FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Jeremiah 15:15-21

Psalm 26:1-8

Romans 12:9-21

Matthew 16:21-28

Prayer of the Day: O God, with all your faithful followers of every age, we praise you, the rock of our life. Be our strong foundation and form us into the body of your Son, that we may gladly minister to all the world, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

 “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Matthew 16:24.

Jeremiah is a prophet in deep trouble. His relationship with his congregation, the people of Judah, has become toxic. The early delight he took in his calling has evaporated. His ministry seems to be going nowhere. He is alienated from his prophetic colleagues. Unfortunately for Jeremiah, his time knew nothing of today’s cottage industry of pastoral coaches, pastoral burnout counselors and congregational conflict mediators. His only source of consolation is the God who called him. And God does not appear particularly empathetic toward his downtrodden prophet:

“Therefore thus says the Lord:
If you turn back, I will take you back,
    and you shall stand before me.
If you utter what is precious and not what is worthless,
    you shall serve as my mouth.” Jeremiah 15:19.

To paraphrase, “Quit your whining, Jeremiah. I never promised you a rose garden. You can’t expect people to thank you for telling them truths they don’t want to hear. God does not care about polls, favorability ratings or popularity and neither should you. I am bringing this people to a bright new day. That’s good news they are longing to hear. But the way to the new dawn comes only after passing through the dark night of judgment. That is news they are not going to like. Furthermore, they are not going to like you for bringing it to them. You won’t be spared their hostility. The only promise you get is that God will give you what you need to face whatever you have to face. You will become tough as a wall of bronze.” Not exactly the model of pastoral ministry I learned in seminary or the expectations I had for my own pastoral career. I was, of course, determined to work hard at preaching, teaching and pastoral care for my members. But I also anticipated that I would be loved, cared for and supported in return. For the most part, I was. But there were exceptions.

The first time I experience substantial hostility from members of my congregation occurred following the election of Donald Trump in 2016. Though I did not hide my dismay over the outcome of that election, I did not express my views on that subject from the pulpit or in any Bible study class or church meeting. My preaching and teaching did not change. My focus was, as I have always striven to keep it, on Jesus and God’s just and gentle reign for which he lived, died and continues to live. I continued, as I have always done to emphasize Jesus’ call to serve him in those regarded “least” among us. These include the poor, the homeless, the alien and even, perhaps especially, those we regard as enemies. For a significant group of folks within the church, however, such preaching evoked a visceral response. Suddenly, advocacy and support for immigrants, which has been a focus of our Lutheran churches for more than eight decades, was “too political.” Welcome and inclusion of LGBQT+ folk, our policy for the last decade, became a red line of contention. Combative emails, provocative posts on my FB page and angry letters started coming my way. What once were areas of discussion over differing viewpoints became lines of demarcation in an atmosphere of increasing hostility.

I responded by meeting with disaffected members over lunch, individually and in groups. I held discussion groups at which I hoped we might learn to listen to one another, understand one another’s thinking and perhaps diffuse some of the anger. While members who participated were generally receptive, the dissenters only deepened their opposition as it became clear that the congregation at large did not share their outlook on my ministry. My efforts at reconciliation failed. One member angrily and publicly announced his departure from the congregation at our annual meeting, dramatically tossing his church keys on the table in front of me. Another circulated an email to the congregation stating that he would no longer attend or support the church. A few simply disappeared but informed me though remaining members “that there was no need for me to call on them.”

This was a painful chapter in my ministry. The folks who left were people I married, people whose children and grandchildren I baptized and whose loved ones I buried. I suppose I will never stop looking back upon that troubled time and wonder whether there was not more I could have done to bring about reconciliation and peace. Still, unlike poor Jeremiah, I had the support of my congregation. The church council stood solidly behind me. I had the support of sympathetic colleagues in ministry. Moreover, while I encountered a lot of anger, I never received any threats of violence. I am thankful for the love, support and encouragement I received from my congregation and colleagues during those difficult days. I know of many pastors who, like Jeremiah, did not fare so well with their congregations.

As I read Jesus’ words in Sunday’s gospel calling his disciples to take up the cross, I am beginning to wonder whether perhaps I was trying too hard to make peace. After all, didn’t Jesus warn us that he did not come to bring peace, but a sword? Didn’t he tell us that he came to sow division? Matthew 10:34-39. Didn’t Simion warn Mary the Mother of our Lord that Jesus would be “destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed?” Luke 2:33-35. Let us not dilute the impact of Jesus’ challenge in Sunday’s gospel by turning the cross into a generalized metaphor. The cross was an instrument of imperial violence designed to instill terror in the hearts of imperial subjects. From Rome’s standpoint, it was the most powerful reminder that Ceasar was lord and a warning to anyone who dared to dispute that lordship. Jesus’ call to live in a manner that brings one to the cross is therefore a radical political statement. It is a call to witness explicitly, by word and deed, that Jesus, not Caesar is Lord.

I do not believe that the church’s message changes under the reign of Trump or that the task of ministry was any simpler before he came on the scene. To the contrary, I believe the president has made our task clearer, if not easier. As I have said before, we have Trump to thank for exposing the demonic influences of white supremacy, economic oppression and a whole smorgasbord of bigotries that have always been part and parcel of our nation’s DNA. He has, I believe, made it nearly impossible for us to believe any longer in the United States as a benevolent giant whose power and wealth are “blessings” signifying divine approval. That is and always has been a lie in which the American church has too long been complicit. It is time for that to end.

The current regime is doing everything in its power to prop up the dying myth of American exceptionalism. By purging all references to the nation’s history of slavery from our national parks and museums, censoring exhibits at the Library of Congress and bullying universities into substituting propaganda for history, the Trump administration is working frantically to revive a picture of the United States that is deteriorating faster than the lining for the reflecting pool at the Lincoln Memorial. Jesus would not have been the least bit surprised by any of this. He understood and would have us know that empires, the American empire included, are ephemeral. They “fret and strut their hour upon the stage and are heard from no more.” Jesus knew that Rome’s power, like the power of all empires, rested on the fear of its ability to deal out death. With all its military might, Rome was powerless in the face of a man who did not fear death. Rather than shrinking in horror before the threat of crucifixion, Jesus embraced it. He turned Rome’s most powerful symbol of oppression into a lifegiving symbol of liberation.

The word of the cross is tough medicine for an empire that has confused wealth, power and privilege with divine approval. It is perhaps even tougher for a church that has always seen itself as the nation’s chaplaincy and enjoyed the benefits that come with such status. As observed by Rev. Dr. Linda E Thomas, professor of theology and anthropology, Lutheran School of Theology, Chicago:

“People with achieved and ascribed privilege, power, wealth, individually and intersectionality, need to understand how the vectors of demonology operate to give them privilege, access to resources and freedom at the expense of “othering” others. They need to know how they perpetuate demonic systems that give them advantages and grant them social subsidy, monetary subsidization and/or endowment. In other words, historically dominant groups need to know the ways they advance and keep the cancers of racism, sexism, heterosexism, Islamophobia, and other “isms” alive and metastasizing. They can become allies of many different historically subordinated people by replacing discriminatory statutes, decrees and laws that usurp power or nullify the enactment of legislation that promotes equality and equity.”[1]

Preaching that goes to the heart of our sin and calls for repentance at the individual and communal level is likely to spark hostility and opposition within our congregations and the church at large. It might even mean the end of the church as we know it, just as the Babylonian conquest meant the end of Judah as the people knew it. But Jesus reminds us that “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” John 12:24. The surest way to lose one’s life is to cling to it. Matthew 16:25. People fixated on the past will never see the Kingdom of heaven coming to us out of God’s future. People terrified of death will never see through its darkness to the resurrection. People unwilling to face God’s judgment will never find God’s grace. This word of the cross is a hard word; but it is a good word for the church, for our nation and for the world.

Here is a poetic meditation by William Dean Howells on Jesus’s inquiry, “what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?”

What Shall it Profit?

If I lay waste and wither up with doubt

The blessed fields of heaven where once my faith

Possessed itself serenely safe from death;

If I deny the things past finding out;

Or if I orphan my own soul of One

That seemed a Father, and make void the place

Within me where He dwelt in power and grace,

What do I gain by that I have undone?

Source: This poem is in the public domain. William Dean Howells (1837-1920) was an American realist, novelist, literary critic, playwright, and diplomat. He was particularly known for his tenure as editor of The Atlantic Monthly, as well as for the novels The Rise of Silas Lapham and A Traveler from Altruria, and the Christmas story “Christmas Every Day”, which was adapted into a 1996 film of the same name. Howells was born in Martinsville, Ohio (now known as Martins Ferry, Ohio). He began at an early age to help his father, a printer and publisher, with typesetting and printing work. In 1852, his father arranged to have one of his poems published in the Ohio State Journal without telling him. He began working at the Journal in 1858 where he wrote poetry, short stories and translated pieces from French, Spanish, and German. In 1860 Howells wrote Abraham Lincoln’s campaign biography, Life of Abraham Lincoln. You can read more about William Dean Howells at the Britannica website.   

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[1] “Public Theology, Populism, and Racism in the Post-Obama Era in the United States: A Womanist Summoning,” Linda E. Thomas, pub. in Resisting Exclusion: Global Theological Responses to Populism, (pub. by Evangelische Verlangsanstalt GmbH, Leipzig, Germany, under the auspices of The Lutheran World Federation).

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Isaiah 51:1-6

Psalm 138

Romans 12:1-8

Matthew 16:13-20

Prayer of the Day: O God, with all your faithful followers of every age, we praise you, the rock of our life. Be our strong foundation and form us into the body of your Son, that we may gladly minister to all the world, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

From as far back as the first time I was told this story in Sunday School as a youngster, I have been made aware that we Lutherans hold that when Jesus said to Saint Peter, “you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,” he meant Peter’s confession of Jesus as Messiah, not Peter himself. Thus, the Roman Catholic Church’s claims concerning apostolic succession and Papal authority are fundamentally misguided. I have always been suspicious, however, of arguments based on what Jesus “meant” to deflate arguments based on what Jesus actually “said.” It seems clear to me that the identification of the Greek name “Petros” with the Greek word “petra” meaning rock leaves little doubt that Jesus is conferring some measure recognition and status on Peter. I hasten to add, though that there is a long way to go from there to positing a divine mandate for apostolic succession as practiced by Roman Catholics and other church bodies, including now my own ELCA.

What, then, are we to make of Jesus’ declaration about Peter? Perhaps we should turn to our lesson from the prophet Isaiah. Speaking to a disheartened band of returning exiles who discover that life in their ancestral homeland is turning out to be difficult and fraught with danger, the prophet urges his hearers to:

“Look to the rock from which you were hewn
    and to the quarry from which you were dug.
Look to Abraham your father
    and to Sarah, who bore you,
for he was but one when I called him,
    but I blessed him and made him many.” Isaiah 51:1-2.

The prophet also refers to Abraham and Sarah as rock. But he does not lift them up as heroes or great leaders. The emphasis is not on the virtues of these two ancient ancestors, but on what God was able to do with them. They were but a single family living as aliens and sojourners among hostile peoples. Yet God raised up from them not only Israel, but several other nations. That, too, is the thrust of the gospel message. Jesus says of Peter, on this rock I will build my church. Thus, it is neither Peter’s status among the twelve nor his confession (which we know was somewhat misguided) that matters most. What matters is Jesus’ promise to build up his church.  

What importance does this have for us? First, we know a few things about Peter. He is a frequent spokesperson for the disciples, but often less than perceptive. He does not understand Jesus’ parables and his questions often betray profound misconceptions about the reign of God Jesus proclaims. We know that, after vowing to go to prison and even death with Jesus, he denies knowing him when the opportunity to fulfil that vow arrives. Just as Abraham and Sarah were unlikely prospects for nation building, so Peter does not strike us as a very reliable cornerstone of Jesus’ church. But their vulnerabilities and shortcomings do not limit God’s determination to work God’s redemptive purpose in their lives.

Second, “the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Bear in mind that this declaration is made before Peter’s denial of Jesus. Peter, we know, is bound to fail. The church regularly fails to live into its calling as a witness to Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims. Nonetheless, the church, with all its faults, is God’s building project. In so many ways, in our private and corporate lives, we deny the Lord we proclaim. Yet Jesus does not ever deny his church. Once again, the stones are only the building material. Jesus is the builder on which the structure depends. What Jesus begins, Jesus finishes.

Third, there is an awesome responsibility placed upon Peter. He is given the keys of the kingdom, the power to bind and the power to loose. There has been no shortage of scholarly debate over exactly what that means. I will not attempt to summarize it here. But at a bare minimum, it means that the words spoken and the acts done by Peter and through the church are powerful and have eternal consequences. The charge to exercise prophetic ministry is not a privilege. It is solemn charge to speak God’s words of judgment and grace. Properly spoken, these words bring light into the darkest places, hope where there is despair and open up new paths where life seems to have hit a dead end. Get it wrong and bloody crusades are launched, heretics and supposed witches are burned at the stake and Tomahawk missiles slaughter innocent school girls. Great responsibility and, I would add, accountability is placed upon Saint Peter and the church that will be built upon his ministry. The church will always be in need of criticism, repentance and reform if it is to remain faithful.

Finally, the gospel reminds us that Jesus sees in those he calls far more than they are able to see in themselves. Where the rest of the world saw only an unlearned fisherman, Jesus saw Saint Peter the Apostle. Where the rest of the world saw only a corrupt tax collector, Jesus saw Matthew the Apostle. As an ecclesiastical insider, I don’t need anyone to tell me how corrupt church institutions can be, how ambitious for power, how mean and petty we clergy can be and how self centered and unwelcoming congregations can be. But every so often, just often enough to keep me believing in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church, something extraordinary happens. A church assembly votes and takes concrete steps to welcome individuals and groups formerly excluded by both church and society in spite of the institutional consequences, such as loss of membership and financial support. A pastor takes a principled stand for justice that puts their call, their livelihood and their standing with ecclesiastical authority in jeopardy. A congregation puts its endowment into a promising but risky ministry  to its community. In short, every so often we discover that we are more than we think we are. We have gifts for ministry we never dreamed we possessed. We find ourselves doing what we never imagined possible. When that happens, it’s beautiful.

Here is a poem about calling and commission from an anonymous source.

Father to Daughter

Let no one tell you, girl,

          that the mountain is too high,

the evil too deeply entrenched,

          the valley too steep

or that it’s too far to the sky.

          Let no one say, my child,

that your dreams are too big,

          that you are too small,

that what your heart tells you is right

          can never be and so ignore its call.

Let no man convince you to be practical

          or chide you for lacking common sense.

For it just may be that God’s been waiting

          endless ages for someone

blind to conventional wisdom,

          someone brave enough to be compassionate

instead of simply strong,

          someone who would rather die

for a good cause than live for none at all.

          So ignore all words of caution

and shut out all well meaning advice.

          Silence the timid voice of warning

and listen instead with your whole heart to the call.   

Source: Anonymous  

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Isaiah 56:1, 6-8

Psalm 67

Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

Matthew 15:[10-20] 21-28

Prayer of the Day: God of all peoples, your arms reach out to embrace all those who call upon you. Teach us as disciples of your Son to love the world with compassion and constancy, that your name may be known throughout the earth, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“for my house shall be called a house of prayer
    for all peoples.” Isaiah 56:7.

Following the United States’ recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital during Donald Trump’s first term, Fox News host Jeanine Pirro remarked that,

″[Trump], like King Cyrus before him, fulfilled the biblical prophecies of the gods [sic] worshipped by Jews, Christians and, yes, Muslims, that Jerusalem is the eternal capital of the Jewish state and that the Jewish people finally deserve a righteous, free and sovereign Israel.”

Perhaps, in addition to coming clean about her baseless allegations of vandalism to the Washington D.C. reflecting pool, Ms. Pirro should likewise revisit her remarks about Cyrus and her messianic assertions about Donald Trump. All who are moderately biblically literate know that Cyrus did not give back Jerusalem to the Jews returning from exile in Babylon as the capital of a “free and sovereign Israel.” Not by a long shot. Palestine under Cyrus was one of many satraps governed by local Persian rulers. Reoccupying the land of Israel was for the newly liberated exiles a privilege granted by the Persian Empire, not a right. Living faithfully in the land does not require and certainly does not entitle one to control or monopolize it.

To put all of this in context, understand that the earth is the Lord’s and whatever claim we have to it is provisional, contingent and temporary. Psalm 24:1. This is so for the State of Israel no less than any other nation state. What the people of Israel (as distinct from the nation state by that name) learned and what the church has had to learn over and over again is that the minute we start thinking of anything in our hands as a permanent entitlement, we are tempting the Almighty to take it away from us. Speak to the prophet Jeremiah about that. Israel initially occupied the land as seminomadic tribes with no central authority. When they demanded a king in order to be “like the other nations,” the prophet Samuel strongly discouraged them. It turns out that Samuel was right. The monarchy resulted in the stratification of Israelite society, the loss of land and livelihood for subsistence farmers to the ruling elite the distortion of Israel’s covenant faith and, finally, to conquest and exile. The new start given to the returning exiles from Babylon did not include sovereignty. But it did open up an opportunity for the people to rebuild their covenant faith on a surer foundation by “doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with God.”  

The Bible states clearly that, just as Israel is given as a covenant to the nations (Isaiah 49:6), so Jerusalem is a city belonging to all peoples. Consider, for example,

“Among those who know me I mention Rahab [Egypt] and Babylon; behold, Philista and Tyre, with Ethiopia-‘This one was born there,’ they say. And of Zion it shall be said, ‘This one and that one were born in her;” for the Most High himself will establish her, The Lord records as he registers the peoples, ‘This one was born there.’”  Psalm 87:4-6.

“It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come and say: ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.’” Isaiah 2:2-3.

“And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord, and to be his servants, all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant—these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt-offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” Isaiah 56:6-7.

“And the [New Jerusalem] has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. People will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations.” Revelation 21:23-26.

These passages all testify to Jerusalem as a center of worship and prayer open to all peoples. For Jews, Jerusalem is the City of David, the site of Solomon’s temple, the place where Abraham nearly offered his son Isaac as a burnt offering and, according to some Jewish traditions, the site of creation. For many Muslims, Jerusalem is the third holiest city after Mecca and Medina. It is the place to which the prophet Mohamed was transported during his “night journey.” Of course, Christians know Jerusalem as the place where Jesus entered in triumph, was arrested, crucified and raised from death. Turning this holy city into the capital of a modern nation state controlling and limiting access flies in the face of all that Jerusalem signifies in the scriptures. Only in the weird and wacky world of right wing pre-millennialism, a faith cooked up by sectarians in the late 19^th Century, does nationalizing Jerusalem make theological sense. For more on that, see my post of Sunday, June 11, 2017. The scriptures offer not one single straw in support of nationalizing the Holy City.

Beyond the obvious humanitarian concerns plaguing the middle east, should Christians care about Jerusalem? Does the fate of Jerusalem matter anymore than the fate of any other city in the world? Wouldn’t the gospel be the gospel whether Jerusalem thrives or perishes? I think not. The three Abrahamic religions, Islam, Judaism and Christianity have this in common: place and time. Our beliefs are grounded in historical events that occurred in specific places. Ours is not a religion of pure spirit divorced from the things of the world. The career of Muhamad, the saga of Israel and the life and death of Jesus and his disciples’ witness to his resurrection are not mere historical accidents illustrative of but not essential to larger moral and spiritual truths. They are intertwined with and inseparable from our teaching, faith and practice. It is no accident either that all three of these faiths intersect at Jerusalem. Though this holy city has been at the center of some very bloody and unholy conflicts throughout history, that should not and need not be so.

The New Jerusalem described in the above citation from the Book of Revelation is everything the current Jerusalem is not-but might be. Might be if enough Jews, Muslims and Christians own up to all that Jerusalem means to them; if enough ecumenically minded representatives of all three faiths can help us all see beyond the ancient blood feuds, global politics, conflicting claims of sovereignty to a different way of honoring the holy city; if our longing to see a Jerusalem that reflects God’s future prevails over the cycles of retribution that entrap us in our violent past, then we might just catch a glimpse of that holy city God is so eager to give us.

Here is a hymn/poem by Johann M. Meyfart celebrating the new Jerusalem envisioned by John of Patmos in the Book of Revelation. Would that God’s Spirit strengthen the determination of all who seek the peace of Jerusalem that we might in our lifetimes see something of that newness in the here and now!

Jerusalem, Thou City Fair and High

Jerusalem, thou ci­ty fair and high,
Would God I were in thee!
My long­ing heart fain, fain to thee would fly,
It will not stay with me;
Far ov­er vale and mount­ain,
Far ov­er field and plain,
It hastes to seek its fount­ain
And quit this world of pain.

Oh hap­py day, and yet far hap­pi­er hour,
When wilt thou come at last?
When fear­less to my Fa­ther’s love and pow­er,
Whose pro­mise stand­eth fast,
My soul I glad­ly ren­der,
For sure­ly will His hand
Lead her with guid­ance ten­der
To Heav’n, her fa­ther­land.

A mo­ment’s space, and gent­ly, won­drous­ly,
Released from earth­ly ties,
The fie­ry cha­ri­ot bears her up to thee
Through all these low­er skies,
To yon­der shin­ing re­gions,
While down to meet her come
The bless­èd an­gel legions,
And bid her wel­come home.

Oh hail thou glo­ri­ous city! Now un­fold
The gates of grace to me!
How many a time I longed for thee of old,
Ere yet I was set free
From yon dark life of sad­ness,
Yon world of sha­dowy nought,
And God had giv’n the glad­ness,
The her­it­age I sought.

Oh what the na­tion, what the glo­ri­ous host,
Comes sweep­ing swift­ly down?
The chos­en ones on earth who wrought the most,
The Church’s bright­est crown,
Our Lord hath sent to meet me,
As in the far-off years
Their words oft came to greet me
In yon­der land of tears.

The pa­tri­archs’ and pro­phets’ no­ble train,
With all Christ’s fol­low­ers true,
Who bore the cross, and could the worst dis­dain
That ty­rants dared to do,
I see them shine for ev­er,
All glo­ri­ous as the sun,
’Mid light that fad­eth nev­er,
Their per­fect free­dom won.

And when within that love­ly para­dise
At last I safe­ly dwell,
From out my bliss­ful soul what songs shall rise,
What joy my lips shall tell,
While ho­ly saints are sing­ing
Hosannas o’er and o’er,
Pure hal­le­lu­jahs ring­ing
Around me ev­er­more.

Innumerous choirs be­fore the shin­ing throne
Their joy­ful an­thems raise,
Till Heav’n’s glad halls are ec­ho­ing with the tone
Of that great hymn of praise,
And all its host re­joic­es,
And all its bless­èd throng
Unite their my­ri­ad voic­es
In one eter­nal song!

Source: The Lutheran Hymnal, (c. 1941 by Concordia Publishing House). Johann Matthäus Meyfart (1590-1642) was a German Lutheran theologian, educator, academic teacher, hymn writer and minister. Meyfart was born in Jena, the son of a minister, and studied at the University of Jena beginning in 1608 graduating in 1603. He went on to study theology at the University of Wittenberg in 1614. He taught from 1617 at the Gymnasium in Coburg and served as its Rektor from 1623 until his death. Meyfart authored numerous hymns and composed several theological essays, including one fiercely criticizing witch trials.