Tag Archives: christianity

Walking With Our Neighbors through the Largest Mass Deportation in US History

Uncategorized, , , ,

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Micah 5:2-5a

Luke 1:46b-55

Hebrews 10:5-10

Luke 1:39-55

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. With your abundant grace and might, free us from the sin that binds us, that we may receive you in joy and serve you always, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“[God] has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty.” Luke 1:51-52.

This theme echoes throughout Luke’s gospel and, indeed, throughout the scriptures. God’s preferential option for the poor is unmistakable. As I have said previously, this does not mean that God cares less for the rich. It only means that salvation for the rich means being liberated from the grip of greed and from lives of ruthless consumption and exploitation. For those who have grown accustomed to believing they are entitled to more than daily bread, being reduced to a sustainable lifestyle will likely feel like being “sent away empty.” To those who imagine that they are entitled to taking what they want when they want it, having to take their place in line will no doubt seem like an afront. For those who imagine that they are “self made” and absolutely entitled to everything they own, an economy based on distributive justice will feel like robbery.

None of this plays well in a season where consumption reaches epic proportions. Every year at this time I hear again and again form some quarters, “put Christ back into Christmas.” I am not convinced he was ever there to begin with. Moreover, when I have asked people what they mean by putting Christ back into Christmas, I get answers like “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays.” Keep the plastic Nativity display in the town square or that sculpture of Santa kneeling at the manger-it’s that sort of thing people imagine “puts Christ back into Christmas.” But it seems to me that if one really wants to put Christ back into Christmas-and the rest of the year as well, you take the side of the poor, the marginalized, the folks at the bottom of the social later, the victims of the world’s unsustainable practice of exploitation and oppression. Among these are migrants who are facing an unprecidented threat from the incoming Trump administration.

Jesus calls us to take sides. There is no neutrality, no “good people on both sides” waffling, no room for middle ground, not when it comes to choosing whether to stand with the oppressed or join their oppressors. Depending on whether the current administration’s threat to carry out the “greatest mass deportation” in this country’s history is just more Trumpian hot air or whether it actually will translate into policy, we may be confronted with the call to take the side of our neighbors facing deportation in some very concrete ways.    

Now I will grant that it is sometimes hard to find one’s footing under these circumstances. You may find yourself asking, “what am I supposed to do?” I ask myself the same question every day. But I refuse to be cowed by the enormity of the task to which Jesus calls us and I refuse to be convinced that anything I do is too small, too late and too ineffective. So Sesle and I are starting with the opening paragraph to our annual Christmas letter to family and friends which reads as follows:    

“Dear Family and Friends,

Our Lord’s Nativity reminds us that we worship as God’s Son a child born out of wedlock to a homeless couple forced to flee as refugees from political violence in their homeland and to seek sanctuary in a foreign country. So we invite you to pray with us this Christmas for all refugees in our midst who have fled persecution, poverty and violence. May they find among us a warm welcome, a helping hand and friends willing to come to their defense. May we treat these neighbors with such kindness that we shall not have to hear our Lord say to us, ‘I was a stranger and you did not welcome me.’”

This might seem like a small thing and it is. But the longer I live, the more convinced I am that tectonic changes come through the dynamics of human relationships. Attitudes toward LGBTQ+ folk change when Ms. Jones, who has played the organ and taught Sunday school from the time Adam and Eve were in the third grade, comes out. Fear of “illegals” melts away when you find out that the couple who has lived next door to you for a decade, whose children play with your children, who have been active in the PTA and organizers for the annual summer block party happen to be undocumented. Like me, you may have friends and family who see the world through the lens of right wing media convincing them that undocumented people are criminals, dangerous and need to be expelled from among us, and that people who think otherwise are “enemies from within” seeking to destroy our country. They might be surprised to learn that you, a person they know and love, are one of those “enemies from within” and that might be just enough to give them pause. It might be enough to open up the potential for dialogue and a change of heart. Very seldom does one change minds with a single letter, conversation or sermon. But sometimes it is enough to sow a little doubt into the rock hard certainty with which people hold their erroneous views. Minds often change slowly, but they are capable of change. That is why, folks, it is critical that we speak up whenever the opportunity presents itself. Substantial changes happen one changed mind at a time.

Of course, loving our neighbor requires more than talk. That is why we are also making a substantial donation to Global Refuge this year. For more than 85 years, Global Refuge has advocated for a fair and generous national culture of welcome. It is committed to dispelling disinformation and hateful rhetoric about immigrants and refugees. Global Refuge also provides resources, guidance and community to help restore a sense of home to immigrants, asylum seekers, and refugees. Through its persistent and faithful work, 750,000 persons have been resettled in the United States where they have contributed to the nation’s society and economy. Now, more than ever, the work of this organization needs our support.

Finally, we of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America (ELCA) need to think long and hard about what we meant back in 2019 when we publicly declared ourselves a “sanctuary church.” According to our website, being a sanctuary church means “that the ELCA is publicly declaring that walking alongside immigrants and refugees is a matter of faith.” So far, so good. But what does walking alongside immigrants and refugees look like in the face of “the greatest deportation this country has ever seen?” We know the price paid by African Americans in the fight to win equality, human dignity and basic freedoms. The blood shed on the Edmund Pettus Bridge witnesses to the price of faithfulness, of taking the side of the oppressed against the powerful. I am not sure we possess the moral courage, spiritual maturity or theological depth to walk the walk we talk so well in our public declarations. I am not sure we are ready to “offer up our bodies as a living sacrifice” in the service of our neighbors. See Romans 12:1.  

It is therefore important, I believe, that we press our bishops, pastors and lay leaders to open our sanctuaries, colleges and homes to shelter our neighbors against arrest and deportation. We need leadership to put us in touch with persons skilled in non-violent resistance and civil disobedience. The civil rights movement was successful largely because it exposed the depth of our nation’s cruelty and depravity practiced against people of color. It shocked the nation’s conscience deeply enough to turn the tide against overt discrimination. Though the struggle is far from over, there is no denying that systemic racism was delt a substantial blow through the efforts of a movement that began with and was supported largely by the Black churches.

A similar struggle may be required to turn the tide of animosity away from immigrants and refugees. I believe that our leaders genuinely want our church to walk with our neighbors in this way. But they are only human. Within our church there are many who, poisoned by disinformation, share the fear and hatred of migrants so prevalent in our culture. Bishops, pastors and lay leaders need to know that we are there to support them, that we have their backs and that they can depend on us to defend them as they seek to lead us in the way of the cross to which Jesus calls us.

I honestly hope that the threat of governmental action against our immigrant and refugee neighbors is over blown, that reasonable minds will prevail over the harsh rhetoric. But the MAGA mob demonstrated on January 6, 2021 that it is quite capable of lawlessness, cruelty and violence. A pastor recently remarked to me that she met a person who confided that he would probably need to ask forgiveness for what he would need to do as a patriot in the days ahead. Donald Trump has promised retribution against all who opposed him in the past and those of us who might do so in the future. It would, I believe, be foolish to dismiss these threats out of hand.

The good news in today’s gospel readings is that justice for the oppressed is God’s end game. No matter how the scoreboard looks today, Mary reminds us that the outcome of the game is not in doubt.  The wall builders, ethnic cleansers, border hawks and America First adherents are all on the wrong side of history. The earth belongs to the bridge builders, the throng made up of every nation, tribe and tongue, those who seek first the kingdom of God and Gods righteousness. To side with the most vulnerable, join in the divine mandate to upend the hierarchies that imprison the powerless among us is to side with the God and Father of Jesus Christ.

Here is a poem/song by Bob Dylan that I believe sounds the disrupting and liberating note heard in Mary’s Magnificat.

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin’
And you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
The battle outside ragin’
Will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’

Source: LyricFind © Universal Music Publishing Group. Bob Dylan (born Robert Allen Zimmerman, 1941) is an American singer-songwriter and a major figure in popular culture, having risen to prominence in the 1960s. The lyrics of the above song written in 1964 became an anthem for the civil rights and antiwar movements of the Vietnam era. His lyrics incorporate political, social and philosophical influences that resonated with the burgeoning counterculture of the sixties. Dylan has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Songwriters Hall of Fame. In 2008, the Pulitzer Prize Board awarded him a special citation for “his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power.” In 2016, Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.  

Over Stuffed Refrigerators and Crowded Closets

Uncategorized, , , ,

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Zephaniah 3:14-20

Isaiah 12:2-6

Philippians 4:4-7

Luke 3:7-18

Prayer of the Day: Stir up the wills of your faithful people, Lord God, and open our ears to the preaching of John, that, rejoicing in your salvation, we may bring forth the fruits of repentance; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

 “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Luke 3:11.

Last week’s gospel lesson John the Baptist echoed the words of the prophet Isaiah calling upon us to “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” The Prophet Malachi warned us that the coming mediator of God’s covenant would purge God’s people of sin that they might stand without fear in the presence of their God. The message was as clear as it was unsettling. Repent! That is, change your direction. Turn away from your self destructive and exploitive lifestyle that the messiah’s coming might be for you light rather than darkness; salvation rather than condemnation; vindication rather than judgment. In the face of such a message, one might well wonder, as did John’s hearers, “what shall we do?”

This week John gives us a simple and direct answer. The way you make “the crooked…straight, and the rough ways…smooth” is to erase the gap between the haves and the have nots. You have an extra coat, get it out of the closet and onto the back of someone who needs it. You have food in the fridge nearing the expiration date, get it to those whose fridge is empty. Wonder why God allows people to starve? God doesn’t. God has provided a solution to world hunger, homelessness and poverty. That solution is in your pantry, in your closet and in your wallet. Open your larder, open your wallet, open your home, open your border. God has given you a planet that can sustain you and provide for yours and everyone else’s needs. All you have to do is share it freely and equitably. Is that so hard?

Of course, generosity is hard. In the first place, it is hard because we have convinced ourselves that there is not enough to go around. That lie-which has its origin in the Garden of Eden-has been drummed into us from day one. We have been conditioned to believe that the world is a shrinking pie, that its going fast and that if we don’t get ours now and hang onto it for dear life, there won’t be anything left. There is no shortage of political demagogues these days who know how to exploit that fear, turn us against one another and convince us that we are being robbed of what is rightfully ours. There is nothing like fear to make one stingy, tight-fisted and defensive.

Secondly, we moderns have developed the peculiar notion of “private property” which, according to that religion called America, is a sacred precept. But the notion that near total ownership and control of land and property can be conferred upon any individual or people is foreign to the biblical understanding. Even the promised land was not given to Israel in fee absolute. Abuse of and exploitation of the land and its people could-and ultimately did-lead to Israel’s loss of the land. Inhabiting the promised land, or any land for that matter, is a privilege, not a divine right. Truth be told, most of us are living on land that our ancestors took away from somebody else. Call it settlement, colonization or whatever other name you like, it boils down to theft in the end. Thievery is, to say the least, a shaky moral foundation for claims of ownership. It is reminiscent of the following dialogue:

Get off my land!

Who says it’s your land?

My deed.

Where did you get that deed?

I inherited it from my father.

Where did he get it.

From his father.

And where did he get it?

He fought for it.

Well, then. I’ll fight you for it!

The bottom line is that the “earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it.” Psalm 24:1. We do not own a single inch of anything in any absolute sense. We are tenants responsible for the earth’s care and the care of all who live on it. Everything we “possess” is merely a trust to be managed with care for the benefit of the true Owner. Our hymnody says as much:

 “We give thee but thine own,

What ‘er the gift may be.

All that we have is thine alone,

A trust, O Lord, from thee.”

There is no room here for any notion of property being “private.”

Jesus taught his disciples to pray only for today’s physical needs. Matthew 6:11; Luke 11:3. Paul reminds Timothy that “if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.” I Timothy 6:8. Everything else above and beyond that in our possession has been given for the service of our neighbor and the care of the earth. It’s that simple, hard as it may be to accept for those of us who have been hard wired to accumulate, hoard and safeguard. But as the following poem by Duchess of Newcastle, Margaret Cavendish, illustrates, this hard wiring is our undoing, bondage from which we desperately need liberation, both for our own sakes and for the sake of the world. We dare not be caught at Jesus’ coming with extra coats in our closet and expired food in the fridge!

Man’s Short Life and Foolish Ambition

In gardens sweet each flower mark did I,

How they did spring, bud, blow, wither and die.

With that, contemplating of man’s short stay,

Saw man like to those flowers pass away.

Yet built he houses, thick and strong and high,

As if he’d live to all Eternity.

Hoards up a mass of wealth, yet cannot fill

His empty mind, but covet will he still.

To gain or keep, such falsehood will he use!

Wrong, right or truth—no base ways will refuse.

I would not blame him could he death out keep,

Or ease his pains or be secure of sleep:

Or buy Heaven’s mansions—like the gods become,

And with his gold rule stars and moon and sun:

Command the winds to blow, seas to obey,

Level their waves and make their breezes stay.

But he no power hath unless to die,

And care in life is only misery.

This care is but a word, an empty sound,

Wherein there is no soul nor substance found;

Yet as his heir he makes it to inherit,

And all he has he leaves unto this spirit.

To get this Child of Fame and this bare word,

He fears no dangers, neither fire nor sword:

All horrid pains and death he will endure,

Or any thing can he but fame procure.

O man, O man, what high ambition grows

Within his brain, and yet how low he goes!

To be contented only with a sound,

Wherein is neither peace nor life nor body found.

Source: This poem is in the public domain. Margaret Cavendish (1623-1673) was an English philosopher, poet, scientist, fiction writer and playwright. She produced more than twelve literary works. Her writing became well known due in part to her high social status.  As a teenager, Cavendish became an attendant on Queen Henrietta Maria and travelled with her into exile in France. There she lived for a time at the court of the young King Louis XIV. Cavendish had the opportunity, rare for woman of her time, to converse with some of the most important and influential minds of her age. You can read more about Margaret Cavendish and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Message of Advent: Stay Woke!

Uncategorized, , , ,

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Malachi 3:1-4

Luke 1:68-79

Philippians 1:3-11

Luke 3:1-6

Prayer of the Day: Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming give to all the people of the world knowledge of your salvation; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
   for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us
   in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
   that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.” Luke 1:68-71.

Prepare the way of the Lord,
   make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
   and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
   and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God. Luke 3:4-6.

“The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight—indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears?” Malachi 3:1-2.

Zechariah sings an encouraging song about a coming savior for Israel. This savior from the house of David will be “mighty.” He will demonstrate God’s favor toward God’s people, save them from the hands of their enemies and protect them from all who hate them. He will liberate them from the oppressive bureaucracy of empire, free them from crushing taxation and military occupation, all to the end that they “might serve [God] without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all [their] days.”  This sounds like a savior made to order. A strongman savior who will seal the border against the hoards of migrants seeking to invade our country and “poison our blood,” put the nation first over global competitors, destroy our “enemies” and give us the security for which we long.

The prophet Malachi, whose words are recited in our lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures, was one of those “holy prophets from of old” to which Zachariah refers. Luke 1:70. He, too, promises a savior for God’s people. But Malachi sounds a cautionary note. Do you really want the savior God would send? Are you ready for a savior whose salvation will begin with the rigorous cleansing of your own life and the idols to which you cling? Are you prepared to follow a savior who forsakes the power of arms and instead confronts evil and injustice with truthful speech and nonviolent resistance? Are you ready to stand with this savior who sides with the poor, the sinner and the outcast even to the point of going to the cross? Can you stand in the presence of the God who will ask you where you were and what you did when God’s beloved children were hungry, naked, homeless, refugees, persecuted and imprisoned? Yes, says Malachi, the mediator of God’s covenant will come. But are you ready for him? Do you really want him to come? When you pray, “Come Lord Jesus,” do you really know what you are asking?

The gospel lessons from the last two Sundays have given us what seem to be grim news. They were filled with images of war, ecological destruction, social unrest and cosmic disturbances. But perhaps these images are grim only because they threaten to undo the status quo, the established order, the patterns of regularity that most of us who have to leisure to read articles like this find comforting. For most of the world, the established order has not been particularly kind. Peoples all over the world who have been victims of colonialization, exploitation and crushing poverty now find themselves the primary victims of climate change, a crisis for which they are the least responsible. The United Nations, for all the good it does, nevertheless serves to ensure the continued dominance and control of the wealthiest and best armed nations of the world at the expense of the rest. Many of us who enjoy the fruits of prosperity and opportunity this country offers do so at the price of the enslavement, exploitation and ongoing discrimination experienced by Black Americans. For all “those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,” the break up of the old order, the erosion of its foundations and the signs of its imminent collapse look less like the end of the world than the prelude to a new age. Luke 1:79.   

In north America and Europe, Christianity has served historically as the religion of the wealthy, the powerful and the conqueror. The empires, kingdoms and nation states under which it thrived throughout much of its history gave it a position of privilege, power and prestige. In return, the church’s art, teaching, liturgy and practices lent legitimacy and support to the governments under which it lived, honoring their leaders, blessing their wars and condemning all who dared criticize them. The church served as the arbiter and enforcer of morality for the dominant class, sanctifying their possession of wealth, monopoly on power and exercise of violence against those deemed a threat to the existing order. Defending the status quo is our natural reflex when threatened. Even those of us who identify as “progressive” find ourselves working to make the existing order more just, more equitable and more humane rather than entertaining its replacement.

That, however, is not where the church began. The community called church grew out of discipleship to a marginalized person within a marginalized community in the backwaters of the Roman Empire. The early church worshiped as the Son of God a child born out of wedlock to a homeless couple in a stable who were refugees from political violence seeking sanctuary in a foreign country. The one Christians called messiah was cruelly executed by the state under color of law. The New Testament church was a diverse collection of small communities made up of individuals from all walks of life, including outcasts and misfits. It had no legal standing, no representation in the imperial bureaucracy and no societal influence. When the early church had dealings with the Empire, they were not friendly. The Book of Revelation reveals a church experiencing the full weight of oppression under the established world order and could see a better hope only beyond its dissolution. The new heaven and the new earth, according to John of Patmos, would come through revolution, not evolution.

The church’s chief problem is that it has been struggling for centuries to pound the square peg of God’s good news for the poor into the round hole of state religion. The fit has never been right. We have had to downplay the life and teachings of Jesus in order to justify state violence, individual accumulation of wealth, inequality and indifference to human well being, all in the interest of legitimizing, rationalizing and defending our patron states, their institutions and their social orders. Perhaps the greatest miracle of all time is the fact that the gospel of Jesus Christ survived at all-in spite of us. The great theologian, preacher and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, found a meaningful and formative witness to that gospel in America, not in the halls of Union Seminary where he studied, but in the preaching of the Black churches of Harlem. Among the cruelly colonized people of Central and South America we have seen the birth of liberation theology focused on the life, teaching and practices of Jesus. Remarkably, these preachers and teachers understood Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims far better than the conquerors who sought to impose it on them. The church, it seems, is most at home on the margins among the poor, the oppressed and excluded.

Liberation theologians have often referred to God’s “preferential option for the poor” as the starting point for reflecting on the meaning of the gospel. That rubs a lot of folks the wrong way. “Do you mean to tell me, pastor, that God doesn’t care about people who aren’t poor?” That from a woman in a congregation I once served. The answer is, “no.” God loves all people, rich and poor alike. God means to redeem all people, rich and poor alike. But for those of us who are not poor, persecuted or outcast, salvation takes a different shape. For us, salvation means liberation from our lust for dominance and control, our addiction to wealth and privilege, our captivity to the cycles of revenge and retribution, our allegiance to the idols of nation, race, blood and soil. These are the sins that harden our hearts, turn us against one another and distort the image of God within us. Thus, the liberation of the poor from injustice and oppression will be our salvation as well. Seeking to see the world through the eyes of the poor is perhaps the best way for the likes of us to “stay awake” (dare I say wok?) for signs of the coming reign of God.

Here is a poem by Harriet Beecher Stowe speaking to the new creation lying hidden in the old.

Think Not all is Over

Think not, when the wailing winds of autumn

Drive the shivering leaflets from the tree,—

Think not all is over: spring returneth,

Buds and leaves and blossoms thou shalt see.

Think not, when the earth lies cold and sealed,

And the weary birds above her mourn,—

Think not all is over: God still liveth,

Songs and sunshine shall again return.

Think not, when thy heart is waste and dreary,

When thy cherished hopes lie chill and sere,—

Think not all is over: God still loveth,

He will wipe away thy every tear.

Weeping for a night alone endureth,

God at last shall bring a morning hour;

In the frozen buds of every winter

Sleep the blossoms of a future flower.

Source: This poem is in the public domain. Harriet Elisabeth Beecher Stowe (1811–1896) was an American author and abolitionist.  She was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, one of 11 children. Her father was the outspoken Calvinist preacher Lyman Beecher. Harriet enrolled in the Hartford Female Seminary run by her older sister Catharine. There she received a traditional academic education with a focus in the classics, languages and mathematics. In 1832, Harriet moved to Cincinnati, Ohio. Cincinnati’s trade and shipping business on the Ohio River drew numerous migrants from different parts of the country, including many escaped slaves and the bounty hunters seeking them. At about this time, Lane Theological Seminary opened to students who in 1834 organized a series of debates about slavery. The students voted overwhelmingly that slavery should end immediately. Harriet was present at many of these encounters and was heavily influenced by them. In 1836 she met and married Rev. Calvin Ellis Stowe, a widower who was a professor of Biblical Literature at the seminary. The Stowes were fierce critics of slavery and supported the Underground Railroad, temporarily housing several fugitive slaves in their home.

In 1851 Harriot wrote the first installment of what was to become her most famous and influential work, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The book was first published in serial form in the newspaper The National Era and later in book form. You can read more about Harriot Beecher Stowe and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation Website.

Christ the King and the Religion of America

Uncategorized, , , ,

SUNDAY OF CHRIST THE KING

Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14

Psalm 93

Revelation 1:4b-8

John 18:33-37

Prayer of the Day: Almighty and ever-living God, you anointed your beloved Son to be priest and sovereign forever. Grant that all the people of the earth, now divided by the power of sin, may be united by the glorious and gentle rule of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

 “Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.’” John 18:36.

The celebration of Christ the King on the last Sunday of the church year is a relatively new addition to the liturgical calendar. It was instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI in response to what he characterized as growing secularism. The old monarchies governing Europe had been dissolved or relegated to mere ceremonial functions by this time. Power and governance had passed to the modern nation state. As Pius saw it, the new order was turning into a breeding ground for dangerous and dehumanizing ideologies elevating loyalty to the nation state and its rulers over all other claims. This exaltation of the nation state amounted to idolatry in his view, constituting a threat both to Christian faith and human worth and dignity. Sadly, the horrific events that unfolded in the following decades proved him right. Sadder still is our generation’s failure to learn from this history the dark places to which nationalistic idolatry invariably leads. Saddest of all is the American church’s failure to address the godless ideology of nationalism as it rears its ugly head once again, not only within our nation, but within the very heart of our congregations.

My first encounter with Christian nationalism did not come from the far right. It occurred within what I would characterize as a moderately liberal congregation in my progressive Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). I was serving then as the assistant to the pastor. One Sunday I arrived with my alb and stole ready to serve as liturgist to the presiding senior pastor, who informed me that this Sunday had been designated Girl Scout Sunday. I was to introduce the scout leaders and offer up a short prayer, after which a troop of young girl scouts would march up bearing the flag of the United States. The flag would be posted in front of the altar and the scouts were to lead the congregation in the Pledge of Allegiance. I have to tell you that, on a scale of conflict avoidance from one to ten, I am a fifteen. I am very much inclined to go along to get along. But I just could not bring myself to take part in this ritual.

Needless to say, the senior pastor was more than a little upset with me. He pointed out that I could have given him notice weeks in advance if I had a problem taking part in Girl Scout Sunday. He was probably right about that. At the time, I was practicing law full time while serving as assistant pastor. I didn’t always pay close attention to the church calendar and that was on me. He also felt that I was being unreasonable, that the Girl Scouts served an important role in providing community, support and activities for young girls. He pointed out that they were partners in teaching many of the civic and moral values we also hold dear. This was an opportunity for us to engage with the larger community, show our support for an organization supportive of young girls and welcome and include in our worship many children who would never have had any contact with the church before. There was no hint of right wing jingoism in any of this. My senior pastor’s arguments were all ones to warm the cockles of a progressive’s heart. So, why not just hold my nose and do it?

To make a long story short, I held my ground. The senior pastor took over the role I was supposed to play during the first half of the service while I remained in the sacristy. I joined the service later to assist with communion. You might think me unreasonably stubborn to make such a fuss about a benign ceremony for children. Would I really want to spoil these girls’ experience for the sake of making an abstract theological point? To be clear, I do have a stubborn streak and there have been times when I have dug my heels in when I ought to have compromised. That said, this was one stand I do not regret having taken. I say that because I believe the places in which we worship are holy ground. It matters which objects we place in front of the altar, which symbols we absorb into our worship and who and what we worship and venerate. We gather on the Lord’s day to worship the Triune God, not to venerate the state. We confess our faith in that God by reciting the ecumenical creeds, not by pledging allegiance to the state. The “we” gathered about the altar to receive the Body and Blood of Christ are not gathered as fellow Americans. We are gathered as members of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church which recognizes no singular nation “under God.” To the contrary, we believe “God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” Acts 10:35. There is no reconciling the God and Father of Jesus Christ confessed in the creeds and the patron deity of the United States.

I tell this story because there is much talk these days about Christian Nationalism, particularly as it pertains to conservative white evangelicalism. I have had a lot to say about it myself. However, it is important (and only fair) to recognize that the Christian right is not the sole propagator of this heresy. The religion of nationalism is deeply imbedded in the DNA of nearly all American Christianity. Enter the sanctuary of any church, protestant or catholic, liberal or conservative and the chances are very high that you will find there, usually on the same level as the altar, an American flag with its evil twin, the red, white and blue so-called “Christian flag” facing opposite. Christian clergy, including yours truly, routinely offer benedictions, prayers and blessings for celebrations of America’s wars and its casualties. Christian churches in this country provide chaplains to soldiers and sailors who, in addition to their ordination vows, swear allegiance to the armed forces. Although the United States has never had a state sponsored church with an official religion, it is itself a religion that imposes itself into the heart of congregations in numerous ways that we have come to consider part and parcel of what it means to be Christian. Thus, when we point the Christian nationalist finger at conservative evangelicals, we need to acknowledge the three pointing back at ourselves. 

Perhaps we need to take a step back and question some basic assumptions typically made about states and statehood. The modern nation state is, well, modern. It has been with us only for the last couple of centuries which, in the grand historical scheme of things, is rather brief. We Americans assume, however, that constitutional democratic republics are on the precipice of a social evolutionary path from the darkness of tribalism, tyranny and autocracy. But in truth, constitutions have been as much an ally of tyranny as an opponent. The United States Constitution has been employed to uphold slavery, enable Jim Crow and legalize the dispossession of indigenous American tribal communities. The same constitution that for fifty years guaranteed bodily integrity to women is now interpreted, without amendment, to guarantee nothing of the kind. If the constitution means whatever the current make-up of the supreme court says it means with no deference to precedent, it doesn’t guarantee anything to anyone.

Faith in democracy is likewise dubious. The Union County Courthouse in Elizabeth, New Jersey, a venue I frequented in the days when I still practiced law, bears on its stone façade the Latin phrase, “Vox populi, vox dei.” Translated, it means “the voice of the people is the voice of God.” That sentiment is not born out in scripture or history. In the Bible, the voice of the people demanded a king against the advice of God’s prophet Samuel. They got their wish-along with some dire consequences. The voice of the people acclaimed the false promises of the prophet Hananiah rather than the dire warnings of the prophet Jeremiah. That did not go well. The voice of the people demanded Barabbas instead of Jesus. Historically, democracies have shown themselves quite capable of voting themselves out of existence. In short, constitutional democracies are only as sound as the wisdom, fairness, integrity and compassion of the persons they govern. Absent these virtues, democracy is simply mob rule.

I am not suggesting we abandon democracy or give up on the rule of law. I am certainly not recommending autocracy. I believe, however, that the degeneration of our civil discourse, indifference to injustice and the paralysis of our government are attributable in large part to a near divinization of the state. Politics has become the new religion and our political campaigns have become holy wars. Rather than a deliberative pursuit of the common good through reasoned argument, debate and compromise, it has become a zero sum game, a contest between good and evil. Our churches have contributed to this trend by internalizing and sanctifying American mythology into our hymnody, teaching and practice. The gospel of Jesus Christ has been conflated with the American dream, manifest destiny and national exceptionalism. The narratives glorifying American wars, justifying its ruthless conquest of indiginous cultures and the exploitation of their lands have become comingled with the history of Israel’s conquest of Canaan and the martyrdom of the saints. We have made of our nation an idol which, like all idols, eventually demands a blood sacrifice, the offering of what is most precious to us. And like all idols, it fails to deliver on all of its grandiose promises.

The lessons for Christ the King Sunday pass judgment on nationalism of all kinds. The crowd of five thousand would have crowned Jesus king after he fed them. Jesus would not have it. Neither will he let Pilate pin that label on him. His kingdom, he tells us, “is not of this world.” That does not mean it is not in this world or that it exists only “way beyond the blue.” It does mean that God’s reign will not come through the instrumentality of government or the practice of politics. That is precisely why Jesus would not accept the devil’s offer to place in his hands the authority of all the world’s kingdoms. Such power is of no use in building the new creation God longs to give us. God has no interest being the sort of king the crowd desires or that Pilate imagines. God will not impose God’s reign by means of military power or political authority. God will reign through love, or not at all.

Does this mean that government is evil or that politics is inherently sinful? No. When government is not idolized, when politics is not seen as the tool for banishing evil, destroying perceived enemies or building what we imagine to be the ideal society it loses its toxicity. When the political process is understood as the means by which we corporately work together to love our neighbors and care for the most vulnerable among us, then it can be a blessing, like all of God’s good gifts. Politics cannot give us a new heaven and a new earth, but it can help us build a framework under which common ground is found and the common good pursued. It cannot reconcile all of our conflicts, but it can create forums where conflicts that might otherwise lead to violence can be mediated. Politics can curb the most destructive human instincts and make space for the breaking in of God’s reign of justice, peace and reconciliation. It can hold society together until God’s reign comes in its fullness. For that reason, it deserves our attention and participation.

To acknowledge that God alone is truly sovereign, that the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, that nations, our own included, are but a drop in the bucket and that humanly constructed systems of authority and governance are merely provisional liberates us from bondage to the destructive and hateful ideologies that make gods of nation, race, blood and soil. To acknowledge Jesus Christ as king frees politics to become merely politics once again.

Here is a poem by Ha Jin addressing the idolatry of nationalism.

All You Have is a Country

You are so poor that all you have is a country. 

Whenever you open your mouth

you talk about the country

to which you can no longer return.

China is a giant shield that you use 

to conceal your cowardice and to preempt

the onslaught of duties and hardships. 

You dare not take these as your rights:

the warm sunlight, clean water, fresh air,

a happy mood for an ordinary day.

As long as you live, you want to grieve

for the fairy tale of patriotism.

You dare not take a country as a watchdog—

a good dog wags its tail to please its master,

becomes fierce in deterring burglars;

a bad dog ignores invaders

and only bites and barks at its master. 

You dare not clasp the dog’s ear,

telling it, “You won’t have food 

if you continue to misbehave like this.”

Actually, you are merely a grain of rice

that fell through China’s teeth,

but you treat it as your god,

your universe, and the source 

of your suffering and happiness.

Source: A Distant Center (c. 2018 by Ha Jin; pub. by Copper Canyon Press). Jin Xuefei (b. 1956) is a Chinese-American poet and novelist. He publishes under the pen name Ha Jin. He was born in Liaoning, China and grew up in the chaos of early communist China. At thirteen, Jin joined the People’s Liberation Army during the Cultural Revolution. He left the army when he was nineteen and entered Heilongjiang University. There he earned a bachelor’s degree in English studies. Thereafter he earned a master’s degree in Anglo -American literature at Shandong University. He was on a scholarship at Brandeis University when the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests and massacre occurred. Jin emigrated to the United States thereafter. He currently teaches at Boston University in Boston, Massachusetts. Prior to that he taught at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia. You can read more about Ha Jin and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Sunday, March 17th

Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , ,

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8

Prayer of the Day
Creator God, you prepare a new way in the wilderness, and your grace waters our desert. Open our hearts to be transformed by the new thing you are doing, that our lives may proclaim the extravagance of your love given to all through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“I can remember when we ran two services on Sunday in this church and we still had to set up folding chairs in the aisle to accommodate everyone.” “This house used to be filled with the laughter of children. Now we just sit here in the silence and listen to the clock ticking away.”  “Time was we were all friends in this neighborhood. Now the houses are full of strangers and half of them don’t speak my language.” There are times when I grow weary of these tired old litanies. There are times when I would like to shout out with the prophet, “Remember not the former things!” But, of course, that is not enough. When the past is all you have, it is unlikely you will let it go just because somebody tells you to. Snatching a bone from the jaws of a hungry cur only gets you bitten. Ah, but if you hold up a juicy piece of fresh meat, then the dog will drop his old bone in a New York minute and you will have earned a loyal friend!

That is chiefly what the anonymous prophet of “Second Isaiah” does. He preaches to a band of Jewish exiles in Babylon a vision of God’s purpose for Israel that is so exciting, so beautiful and so compelling it inspires them to do the unimaginable. The exiles let go of their pining for the glory days of Israel’s past and the secure lives they had built for themselves to undertake a dangerous journey back to the ruined homeland of their ancestors. Against all odds, this inspired band re-settled the land, rebuilt their temple and raised up the city of Jerusalem from the ashes. They were only too glad to let go of the good old days in order to take hold of the prophet’s bold vision for their future.

I wish I could preach like that. I wish I could preach a vision of mission to make my church see that its best days are in front of it. I wish I could preach the luster of eternal life into every nursing home I visit and turn those places into beehives prayer, joy and expectation. I wish I could preach the good news about Jesus Christ with such clarity and conviction that people would wish they had more time, more treasure and more talent to pour out for the gentle reign of God. Unfortunately, I lack the poetic imagination of the prophet and his or her gift for weaving language into lyrical testimonies to the ways of God. Still, I struggle with my own prosaic preaching to describe with words that for which there is no language. There is no other way. For in the end, words are all that we in the church have.

I must confess that at times I wish I had more than words. Words tend to become worn and hackneyed. They are so easily misunderstood, misconstrued and taken out of context. Their meanings get lost in translation. The words of the wise are so often buried under the relentless onslaught of idiotic chatter radiating from every billboard, magazine and digital device. How can the church’s preaching amount to more than a whisper in a hurricane? Yet as futile as speech can sometimes appear, words remain the means by which the mystery of God is revealed. God spoke the universe into existence. The prophets preached their discouraged people out of despair into hope and action. The Word made flesh continues to throb at the heart of the church judging, forgiving and inspiring because that Word is preached. By words we live. As the prophet tells us elsewhere in the Book of Isaiah,

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
11so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

Isaiah 55:10-11.  Words are enough.

Isaiah 43:16-21

As indicated previously, these words of the prophet are addressed to the Jews living in exile at Babylon. The prophet sees in the conquest of Babylon by Persia an act of God creating an opportunity for the exiles to return home to Palestine. Though the prophet admonishes the people “remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old,” he or she is not suggesting that Israel forget her history. Rather, s/he is challenging Israel to understand her history in a new way. The Exodus, God’s liberation of Israel from Egypt, is not just an inspiring tale from Israel’s distant past. It is a prism though which Israel is challenged to look toward the future. If only the imagination of this people can grasp it, God is enacting another exodus for Israel. This time God is liberating Israel from Babylon. Just as God led Israel through the Red Sea on dry ground, so now God will lead Israel through what is now the Iraqi desert by a miraculous path of well watered garden. Israel, the people God formed for himself, will give praise to their God as they make their triumphal journey home. Even the animals will find shade and nourishment in this marvelous highway through the wilderness and will honor Israel’s God.

“Thus says the Lord.” This is a stereotypical formula for the making of a proclamation. Middle Eastern monarchs would make their decrees known by sending a messenger on their behalf who would proclaim in a public place: “Thus says the king!” The decree, order or declaration of the king would follow. Israel’s prophets often used the same formula when introducing a word from God.

“…who makes a path through the mighty waters, who brings forth the chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick.” While evoking images of the Exodus from Egypt, this sentence also reflects the overwhelming victories of Persia against Babylon. The prophet is intentionally using language that draws parallels between these two events in order to help his people “perceive” the new thing that God is doing for them.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Evidently, the people do not perceive. Israel has been dominated by Egypt, Assyria and Babylon. Now Persia is getting the upper hand. But so what? This only means that we have a new master oppressing us. Unless you are the lead dog, the view never changes. But this is not just a change of administration. Cyrus, the emperor of Persia, is promoting a different agenda. His policy is to allow displaced and exiled persons, such as the Jews in Babylon, to return home to their lands of origin. To be sure, Cyrus has his own self interested reasons for promoting this policy. But the prophet knows that God, not Cyrus, is the driving force behind history. God is using Cyrus to open a way of return for Israel to the land promised to her ancestors. “Can’t you see the opportunity here?” says the prophet. “Don’t you see God’s hand in this? We are experiencing a new Exodus miracle!”

This lesson challenges us to read the Bible not as a book of ancient tales from long ago, but to understand it as the lens thorough which we are to see and interpret our present circumstances and our future hope. Albert Einstein is reputed to have said that, for the advancement of science, imagination is more important than knowledge. That is also the case for interpreting the Bible. Faithful imagination is the reason why a store front preacher with a seventh grade education can inspire a congregation of desperately poor people with vivid images of salvation, hope and liberation while a learned Reverend Doctor with an Ivy League degree can put you to sleep. Don’t misunderstand me. I am thankful for the theological education I received from seminary and find it enormously valuable in understanding the sense of the biblical texts. Yet I must also say that too often in my seminary career we tended to treat the Bible as a dead relic from the past that we needed somehow to “make relevant” to the modern world. The idea that we needed to learn from the Bible what is relevant and how to understand the world seldom occurred to us. But that is precisely how believers approach the Bible-with reverent imagination. Not until we can imagine ourselves as the people of the Exodus can we begin to see God creating new opportunities in our lives for faithful witness and service. Not until we enter imaginatively into the gospel narratives can we hear God calling us away from what holds us captive. Jesus has promised to be with us to the close of the age, but it takes a faithful imagination to perceive him in our midst. The preaching of the prophet in this Sunday’s lesson gives us a vivid example of the power of imagination.

Psalm 126

This psalm served as inspiration for the revered hymn, “Bringing in the Sheaves.” The lyrics for the hymn, printed below, were composed in 1874 by Knowles Shaw.

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
 
Refrain:
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,
Fearing neither clouds nor winter’s chilling breeze;
By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Refrain

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,
Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;
When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Refrain

I bring this piece of trivia to your attention because it provides us with a splendid illustration of biblical imagination discussed under the heading of our lesson from Isaiah. Through his identification with the struggles of the returning exiles striving against numerous difficulties to rebuild their ruined land, Shaw gives meaning to the lives of Christian believers striving, sometimes with little evidence of progress, to live out their discipleship.

The psalm begins with the words “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.” An alternative reading is “When the Lord brought back those who returned to Zion, we were like those who dream.” If the latter reading is adopted, then “those who returned to Zion” are almost certainly the Babylonian exiles. This return was made possible by the edict of Cyrus the Great, emperor of Persia who conquered Babylon. Cyrus decreed that all peoples taken into exile by Babylon, including the Jews, would be permitted to return to their homelands. Such an opportunity would indeed seem like a dream come true. Yet there were also serious obstacles in the way of returning to Palestine. The journey home through what is now the Iraqi desert was itself a perilous trip. Upon return, the Jews found a ruined city and hostile peoples who had come to inhabit the homeland. Rebuilding would be a long and difficult task. Hence, the psalmist prays “Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb!” The “Negeb” is a hilly desert region of southern Israel. Water courses there are seasonal, being dry for most of the year but brought to life in the rainy season to revive dormant vegetation. So the psalmist hopes that God will likewise restore and nurture the community of Israel in the land to which she returns. The final verses of the psalm reflect the hope that, just as a bountiful harvest follows the toil of planting, so the sacrifice, hard work and risks taken by the returning exiles will be rewarded with the rebirth of a thriving community.

The psalm concludes with this promise: “He who goes fourth weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing in his sheaves with him.” Verse 6. This could well be a proverb similar to the many found in the Book of Proverbs or it could be an oracle spoken by a priest in response to the congregation’s prayer for restoration. In either case, the image of planting what appears to be a lifeless seed just as one would bury the dead in the hope of new life at harvest is a powerful exercise of imaginative preaching! It calls to mind Jesus’ parable employing the same idea. See Mark 4:26-29.

Philippians 3:4b-14

To repeat briefly what I have said about Paul’s Letter to the Philippians in the past, this is not one letter but three.

Phil A = Phil 4:10-20 (a short “Note of Thanksgiving” for monetary gifts Paul received from the Philippians)

Phil B = Phil 1:1 – 3:1; 4:4-7; (a “Letter of Friendship” written from prison, probably in Ephesus)

Phil C = Phil 3:2 – 4:3; 4:8-9; 4:21-23 (a stern warning against the rival missionaries who require the circumcision of Gentiles)

This Sunday’s reading comes from the third letter warning the Philippians to beware of the teachings of rival missionaries who were evidently teaching gentile Christians in Paul’s congregations that they needed circumcision in order to be full members of the church. In years past, scholars referred to these folks as “Judaizers,” but that name is somewhat misleading. The false missionaries with which Paul was contending were probably not Jews at all. Most likely, they were local people, probably gentiles who had received circumcision and took pride in the depth of commitment it demonstrated. Paul responds by pointing out that if such things as circumcision were really a source of pride, he could make a much stronger case on his own behalf than his adversaries. In verses 4-6, Paul points out that he has a real Jewish ancestry that he can trace; circumcision done strictly in accordance with the law and a first rate Hebrew education. But of all this St. Paul says, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

Understand that there is more going on here than a fight over circumcision. In fact, circumcision is not the real issue here. The problem for Paul is that his opponents measure their worth in the eyes of God on the basis of their religious accomplishments. Paul maintains that “righteousness” depends on faith, more specifically, faith in Jesus. In this secular age where “organized religion” (so called) is in steep decline, it is hard to find many people who are striving to be righteous in the sight of God. But there is no shortage of people who are striving to achieve some measure of self worth. I am not talking only about folks striving for the American dream of a six figure income, home ownership and a comfortable retirement. I am also speaking of many of my colleagues over the years that have entered the service of the church under the mistaken notion that they are choosing a “higher calling.” There is no higher calling than baptism into Jesus Christ. From there on out, it’s all downhill. I have likewise known a good many folks who have told me that they are serving the church because “I want to make a difference,” presumably for good. At first blush, this sounds quite admirable. Yet the “I” in that claim is a little troubling. Could the translation be, “I want to be important?” or “I want to count for something?”

The fact of the matter is that Jesus does not call us to make a difference. It is not our job to change the world. As our Catechism tells us, “The Kingdom of God comes without our prayers,” and I would add, without our hard work, sacrifice and dedication. We are witnesses to the Kingdom, not its architects and engineers. That means we might spend our lives doing work that doesn’t make a difference-at least not one we can see. We might die before the harvest and when it comes, nobody will remember that we did the planting. Indeed, the harvest itself might not be appreciated. Faithfulness does not always produce growing churches, successful programs and revenue for the home office. So to people who have told me they are considering service in the church (including my own daughter), I warn them that they might very well come to the end of their ministry with their congregations, their colleagues and the denominational authorities viewing them as having failed. If you have a problem with that, you belong in some other calling.

No one knew better than Paul how tenuous are achievements in ministry and how easily each hard won gain can be lost. Paul knew that in the end, regardless of who plants and who waters, God alone gives the growth. So his focus is not on the success of his work, but on knowing Jesus and the power of his resurrection. Jesus, after all, was the quintessential failure. His ministry ended in a shameful death by public execution. His closest followers failed to understand him and they deserted him when he needed them most. But Jesus was faithful to God’s purpose for him and obedient to God’s reign-even when that obedience didn’t seem to be accomplishing anything. It is precisely that kind of faith in God’s promise to bring to completion what we cannot even properly begin that Paul is striving for. Such “striving” is nothing other than what should be happening whenever we take part in the order of confession and forgiveness. It involves letting go of what is past-both the painful memories of failure and the coveted memories of success. Failure, after all, might well prove to be a monumental triumph in the grand scheme of things. Similarly, the success in which we take such pride might prove over the long haul to have been negligible or even counter-productive. The only sure thing here is God’s promise and demonstrated determination to raise up from our shattered and imperfect lives something new and truly beautiful.

John 12:1-8

OK. So let’s start by acknowledging that Judas’ motives here were not as pure as the driven snow. Still and all, isn’t he right? In a society where malnourished children are surviving day to day on discarded scraps, how can you justify using ointment that would fetch three hundred denarii for a foot massage? Bear in mind that a denarius constituted about one day’s pay for a manual laborer. That is a lot of meals for a lot of hungry people.  Judas could cite any number of passages from the Hebrew Scriptures supporting his claim that the ointment should rightly have been sold for the support of the poor. For example, the prophet Amos castigates the aristocracy of Israel because they “anoint themselves with the finest oils, but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph.” Amos 6:6. There are many other such instances in which the prophets make clear God’s priority for care of the poor over opulent living and even proper worship. It seems that Judas is on pretty solid ground here.

So let me respond with a story that I once heard as a sermon illustration. I can’t remember anymore the preacher I got it from and have no idea whether it really happened. In any event, there was a parish in an impoverished neighborhood that decided to take seriously Jesus’ injunction to feed the hungry. So the social ministries committee appointed a young woman to oversee this work and she planned a Thanksgiving Day meal for the poor and homeless families in the community. Knowing how hard life is out on the street and in the grip of poverty, she decided to give her guests at least one night of fine dining in a family style setting. She bought white table linens, rented fine china with real silverware, catered a meal with one of the most renowned restaurants in the area and, to top it off, she hired a string quartet to provide music. The guests were overwhelmed. One fellow said, “I’ve been treated like a tramp for so long, I forgot what it was like to be treated like a man.” Another woman who came with two small children in tow remarked, “This is the first time in I don’t know how long that I felt like I was really welcome.”

On the Monday after Thanksgiving an emergency meeting of the church council was called and the young woman was summoned to appear. The council members were livid. “How could you so irresponsibly and thoughtlessly squander the resources of this church?” bellowed the president. “You could have fed all of those people for a fraction of the cost and still have had a substantial budget for the days ahead!” The good president had a point-as did Judas. It would have been cheaper and more efficient to serve the people processed turkey on paper plates with plastic silverware. They didn’t need table cloths. Music could have been provided via a boom box.  But that really misses the point. Jesus does not simply feed the poor. He invites them to the messianic banquet. The poor are not a demographic. They are not faceless numbers on a spread sheet or social problems needing to be solved. They are people for whom Jesus has a special interest, people who are gifted and highly valued. You don’t feed God’s special children rubber turkey and you don’t anoint Jesus with cheap perfume.

So here is the point. Mary is anointing Jesus for burial. Her act is one of profound love and significance beyond what she can fully appreciate. You cannot so honor Jesus without honoring the poor for whom he lived and died. Standing with Jesus is acknowledging the full humanity and value of the poor in the fullest possible measure. Judas did not grasp that because he could not see beyond his balance sheet. His chief crime here is neither greed nor theft. Judas’ worst crime is his lack of imagination. That brings us full circle to where we began with Isaiah. Commitment to mission is good. Bible knowledge is good. Theological education is good. But without imagination, all are worthless.