) I told her that I didn't think I was more important than the homeless man I had talked to a Home Depot the other day. I said there were times when I did come first, and there are times when I have to take care of myself, but it's important to me to do things where I care for others.
I am really taken aback by the idea that each person is the most important person in the world.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
A Cup of Water -- Sermon
Matthew 10:40-42
40“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; 42and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
The eastern half of the North American continent is fortunate; unbelievably fortunate. There are not many other places in the world so blessed, and certainly, I don’t believe, over such a great geographical area. We here are blessed with abundant water. Even in times of drought, we have more water than most places in the world. Much of the world is desert: dry, dusty, parched desert. Plants sink roots far down into the earth seeking water. Animals and humans wander from watering place to watering place. Those who venture too far away from water or those who get lost die in the dryness. The Bible can be difficult to understand for many reasons, but one of them is that we eastern North Americans and western Europeans are live in conditions that are so different from those in Israel/Palestine. We can understand intellectually the importance of water, but having to live with the day to day impact of the lack of water is different.
On my first visit to Yosemite, I camped one night at Tuolumne Meadows. As I stood in line for the communal sinks to brush my teeth, I heard one Californian yell at a woman, obviously from the east, to turn off the water. The woman was brushing her teeth and letting the water run as she did. How often have you done that? I certainly did that all my life, without ever giving a thought to the water I was wasting, sending coursing down the drain. I’d never lived through years of drought in California. But even California during a drought is blessed compared to Palestine. Much of the land is desert. There are areas in the west blessed with rain, and areas along the Jordan which have water, but the rest is either arid or dessert. In the Negev, you can walk across the desert, the dirt crunchy beneath your feet. Plants, even small ones, are rare.
A cup of water is the difference between life and death. Hospitality is central in desert cultures because the environment is so difficult. Hospitality is simply a matter of life and death. For us a cup of water is simple: going to the sink, turning on the faucet, perhaps letting the water run a bit to cool it and then fill a glass. For those in Palestine in Jesus’ time, a cup of water was more difficult. The women arise early and walk to the well. There they send a bucket down into the depths of the well and then lift up the bucket of water. Think about how heavy that water was. A gallon of water weighs eight pounds. Imagine lifting a bucket with a gallon of water. Imagine lifting eight pounds up, straight up out of the earth. Now, there may have been pulley systems to ease the burden, but even so, the water had to be carried from the well to the house. Giving a cup of water to a stranger was important. Receiving a cup of water is a blessing.
This passage is the end of Matthew’s account of Jesus’ missionary discourse. These are the last words Jesus says before he sends his disciples out to tell others that the kingdom of God is near. The worlds are an assurance of welcome. Those who welcome the disciples will receive a reward. This is the assurance of the welcome we will receive, we do receive into God’s realm.
I have been reading a new book, Saving Paradise, by Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker. Both are theologians who have been studying concepts of salvation in the early church. The book began as the two visited the catacombs in Rome. In all the art in the catacombs, they did not find a depiction of the crucifixion. Fascinated, they continued to look at early church art. They looked at early churches in Rome. They visited Ravenna, the site of the most beautiful early church mosaics. They visited early churches over the middle east. They examined early icons. The earliest crucifix they found, the earliest image of the dead Christ is in the tenth century. Intrigued, the examined early church writings for clues about early Christian ideas of salvation. What they found was the image, the idea of paradise.
The word paradise comes from the Persian. It is a word for a walled garden. But a paradise garden in Persia is more than simply a walled garden. The focus of a paradise garden is water, like a river, running from a high point, through the garden, to the garden’ s entrance. Often a paradise garden is divided into quadrants. Each quadrant is in bloom one season of the year. There is something always in flower, bearing fruit in the garden.
In Genesis, Eden, the first paradise often pictured as on the top of a mountain, a river flows through the garden, and from there, the river divides into four rivers. God has planted Eden with every sort of tree. The human beings in Eden do not need to work; food is there for them all the time. In the cool of the evening, God walks through the garden. In the last book in our scriptures, at the end of the book, John of Patmos writes of the future earth. Through the middle of the new Jerusalem, the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. God dwells in the city.
Paradise. God invites us, welcomes us into Paradise. Now, close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Put away your shopping list, Take another deep breath. Put away your to do list for the rest of today, for tomorrow. Take another deep breath. Put away your worries. Take another deep breath. Now, imagine a paradise garden. You are standing at the entrance. It is hot, very hot and dry. As you look into the garden, there is a hill and coursing down the hill is a river of clear, sparkling water. On either side of the river are trees, some flowering, others with fruit. Among the trees are plants and flowers. It is the most beautiful garden you can imagine. And, there at the entrance is God. She, or He, however you imagine God, is there welcoming you. Come, in, come in. We have been waiting for you. Let me walk with you. And you walk. God finds a comfortable bench and you both sit down. God slides God’s arm around your shoulders. “What has been bothering you?” God asks. “What are you afraid of?” “What concerns you?” “How can I help you?”
God is waiting, right now, to welcome us into paradise. Paradise is not something we have to wait for. Paradise is not something we have to strive for. Paradise is not something we have to be good enough for. Paradise is waiting. We are welcome. God is waiting to welcome us home, to paradise with God. Amen.
40“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; 42and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
The eastern half of the North American continent is fortunate; unbelievably fortunate. There are not many other places in the world so blessed, and certainly, I don’t believe, over such a great geographical area. We here are blessed with abundant water. Even in times of drought, we have more water than most places in the world. Much of the world is desert: dry, dusty, parched desert. Plants sink roots far down into the earth seeking water. Animals and humans wander from watering place to watering place. Those who venture too far away from water or those who get lost die in the dryness. The Bible can be difficult to understand for many reasons, but one of them is that we eastern North Americans and western Europeans are live in conditions that are so different from those in Israel/Palestine. We can understand intellectually the importance of water, but having to live with the day to day impact of the lack of water is different.
On my first visit to Yosemite, I camped one night at Tuolumne Meadows. As I stood in line for the communal sinks to brush my teeth, I heard one Californian yell at a woman, obviously from the east, to turn off the water. The woman was brushing her teeth and letting the water run as she did. How often have you done that? I certainly did that all my life, without ever giving a thought to the water I was wasting, sending coursing down the drain. I’d never lived through years of drought in California. But even California during a drought is blessed compared to Palestine. Much of the land is desert. There are areas in the west blessed with rain, and areas along the Jordan which have water, but the rest is either arid or dessert. In the Negev, you can walk across the desert, the dirt crunchy beneath your feet. Plants, even small ones, are rare.
A cup of water is the difference between life and death. Hospitality is central in desert cultures because the environment is so difficult. Hospitality is simply a matter of life and death. For us a cup of water is simple: going to the sink, turning on the faucet, perhaps letting the water run a bit to cool it and then fill a glass. For those in Palestine in Jesus’ time, a cup of water was more difficult. The women arise early and walk to the well. There they send a bucket down into the depths of the well and then lift up the bucket of water. Think about how heavy that water was. A gallon of water weighs eight pounds. Imagine lifting a bucket with a gallon of water. Imagine lifting eight pounds up, straight up out of the earth. Now, there may have been pulley systems to ease the burden, but even so, the water had to be carried from the well to the house. Giving a cup of water to a stranger was important. Receiving a cup of water is a blessing.
This passage is the end of Matthew’s account of Jesus’ missionary discourse. These are the last words Jesus says before he sends his disciples out to tell others that the kingdom of God is near. The worlds are an assurance of welcome. Those who welcome the disciples will receive a reward. This is the assurance of the welcome we will receive, we do receive into God’s realm.
I have been reading a new book, Saving Paradise, by Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker. Both are theologians who have been studying concepts of salvation in the early church. The book began as the two visited the catacombs in Rome. In all the art in the catacombs, they did not find a depiction of the crucifixion. Fascinated, they continued to look at early church art. They looked at early churches in Rome. They visited Ravenna, the site of the most beautiful early church mosaics. They visited early churches over the middle east. They examined early icons. The earliest crucifix they found, the earliest image of the dead Christ is in the tenth century. Intrigued, the examined early church writings for clues about early Christian ideas of salvation. What they found was the image, the idea of paradise.
The word paradise comes from the Persian. It is a word for a walled garden. But a paradise garden in Persia is more than simply a walled garden. The focus of a paradise garden is water, like a river, running from a high point, through the garden, to the garden’ s entrance. Often a paradise garden is divided into quadrants. Each quadrant is in bloom one season of the year. There is something always in flower, bearing fruit in the garden.
In Genesis, Eden, the first paradise often pictured as on the top of a mountain, a river flows through the garden, and from there, the river divides into four rivers. God has planted Eden with every sort of tree. The human beings in Eden do not need to work; food is there for them all the time. In the cool of the evening, God walks through the garden. In the last book in our scriptures, at the end of the book, John of Patmos writes of the future earth. Through the middle of the new Jerusalem, the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. God dwells in the city.
Paradise. God invites us, welcomes us into Paradise. Now, close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Put away your shopping list, Take another deep breath. Put away your to do list for the rest of today, for tomorrow. Take another deep breath. Put away your worries. Take another deep breath. Now, imagine a paradise garden. You are standing at the entrance. It is hot, very hot and dry. As you look into the garden, there is a hill and coursing down the hill is a river of clear, sparkling water. On either side of the river are trees, some flowering, others with fruit. Among the trees are plants and flowers. It is the most beautiful garden you can imagine. And, there at the entrance is God. She, or He, however you imagine God, is there welcoming you. Come, in, come in. We have been waiting for you. Let me walk with you. And you walk. God finds a comfortable bench and you both sit down. God slides God’s arm around your shoulders. “What has been bothering you?” God asks. “What are you afraid of?” “What concerns you?” “How can I help you?”
God is waiting, right now, to welcome us into paradise. Paradise is not something we have to wait for. Paradise is not something we have to strive for. Paradise is not something we have to be good enough for. Paradise is waiting. We are welcome. God is waiting to welcome us home, to paradise with God. Amen.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Friday Five
I've just joined a book group, so this is so appropriate!
This week, then, a Summer Reading Friday Five.
1) Do you think of summer as a particularly good season for reading? Why or why not?
I lived for a long time in Cleveland, Oh, so summer was a time to be outdoors. Reading was a winter activity. Snuggling up with a good book during a blizzard--what could be better! Now, I have gardening to do, so reading gets short shrift in the summer, in hot, humid Memphis.
2) Have you ever fallen asleep reading on the beach?
Not a beach sitter/reader, so no. I don't think I've sat on the beach in 30 years.
3) Can you recall a favorite childhood book read in the summertime?
Shoot, I can't remember childhood. Actually, when I was small, I read the Boxcar children books and then Nancy Drew. I remember being about 12 and reading the intro to Hawaii (Michener) in Life or Look and wanting to check it out of the library to read. The librarian (a cousin of mine) said I was too young to read it. I told her I was going to read it anyway.
4) Do you have a favorite genre for light or relaxing reading?
Female dectective novels. Nancy Drew grown up.
5) What is the next book on your reading list?
My next book will be a ways off. I'm reading Saving Paradise by Rita Nakishima Brock. She and her coauthor discovered that there is no art depecting the crucifixion prior to about 900. The book is an exploration of salvation in the early church. The dominant motif they discovered is Paradise, both as a present reality and as the future hope.
Kay Warren (Rick's wife) new book is on it's way from Amazon. I'm hoping to use it as a sermon story for one of the parables in July. I've got a stack of books lying around and a bunch for my Sony eReader for an upcoming trip. The eReader books include the latest James Bond, the first novel by Ian Rankin in the Inspector Rebus series which was just recommended to me. I've also got the latest Sue Grafton.
This week, then, a Summer Reading Friday Five.
1) Do you think of summer as a particularly good season for reading? Why or why not?
I lived for a long time in Cleveland, Oh, so summer was a time to be outdoors. Reading was a winter activity. Snuggling up with a good book during a blizzard--what could be better! Now, I have gardening to do, so reading gets short shrift in the summer, in hot, humid Memphis.
2) Have you ever fallen asleep reading on the beach?
Not a beach sitter/reader, so no. I don't think I've sat on the beach in 30 years.
3) Can you recall a favorite childhood book read in the summertime?
Shoot, I can't remember childhood. Actually, when I was small, I read the Boxcar children books and then Nancy Drew. I remember being about 12 and reading the intro to Hawaii (Michener) in Life or Look and wanting to check it out of the library to read. The librarian (a cousin of mine) said I was too young to read it. I told her I was going to read it anyway.
4) Do you have a favorite genre for light or relaxing reading?
Female dectective novels. Nancy Drew grown up.
5) What is the next book on your reading list?
My next book will be a ways off. I'm reading Saving Paradise by Rita Nakishima Brock. She and her coauthor discovered that there is no art depecting the crucifixion prior to about 900. The book is an exploration of salvation in the early church. The dominant motif they discovered is Paradise, both as a present reality and as the future hope.
Kay Warren (Rick's wife) new book is on it's way from Amazon. I'm hoping to use it as a sermon story for one of the parables in July. I've got a stack of books lying around and a bunch for my Sony eReader for an upcoming trip. The eReader books include the latest James Bond, the first novel by Ian Rankin in the Inspector Rebus series which was just recommended to me. I've also got the latest Sue Grafton.
Musings
I have been listening to old podcasts from Speaking of Faith. I discovered this NPR program during my time in Michigan. I haven't heard it anywhere else I've been. In late 2007 (I think) Krista Tippett interviewed Jim Wallis and Rick and Kay Warren.
A quote from Wallis: hope is a decision that change is possible.
From Rick Warren: He is trying to bring together both strands of Christianity: personal morality/family values and social justice. He talked about being "pastor" to leaders including GW Bush. When questioned about what he said to those leaders, he said he was a pastor and never talked about policy. He only talked about issues of character: their integrity and so forth. Hmmmm, what about social justice? I have ordered Kay Warren's book.
Free Will. I have been searching for about half and hour for something I read yesterday. I can't find it, so I hope I'm not mis-representing what I read. McCain is quoted as saying that God did not choose to make him a prisoner of war, and so forth. The quote was on a more right wing blog/website. The reaction was that the God that McCain protrayed was not a God that Christians believe in.
So, assume we have free will. When a person who is drunk, chooses to drink too much and runs over me, does God make that happen? Was that God's will? If so, what happened to the drunk's free will?
If humans don't have free will, if everything in life is preordained, under God's control, then why does anything I do matter? If I am already predestined for heaven/hell, then I should just do what I want to do. I believe the traditional Calvinist reply is that we don't know; those predestined for heaven act well, therefore we should act as if we are destined for heaven.
I think the reaction of the writer was that if God is not in control of everything, then that makes God a stand off God, like the God of the deists. What that criticism misses is a middle position. What if God is like a parent of a teen ager (a not overly protective parent). The parent lets the child choose and make mistakes and suffer the consequences of the mistakes. The parent doesn't control the child, but is there to be with the child as s/he picks up the pieces.
A quote from Wallis: hope is a decision that change is possible.
From Rick Warren: He is trying to bring together both strands of Christianity: personal morality/family values and social justice. He talked about being "pastor" to leaders including GW Bush. When questioned about what he said to those leaders, he said he was a pastor and never talked about policy. He only talked about issues of character: their integrity and so forth. Hmmmm, what about social justice? I have ordered Kay Warren's book.
Free Will. I have been searching for about half and hour for something I read yesterday. I can't find it, so I hope I'm not mis-representing what I read. McCain is quoted as saying that God did not choose to make him a prisoner of war, and so forth. The quote was on a more right wing blog/website. The reaction was that the God that McCain protrayed was not a God that Christians believe in.
So, assume we have free will. When a person who is drunk, chooses to drink too much and runs over me, does God make that happen? Was that God's will? If so, what happened to the drunk's free will?
If humans don't have free will, if everything in life is preordained, under God's control, then why does anything I do matter? If I am already predestined for heaven/hell, then I should just do what I want to do. I believe the traditional Calvinist reply is that we don't know; those predestined for heaven act well, therefore we should act as if we are destined for heaven.
I think the reaction of the writer was that if God is not in control of everything, then that makes God a stand off God, like the God of the deists. What that criticism misses is a middle position. What if God is like a parent of a teen ager (a not overly protective parent). The parent lets the child choose and make mistakes and suffer the consequences of the mistakes. The parent doesn't control the child, but is there to be with the child as s/he picks up the pieces.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Adam and Eve and the Serpent
I was meditating/journaling this morning. Now, I'm sure I'm not the first to have this insight, but here it is. The story of Adam and Eve is one about consciousness, etiology: how we became conscious. The result of consciousness is awareness of death. We are the only animals who are conscious; we are the only ones (well maybe with the exception of elephants) who are aware of our impending death. So, when God tells Adam that if he eats of the tree of knowledge of good and evil on that day you will die, God is telling the truth. A bit of Adam will die on the day he eats the fruit and learns that one day he will die. His unconsciousness of death, his naievte , his innocence dies. He physically lives, but it is no longer the same. He becomes aware of his own mortality.
Now, it seems to me that being aware of our mortality should make life sweeter. But, it doesn't seem to work that way. Many of us do everything we can to deny the fact that we will die. We exercise, we have plastic surgery, we eat anti-oxidents. We run. Or, we drink, we become addicted to our laptops, we do drugs. We isolate ourselves from life. We deny that we are mortal.
If we really knew we were going to die, wouldn't we live our lives differently? Wouldn't we care about the homeless man who is hungry and scared? Wouldn't we care more about the dying children in Africa? Wouldn't we care more about the mourning parents in China? Wouldn't we care more about our neighbors, the ones right next door? Wouldn't we care about the world we are leaving to our children, our grandchildren and (should we be so lucky) their children?
So, we have received a gift in consciousness with the blessing/curse of knowledge of our death. And we ignore the message of the blessing/curse.
Now, it seems to me that being aware of our mortality should make life sweeter. But, it doesn't seem to work that way. Many of us do everything we can to deny the fact that we will die. We exercise, we have plastic surgery, we eat anti-oxidents. We run. Or, we drink, we become addicted to our laptops, we do drugs. We isolate ourselves from life. We deny that we are mortal.
If we really knew we were going to die, wouldn't we live our lives differently? Wouldn't we care about the homeless man who is hungry and scared? Wouldn't we care more about the dying children in Africa? Wouldn't we care more about the mourning parents in China? Wouldn't we care more about our neighbors, the ones right next door? Wouldn't we care about the world we are leaving to our children, our grandchildren and (should we be so lucky) their children?
So, we have received a gift in consciousness with the blessing/curse of knowledge of our death. And we ignore the message of the blessing/curse.
Friday Five
From RevGalBlogPals
Think summer......are you there? Below you will find five words or phrases. Tell us the first thing you think of on reading each one. Your response might be simply another word, or it might be a sentence, a poem, a memory, a recipe, or a story. You get the idea:
1. rooftop
I was thinking about roofs this week--how I loved to climb up on them when I was a kid. The first house I lived in after my dad finished med school and his internship had a slightly slanting roof over the porch. I remember going out there with a friend and my mom getting upset. At grandmother's house, my cousin and I would climb up the outdoor stairs to the second floor (think way, way up there, it was a Victorian house) and jump down each step and then we might play on the roof over the back porch. I remember climbing out on the front porch roof. Once in the second house I lived in I climbed out on a small roof with a friend who was spending the night. My parents got really upset. When we moved to the farm, I gave up my porch climbing and build a tree house instead. I'm not sure what my rooftop fascination was about. One of the things I am disappointed in with my time with Habitat for Humanity is that I never got to put a roof on. I told the folks to call me when they started the roof on one house, but a professional roofer came by and his team volunteered to do the roof that day.
2. gritty
Me
3. hot town (yeah, I know, it's two words)
Hotlanta where every Southern girl wants to go, but I only went for a football game with GaTech.
4. night
I love the night, the stillness, the cool after a hot day. I love the stars, finding constellations, looking at the moon.
5. dance
I don't. Have no coordination or sense of rhythm. I'm less concerned with how I look and so I do when I get the chance which is rarely. Last time I danced, as I recall, was on Iona. Well, in public.
Think summer......are you there? Below you will find five words or phrases. Tell us the first thing you think of on reading each one. Your response might be simply another word, or it might be a sentence, a poem, a memory, a recipe, or a story. You get the idea:
1. rooftop
I was thinking about roofs this week--how I loved to climb up on them when I was a kid. The first house I lived in after my dad finished med school and his internship had a slightly slanting roof over the porch. I remember going out there with a friend and my mom getting upset. At grandmother's house, my cousin and I would climb up the outdoor stairs to the second floor (think way, way up there, it was a Victorian house) and jump down each step and then we might play on the roof over the back porch. I remember climbing out on the front porch roof. Once in the second house I lived in I climbed out on a small roof with a friend who was spending the night. My parents got really upset. When we moved to the farm, I gave up my porch climbing and build a tree house instead. I'm not sure what my rooftop fascination was about. One of the things I am disappointed in with my time with Habitat for Humanity is that I never got to put a roof on. I told the folks to call me when they started the roof on one house, but a professional roofer came by and his team volunteered to do the roof that day.
2. gritty
Me
3. hot town (yeah, I know, it's two words)
Hotlanta where every Southern girl wants to go, but I only went for a football game with GaTech.
4. night
I love the night, the stillness, the cool after a hot day. I love the stars, finding constellations, looking at the moon.
5. dance
I don't. Have no coordination or sense of rhythm. I'm less concerned with how I look and so I do when I get the chance which is rarely. Last time I danced, as I recall, was on Iona. Well, in public.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Catfish and Christ
When I was growing up, we didn't eat much fish. On Fridays at school, we got fish sticks. I never ate lunch on Fridays. Sometimes, we'd drive about half an hour and go to Jones' Fish Camp (I think they wrote it Jone's Fish Camp). I'd eat perch or maybe flounder 'cause it didn't taste like fish. They had wonderful hush puppies and cole slaw (an oil and vinegar dressing that cut the fat of the fried perch). I'd eat plenty of tartar sauce with my perch. We never ate catfish. Catfish are trash fish; they are bottom feeders. Mom liked trout, but Jones never had trout. She'd have perch or founder with me. She never cooked fish. I've cooked salmon, but I don't think that counts. I've never cooked real fish.
But, those catfish. They don't have scales, so they aren't kosher. They occur all over the world. They are wily. But, they are bottom feeders. They are negatively bouyant, so they sink to the bottom. They scoop up all the debris, the gunk, the decaying matter that can cloud and destroy a clear lake or stream. They take into themselves the gunk, so the world can be clean. But, they remind me of Jesus. Jesus hung out with the bottom feeders. He hung out with the whores, the tax collectors, the bad people. But, Jesus spent his life helping those folks heal and be included in the community. Jesus absorbed the gunk, so the world could be clean. Like catfish, Jesus was wiley. Catfish hide out so they can't be easily caught. When the Pharisees would try to catch Jesus, he'd just smoothly outmanuever them and get away. Just like a catfish.
Three years ago, a giant catfish was caught in Thailand. It fed the entire village.
But, those catfish. They don't have scales, so they aren't kosher. They occur all over the world. They are wily. But, they are bottom feeders. They are negatively bouyant, so they sink to the bottom. They scoop up all the debris, the gunk, the decaying matter that can cloud and destroy a clear lake or stream. They take into themselves the gunk, so the world can be clean. But, they remind me of Jesus. Jesus hung out with the bottom feeders. He hung out with the whores, the tax collectors, the bad people. But, Jesus spent his life helping those folks heal and be included in the community. Jesus absorbed the gunk, so the world could be clean. Like catfish, Jesus was wiley. Catfish hide out so they can't be easily caught. When the Pharisees would try to catch Jesus, he'd just smoothly outmanuever them and get away. Just like a catfish.
Three years ago, a giant catfish was caught in Thailand. It fed the entire village.
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