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.
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