My last Summer Sunday preaching is on James 2: 1-17 & Mark 7:24-37.
As we celebrate this Labor Day weekend we hear a story from the Gospel of Mark of Jesus’ attempt to take his own Labor Day. In the previous chapter 5, Jesus feeds thousands with meager supplies, and then in chapter 6, he royally offends the Jewish religious leaders of his time by getting into a debate over what is clean and unclean to eat or touch. In the end he tells them it’s not about how well you wash your hands or eat the right foods but the value and pureness of what you say and do in life. Since, established barriers, boundaries, or rules of separation between Jewish and Gentile were kosher, Sabbath, and circumcision, his comment crossed the kosher boundaries and was considered appalling. Then, to add kindling to the fire you might say, Jesus has the audacity to go on vacation to a seashore residence in Gentileville! Maybe he thought leaving his own, familiar territory would give him the opportunity to get perspective on his own people, maybe he thought he could re-charge his batteries by the seashore, or maybe this move was to prove a point that would change the future of his followers forever.
This audacity to cross boundaries reminds me of a story by Ernst Kasemann (Jesus Means Freedom) about a church in Holland in a year which had seen rising tides and collapsing dikes. One particularly bad weekend, it was necessary for the town mayor to ask the pastor of the local Reformed church to bring all of his people out to help repair the dikes on Sunday morning or else they might lose the entire town. The pastor called the church elders together who discussed the matter and concluded that they had been commanded to keep the Sabbath holy, so if they perished it was God’s will, but they would not cancel services. The pastor then mentioned Jesus’ violation of the Sabbath law, hoping it might stimulate some further thought. To which one old elder says, “Pastor, I have never before ventured to say this publicly, but I’ve always thought our Lord Jesus was a bit of a liberal.” (www.preachingpeace.org)
The opportunity to liberally challenge yet another social boundary comes immediately as a pagan woman, a Gentile, approaches Jesus with deference, respect, and determined desperation. This isn’t the first Gentile to approach Jesus. Jairus was a Gentile of honorable standing who is helped immediately by Jesus. Yet Jesus turns a deaf ear to this woman. Why? We can surmise from her daughter having a bed to sleep in and her proper approach that she was most likely a woman of good standing and respect. However, it was proper for a male head of family to make petitions not a woman. In gender lies the difference. There were very strict social boundaries and mores to discourage contact between men and women, even more concerning contact between Jews and Gentiles. Yet this woman will not take no for an answer. She is confident in her faith that he can cure her daughter. Her faith that even crumbs would be enough breaks through Jesus’ hindrance to answer her plea.
This passage is one that perplexes many Christians for it reveals a very human image of Christ and it is certainly not an image of “Buddy Jesus.” Although many commentators emphasize Jesus’ use of the diminutive word for dog, Jesus is still throwing an insult her way when he calls the woman a dog. This is what shocks us today. To contemporary listeners of Mark, the shocking fact is that Jesus healed the Gentile girl. It was common conviction that Gentiles were unworthy, that they were dogs. When Jesus hears this woman out and concedes to her clever argument he is re-framing an entire social self-concept. This is one of the most pivotal moments in Christian history. This is the moment of a paradigm shift in which we realize Jesus Christ is not a savior limited to those who are like him. No, Jesus Christ is savior to all!
That’s good news, but maybe you’re still troubled by Jesus calling the woman and her daughter “little dogs” (kynaria, a diminutive of kyon, “dog”). I learned some interesting history relating to that common insult of the day. In the fourth century B.C.E. a philosophical movement began in Greece that was very critical of social and cultural conventions and political institutions. The followers of this movement were aggressive, rude, and sometimes used shameless behavior like barking or peeing on a leg of a table to be noticed and heard. Nonetheless they came to be called kynes, “dogs”, a name they adopted for their movement. The word was later translated into English as “Cynics.” Cynics are associated with being faultfinders, in a pursuit for virtue they are quick to point out the flaws in others. Although, today we think of cynics as people motivated by selfishness or whose outlook is extremely negative, the essence of a cynic is to challenge convention. Jesus is challenged about the customary boundaries that stood in the way of helping those in need by a “little cynic.” (The Women’s Bible Commentary, Carol A. Newsom & Sharon H. Ringe ed. p269.)
In light of this definition, one might call our text from James 2, a little cynical. James is convinced of Christ’s message, to be the savior to all, and points out the sin of favoritism that Christians were and still do practice. It’s human nature to want to stick with that which is most familiar. The great division in culture today has more to do with money and class than even race or sexuality. We are divided by our comfort levels. James challenges that comfort and invites us to take the next step from knowing we are saved and justified by faith to living and acting out that faith. Don’t just believe. Let that belief sink deep into the way you live your life, make decisions, or speak to others. That’s a powerful message and a lifelong struggle for all of us. We all make mistakes and feel unworthy at some point. It’s hard to come back from those moments and live up to our faith, especially if you happen to have a few little cynics around who are quick to point out your faults.
This past week I’ve been prepping for confirmation classes and it is in Luther’s Small Catechism that I found some spiritual relief. In the back of your ELW, pg 1162, you will find the Small Catechism by Martin Luther, specifically his commentary of The Apostle’s Creed. The Third Article on Being Made Holy reads: I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
Then you find the infamous Luther question, “What is this?” Luther used that question because it was what his young son would say all day long as he saw or experienced something new. “Was ist los, Poppa” Since Luther’s intent was for this to be a teaching tool for parents to pass on faith to their children he considered it the perfect question. So what is this? I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but instead the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, made me holy and kept me in the true faith, just as he calls, gathers, enlightens, and makes holy the whole Christian church on earth and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one common, true faith. Daily in this Christian church the Holy Spirit abundantly forgives all sins – mine and those of all believers. On the last day the Holy Spirit will raise me and all the dead and will give to me and all believers in Christ eternal life. This is most certainly true.
No matter how hard we try, we all have our shadow side and we cannot by our own strength and understanding get past that, but the Holy Spirit can and does. So we have a Savior who is savior to all people and a Spirit that calls, gathers, enlightens, and makes us holy, that abundantly forgives, and grants us the opportunity to take a painful look into our hearts and release the shadows that live there in full knowledge that we may be healed and by being healed, heal others. The blessing of “little cynics” is their ability to point out faults in social rules and mores that prevent universal help, hope and healing. Little cynics help us take ownership of our shadows. Barbara Brown Taylor is a preacher and writer who composed a sermon entitled “Owning Your Own Shadow” in her book Bread of Angels. She writes:
Jesus knows the truth about us and our judgments about one another, especially when we place “some” of God’s children on the other side of a line that we draw: “The danger is not out there, with the people who frighten and disturb us. The danger is in here, in the part of us that wants to cut ourselves off from them. There is actual evil in the shadow we will not own.” (www.i.ucc.org “Be Opened”)
May we all be opened to receive the Spirit and be made holy. May we examine our hearts and minds and release the shadows within. May we cross the boundaries with knowledge and belief in God’s abundant and overflowing grace to all and for all. May we know, this is most certainly true.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
One of those Days – Stressin’ in the Wilderness, August 2, 2009
Been a tough week for me, a definite wilderness experience. This is the message I got from the readings in Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15 & John 6:24-35. Exodus 16 is the story of the Isrealites after they've escaped from Egypt and find themselves starving. They complain very loudly about this. God hears their complaints and responds with provisions: quail meat and strange bread flakes called Manna (literally "What is it?").
Ever have one of those days, weeks, maybe even years? You know the kind of day that goes from bad to worse and back to bad again. Somehow you get through those tough times, but not without a well-deserved cry of woe. People are stressing out everywhere with good reason. We live in a time of global economic turbulence. Every one of us is being touched in some way by the loss of jobs, homes, healthcare, pensions and savings, fears of identity theft, rejection in relationships, and diagnosis of diseases. We live in a wilderness of insecurity. We seek relief from our stress by enrolling in stress management classes, learning to meditate or do yoga, getting spiritual, or trying to change our lifestyles. Even these good intentions end up stressing us out. It’s just one more thing to do to make things better, to feel safer, and to finally exhale. Peace and rest is what we’re starving for in our personal wilderness.
Exodus 16 tells the story of grumbling Israelites who are being shaped from freed slaves to people of God. This is a culturally identifying story. There are two lessons here, one is that God is Jehovah Jireh – The LORD our Provider. The second lesson is that we should honor Sabbath rest, for it identifies us as followers of God who trust he is our provider.
The wilderness is an exciting time filled with lessons of trust. No sooner had the people left Egypt than they are being hunted down by the Egyptians. God provides for their safety and the people celebrate. Three days later the people are thirsty and can only find bitter water. God provides clean water to drink. Then on the 15th day of the second month, the people are grumbling again about starving. I don’t know about you, but about now I’d be having my doubts as to how dense and self-centered these folks are, but not God. God hears their grumblings and responds by providing exactly what they need and always enough for everyone. Of course, he does have a bit of a joke on those who are inclined to hoard. You could only gather enough manna for the day; any extra would be spoiled and full of maggots by the end of the day. The only exception to this rule was the 6th day when Israelites were instructed to gather enough for two days and rest on the 7th day, the Sabbath. God was teaching them to depend on Him, one day at a time.
Yet, when one is having a personal wilderness experience, it is difficult to see any good in present circumstances. The wilderness is a place of danger and want. We are tempted to look to the past and see a time of security in comparison to the vast unknowns we find ourselves in. Though our message today is that the wilderness is NOT God-forsaken, it sure feels like it is. That is why I am struck by Exodus 16:10:
“And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the LORD appeared in the cloud.”
When the whole congregation turned their faces toward the wilderness they were turning their faces away from Egypt. They were forced to refocus. To refocus in the wilderness can lead to focusing in on the important things, truly knowing what they are and appreciating them. The wilderness can also be a space for learning new ways of being that is not based on our identities in the past. The wilderness can be a place of discovery and reinvention. Although the wilderness can feel like death, God can and does provide in ways that fit the insecure and unknown present.
Our gospel lesson from John 6 expands the lessons of Exodus. John 6:32-35 reads: Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
If peace and rest are what we hunger for in our personal wilderness, then Jesus is offering an opportunity to refocus and find what we are looking for. The crowd was focused on their memory of having their needs met the day before, on daily bread. Jesus is asking them to turn their faces from Egypt and face the wilderness where God sustains our lives for life. It is frightening to face the wilderness, the places of insecurity and unknowns but Jesus is no stranger to this fear. You see, God has been to the cross for us and has transformed the life of the wilderness into a life of provision.
A colleague of mine always says, “Where God guides, God provides.” I’ve heard countless stories of wrong turns leading to opportunities for service, a loss leading to new life, a tragedy motivating great change. I don’t know why we find ourselves in “Why me?” situations, stressin’ in the wilderness, but when we do our identity as people of God is shaped and defined. As people of God we are called to trust that God will provide and we are called to honor rest. This is unusual behavior. It is what marks us as followers of God. But don’t worry, you can still have a good cry of woe, God is listening and he does respond, with grace.
Ever have one of those days, weeks, maybe even years? You know the kind of day that goes from bad to worse and back to bad again. Somehow you get through those tough times, but not without a well-deserved cry of woe. People are stressing out everywhere with good reason. We live in a time of global economic turbulence. Every one of us is being touched in some way by the loss of jobs, homes, healthcare, pensions and savings, fears of identity theft, rejection in relationships, and diagnosis of diseases. We live in a wilderness of insecurity. We seek relief from our stress by enrolling in stress management classes, learning to meditate or do yoga, getting spiritual, or trying to change our lifestyles. Even these good intentions end up stressing us out. It’s just one more thing to do to make things better, to feel safer, and to finally exhale. Peace and rest is what we’re starving for in our personal wilderness.
Exodus 16 tells the story of grumbling Israelites who are being shaped from freed slaves to people of God. This is a culturally identifying story. There are two lessons here, one is that God is Jehovah Jireh – The LORD our Provider. The second lesson is that we should honor Sabbath rest, for it identifies us as followers of God who trust he is our provider.
The wilderness is an exciting time filled with lessons of trust. No sooner had the people left Egypt than they are being hunted down by the Egyptians. God provides for their safety and the people celebrate. Three days later the people are thirsty and can only find bitter water. God provides clean water to drink. Then on the 15th day of the second month, the people are grumbling again about starving. I don’t know about you, but about now I’d be having my doubts as to how dense and self-centered these folks are, but not God. God hears their grumblings and responds by providing exactly what they need and always enough for everyone. Of course, he does have a bit of a joke on those who are inclined to hoard. You could only gather enough manna for the day; any extra would be spoiled and full of maggots by the end of the day. The only exception to this rule was the 6th day when Israelites were instructed to gather enough for two days and rest on the 7th day, the Sabbath. God was teaching them to depend on Him, one day at a time.
Yet, when one is having a personal wilderness experience, it is difficult to see any good in present circumstances. The wilderness is a place of danger and want. We are tempted to look to the past and see a time of security in comparison to the vast unknowns we find ourselves in. Though our message today is that the wilderness is NOT God-forsaken, it sure feels like it is. That is why I am struck by Exodus 16:10:
“And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the LORD appeared in the cloud.”
When the whole congregation turned their faces toward the wilderness they were turning their faces away from Egypt. They were forced to refocus. To refocus in the wilderness can lead to focusing in on the important things, truly knowing what they are and appreciating them. The wilderness can also be a space for learning new ways of being that is not based on our identities in the past. The wilderness can be a place of discovery and reinvention. Although the wilderness can feel like death, God can and does provide in ways that fit the insecure and unknown present.
Our gospel lesson from John 6 expands the lessons of Exodus. John 6:32-35 reads: Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
If peace and rest are what we hunger for in our personal wilderness, then Jesus is offering an opportunity to refocus and find what we are looking for. The crowd was focused on their memory of having their needs met the day before, on daily bread. Jesus is asking them to turn their faces from Egypt and face the wilderness where God sustains our lives for life. It is frightening to face the wilderness, the places of insecurity and unknowns but Jesus is no stranger to this fear. You see, God has been to the cross for us and has transformed the life of the wilderness into a life of provision.
A colleague of mine always says, “Where God guides, God provides.” I’ve heard countless stories of wrong turns leading to opportunities for service, a loss leading to new life, a tragedy motivating great change. I don’t know why we find ourselves in “Why me?” situations, stressin’ in the wilderness, but when we do our identity as people of God is shaped and defined. As people of God we are called to trust that God will provide and we are called to honor rest. This is unusual behavior. It is what marks us as followers of God. But don’t worry, you can still have a good cry of woe, God is listening and he does respond, with grace.
No Regrets, July 26, 2009
This is a message I'm sharing with a community along Highway 212 where hundreds of Minnesotans lined the highway holding American flags as a convoy escorting a hearse carrying the body of SPC. James Wertish toward his home in rural Olivia. Hector is my hometown. Readings are from the New Testament in the Bible: John 6:1-21 & Ephesians 3:14-21.
Many people who followed Jesus up that mountain probably didn’t have a lot going for them. They were free to hike nine miles in Upper Galilee to see an itinerant preacher and sit in the grass. They were loners who lacked community, isolated individuals who needed to belong to someone, something, somewhere. There they were fed. I’m a big fan of everyday miracles. In this story I see the miraculous in that these disconnected, lonely lives sat down together and began to share. They discovered a joy and fulfillment that comes from knowing that you belong to each other.
This week Hector and other towns along Highway 212 experienced an everyday miracle as 100s of people lined up along the highway, waving flags, and welcoming home a fallen soldier. Many did not know SPC. James Wertish, but you were present for him, for his family, and for your community to grieve together and be a part of a deeper connection, the act of belonging to each other. After watching the video and reading articles about the event I was struck by the words of Paul in Ephesians 3:14-21 with new meaning. Here is a loose translation of how I read his prayer:
I fall down on my knees and pray your inward person be renewed day by day through the wear and tear of life’s challenges and tribulations.
So often the realities of life’s unfairness, tragedy, and chaos wear us down. Like Philip, who is asked how to feed the 5000, we see a hopeless task. Or, like Andrew, we scavenge to do our best and admit it’s not enough. These two disciples display the heartbreaking blend of hopelessness and frustration that comes with facing situations beyond our resources and control, situations that bring us to our knees in prayer or despair.
When we are convinced that things are hopeless it is difficult to set our mind on thinking of solutions. We just want to curl up under the covers and disappear for a while. My personal red flag is when I notice myself saying, “What’s the point?” That’s when I know; I’ve given up and closed my mind to possibilities. I recognize hopeless thinking to be a sign that something big needs to change in my life. That’s not easy. It’s a call for a shift in perspective. Feeling hopeless is a call for hope.
Such a shift in perspective occurs in our story from John 6. Jesus hears the words of Philip and Andrew, he feels their pain, and with a knowing look does something crazy. He takes what little they have, blesses it and trusts completely that the people will be fed, and they are. They are not only fed they are fed to a sensation of ultimate fullness with fragments to be gathered. How did that happen? I don’t know. What I do know is that this was a powerful experience of community, faith, and hope. It was a miracle by being a shift in perspective; just like that line of flags on Highway 212 was a miracle, shifting isolated grief for one family into communal grief for a whole county.
Following this powerful event, Jesus returns to the mountaintop to be alone. In the other gospels this time away is due to grief as he learned his cousin, John the Baptist, had been beheaded. We can only assume for this text that such grieving drove him into a time of prayer and escape from the crowds. While away the disciples struggle to cross the waters in a terrible storm. Notice that in this text, the storm is not stilled. You see, God can be present and reveal God’s glory in the midst of the storm. If the storms of your reality are blowing hard and you’re filled with fear, hopelessness, or grief divine presence is still with you. You don’t have to wait for the trials of life to calm down before you can get God.
I think that’s what Paul was leaning toward when he prayed in Ephesians 3. He wanted us to understand that we need to be renewed day by day and that renewal is an inner transformation. He speaks of Christ dwelling in our hearts. Dwelling meant to take permanent residence, not just a temporary lease. And the heart referred to our inner being, not just our emotions, but our mind and spirit, the things that make us who we are. Allowing Jesus to sustain us, transform us, encourage us, and strengthen us to the depths of our beings is what he’s praying for. Then he concludes that we should share this knowledge in one, undivided community. It is hard to imagine in our world of war, isolation, and division this “oneness” that Paul addresses again and again in the Letter to Ephesus. Yet, we just experienced it this week. One community of strangers united for one reason, to grieve as one for a young man whose favorite saying was, “No regrets.”
“No regrets” is an attitude that lives through tragedies, grows strong with trials, sees the calm after the storm, and knows the end is a new place yet to be explored. “No regrets” is to face the hopelessness with a look of hope. May we come to the table and receive the bread of life with no regrets. Then go forward in confidence to be the bread of life for others, with no regrets.
Many people who followed Jesus up that mountain probably didn’t have a lot going for them. They were free to hike nine miles in Upper Galilee to see an itinerant preacher and sit in the grass. They were loners who lacked community, isolated individuals who needed to belong to someone, something, somewhere. There they were fed. I’m a big fan of everyday miracles. In this story I see the miraculous in that these disconnected, lonely lives sat down together and began to share. They discovered a joy and fulfillment that comes from knowing that you belong to each other.
This week Hector and other towns along Highway 212 experienced an everyday miracle as 100s of people lined up along the highway, waving flags, and welcoming home a fallen soldier. Many did not know SPC. James Wertish, but you were present for him, for his family, and for your community to grieve together and be a part of a deeper connection, the act of belonging to each other. After watching the video and reading articles about the event I was struck by the words of Paul in Ephesians 3:14-21 with new meaning. Here is a loose translation of how I read his prayer:
I fall down on my knees and pray your inward person be renewed day by day through the wear and tear of life’s challenges and tribulations.
So often the realities of life’s unfairness, tragedy, and chaos wear us down. Like Philip, who is asked how to feed the 5000, we see a hopeless task. Or, like Andrew, we scavenge to do our best and admit it’s not enough. These two disciples display the heartbreaking blend of hopelessness and frustration that comes with facing situations beyond our resources and control, situations that bring us to our knees in prayer or despair.
When we are convinced that things are hopeless it is difficult to set our mind on thinking of solutions. We just want to curl up under the covers and disappear for a while. My personal red flag is when I notice myself saying, “What’s the point?” That’s when I know; I’ve given up and closed my mind to possibilities. I recognize hopeless thinking to be a sign that something big needs to change in my life. That’s not easy. It’s a call for a shift in perspective. Feeling hopeless is a call for hope.
Such a shift in perspective occurs in our story from John 6. Jesus hears the words of Philip and Andrew, he feels their pain, and with a knowing look does something crazy. He takes what little they have, blesses it and trusts completely that the people will be fed, and they are. They are not only fed they are fed to a sensation of ultimate fullness with fragments to be gathered. How did that happen? I don’t know. What I do know is that this was a powerful experience of community, faith, and hope. It was a miracle by being a shift in perspective; just like that line of flags on Highway 212 was a miracle, shifting isolated grief for one family into communal grief for a whole county.
Following this powerful event, Jesus returns to the mountaintop to be alone. In the other gospels this time away is due to grief as he learned his cousin, John the Baptist, had been beheaded. We can only assume for this text that such grieving drove him into a time of prayer and escape from the crowds. While away the disciples struggle to cross the waters in a terrible storm. Notice that in this text, the storm is not stilled. You see, God can be present and reveal God’s glory in the midst of the storm. If the storms of your reality are blowing hard and you’re filled with fear, hopelessness, or grief divine presence is still with you. You don’t have to wait for the trials of life to calm down before you can get God.
I think that’s what Paul was leaning toward when he prayed in Ephesians 3. He wanted us to understand that we need to be renewed day by day and that renewal is an inner transformation. He speaks of Christ dwelling in our hearts. Dwelling meant to take permanent residence, not just a temporary lease. And the heart referred to our inner being, not just our emotions, but our mind and spirit, the things that make us who we are. Allowing Jesus to sustain us, transform us, encourage us, and strengthen us to the depths of our beings is what he’s praying for. Then he concludes that we should share this knowledge in one, undivided community. It is hard to imagine in our world of war, isolation, and division this “oneness” that Paul addresses again and again in the Letter to Ephesus. Yet, we just experienced it this week. One community of strangers united for one reason, to grieve as one for a young man whose favorite saying was, “No regrets.”
“No regrets” is an attitude that lives through tragedies, grows strong with trials, sees the calm after the storm, and knows the end is a new place yet to be explored. “No regrets” is to face the hopelessness with a look of hope. May we come to the table and receive the bread of life with no regrets. Then go forward in confidence to be the bread of life for others, with no regrets.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Facing the Man in the Mirror or Off with His Head - Mark 6:14-29
This is a message I gave at Spirit Garage on July 12, 2009. The scripture is the story of the Beheading of John the Baptist. I address Responsible Power - Speaking the Truth to Ourselves. Songs sung that morning included: "What I've Done" by Linkin Park and "Come On Up to the House" by Tom Waits. Gotta admit my old Evangelical United Brethren roots are showing. :)
Herod was a haunted man. When Jesus’ fame began to spread throughout the land, people compared him to all the great prophets. But for Herod, Jesus was the mistake that haunted him and some say, cursed him, the rest of his life. He thought Jesus was John the Baptist return from the dead.
Now it’s important to understand the deep dysfunction of Herod’s family, to understand the paradox of a man like him caring enough to be haunted by one man’s death at all. Herod Antipas was the son of Herod the Great who was a very cruel, insecure ruler. Herod the Great is the one who ordered the death of all the children under the age of 2 years in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. It was a popular saying in his time, “It was better to be Herod’s pigs than his sons.” As a Jew, Herod would not eat his pigs, but he did kill most of his sons if they threatened his rule in any way. The few who were left, including Philip and Herod Antipas, were all conniving, sniveling, people-pleasing, weak rulers who were bent on not only robbing the scraps from Rome but from each other.
Herod Antipas was married to an Arabian princess. When he went to visit his half-brother, Philip, in Rome he seduced Philip’s wife Herodias. Herodias was the niece of Philip and Herod Antipas. Her father was their half-brother, whom Herod the Great had assassinated. Herodias agreed to leave her husband, take her daughter Salome, and move in with Herod Antipas. Herod Antipas made the plan to divorce his wife when he returned. His wife found out and told him she was going on a holiday, which was really an escape back to her father’s kingdom where she told daddy what her husband had done. This made the Arabian king very mad and so he saw this as an opportunity to resolve some of the border issues he’d been having with Herod anyway. Eventually a war occurred between the two territories and Herod lost badly. This is where the curse of John the Baptist comes into play. It was popular folklore that the defeat of Herod was retribution for the meaningless beheading of John the Baptist.
So why did Herod imprison John the Baptist in the first place? By shaming the king with the truth about his affair with Herodias, who was both his sister-in-law and niece, John inadvertently aligned himself with Herod’s enemy, the Arabian king. Imprisoning John was a political move to shut him up before he riled up the masses. On the other hand, Herodias took things more personally. She felt the best way to shut up a prophet is to cut off his head but she couldn’t because Herod liked John and protected him. Maybe he did this because John’s honest truth-telling was a virtue Herod never knew and lacked the character to possess. It perplexed him.
If this story isn’t twisted enough, in dances the young step-daughter who gives a “pleasing” performance on Herod’s birthday. Historical records say the girls’ name is Salome and she was probably14years old or younger at this time, so it is hard to say how provocative this dance really was. Nonetheless for a princess to perform a public dance was quite unheard of. When Herod promises her anything she wants, even half his kingdom he is blowing his ego up a bit. Herod didn’t really have that kind of power to give because he was a symbolic puppet ruler for Rome. To give half your kingdom was a figurative saying that was used another time in the Bible. The biblical book of Esther tells of another royal banquet, a drunken king making a vow to a beautiful young woman, promising her up to half his kingdom. Beautiful Esther uses this opportunity to save her people and stop the acting out of a decree to destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews. On the other hand, Salome runs to her mother who uses the opportunity to harm John the Baptist and please her appetite for revenge, a dish best served cold and on a platter. I imagine a little girl in awe of this royal banquet, with vulgar sweetness, skipping with excitement and her own embellishments to pronounce “I want the head of John the Baptist, on a platter.” I wonder how she responded when she was handed the head on a platter. Did this image haunt her like it haunted her step-father?
The topic for this morning is responsible power. Power is the ability to effect change or exert control over either things or people, subjects or objects. Herod is haunted by his exertion of power to destroy John. John is a prophet which means truth-teller. He told the truth to power and lost his head. What do we lose or gain when we speak the truth? Next week, Pastor Rob will address responsible power in relationship to society and justice. But I feel one cannot speak the truth to power socially until one has faced their internal power. I’m talking about facing the man in the mirror.
I was watching a news show this week that interviewed a psychologist with a theory about Michael Jackson’s numerous plastic surgeries. A photo of Michael Jackson when he was younger was aged and the result was the spitting image of his father, who had been quite abusive and pushed his career. The psychologist posed that when MJ looked in the mirror he saw his father and hated the image in the mirror so much, he wanted to change what he saw literally. When you look in the mirror, what truth about yourself, what weakness, what hidden fault do you want to erase from sight?
Who wants to face their own ugliness? Who wants to admit the messes they’ve made? We have the power of choice and like Esther or Salome; we can choose that which helps or that which harms ourselves and others. It is overwhelming to admit we are a mess and it can feel that no one, let alone God, will want us if they knew the truth. We set impossibly frustrating expectations to get our acts cleaned up and to stop feeling like “damaged goods” before receiving the love intended for us. When we’re good “God material” then we’ll get spiritual. This usually leads to quiet hopelessness and practices to drown out the nagging feeling we’re missing something with alcohol or work or responsibilities. On top of that we can manipulate the truth into unrecognizable creations, like Michael Jackson’s face, but in the end it’s still you and until you accept yourself and your mistakes as forgivable, let alone lovable, you will live as a victim of self-imposed crucifixion. Get down off that cross and use that wood for some good. There is no shame and humiliation greater than the cross of Jesus. It’s all been done for you. You don’t need to crucify yourself or become your own personal savior. Stop waiting to get pretty for God. Jesus is attracted to the unattractive.
Here’s more good news, we are forgiven then we can repent. Repentance literally means “turn around,” or “walk a new path.” In the Roman Empire, when an emperor died and a new one took his place, the word went out to all the Roman legions “Repent and believe in the new emperor!” The Gospel writers utilized this popular saying to mean “turn from the path you are on and align yourself with God!” (Bethlehem Lutheran Church, 7-5-2009) Repentance is a transformative choice about where you will invest your energy and focus in life.
Forgiveness enabling repentance is one of the great paradoxes of our faith. The honesty of facing the truth about yourself leaves you vulnerable, needy and exposed. You are loved and embraced in that moment. You are forgivable. You don’t have to wait to clean up the damage before you come to God because God’s here already and knows full well what you’ve done. You have the power wallow in what you’ve done or make a change. So, come on up to the house and join the holy truth-tellers party. We’re a raucous bunch and can sometimes lose our heads, but everyone’s welcome.
Herod was a haunted man. When Jesus’ fame began to spread throughout the land, people compared him to all the great prophets. But for Herod, Jesus was the mistake that haunted him and some say, cursed him, the rest of his life. He thought Jesus was John the Baptist return from the dead.
Now it’s important to understand the deep dysfunction of Herod’s family, to understand the paradox of a man like him caring enough to be haunted by one man’s death at all. Herod Antipas was the son of Herod the Great who was a very cruel, insecure ruler. Herod the Great is the one who ordered the death of all the children under the age of 2 years in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. It was a popular saying in his time, “It was better to be Herod’s pigs than his sons.” As a Jew, Herod would not eat his pigs, but he did kill most of his sons if they threatened his rule in any way. The few who were left, including Philip and Herod Antipas, were all conniving, sniveling, people-pleasing, weak rulers who were bent on not only robbing the scraps from Rome but from each other.
Herod Antipas was married to an Arabian princess. When he went to visit his half-brother, Philip, in Rome he seduced Philip’s wife Herodias. Herodias was the niece of Philip and Herod Antipas. Her father was their half-brother, whom Herod the Great had assassinated. Herodias agreed to leave her husband, take her daughter Salome, and move in with Herod Antipas. Herod Antipas made the plan to divorce his wife when he returned. His wife found out and told him she was going on a holiday, which was really an escape back to her father’s kingdom where she told daddy what her husband had done. This made the Arabian king very mad and so he saw this as an opportunity to resolve some of the border issues he’d been having with Herod anyway. Eventually a war occurred between the two territories and Herod lost badly. This is where the curse of John the Baptist comes into play. It was popular folklore that the defeat of Herod was retribution for the meaningless beheading of John the Baptist.
So why did Herod imprison John the Baptist in the first place? By shaming the king with the truth about his affair with Herodias, who was both his sister-in-law and niece, John inadvertently aligned himself with Herod’s enemy, the Arabian king. Imprisoning John was a political move to shut him up before he riled up the masses. On the other hand, Herodias took things more personally. She felt the best way to shut up a prophet is to cut off his head but she couldn’t because Herod liked John and protected him. Maybe he did this because John’s honest truth-telling was a virtue Herod never knew and lacked the character to possess. It perplexed him.
If this story isn’t twisted enough, in dances the young step-daughter who gives a “pleasing” performance on Herod’s birthday. Historical records say the girls’ name is Salome and she was probably14years old or younger at this time, so it is hard to say how provocative this dance really was. Nonetheless for a princess to perform a public dance was quite unheard of. When Herod promises her anything she wants, even half his kingdom he is blowing his ego up a bit. Herod didn’t really have that kind of power to give because he was a symbolic puppet ruler for Rome. To give half your kingdom was a figurative saying that was used another time in the Bible. The biblical book of Esther tells of another royal banquet, a drunken king making a vow to a beautiful young woman, promising her up to half his kingdom. Beautiful Esther uses this opportunity to save her people and stop the acting out of a decree to destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews. On the other hand, Salome runs to her mother who uses the opportunity to harm John the Baptist and please her appetite for revenge, a dish best served cold and on a platter. I imagine a little girl in awe of this royal banquet, with vulgar sweetness, skipping with excitement and her own embellishments to pronounce “I want the head of John the Baptist, on a platter.” I wonder how she responded when she was handed the head on a platter. Did this image haunt her like it haunted her step-father?
The topic for this morning is responsible power. Power is the ability to effect change or exert control over either things or people, subjects or objects. Herod is haunted by his exertion of power to destroy John. John is a prophet which means truth-teller. He told the truth to power and lost his head. What do we lose or gain when we speak the truth? Next week, Pastor Rob will address responsible power in relationship to society and justice. But I feel one cannot speak the truth to power socially until one has faced their internal power. I’m talking about facing the man in the mirror.
I was watching a news show this week that interviewed a psychologist with a theory about Michael Jackson’s numerous plastic surgeries. A photo of Michael Jackson when he was younger was aged and the result was the spitting image of his father, who had been quite abusive and pushed his career. The psychologist posed that when MJ looked in the mirror he saw his father and hated the image in the mirror so much, he wanted to change what he saw literally. When you look in the mirror, what truth about yourself, what weakness, what hidden fault do you want to erase from sight?
Who wants to face their own ugliness? Who wants to admit the messes they’ve made? We have the power of choice and like Esther or Salome; we can choose that which helps or that which harms ourselves and others. It is overwhelming to admit we are a mess and it can feel that no one, let alone God, will want us if they knew the truth. We set impossibly frustrating expectations to get our acts cleaned up and to stop feeling like “damaged goods” before receiving the love intended for us. When we’re good “God material” then we’ll get spiritual. This usually leads to quiet hopelessness and practices to drown out the nagging feeling we’re missing something with alcohol or work or responsibilities. On top of that we can manipulate the truth into unrecognizable creations, like Michael Jackson’s face, but in the end it’s still you and until you accept yourself and your mistakes as forgivable, let alone lovable, you will live as a victim of self-imposed crucifixion. Get down off that cross and use that wood for some good. There is no shame and humiliation greater than the cross of Jesus. It’s all been done for you. You don’t need to crucify yourself or become your own personal savior. Stop waiting to get pretty for God. Jesus is attracted to the unattractive.
Here’s more good news, we are forgiven then we can repent. Repentance literally means “turn around,” or “walk a new path.” In the Roman Empire, when an emperor died and a new one took his place, the word went out to all the Roman legions “Repent and believe in the new emperor!” The Gospel writers utilized this popular saying to mean “turn from the path you are on and align yourself with God!” (Bethlehem Lutheran Church, 7-5-2009) Repentance is a transformative choice about where you will invest your energy and focus in life.
Forgiveness enabling repentance is one of the great paradoxes of our faith. The honesty of facing the truth about yourself leaves you vulnerable, needy and exposed. You are loved and embraced in that moment. You are forgivable. You don’t have to wait to clean up the damage before you come to God because God’s here already and knows full well what you’ve done. You have the power wallow in what you’ve done or make a change. So, come on up to the house and join the holy truth-tellers party. We’re a raucous bunch and can sometimes lose our heads, but everyone’s welcome.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Give Her Something To Eat
Sermon based on Lamentations 3:22, Psalm 30, & Mark 5:21-43.
Today's readings speak to the presence of God in our experiences of change and crises. Lamentations assures us that God has unbreakable devotion. Lamentations 3:22 says "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end." The word for "mercy" is based on the Hebrew word for "womb." The poet is conferring an image of God's love and mercy being so devout and connected to us it is like the unique love shared by a woman and her child int he womb. In deepest despair, crises, and confusion, God is fully present. God is eager to lead us toward wholeness and renewed hope in the midst of our grief. There is an assurance to keep the faith despite the drear of reality.
But our message goes beyond divine assurance. Psalm 30 also says God is present in our joy and in our trouble. Then, it leads us a step further from God's assurance to our response of gratitude. Theologian Walter Bruggemann proposes a cycle of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation in the psalm (The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary, Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984, p127).
Psalm 30 illustrates an orientation of having confidence in human achievement that is trashed by troubles and crises causing disorientation, followed by a new orientation of gratitude for being delivered from that state of unrest. Listen for this cycle in verse 6, 7, 11, and 12.
6While I felt secure, I said, "I shall never be disturbed. You LORD, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains." 7Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear...11You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with you. 12Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing; O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.
Divine assurance and the cycle of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation are the formula that makes the backdrop for today's Gospel story in Mark 5:21-43. Here we meet characters of desperation reaching out for their last chance, named Jesus. Jairus had to be desperate. He was a leader in the synagogue, a well-respected man, whose peers most likely considered Jesus to be at least, an irritant, at most, an enemy. Why did he go to ask for Jesus' help in person, at risk of missing his precious daughter's last moments? Was it because his friends wouldn't help him in this crazy plot? It was common for children to die yound during ancient times, therefore parents tried not to form a great emotional attachment to their children. What sort of man was Jairus that he would risk political suicide to save his child, who was of all things a daughter during a time when sons were valued more? Can you imagine the anguish, the fear, the swallowing of pride he must have experienced to take this leap of faith and trust a strange healer named Jesus? Yet he did take that leap of faith and Jesus followed him to his home with a huge crowd of paprazzi swallowing in on him.
In the midst of the crowd is another character of desperation, the woman who had hemorrhaged for 12 years, the entire lifetime of Jairus' dying daughter. In Jewish tradition blood represents life. To touch the bleeding or the dead was to make one's self unclean. Therefore, this woman had lived a life of isolation and taboo. She was an outsider who broke good order by entering the crowd and touching Jesus' clothes. She disoriented the way things are supposed to be and interrupted the mission. In a sense, we are not unlike this woman. Many of us feel like the life is bleeding out of us due to being overcommitted, having our priorities in chaos, and living off fumes of energy because we haven't the time to refuel. She was losing her life every day. She tried everything she could think of to cure herself but nothing worked. It was in her state of total disorientation and desperation that she reached out and received healing. Yet Jesus did not let this transformation go unnoticed. He stopped. He gave her recognition and acknowledgement. He gave her new life. What would happen if we stopped and surrendered the things that are draining our lives? What new orientation toward life might be possible with Christ?
But maybe your life isn't oozing out of you. Maybe you are desperate because the one's you love are making life choices that are killing their spirits. Maybe you are more like Jairus, the desperate father. Can you imagine how frieghtened and impatient he must feel at this moment? Who is this Jesus? How dare he stop for an outcast woman when I need him now? Talk about a terrible political move. I doubt Jairus felt much favor for Jesus, especially when he hears his daughter is dead. His friends try to talk him out of this crazy idea telling him it's too late. But Jesus disregards this news. In fact his reaction to the news is like a line from the gospel tune, "God may not come when you call him, but he'll be there right on time!" Jesus disregards all common sense and does the non-sensical. He tells the mourners that the child is sleeping and kicks everybody out but the parents and three disciples. Such actions would earn me an "F" in pastoral care.
I am amazed by how God won't fit into our boxes of who God is and how God should behave. Jesus is a religious leader, prohibited from touching the dead, yet he taks the girl's hand and tells her to get up. Then she does just that. She arises to a new life. Think about it, no matter how dead you may feel to your life, to your faith, to your community, God is willing to reach out and touch you, with no regard to how untouchable, unworthy, or unloved you may feel. In fact if I were to create a bumper sticker for the book of Mark it would read, "I love you, whether you like it or not. - God"
With all the joy of new life and healing you would think this is the end of the story, but it is the last verse which encapsulated the third point of today's lesson in the experience of God during times of change and crises. After Jesus makes everyone swear not to talk about what has happened, probably because it was not time yet, he requests food for the girl. "Give her something to eat."
For some reason, that statement felt a bit odd. Some commentators say it was made to prove she really was alive and not a spirit because spirits can't eat. Others say eating with the family marked the girl's re-incorporation into her family and the community. But I have my own theory. Being fed is what comes next in the experience of healing and renewed life. We need to be nourished as we live in the assurance of God's steadfast love and live out the cycles of change. Our nourishment can come through connecting with community, prayer, worship, and service to others. To be fed is to live out the life of one who is loved and marked as a child of God.
So here is your bumper sticker for the day: God loves you, whether you like it or not, so now act like it.
Today's readings speak to the presence of God in our experiences of change and crises. Lamentations assures us that God has unbreakable devotion. Lamentations 3:22 says "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end." The word for "mercy" is based on the Hebrew word for "womb." The poet is conferring an image of God's love and mercy being so devout and connected to us it is like the unique love shared by a woman and her child int he womb. In deepest despair, crises, and confusion, God is fully present. God is eager to lead us toward wholeness and renewed hope in the midst of our grief. There is an assurance to keep the faith despite the drear of reality.
But our message goes beyond divine assurance. Psalm 30 also says God is present in our joy and in our trouble. Then, it leads us a step further from God's assurance to our response of gratitude. Theologian Walter Bruggemann proposes a cycle of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation in the psalm (The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary, Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984, p127).
Psalm 30 illustrates an orientation of having confidence in human achievement that is trashed by troubles and crises causing disorientation, followed by a new orientation of gratitude for being delivered from that state of unrest. Listen for this cycle in verse 6, 7, 11, and 12.
6While I felt secure, I said, "I shall never be disturbed. You LORD, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains." 7Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear...11You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with you. 12Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing; O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.
Divine assurance and the cycle of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation are the formula that makes the backdrop for today's Gospel story in Mark 5:21-43. Here we meet characters of desperation reaching out for their last chance, named Jesus. Jairus had to be desperate. He was a leader in the synagogue, a well-respected man, whose peers most likely considered Jesus to be at least, an irritant, at most, an enemy. Why did he go to ask for Jesus' help in person, at risk of missing his precious daughter's last moments? Was it because his friends wouldn't help him in this crazy plot? It was common for children to die yound during ancient times, therefore parents tried not to form a great emotional attachment to their children. What sort of man was Jairus that he would risk political suicide to save his child, who was of all things a daughter during a time when sons were valued more? Can you imagine the anguish, the fear, the swallowing of pride he must have experienced to take this leap of faith and trust a strange healer named Jesus? Yet he did take that leap of faith and Jesus followed him to his home with a huge crowd of paprazzi swallowing in on him.
In the midst of the crowd is another character of desperation, the woman who had hemorrhaged for 12 years, the entire lifetime of Jairus' dying daughter. In Jewish tradition blood represents life. To touch the bleeding or the dead was to make one's self unclean. Therefore, this woman had lived a life of isolation and taboo. She was an outsider who broke good order by entering the crowd and touching Jesus' clothes. She disoriented the way things are supposed to be and interrupted the mission. In a sense, we are not unlike this woman. Many of us feel like the life is bleeding out of us due to being overcommitted, having our priorities in chaos, and living off fumes of energy because we haven't the time to refuel. She was losing her life every day. She tried everything she could think of to cure herself but nothing worked. It was in her state of total disorientation and desperation that she reached out and received healing. Yet Jesus did not let this transformation go unnoticed. He stopped. He gave her recognition and acknowledgement. He gave her new life. What would happen if we stopped and surrendered the things that are draining our lives? What new orientation toward life might be possible with Christ?
But maybe your life isn't oozing out of you. Maybe you are desperate because the one's you love are making life choices that are killing their spirits. Maybe you are more like Jairus, the desperate father. Can you imagine how frieghtened and impatient he must feel at this moment? Who is this Jesus? How dare he stop for an outcast woman when I need him now? Talk about a terrible political move. I doubt Jairus felt much favor for Jesus, especially when he hears his daughter is dead. His friends try to talk him out of this crazy idea telling him it's too late. But Jesus disregards this news. In fact his reaction to the news is like a line from the gospel tune, "God may not come when you call him, but he'll be there right on time!" Jesus disregards all common sense and does the non-sensical. He tells the mourners that the child is sleeping and kicks everybody out but the parents and three disciples. Such actions would earn me an "F" in pastoral care.
I am amazed by how God won't fit into our boxes of who God is and how God should behave. Jesus is a religious leader, prohibited from touching the dead, yet he taks the girl's hand and tells her to get up. Then she does just that. She arises to a new life. Think about it, no matter how dead you may feel to your life, to your faith, to your community, God is willing to reach out and touch you, with no regard to how untouchable, unworthy, or unloved you may feel. In fact if I were to create a bumper sticker for the book of Mark it would read, "I love you, whether you like it or not. - God"
With all the joy of new life and healing you would think this is the end of the story, but it is the last verse which encapsulated the third point of today's lesson in the experience of God during times of change and crises. After Jesus makes everyone swear not to talk about what has happened, probably because it was not time yet, he requests food for the girl. "Give her something to eat."
For some reason, that statement felt a bit odd. Some commentators say it was made to prove she really was alive and not a spirit because spirits can't eat. Others say eating with the family marked the girl's re-incorporation into her family and the community. But I have my own theory. Being fed is what comes next in the experience of healing and renewed life. We need to be nourished as we live in the assurance of God's steadfast love and live out the cycles of change. Our nourishment can come through connecting with community, prayer, worship, and service to others. To be fed is to live out the life of one who is loved and marked as a child of God.
So here is your bumper sticker for the day: God loves you, whether you like it or not, so now act like it.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Living a Weed Life
Here is a message I wrote for supply preaching I'm providing. Never thought much about weeds.
Over the years I have heard the stories of Jesus' parables, like Mark 4:30-32, and thought nothing of them. However, I am aware that a parable is a teaching tool that presents a dilemma to grapple with. They are supposed to make us squirm and have shock value. So I am perplexed as to what is disturbing about the kingdom of God being like planting a tiny mustard seed that grows into a great bush, which shelters the birds of the air. That's not shocking. Obviously this text lacks relevance to a postmodern world. Or does it?
Did you know that the mustard bush was considered an out-of-control, pungent weed one would never intentionally plant? In fact, according to ancient Greek and Jewish gardening manuals, mustard was to be kept separate from other plants because it took over the garden. It was a common plant that could grow to a height of six feet or more. Mustard is an aggressive, undesirable weed. It takes over where it is not wanted, gets out of control, and attracts birds into areas being cultivated for particular crops farmers didn't want the birds eating up. So Jesus is saying that God's rule is like an idiot planting a weed that is invasive, impossible to remove, prolific beyond measure, taking over where it is not wanted and providing a home for pesky birds. In other words, the Kingdom of God is like a lawn of dandelions and crab grass. So, now are you feeling some parabolic shock?
Someone once said a weed is just a flower that is a victim of prejudice. Well yes, weeds are plants, and usually a plant that is growing eagerly with great ease in a place it is not supposed to be in. It is out of good order. I remember an example of this from walking the bean fields when I was a kid, hoeing weeds. I remember pulling corn stalks that were the previous year's crop in the current bean field. It always struck me as funny that one year's crop was next year's weed. Maybe weeds are just a matter of perspective.
From what I've come to know about God's ways, being asked to live a weed's life makes perfect sense. God is an extravagant giver of grace and love to those who don't earn it or deserve it. God repeatedly chooses the youngest, the weakest, and the lowest to become the greatest of leaders and prophets. There are stories upon stories in the Bible of God thinking outside the expected God box. Again and again, as we expect God to be remote, dignified, rational and predictable, we get the wild, extravagant, uncontrollable experience of a personal creator, radical savior, and irrational spirit.
God won't fit in our box of judgments and predictabilities and that is an unsettling thought. Deep down there is an innate fear of letting go of the control we suppose ourselves to have. The truth, we try to plan and plant a perfect garden life, but we can't control the frost or drought or rabbits from invading and disrupting our perfect plans. Nor do we win the battle against those invasive weeds with plans of their own. Could it be that living life in God's rule means we don't have control over how perfect our life is going to look to the rest of the world? It may mean looking like a weed, a cornstalk in a field of beans.
Another aspect of this parable's challenge for us and our control is the common interpretation that it is about smallness, in little steps and small hopes progressing on a path that leads to greatness. This parable is a testimony to the power of our focus and faith. Just as this is a testimony to the power of God's rule in our lives it can be a testimony to that which we would be more apt to call weeds, the things that choke us and suffocate our ability to love and live life abundantly. What small, insignificant thing are you focusing on and putting your faith in?
When we worry and fill our minds and hearts with anxiety, frustration, and fear of failure, we open ourselves to be changed in ways that hold us back and keep us from experiencing the abundant grace God offers. Now imagine making one very tiny attempt to pray about your fear, to plant a seed of hope even though all looks absolutely hopeless and you're not really sure you believe anything good could possibly come of your bad. It's just a tiny seed of a weed covered by cemented perfectionism, estrangement from God, loneliness, addiction, grief, or worry. Then let it be and see that hopeful weed find its way to grow through the tiniest of cracks. It is uncontrolled growth, passion beyond common sense, invasive love and grace for you and for me. It's a personal Creator who sees the pain of her creation and pays the debt himself. Imagine a tiny seed of faith leaving a pile of broken cement at the foot of a cross.
I know it is shocking to think of God's rule being like a weed. The traditional thought is found in our text from Ezekiel this morning. The Kingdom of God is like a mighty cedar tree. Isn't that more what we expect? We want a strong, tall, mighty God life to depend on. But here's a thought. How do you get rid of a cedar tree? You cut it down. The cedar is easy to fall and they never re-grow from the stump. Now how do you get rid of a weed? Yes, a shot of Weed-be-Gone works for a year, but what about the next year? There's always another weed. They just keep coming back.
You know that actually gives me comfort. Jesus may not be offering a l ife of mighty power and greatness like the cedar, but he is offering a life that lasts and keeps coming back no matter what we do to keep God out. Always there is a God of forgiveness, love, shelter and shade when we tire of our weary lives. So when you feel willing to surrender and take a rest from being in control, consider these words of assurance, "Come all ye who are weary and I shall give you rest. Oh and by the way, I'm not going away."
Over the years I have heard the stories of Jesus' parables, like Mark 4:30-32, and thought nothing of them. However, I am aware that a parable is a teaching tool that presents a dilemma to grapple with. They are supposed to make us squirm and have shock value. So I am perplexed as to what is disturbing about the kingdom of God being like planting a tiny mustard seed that grows into a great bush, which shelters the birds of the air. That's not shocking. Obviously this text lacks relevance to a postmodern world. Or does it?
Did you know that the mustard bush was considered an out-of-control, pungent weed one would never intentionally plant? In fact, according to ancient Greek and Jewish gardening manuals, mustard was to be kept separate from other plants because it took over the garden. It was a common plant that could grow to a height of six feet or more. Mustard is an aggressive, undesirable weed. It takes over where it is not wanted, gets out of control, and attracts birds into areas being cultivated for particular crops farmers didn't want the birds eating up. So Jesus is saying that God's rule is like an idiot planting a weed that is invasive, impossible to remove, prolific beyond measure, taking over where it is not wanted and providing a home for pesky birds. In other words, the Kingdom of God is like a lawn of dandelions and crab grass. So, now are you feeling some parabolic shock?
Someone once said a weed is just a flower that is a victim of prejudice. Well yes, weeds are plants, and usually a plant that is growing eagerly with great ease in a place it is not supposed to be in. It is out of good order. I remember an example of this from walking the bean fields when I was a kid, hoeing weeds. I remember pulling corn stalks that were the previous year's crop in the current bean field. It always struck me as funny that one year's crop was next year's weed. Maybe weeds are just a matter of perspective.
From what I've come to know about God's ways, being asked to live a weed's life makes perfect sense. God is an extravagant giver of grace and love to those who don't earn it or deserve it. God repeatedly chooses the youngest, the weakest, and the lowest to become the greatest of leaders and prophets. There are stories upon stories in the Bible of God thinking outside the expected God box. Again and again, as we expect God to be remote, dignified, rational and predictable, we get the wild, extravagant, uncontrollable experience of a personal creator, radical savior, and irrational spirit.
God won't fit in our box of judgments and predictabilities and that is an unsettling thought. Deep down there is an innate fear of letting go of the control we suppose ourselves to have. The truth, we try to plan and plant a perfect garden life, but we can't control the frost or drought or rabbits from invading and disrupting our perfect plans. Nor do we win the battle against those invasive weeds with plans of their own. Could it be that living life in God's rule means we don't have control over how perfect our life is going to look to the rest of the world? It may mean looking like a weed, a cornstalk in a field of beans.
Another aspect of this parable's challenge for us and our control is the common interpretation that it is about smallness, in little steps and small hopes progressing on a path that leads to greatness. This parable is a testimony to the power of our focus and faith. Just as this is a testimony to the power of God's rule in our lives it can be a testimony to that which we would be more apt to call weeds, the things that choke us and suffocate our ability to love and live life abundantly. What small, insignificant thing are you focusing on and putting your faith in?
When we worry and fill our minds and hearts with anxiety, frustration, and fear of failure, we open ourselves to be changed in ways that hold us back and keep us from experiencing the abundant grace God offers. Now imagine making one very tiny attempt to pray about your fear, to plant a seed of hope even though all looks absolutely hopeless and you're not really sure you believe anything good could possibly come of your bad. It's just a tiny seed of a weed covered by cemented perfectionism, estrangement from God, loneliness, addiction, grief, or worry. Then let it be and see that hopeful weed find its way to grow through the tiniest of cracks. It is uncontrolled growth, passion beyond common sense, invasive love and grace for you and for me. It's a personal Creator who sees the pain of her creation and pays the debt himself. Imagine a tiny seed of faith leaving a pile of broken cement at the foot of a cross.
I know it is shocking to think of God's rule being like a weed. The traditional thought is found in our text from Ezekiel this morning. The Kingdom of God is like a mighty cedar tree. Isn't that more what we expect? We want a strong, tall, mighty God life to depend on. But here's a thought. How do you get rid of a cedar tree? You cut it down. The cedar is easy to fall and they never re-grow from the stump. Now how do you get rid of a weed? Yes, a shot of Weed-be-Gone works for a year, but what about the next year? There's always another weed. They just keep coming back.
You know that actually gives me comfort. Jesus may not be offering a l ife of mighty power and greatness like the cedar, but he is offering a life that lasts and keeps coming back no matter what we do to keep God out. Always there is a God of forgiveness, love, shelter and shade when we tire of our weary lives. So when you feel willing to surrender and take a rest from being in control, consider these words of assurance, "Come all ye who are weary and I shall give you rest. Oh and by the way, I'm not going away."
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Not Justus...Acts 1:15-17; 21-26
This week was reality TV competitions’ season finales. I was a fan of American Idol and enjoyed Tuesday’s singing dual between Adam Lambert the glam rocker and Chris Allen the acoustic rocker. America voted and Adam is NOT the next American Idol.
In the scripture today we hear a story about the disciple’s reality competition for who would be the next 12th disciple. Prior to this moment Judas, of the original 12, had betrayed Jesus and was now dead. Jesus had risen and had stayed with all the disciples, men and women not just the 12, for forty days to help them understand “by many convincing proofs” that he was alive, real, and death could not hold him. At the end of the 40 days Luke tells us of his Ascension, that he is lifted up to the heavens. At that time, Jesus provides his followers with reassurance: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses…to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Ten days later the Spirit descends from the heavens on Pentecost and anoints the disciples.
Sandwiched between these two mountain top experiences is a little church administrative business that needed taking care of. As a church administrative worker I get an extra kick out of this. You see there really is value in having good order and preparation for the future. Or at least Peter thought so. Peter steps up to remind all those gathered that they had to fill a gap and add an apostle to bring them back to the number 12, which was reflective of the 12 tribes of Israel. The candidates were required to not only be followers of Jesus, but to have been with him from the beginning of his public ministry, starting from John’s baptism right up to the recent Ascension. Amid the 120 gathered, two candidates were chosen. Verse 23 sets us up a bit to expect the election of Joseph called Barsabbas, called Justus and not Matthias because he seems to be the one better known and certainly chummier with folks. He had a nickname, like many of the 11 disciples did. Nonetheless, both were qualified, impassioned, and knew God’s purpose in their lives – to share the story of Jesus and the difference it made in their lives and the lives of others. So with prayers for God’s will to be done, for the great heart-knower to select the one who would replace Judas, Justus’ and Matthias’ names were carved in stone, placed in a container and shaken until one stone fell out. “And the lot fell on Matthias.” (Acts 1:26)
Somehow that sounds more ominous than being crowned the next American Idol. Not much is known about Matthias. There are speculations that he was a missionary to the Ethiopians, others that he stayed in Jerusalem witnessing to the power of the resurrected Christ in obviously quiet ways for we never hear another word about him again.
Nor do we ever hear about Justus again. No not JUSTICE, but JUSTUS. Here is an individual who had been there from the beginning. With all those nicknames he was probably a likeable fellow. Did he long to be part of the inner circle after all those years and trials? Of course he did. Anyone with his passion and devotion would have. But the lot was cast against him. That’s rough. It’s one thing to come in second when America votes, imagine being the one God didn’t choose. Have you ever done the work but not gotten what you thought you deserved. Or just had the odds against you? Your company lays off five people and you’re one of the five. You interview for a job and make it to the top two and are not chosen. After all the work, preparation, high hopes, the disappointment is mind-boggling. Justus may have had any of our very human responses to disappointment because Justus was “just us,” all of us who have thought they were on the right path only to have everything change and wondered “what’s up with that?”. He could have felt hurt, become critical, or let his pride hold him back from living out his passion to witness and minister. Because we never hear another word about Justus, and Luke was known to report the flaws of Christ’s followers, I’m guessing he didn’t behave badly. Maybe he just bounced back, giving Matthias a big hug and saying “I’ll support you in every way, brother.” Whether Justus had a new title and became part of the elite 12 or not, he still knew who he was and what God had placed in his heart to do. With or without a title, Justus would be a disciple of Jesus Christ and a witness to a life-changing story. He was a servant of God.
I thought about that idea of knowing your heart’s desire and making the decision to act upon it when I was watching American Idol. At the beginning of the season you encounter plenty of contestants who are, shall we say misdirected. As the season comes to a close you can discern that whether a finalist won Idol or not, they each knew they were musicians and entertainers and would keep being that with or without a title. Yet discerning our path in life is not always so clear. We use the best decision-making process we know when discerning our purpose in life and why we are here. Often times it is much later before we see the hand of God at work in matters. In Acts 1:24 the disciples pray “You Lord, who know the hearts of all…” Cardiognostis is the Greek word to be exact. It means “heart-knower.” They set an example for us when seeking to understand the desires of our hearts, the direction or next steps for our lives. They prayed to the great “heart-knower.” Yet, God just doesn’t whisper in your ear, not even for the 11 disciples of Christ and they were pretty tight with the Father. We don’t always know at that moment whether God is in what we’re doing or what we decide. As I read about this story in Acts I discovered an ongoing argument about whether the disciple’s made the right choice in their decision-making process for seeking a 12th disciple. Some say the disciples chose Matthias, but God chose Paul, the last guy in the world to be considered for the position. Maybe that’s why we never hear another word about Matthias. He was no Paul. The disciples did the best they could in discerning God’s will, just as we do. We choose, we decide, and we act and we do so in confidence.
Yes, bold decision-making is a funny thing about being a follower of God. You see, we can pray and pray for God’s specific will to be known, and sometimes have our prayers answered, and sometimes not know with any certainty what path to take. But as Martin Luther advised, we will have to choose boldly our path, knowing that God’s forgiving love will sustain us in the midst of our messy lives and our many decisions. Our bad decisions do not separate us from God.
It’s hard to know the will of God, to be certain we are on the right path, to understand the desires of our hearts being unfulfilled and the work we do going unrewarded. Take action anyway, make decisions anyway for the great heart-knower is listening. Every act made in faith to love God and your neighbor, every decision made in rest, reflection, and prayer is cast in the framework of God’s will with the promise of Christ’s compassion.
In the scripture today we hear a story about the disciple’s reality competition for who would be the next 12th disciple. Prior to this moment Judas, of the original 12, had betrayed Jesus and was now dead. Jesus had risen and had stayed with all the disciples, men and women not just the 12, for forty days to help them understand “by many convincing proofs” that he was alive, real, and death could not hold him. At the end of the 40 days Luke tells us of his Ascension, that he is lifted up to the heavens. At that time, Jesus provides his followers with reassurance: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses…to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Ten days later the Spirit descends from the heavens on Pentecost and anoints the disciples.
Sandwiched between these two mountain top experiences is a little church administrative business that needed taking care of. As a church administrative worker I get an extra kick out of this. You see there really is value in having good order and preparation for the future. Or at least Peter thought so. Peter steps up to remind all those gathered that they had to fill a gap and add an apostle to bring them back to the number 12, which was reflective of the 12 tribes of Israel. The candidates were required to not only be followers of Jesus, but to have been with him from the beginning of his public ministry, starting from John’s baptism right up to the recent Ascension. Amid the 120 gathered, two candidates were chosen. Verse 23 sets us up a bit to expect the election of Joseph called Barsabbas, called Justus and not Matthias because he seems to be the one better known and certainly chummier with folks. He had a nickname, like many of the 11 disciples did. Nonetheless, both were qualified, impassioned, and knew God’s purpose in their lives – to share the story of Jesus and the difference it made in their lives and the lives of others. So with prayers for God’s will to be done, for the great heart-knower to select the one who would replace Judas, Justus’ and Matthias’ names were carved in stone, placed in a container and shaken until one stone fell out. “And the lot fell on Matthias.” (Acts 1:26)
Somehow that sounds more ominous than being crowned the next American Idol. Not much is known about Matthias. There are speculations that he was a missionary to the Ethiopians, others that he stayed in Jerusalem witnessing to the power of the resurrected Christ in obviously quiet ways for we never hear another word about him again.
Nor do we ever hear about Justus again. No not JUSTICE, but JUSTUS. Here is an individual who had been there from the beginning. With all those nicknames he was probably a likeable fellow. Did he long to be part of the inner circle after all those years and trials? Of course he did. Anyone with his passion and devotion would have. But the lot was cast against him. That’s rough. It’s one thing to come in second when America votes, imagine being the one God didn’t choose. Have you ever done the work but not gotten what you thought you deserved. Or just had the odds against you? Your company lays off five people and you’re one of the five. You interview for a job and make it to the top two and are not chosen. After all the work, preparation, high hopes, the disappointment is mind-boggling. Justus may have had any of our very human responses to disappointment because Justus was “just us,” all of us who have thought they were on the right path only to have everything change and wondered “what’s up with that?”. He could have felt hurt, become critical, or let his pride hold him back from living out his passion to witness and minister. Because we never hear another word about Justus, and Luke was known to report the flaws of Christ’s followers, I’m guessing he didn’t behave badly. Maybe he just bounced back, giving Matthias a big hug and saying “I’ll support you in every way, brother.” Whether Justus had a new title and became part of the elite 12 or not, he still knew who he was and what God had placed in his heart to do. With or without a title, Justus would be a disciple of Jesus Christ and a witness to a life-changing story. He was a servant of God.
I thought about that idea of knowing your heart’s desire and making the decision to act upon it when I was watching American Idol. At the beginning of the season you encounter plenty of contestants who are, shall we say misdirected. As the season comes to a close you can discern that whether a finalist won Idol or not, they each knew they were musicians and entertainers and would keep being that with or without a title. Yet discerning our path in life is not always so clear. We use the best decision-making process we know when discerning our purpose in life and why we are here. Often times it is much later before we see the hand of God at work in matters. In Acts 1:24 the disciples pray “You Lord, who know the hearts of all…” Cardiognostis is the Greek word to be exact. It means “heart-knower.” They set an example for us when seeking to understand the desires of our hearts, the direction or next steps for our lives. They prayed to the great “heart-knower.” Yet, God just doesn’t whisper in your ear, not even for the 11 disciples of Christ and they were pretty tight with the Father. We don’t always know at that moment whether God is in what we’re doing or what we decide. As I read about this story in Acts I discovered an ongoing argument about whether the disciple’s made the right choice in their decision-making process for seeking a 12th disciple. Some say the disciples chose Matthias, but God chose Paul, the last guy in the world to be considered for the position. Maybe that’s why we never hear another word about Matthias. He was no Paul. The disciples did the best they could in discerning God’s will, just as we do. We choose, we decide, and we act and we do so in confidence.
Yes, bold decision-making is a funny thing about being a follower of God. You see, we can pray and pray for God’s specific will to be known, and sometimes have our prayers answered, and sometimes not know with any certainty what path to take. But as Martin Luther advised, we will have to choose boldly our path, knowing that God’s forgiving love will sustain us in the midst of our messy lives and our many decisions. Our bad decisions do not separate us from God.
It’s hard to know the will of God, to be certain we are on the right path, to understand the desires of our hearts being unfulfilled and the work we do going unrewarded. Take action anyway, make decisions anyway for the great heart-knower is listening. Every act made in faith to love God and your neighbor, every decision made in rest, reflection, and prayer is cast in the framework of God’s will with the promise of Christ’s compassion.
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