Tag Archives: Church

Sunday, May 8th

May 2, 2016UncategorizedBible, Book of Acts, Church, Covenant, Daniel Berrigan, Easter, faith, gospel, Holy Spirit, idolatry, Jerusalem, Lectionary, Luke, peace, poetry, prayer, Psalms, Religion, Saint John, Sunday Lessons, theology, violencerevolsen

SEVENTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 16:16-34
Psalm 97
Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21
John 17:20-26

PRAYER OF THE DAY: O God, form the minds of your faithful people into your one will. Make us love what you command and desire what you promise, that, amid all the changes of this world, our hearts may be fixed where true joy is found, your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Last week a powerful prophetic and poetic voice went silent. Jesuit Fr. Daniel Berrigan died Saturday, April 30^th of natural causes at a Jesuit health care facility in the Bronx. He was 94 years old. Berrigan was born May 9, 1921, in Virginia, Minnesota. He entered the Jesuit novitiate at St. Andrew-on-the-Hudson, New York in August 1939 and graduated in 1946. Thereafter, he entered the Jesuit’s Woodstock College in Baltimore graduating in 1952. He was ordained the same year and appointed professor of New Testament studies at Le Moyne College in Syracuse in 1957.

Daniel Berrigan is remembered by most people for his anti-war activities during the Vietnam era. He spent two years in prison for destroying draft records, damaging nuclear war heads and leading other acts of civil disobedience. He also joined with other prominent religious figures like Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Rev. Richard John Neuhaus and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to found Clergy and Laity Against the War in Vietnam. In February of 1968 he traveled to North Vietnam and returned with three American prisoners of war he convinced the North Vietnamese to release.

Berrigan was not an ideological leftist. He opposed abortion as adamantly as he resisted the Vietnam War. In 1992 he was arrested in Rochester, New York while protesting in front of a Planned Parenthood facility. Needless to say, he received no little criticism from the left for taking this position. For Berrigan, however, opposition to abortion followed as naturally as opposition to war from his over-all commitment to peace and resistance to violence. He was a longtime endorser of the “consistent life ethic,” and he served on the advisory board of Consistent Life, an organization that describes itself as “committed to the protection of life, which is threatened in today’s world by war, abortion, poverty, racism, capital punishment and euthanasia.” See “Daniel Berrigan, priest, prisoner, anti-war crusader, dies” National Catholic Reporter May 2, 2016.

I remember Daniel Berrigan chiefly as a poet and a prophet of peace and reconciliation. Berrigan published more than fifty books of poetry, essays, journals and commentaries on the scriptures. He had a gift for recognizing the sacred in what most of us would view as profane-perhaps even obscene. He was able to see the face of Jesus in all people and especially in those we often fear to look upon. Here is a poem by Daniel Berrigan. May he rest in peace and may eternal light shine upon him.

The Face of Christ

The tragic beauty of the face of Christ
Shines in the face of man;

The abandoned old live on
in shabby rooms, far from comfort.
Outside,
din and purpose, the world, a fiery animal
reined in by youth. Within
a pallid tiring heart
shuffles about its dwelling.

Nothing, so little, comes of life’s promise.
0f broken men, despised minds
what does one make-
a roadside show, a graveyard of the heart?

Christ, fowler of street and hedgerow
cripples, the distempered old
-eyes blind as woodknots,
tongues tight as immigrants’-all
taken in His gospel net,
the hue and cry of existence.

Heaven, of such imperfection,
wary, ravaged, wild?

Yes. Compel them in.

Source: Berrigan, Daniel, Selected & New Poems (c. 1973 by Daniel Berrigan, pub. by Doubleday & Company, Inc.) p. 80. You can read more about Daniel Berrigan and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

A discussion of the appointed texts for the Seventh Sunday of Easter follows. For those of you who might, like Trinity, be celebrating the Ascension of our Lord, I invite you to re-visit my Post of Sunday, May 12, 2013 where the appropriate lessons are discussed.

Acts 16:16-34

This marvelous story from Acts poses numerous problems for us moderns. Demons and demon possession don’t fit seamlessly into our 19^th Century world view. Then again, our 19^th Century world view is coming under increasing strain in this 21^st Century that is calling into question the mind’s capacity to conduct the sort of objective inquiry capable of yielding the scientific certainty we all thought the empirical method could give us. So instead of falling all over ourselves to find “rational” explanations for seemingly miraculous events narrated in the Bible, perhaps we should allow the scriptures to school us on the limits of human understanding and open to us portholes into a universe far too marvelous to fit into our constrictive rational constructs. I am not suggesting, of course, that we can or should return to the 1^st Century way of looking at things. What I do suggest is that, contrary to our progressive prejudices, chronological progression does not equate with growth in wisdom, understanding and insight. I maintain that the past contains as many important insights that we are prone to forget as it does errors we have properly rejected.

Rather than seeking to reconcile the biblical narrative with 19^th Century rationalism, we should be challenging this failing conceptual model with deeper understandings of reality. Walter Wink seeks to do just that in his book, The Powers that Be (c. 1998 by Augsburg Fortress). Referencing the Hebrew Scriptures, Wink points out how nations, cities and individuals were believed to have had angels representing them. The same concept appears in the Book of Revelation in which each of the seven churches in Asia Minor is said to have its own angel. Revelation 2-3. Just as at the heart of every individual there are motivating values, goals and priorities, so also at the heart of every church, corporation, government and social organization there is an ethos, a personality of sorts that guides the decision making process and conduct of their members. This “angel” falls and becomes “demonic” when an institution, such as a government, turns away from its divine vocation to provide for the wellbeing of its citizens and becomes merely self-serving and self-perpetuating.

John Dominic Crossan addresses the phenomenon of demon possession in his book, The Historical Jesus (c. 1991 by John Dominic Crossan, pub. by Harper Collins). Crossan describes individual demonic possession in Jesus’ day as a microcosm of Rome’s occupation and domination of the Holy Land:

“Think, now, of demonic possession. George Nickelsburg, speaking of the Book of the Similitudes/Parables of Enoch in I Enoch 37-71, a work that dates ‘around the turn of the eara,’ he says that ‘on the one side are God, the heavenly entourage, the agents of judgment…and God’s people…On the other are the chief demon Azazel, his angels, and the kings and the mighty…[who] would have their counterparts among the Roman generals, governors, triumvirs, and monarchs whose activities in Judea are well documented sources. The author might also have had in mind the late Hasmoneans and the Herods’…. For this representation…Roman imperialism meant that God’s people were possessed by demons on the social level. Notice, by the way, the somewhat schizophrenic implications of demonic control: it indicates a power admittedly greater than oneself, admittedly ‘inside’ oneself, but that one declares to be evil and therefore beyond any collusion or cooperation.” Ibid. at 313-314 (citations omitted).

In order to survive, the occupied peoples must to some degree internalize the practices, values and ethos of their occupiers. But in so doing, they bring into their very psyches the oppressive conditions that threaten them externally. Is it any wonder that individuals in these circumstances crack under the strain? Is it any wonder that they experience the occupier of their homeland as an occupier of their minds and hearts as well? And should it come as any surprise that this hostile occupier so internalized takes on a life of its own and becomes a separate entity within?

Let’s apply these insights to our lesson from Acts. The woman in the story is first introduced to us as a slave. That is enough to tell us that her life is not her own. She is the property of her masters who view her as a source of revenue. It is not clear why she was following Paul about. Was she doing that of her own accord? Were her masters encouraging her to do so in hopes that Paul would compensate them for giving credibility to his preaching? We can only speculate on that score. It is clear, however, that once the demon’s grip on the woman was broken, her value to her masters was gone. What is broken here is a relationship governed by economic exploitation and oppression. The woman is no longer a mere “revenue producer,” as the corporate world often terms and values its employees. Therefore, in their eyes, she is worthless.

The slave relationship as described in this narrative is uncomfortably close to those governing our own social and economic realities. I have described in previous posts the tendency of our educational system to produce units of value for the labor market rather than well rounded citizens capable of full participation in public life. Our nomenclature is littered with language suggesting that one’s “net worth” is the sum of his/her assets less liabilities. What one is worth is often equated with one’s earning capacity. What cannot be measured in dollars is, like the nameless woman in our lesson, without value.

Paul’s offense, then, was far more than a simple crime against property. It was an assault on the entire Imperial/Patriarchal hierarchy that defined who one was, how much one was worth and to whom one answered. “These men…” the woman’s owners told the local magistrates, “advocate customs which it is not lawful for us Romans to accept or practice.” Vs. 20. Not surprisingly, the authorities react with outrage, beating both Paul and his companion Silas and throwing them into prison. We are left to wonder what ever happened to the woman set free from the spirit of divination that held her in bondage. How, if at all, did that change the nature of her legal bondage? How did the rest of her life unfold?

Paul and Silas find themselves in prison where, as they would otherwise, they worshiped and gave thanks to God. An earthquake breaks open the doors of the prison and the guard in charge naturally assumes that Paul and Silas, along with the rest of the prisoners have taken the opportunity to flee. His determination to slay himself with his own sword is understandable. His Roman superiors would not have taken his dereliction of duty lightly and would likely have designed a much more unpleasant demise for him. He is relieved to learn, however, that the prisoners have not fled and turns to Paul and Silas with the question: “What must I do to be saved?” Vs. 30. It is hard to say whether the guard was moved by his prisoners’ songs and praises or their refusal to flee when given the opportunity. Needless to say, something about Paul and Silas impressed him deeply so that he turned to them in this moment of anxiety.

The salvation of the guard and his household further illustrates Luke’s literary purpose of narrating the spread of the good news of Jesus Christ through everything that happens to the apostles, even their misfortunes. Just as I would like to know more about the woman liberated from demonic possession, so also I wish I knew more about the other prisoners incarcerated along with Paul and Silas. Why did they not flee when the earthquake afforded them the opportunity of escape? Were they moved in any significant way by what they heard and witnessed? Again, these loose ends are left for us to ponder.

Psalm 97

This is a psalm of praise which asks nothing of God. It begins with an acknowledgement that “The Lord reigns.” Vs. 1. This simple statement is a shot across the bow to all claims of national sovereignty. The earth belongs to the Lord and all other claims of ownership are relative and subordinate to God’s final authority. Even the Promised Land was given to Israel only in trust and subject to revocation. Clouds, mist and thick darkness evoke memories of the cloud that led the people of Israel through the wilderness as well as God’s appearances on Mt. Sinai. Vs.2. Fire is also a purifying force that burns away Israel’s enemies, but might also be employed to purge Israel itself. Vs. 3. Lightning, thunder and earthquake are all images used throughout the psalms to symbolize the coming of God. See, e.g., Psalm 18:6-15; Psalm 68:7-10; Psalm 144:5-6.

There is some rich irony here. The heavens are said to proclaim God’s righteousness, whereas human worshipers of images made of these created glories have not the understanding to do the same. Vss. 6-7. Zion and all of Judah do hear in the terrifying phenomenon of nature the voice of the Lord and rejoice in his just reign over all the earth. Vs. 8. In her early history, Israel did not necessarily deny the existence of other gods. Nevertheless, if such gods there be, they must necessarily be subject to the God of Israel who reigns over all the earth. Vs. 9.

Verses 10-11 illustrate that this God who reigns over the earth is not indifferent to the conduct of his human creatures. God is not a neutral observer of history. This God takes sides and, specifically, God takes the side of the righteous against evildoers. Righteousness, of course, is measured in terms of God’s covenant relationship with Israel, the ones who give thanks to his holy name. vs. 12. Nevertheless, as the prophets and other psalms illustrate, Israel’s faithfulness to the covenant is a light to all the nations of the world and a revelation of God’s gracious will for all creation.

Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21

This lesson represents perhaps the most egregious act of textual butchery, literary dishonesty and ecclesiastical deceit ever practiced by the lectionary goons. Before proceeding further, please read the unedited, unsanitized, uncut and unpolished version actually given to us in the text. Revelation 22:12-21. As you can see, the troublesome fact that the “dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves falsehood” have been excluded from the new Jerusalem has been conveniently hidden away out of sight. Vs.15. It is also highly ironic that the lectionary makers have seen fit to omit the very verses warning against omitting anything from the Book of Revelation. Vss. 18-19. Is it possible to treat the scriptures with any more contempt?

Well, now that I have had a chance to vent my spleen, let me say that this section of Revelation is a fitting climax to the book as a whole. The drama began in the throne room of God and the Lamb where the Lamb alone was found worthy to open the sacred scroll revealing God’s redemptive purpose for creation. Now we see the Holy City in which God and the Lamb reign-no longer in heaven above, but on earth and among human beings. “I will be their God and they will be my people,” the refrain ringing throughout the prophets and amplified in John’s gospel, has now come to pass.

Yet, as the scurrilously omitted passages show us, the new heaven and the new earth do not come about without a cleansing. Not all that now is will be part of the new age to come. Perhaps not all people will be part of the new creation. Jesus leaves open the possibility that one can become so thoroughly disfigured by sin that the image of God is no longer visible. “I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers.” Matthew 7:23. We ignore Jesus at our very great peril. Of course, we are not in a position to determine who is beyond redemption. Only Jesus can make that call. For our part, we must assume that all people are capable of salvation, all people are deserving of mercy, all people are worthy of an opportunity for repentance. Moreover, it is worth remembering that the line between good and evil runs not between nations, races, clans or individuals but through the middle of every human heart. For “the time has come for judgment to begin with the household of God,” St. Peter tells us. I Peter 4:17. So how much of our lives are being lived eternally, that is, in love for God and our neighbor? Are we accustoming our eyes to the light of the Lamb now so that it will not blind us when it breaks through in all its fullness? How much of who you have been and what you have done today is worth preserving for eternity?

John 17:20-26

What we have in this lesson is only a snippet of Jesus’ final prayer with his disciples wrapping up the “farewell discourses” and leading into the passion narrative to follow. Here Jesus weaves together into a single poetic fabric the Christological claims he has been making for himself throughout the gospel. Today’s reading seems to address the objection raised by the good Judas in chapter 15, namely, if Jesus really is the Savior of the world, why is he revealing himself only to a select few? John 15: 22. Jesus makes clear that his final prayer is not merely for the twelve, but for all who will believe in him through their preaching. Vs. 20. Jesus says essentially that he is praying that the love between Father and Son that has existed from eternity might bind the disciples together just as it unites the Trinity. Such love manifest among the disciples and poured out upon the world glorifies God. The reality of God living in the midst of God’s people under the gentle reign of the Lamb proclaimed in the Book of Revelation is fulfilled in some measure in the church.

Jesus prays that his church may become “perfectly one.” Vs. 23. But this oneness is perfect only in a qualified sense. Truly perfect oneness will only be achieved when the world itself is drawn into the Trinitarian love that is God. It is for the world, broken and hostile to God as it is, that the Son has been sent. The Son’s love for the world is precisely what overcomes the hostility of the world. It is for this reason that Jesus concludes his prayer with a plea to his heavenly Father “that the love with which thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.” Vs. 26.

Although this is not an Ascension Day text, it might fruitfully be used as such. The trouble with the feast of the Ascension is that we often turn it into Jesus’ going away party. It is anything but that! God’s right hand is not somewhere deep in space. It is at work in the heart of creation. To say that Jesus has ascended to the right hand of the Father is to say that he is more intensely present to us than ever before. As the hymn tells us, “Christ is alive, no longer bound to distant years in Palestine, but saving, healing, here and now, and touching every place and time.” ‘Christ is Alive! Let Christians Sing,” Text Brian A. Wren, Music T. Williams published in Lutheran Evangelical Worship, # 389.

Sunday, May 1st

April 25, 2016UncategorizedAbraham, arts, Bible, Book of Acts, Book of Revelation, Church, dance, discipleship, dreams, Easter, faith, gospel, Holy Spirit, late stage capitalism, Lectionary, poetry, preaching, Religion, resurrection, Saint John, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, theology, visionsrevolsen

Sixth Sunday of Easter

Acts 16:9-15
Psalm 67
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5
John 14:23-29

Prayer of the Day: Bountiful God, you gather your people into your realm, and you promise us food from your tree of life. Nourish us with your word, that empowered by your Spirit we may love one another and the world you have made, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

My own Lutheran protestant tradition does not put much stock in dreams as revelatory devices. Martin Luther was particularly scornful of the “heavenly prophets” among his Anabaptist critics who claimed to be guided and inspired by dreams and visions. His instincts were not altogether wrong in that respect. Dreams and visions are notoriously unreliable. Even when they have turned out to be prophetic, their messages have often been tragically misinterpreted. For example, the Lydian king, Croesus, was assured by an oracle from the shrine at Delphi that, should he attack the Persian Empire, he would destroy a great kingdom. His confidence bolstered by the oracle, Croesus attacked Persia and was soundly defeated. The oracle proved true with a vengeance. Croesus did indeed destroy a great kingdom; however, the kingdom he destroyed was not that of Persia but his own. Moses warned the people of Israel to beware of false prophets and that warning was not in vain. Throughout its long history Israel was plagued by false prophets speaking not only in the name of foreign deities, but also in the very name of the Lord. St. John warns the church to “test the spirits” to ensure their authenticity.

Still, we dare not throw out the baby with the bath water. Despite all of these salutary warnings, dreams and visions are frequently employed by God to guide God’s people throughout the biblical narrative. It was through Joseph’s dreams that his father Jacob and the rest of the descendants of Abraham were saved from starvation and brought safely to Egypt. God spoke to the prophets Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel through dreams. Joseph the husband of Mary and the Magi were guided to safety by dreams in Matthew’s gospel. In today’s reading from Acts, St. Paul’s dream re-directs his mission from Asia Minor to Europe. Our reading from the Book of Revelation is just one piece of an extended vision delivered to John of Patmos in a dream-like state. As troublesome as dreams and visions are for us 21^st Century moderns, we dismiss them at our peril. We dare not allow our fear of being misled to blind us to the leading of God’s Spirit.

I have to confess that I have never in my life had a dream that I thought was revelatory. The few that I remember seem clearly to be products of my anxieties, repressed fantasies and past memories. Maybe that is true of everyone’s dreams, but is that all they are? Is it possible that the Spirit of God engages these subconscious fragments, fuses them together in new and unique ways and thereby invites us to recognize connections, relationships and correlations between aspects of our lives and experiences we could not otherwise have seen? Are the thoughts we repress, the fears we deny and the memories we have discarded the raw materials for God’s imaginative studio?

Though, as I said, I’ve never had a guiding dream or vision of my own, I have been richly blessed by those of others which manifest themselves through music, graphic arts and poetry. Through these media my imagination has been stimulated and my mind stretched. It is for this reason that I am able to believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ to which the gospels testify and the new creation about which John of Patmos writes. I know these things to be real because I have been carried up into them on the wings of music and verse. I have seen them come alive in paintings and sculpture. They enter into my heart and soul through drama and dance. It was a scientist, Albert Einstein, who once said that imagination is more important than knowledge. It is by the exercise of imagination that we see beyond what merely is to what might be-and truly is-if we but have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Sadly, we are raising up an unimaginative generation. I recall hearing on NPR about a recent survey showing a marked decrease among young people of individuals believing that world peace is a possibility for our future. I can’t vouch for that survey because I could not locate it. But such an outcome, assuming it to be accurate, should not surprise us. After all, we are a nation that increasingly devalues the arts. Our schools regularly defund courses in music, dance and graphic arts in favor of more “practical” subjects that prepare students for the all-important labor market. When education becomes all about manufacturing units of labor instead of cultivating minds, it produces a people incapable of imagination. The earth inherits a generation that cannot imagine anything beyond what is and that is incapable of doing anything other than maintaining the machinery of oppression, inequality and injustice that is late stage capitalism. In such a stark and unimaginative landscape, politics becomes a relentless struggle for domination, economic life morphs into systemic enrichment of the few at the expense of the many and faith degenerates into moralism. We lose the capacity to dream.

The poet Langston Hughes once mused over what happens to dreams in such an unimaginative environment.

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I think Hughes knew well, as did the prophets and apostles, that dreams and visions are explosive. Paul’s dream changed the course of his mission and planted the church in new soil. John of Patmos’ Revelation helped the struggling churches of Asia Minor recognize the cosmic importance of their day to day struggle to remain faithful in the hostile culture of imperial Rome. At its best, the church has always recognized music, verse, dance and graphic arts as its essential allies in winning obedience of hearts and minds to the gentle reign of God in Jesus Christ. The arts are the natural language of the gospel. And so perhaps the most radical thing we can do is teach our daughters to play musical instruments, read poetry to our sons and lead our children in dance. Planting the explosive of creative minds under the oppressive societal structures that bind us sets the stage for an unleashing of the Spirit akin to what the prophet Joel describes:

“I will pour out my spirit on all flesh;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your old men shall dream dreams,
and your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves,
in those days, I will pour out my spirit.”

Joel 2:28-29.

Source: Selected Poems of Langston Hughes (c. 1926 by Alfred A. Knopf, pub. by Random House, LLC, 1990). Langston Hughes was an important African American voice in the “Harlem Renaissance” of the 1920s. Though well-educated and widely traveled, Hughes’ poetry never strayed far from his roots in the African American community. Early in his career, Hughes’ work was criticized by some African American intellectuals for portraying what they viewed as an unflattering representation of back life. In a response to these critics, Hughes replied, “I didn’t know the upper class Negroes well enough to write much about them. I knew only the people I had grown up with, and they weren’t people whose shoes were always shined, who had been to Harvard, or who had heard of Bach. But they seemed to me good people, too.” Today Langston Hughes is recognized globally as a towering literary figure of the 20^th Century. This particular poem inspired the play A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry that debuted on Broadway in 1959. You can read more about Hughes and discover more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website (from which the above quote is taken).

Acts 16:9-15

If you back up and read Acts 16:6-8, you will discover that Paul seems to have been floundering in Asia Minor. None of his plans come to fruition. His mission strategies repeatedly prove unsuccessful. At every point it seems that “the Spirit of Jesus,” is thwarting his efforts to proclaim the gospel. I have been there too, but I cannot say that I recognize Jesus in any of that. To me it looks like plain old failure and nothing more. That leads me to wonder whether Paul recognized the obstacles thrown in the way of his mission work as “the Spirit of Jesus” at the time. Of course I don’t know, but I suspect that Paul was probably frustrated, angry and maybe a little despondent about his repeated failures in Asia. Perhaps it was not until he was drawn to change his focus to Macedonia, met Lydia and her friends, planted the church in Philippi which would later bring him such joy and comfort that Paul finally recognized in his prior failures the work of the Holy Spirit directing him. Sometimes I think that perhaps we are not supposed to be visionaries. Maybe God purposely does not reveal the path ahead of us. It may be that our vision, our strategizing and “intentionality” just get in the way. Perhaps we are entitled only to light sufficient for the next step we have to take and should be satisfied with that. Maybe that is what it means to “walk by faith and not by sight.” II Corinthians 5:7.

This is all thoroughly consistent with Luke’s view of the ministry as wholly under the direction of the Spirit. It is the “word of God” that grows and multiplies. Acts 12:24. “The word of God increased; and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly…” Acts 6:7. Just as the Spirit of God used the martyrdom of Stephen scattering the disciples throughout Judea and Samaria to bring the gospel to the Samaritans, so now the Spirit somehow hinders Paul’s Asia mission in order to redirect him to Europe. See Acts 8:1-8. Even open hostility to the preaching of the word is turned by the Spirit to the service of the word.

As was his custom, Paul begins his mission to Philippi by going to the Jewish community. Evidently, there was no synagogue in Philippi. That might have been due to Roman hostility to Jewish influence in what was an imperial colony. It is also possible that the Jewish presence was too small to support a synagogue. Nevertheless, there was evidently a place outside the city where Jews gathered for prayer and worship. This is where Paul met Lydia, accepted her hospitality and baptized her and her household. As in his gospel, so also in the Book of Acts, Luke pays particular attention to the role of women in the church. It appears that the congregation gathered at the place of prayer consisted primarily, if not exclusively, of women. If Lydia had a husband, there is no mention of him. The church in Philippi thus appears to have been founded and led by women according to Luke’s account.

Psalm 67

Most scholars characterize this as a psalm of thanksgiving for a bountiful harvest based largely on vs. 6a, “The earth has given its increase.” It has been suggested that this hymn might have been sung as a festival liturgy during the autumn festival. Weiser, Arthur, The Psalms, A Commentary, (c. 1962, S.C.M. Press, Ltd.) p. 472.Though a good harvest surely is a testimony to God’s goodness and faithfulness to Israel, it is but one of many reasons for praise given in this hymn. God’s saving power, God’s justice and God’s guidance for the nations are all as much reason for the psalmist’s lavish praise. It is noteworthy that the blessing for which the psalmist prays is not restricted to Israel alone. S/he prays that Israel may be blessed in order that “all the ends of the earth may fear God.” Vs. 7.

The opening words of this psalm appear to have been taken from or inspired by the Aaronic Benediction at Numbers 6:24-26. The peoples are enjoined to praise and rejoice in God. God does not reign over the world by compulsion or force. Rather, God “dost judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon the earth.” Vs. 4. As pointed out in Isaiah, God rules the earth through “the law” and through “the word of the Lord.” Isaiah 2:2-4. The psalm therefore echoes God’s promise repeated to the patriarchs and echoed throughout the prophets, particularly Second Isaiah, that Israel is to be a nation by which all the other nations of the world are blessed. “I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you, and you will be a blessing.” Genesis 12:2. “And by your descendants all the nations of the earth will bless themselves.” Genesis 26:4 “And by you and your descendants shall all the families of the earth bless themselves.” Genesis 28:14 “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and restore the preserved of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” Isaiah 49:2.

Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

I understand the need to keep lectionary readings to a manageable length. But that does not justify the ruthless butcher job that has been done to this text. The missing verses between 10 and 22 give us a graphic description of the Holy City, the New Jerusalem coming down from God, the place where God will dwell among God’s people. I encourage you to read those verses now before continuing with this post.

The first thing you will notice is John’s fixation on the number twelve. The wall of the city has twelve gates inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. The city has twelve foundations inscribed with the names of the twelve apostles. The dimensions of the city are 12,000 by 12,000 stadia. Each wall is 144 (12 x 12) cubits. The base of the walls is adorned with twelve different jewels. So what is the significance of the number twelve and all of the numbers divisible by twelve?

Of course, the number twelve has always carried symbolic significance throughout many different cultures for a number of different reasons. There are twelve divisions of the lunar year and twelve signs of the Zodiac. The number twelve is important to the Sumerian number system, one of the most ancient in the near east. From the standpoint of the Hebrew Scriptures, there were twelve tribes of Israel, though one might properly ask whether the number twelve derives its significance from the tribes or whether the tribes were divided into twelve in order to fit the sacred number. There were, strictly speaking, thirteen tribes of Israel owing to the fact that the Joseph tribe was split into Ephraim and Manasseh (Joseph’s two sons). The land of Canaan was nevertheless divided into twelve territories because the priestly tribe of Levi did not receive an allotment of land, but only cities within the tribal territories. Joshua 21.

Each of the four gospels affirms that Jesus had twelve disciples that were especially close to him throughout his ministry. The list of their names differs between the gospels, but that is of minor significance. The twelve disciples correlated with the twelve tribes and thus emphasize the continuity between the mission of Jesus and the calling of Israel. The same point is made here with the twelve gates, the twelve foundations and the twelve jewels of the New Jerusalem inscribed both with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

Knowing this, we get a much deeper appreciation for the imagery in our lesson. From the calling of Abraham God has made clear Israel’s mission of being a light to the Gentiles and a nation of blessing for all the nations of the world. The gospels all point to Jesus as the Son of God and the savior of the world. John’s gospel refers to Jesus as “the light.” So now we see the consummation of God’s work with Israel in Jesus expressed through this image of the Holy City whose “lamp is the Lamb” and “by its light shall the nations walk.” Once again, John of Patmos is weaving together a mosaic of images from the Hebrew Scriptures into a marvelous portrait of the Lamb’s final victory that will be brought about by the persistent suffering love of God and revealed through the faithful obedience of God’s people.

John 14:23-29

Obviously, the lectionary folks were not having a good day when they served up this Sunday’s menu. This reading does not make sense until you back up one verse to vs. 22. There you will discover that Jesus’ words here are in response to a question asked by Judas (not Judas the traitor, but another disciple named Judas). Jesus has been telling his disciples that he will soon be leaving them to go where no one can find him. Judas quite naturally asks him, “Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?” Why indeed? If Jesus really is the light of the world, the water of life, the resurrection and the life, and if Jesus is now going away, why is his identity made clear to so very few? Why does not Jesus reveal himself to all Israel? To the whole world?

Jesus responds that he will be made known to the world. The disciples drawn together by Jesus’ love will keep his commandments (which we know by now boil down to loving one another as Jesus has loved them). This love will be a witness to the whole world that God has sent the Son into the world and that the Father loves the Son yet gives up the Son to suffering and death for the sake of the world. Moreover, Jesus’ departure is not abandonment. The Holy Spirit sent by the Father is not a substitute for Jesus, but his more intense and intimate presence in their midst. Through that Spirit animating the church Jesus will continue to speak words of promise, healing, hope and resurrection.

Although John’s Gospel never refers to the church as such, it is clearly a center of concern for John, perhaps even the greatest concern of all. It is by the church that the Father’s love for the Son is made manifest to the world through the disciple’s love for each other. It is by this love that the world will know that we are Jesus’ disciples. Thus, what the church becomes is every bit as important as what the church does. Indeed, what the church does can be nothing other than what arises out of who the church is.

Sunday, April 24th

April 18, 2016Uncategorizedabomination, Bible, Book of Acts, Book of Revelation, Church, eternal life, faith, gospel, gun violence, Holy Spirit, idolatry, Jerusalem, Lectionary, poverty, preaching, Psalms, Religion, resurrection, Saint John, Sunday Lessons, theology, violence against children, Wrath of Godrevolsen

Fifth Sunday of Easter

Acts 11:1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35

Prayer of the Day: O Lord God, you teach us that without love, our actions gain nothing. Pour into our hearts your most excellent gift of love, that, made alive by your Spirit, we may know goodness and peace, through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another.” John 15:17

The opposite of love is not hatred, but indifference. The mayor and leaders in Flint, Michigan did not set about with malice in their hearts to poison the children of that broken city. They did not intend for anyone to get hurt. They only wanted to find a cheap and easy solution to an expensive problem. They wanted to balance the budget. I expect they probably knew in the back of their minds that there was a risk involved with drawing the city’s drinking water from the Flint River. Perhaps they were even warned of the dangers by civil engineers and environmental specialists who knew better. But they didn’t care enough to investigate the dangers or plan for the potential consequences of their actions. They had eyes only for the bottom line. Red ink on the town’s financials was more troubling to them than the red blood of Flint’s households.

Indifference kills more of us than malice. We die at the hands of drivers who know they are too inebriated to drive but don’t want to shell out money for a cab. We die at the hands of drivers who can’t be bothered to pull off the road before responding to a text message. Our children die because the gun industry will have its profits and it is the price we will gladly pay to preserve our precious Second Amendment rights. We die because our consumptive way of life poisons our water, fouls our air and destroys the ecosystem that sustains us. Even when human lives are taken by evil people with malicious intent, it is often because the rest of us lack the desire, the will and the courage to stop them. As writer and philosopher Edmond Burke points out, “all that is necessary for evil to succeed is that good men do nothing.”

Indifference takes a terrible toll on our souls as well. If St. Augustine is to be believed (and I think he is), we were created to love God. The only true temple God has is the flesh in which his Word is revealed. The only way love for God can be practiced is through our love for the neighbor made in God’s image. That is why John tells us in his letter that if we claim to love God yet harbor hatred for any of God’s human children, we are liars. I John 4:20. Whatever we worship when we come to God with cold and indifferent hearts, it is not God. Whatever we are calling “God”-even if we name it Jesus-it is not God. It is instead merely a reflection of our own twisted and depraved selves, an idol. Idols are not God, but they have the power to shape us into their own lifeless images if we allow them to become gods for us. That is the terrible fate from which Jesus came to deliver us.

Jesus came to make us angry with the wrath of God. For some people in this new age culture of blissful tolerance, an angry God is offensive. As one clergy person recently told me, “anger is unworthy of God.” (This from a preacher? God help us all.) But if God is not angry over the needless poisoning of Flint’s children; if God is not angry that a third of us live in comfort while two thirds struggle to stay alive; if God is not angry over the unnecessary police shootings of young black men; then I can only conclude that God doesn’t much care about us. But God is not indifferent. Anger is the shape love takes toward wayward children bent on following their own self-destructive paths. God’s anger, however, does not translate into revenge, retribution or punishment. God’s anger translates into a stubborn and patient determination to break our hard hearts, shock us into seeing the world the way God sees it-and weeping. Jesus came to save us from our indifference, to help us weep over the destruction we have wrought upon ourselves and one another, to make us truly human. He came that we might become a people capable of love.

Here’s a poem by James Wright that captures precisely our predicament-and suggests its cure.

Three Stanzas from Goethe

That man standing there, who is he?
His path lost in the thicket,
Behind him the bushes
Lash back together,
The grass rises again,
The waste devours him.

Oh, who will heal the sufferings
Of the man whose balm turned poison?
Who drank nothing
But hatred of men from love’s abundance?
Once despised, now a despiser,
He kills his own life
The precious secret,
The self-seeker finds nothing.

Oh, Father of Love,
If your psaltery holds one tone
That his ear still might echo,
Then quicken his heart!
Open his eyes, shut off by clouds
From the thousand fountains
So near him, dying of thirst
In his own heart.

Source: Wright, James, The Branch Will Not Break, (c. 1963 by James Wright, pub by Wesleyan University Press) p. 14. James Wright was born in Martins Ferry, Ohio in 1927. In addition to his own work, Wright is also well known for his translations of Spanish poets. In 1972 he received the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. He died in 1980. This poem actually consists of three stanzas Wright translated from Goethe’s poem, “Harzreise im Winter.” You can learn more about James Wright and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Acts 11:1-18

Peter has a few problems on his hands. For starters he woke up from a terrible dream in which God was commanding him to eat a whole bed sheet full of disgusting animals including reptiles. This is more than just disgusting. It is downright wrong. Leviticus 11 makes very clear to Israel that the eating of such animals as appeared to Peter in that sheet was an “abomination.” As a matter of fact, even touching one of these animals renders a person unclean for the rest of the day! What do you make of such a dream? Could this possibly have been the voice of the Lord? Or was it the voice of the devil tempting Peter? Before Peter has a chance to reflect much on his dream, three men arrive at the house where he is staying. They were sent by Cornelius, a Roman Centurion. They inform Peter that Cornelius would like to see him and request that he come with them to Caesarea. I cannot imagine that Peter was thrilled about all of this. When the commander of the occupation force wants to see you in his office, it’s usually not a good thing. Yet the Spirit of God urges Peter to go along and he does.

Arriving at the home of Cornelius, Peter discovers that he is not going to be imprisoned or interrogated. He is instead invited to dinner. In fact, the whole household of Cornelius is present to hear what Peter has to say about Jesus. Eating unclean food is bad enough. Eating it in the home of a Gentile is unthinkable. Everything Peter ever knew and believed about the Scriptures told him that he really ought to get up, tell these folks he had nothing to say to them and excuse himself. But something much deeper in Peter’s heart was telling him to accept the hospitality of Cornelius and his family and to preach the gospel to them. That “something,” was the Spirit of God. Before Peter finishes his sermon, the Spirit of God fills Cornelius and his family just as it did the disciples at Pentecost. I don’t think Peter had worked out all the theological implications of what had happened or what he did next. But when you see the Spirit of God calling someone to faith-how can you not baptize?

Next thing you know, Peter is in hot water with the Synod. “Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?” he is asked. I expect that the Jerusalem leadership probably pointed out to Peter that his actions were contrary to the guidelines, procedures and requirements for mission and ministry. Though perhaps we might someday consider bringing the gospel to the Gentiles, such a step will constitute a substantial departure from the church’s understanding and practice. Such a profound change should not be made prior to rigorous study, theological reflection and deliberation. The proper procedure would have been to submit the question via resolution to the general assembly which would probably commission a task force to issue a report. After a five year study of the issue, the assembly would then be in a position to make a reasoned and comprehensive decision on whether such a policy change is warranted and, if so, how it should be implemented. That is how we Lutherans do things. If we had been in charge back then, this whole Cornelius affair would never have happened. Thank God we weren’t in charge-and still are not.

Throughout the Book of Acts, the Spirit seems always to be a few steps ahead of the church which is frantically racing to keep up. Things are happening so fast and furiously that the Apostles find themselves confused, bewildered and anxious about the direction of the church. So for people today who complain that the church isn’t what it used to be, that it is changing too fast and it’s not the church they grew up in, I have just four words: Get used to it. The Acts of the Apostles, this marvelous story about the early church, reminds us that we don’t control the mission, ministry or future direction of the church. It turns out that God seems to be active in the places we least expect. Faith is born among the folks you would least expect to be receptive. About all we can ever say about the shape of the church in the future is that it will certainly not be what we expect.

This story also tells us something about the authority of the Bible. Peter appeared to be on solid scriptural ground with his scruples about socializing among, eating with and finally baptizing Gentiles. Turns out he was wrong. That should be a lesson for all of us who are so cock sure we know what the Bible requires. “The Bible is inerrant!” said a fellow from the church in which I was raised as he brought his fist down on the book. Perhaps so, but its interpreters are fallible human beings. All you need to do is google the word “Bible” and you will discover some of the wildest, wackiest and witless notions ever expressed by people who think they have the Bible figured out. So it is quite possible to get the Bible wrong and the church has done that on many occasions. That is why we had the Reformation. That is also why the church’s understanding and interpretation of the Scriptures is always evolving, changing and growing in new directions. That is why Jesus promised his disciples that “when the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” John 16:13. Because we don’t have all the truth, we are prone to misread and misinterpret the Scriptures in myopic, self-serving ways. We need the Spirit to poke and prod us into taking a new look at the Bible, questioning our assumptions about what it means and listening to people who might read it altogether differently than we do.

Finally, we need the whole church to read the Bible properly. Though Peter was right to heed the voice of the Spirit when he found himself in the household of Cornelius, the extension of the church’s mission to the Gentiles was, in the end, a product of deliberations by the whole church. At the Holy Spirit’s prompting, Peter responded faithfully to the opportunity before him to share the gospel. But he did not simply dismiss the rest of the church or move forward with the mission to the Gentiles autonomously. Instead, he took the initiative to go up to Jerusalem in order to explain and defend his actions. He laid out his case for the Gentile mission before the church for its discernment and judgment. I expect that there was some spirited debate and Scriptural arguments put forth by all sides of the issue. In the end, Peter was able to persuade the church to move in the direction the Spirit led him at the home of Cornelius. That is how it should be.

Psalm 148

This psalm is beautifully structured. It begins and ends with an expression of praise: Hallelujah or “Praise YAHWEH.” The injunctions to praise begin with the heavens, the angels, the sun, moon and stars descending to the earth and its creatures. The forces of nature, geographical features (mountains and hills) and plant life all are called to join in the choir of praise to God. All people from mighty kings, to slave girls to small children are drawn into this cosmic hymn of praise to the Creator. Finally, the call to praise is directed to “the people of Israel who are near to him.” The perfect symmetry of this psalm is further illustrated by its final focus on this one particular people who, though at the narrowest end of the spectrum, are nonetheless “near” to the almighty Creator God.

This psalm is pure praise. It seeks nothing from God. It is not offered up in thanksgiving for any particular act of goodness or salvation on God’s part. The psalmist praises God because that is what creatures, all creatures, even “inanimate” creatures do. It is what we are created for according the Westminster Shorter Catechism. The longer I live, the more I am convinced that this might well be so and that perhaps a major source of our misery stems from our failure to understand it. The universe was spoken into existence by God and so its very existence is an act of praise. Praise is therefore nothing other than going with the grain of the universe. It is recognizing that joy is found only as we learn to sing our little piece in tune with the rest of the choir. Only then does our voice amount to anything worth listening to. If we were not so terribly absorbed in pursuing whatever it is we think will make us happy and accomplishing what we believe to be important and establishing our own legacy, we might not mind so much that we are after all “grass that withers and flowers that fade.”

Revelation 21:1-6

This passage begins a lengthy portrayal of the new creation brought about by the victory of the Lamb. Once again, it bears repeating that this victory will come about not through violent conquest in the manner of the “beast,” but through the faithful obedience of the saints in the face of hardship and persecution. There will be continuity between the new creation and the old. God does not destroy the work of his hands. He “makes it new.” This parallels Paul’s thinking about the resurrection in I Corinthians 15:35-50 where he explains the relationship between the mortal body and the resurrected body by analogy to the relationship between the seed and the full grown plant. While there is continuity, the plant is nevertheless far more than the seed. Note also that the saints do not go up to the new Jerusalem. The new Jerusalem comes down to them.

Jerusalem as the beloved of God is a recurring image throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. There is a rich prophetic tradition foretelling God’s salvation coming forth from this holy city. The most notable is Isaiah 2:1-4. There the prophet declares that “out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” Once again, God’s reign in Zion is not one of violence and conquest. It is a reign of law and justice. There will be no further need for weapons as the Lord will judge between nations. The nations themselves “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Psalm 87 is yet another instance in which Zion is lifted up as a unifying symbol for all peoples of the world. So also in Revelation Jerusalem is again at the center of God’s saving work “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” Revelation 21:2.

“Behold, the dwelling of God is with men.” Again, the term used for “dwelling” is the same root used in John 1:14where the evangelist says, “the word became flesh and lived among us.” Literally translated, the verb translated “live with” or “dwell with” means to “tent with” or “tabernacle with” or “camp among.” This language once again evokes the memory of God’s presence for Israel in the tent of meeting that accompanied her throughout her journey from Egypt to the land of Canaan. It is more than this, however. As you can discover by reading on to the 22^nd chapter of Revelation, there is a description of a rebuilt Temple in the midst of Jerusalem from which flow the river of the water of life. This, in turn, echoes Ezekiel’s vision of the restored temple in Ezekiel 47. In this vision also a river flows from the gates of the temple throughout the land of Israel refreshing, restoring and making fruitful areas formerly arid and dry. These verses also allude to the declaration made by Second Isaiah to the disheartened exiles in Babylon: “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43: 18-19.

John of Patmos is weaving all of these images from the Hebrew Scriptures into his lyrical portrayal of the Lamb’s victory in which the struggling churches of Asia Minor will share. This lesson is yet another illustration of how critical the Hebrew Scriptures are for understanding the New Testament. Reading the New Testament without knowing the Hebrew Scriptures is like getting the punch line without the joke.

John 13:31-35

Much of what I have to say about this lesson is already in my introductory remarks. Here are a few additional things worth noting. The reading begins with Jesus declaring: “Now is the Son of Man glorified and in him God is glorified.” vs. 31. It is important to note that just prior to this Judas slipped away to betray Jesus into the hands of his enemies. Thus, the glorification of which Jesus speaks is his betrayal and crucifixion. It is glorification because it reflects the depth of Jesus’ love for his disciples and God’s love for the world. On the cross, the world will see the heart of God breaking for humanity.

The “new commandment” calling the disciples to love one another does not appear to be new. The Hebrew Scriptures admonished the people of Israel to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Leviticus 19:18. The commandment is nevertheless “new” insofar as the paradigm of love is the cross. Thus, it is no longer enough to love your neighbor as yourself only, but to love as God in Christ loves you. This is higher intensity love that is not possible for the disciples unless they continue to abide in Jesus. For reasons previously discussed, I believe that practicing such love is the principal reason for the church’s existence. It is through such love that all people will know that we are Jesus’ disciples and that God sends Jesus not to condemn the world, but that the world may have life through him.

Sunday, April 10th

April 4, 2016Uncategorizedapocalypse, Babylon, Bonhoeffer, Book of Acts, Book of Revelation, Church, David, discipleship, Easter, empire, faith, gospel, Harper Lee, Holy Spirit, idolatry, john of patmos, justice, Lectionary, peace, Persecution, poor, Psalms, racism, resurrection, Roman Empire, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, the beast, theology, violencerevolsen

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 9:1-6
Psalm 30
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

Prayer of the Day: Eternal and all-merciful God, with all the angels and all the saints we laud your majesty and might. By the resurrection of your Son, show yourself to us and inspire us to follow Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

What determines whether a person grows up to be a Gandhi or a Hitler? Is it genetic? Are familial forces, social conditions or peer associations responsible? Is it a combination of all these things? Do people ever really change? Does one ever become so thoroughly evil that s/he is beyond redemption? Does one ever reach a point where s/he is beyond corruption? Those were some of the questions that came to mind as I read the recently published novel of Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman.

I should start by saying that one of the most formative movies I ever watched was To Kill a Mocking Bird, based on Lee’s first novel by that name. It was one of Gregory Peck’s greatest performances. As most of you no doubt recall, this was the story of Atticus Finch, Esq., a small town lawyer in the fictitious town of Maycomb, Alabama. Defying the racist conventions of Southern culture in the 1930s, Atticus defended a young black man against doubtful allegations that he had raped a white woman. I was so taken with the movie that I checked the book out of the school library (a rare occurrence for me in my middle school years). I read it again about ten years ago and discovered that it still held the same bittersweet mixture of gentle beauty, brutality, passion and wisdom. We see the story unfolding through the eyes of Atticus’ little daughter, Jean Louise Finch a/k/a “Scout.” The picture of Atticus Finch emerging from the narrative is one of a humble, though self-assured attorney. He is sure of his convictions and unafraid to stand on them, yet tolerant and respectful of even his most hostile critics. His gentle courage is nowhere better illustrated than on the night he places himself between his imprisoned client and an angry lynch mob. With Scout at his side, he disarms the gang with an appeal to their common humanity. Though ultimately unsuccessful at trial, Finch’s fearless and uncompromising commitment to justice is itself a kind of victory.

Watchman takes place two decades later. Jean Louise is now an adult residing in New York City. When the narrative begins, she is returning home for a visit with her father. Viewing her home town through the eyes of an adult having experienced the broader cultural landscape, she begins to recognize the insidious poison of racism that has always been present in the community. She learns that her father’s willingness to represent black criminal defendants has more to do with keeping such cases away from the NAACP than seeking justice. The final blow comes when Jean Louise witnesses her father presiding at a meeting of the Citizen’s Council featuring a speaker extoling the virtues of segregation and the dangers of interracial coupling. Along with Jean Louise, we learn that Atticus Finch is not the heroic figure we thought he was.

It is always disturbing when your hero gets knocked off his pedestal. It is all the more disturbing for those of us who identify as progressives. Nothing calls progressivism into question quite like regression. We would all like to think that gains made toward justice and equality are permanent and cannot be erased by history. In reality, however, we forget the hard lessons learned from episodes of genocide. We forget the sacrifices made to achieve justice and peace and revert to the same old behaviors that always lead us into trouble. So it is on a personal level as well. Just as a person can grow and mature, so s/he can also revert to infantile behavior. Atticus Finch would not be the first person I ever met who cynically abandoned values and principles once held dear. To achieve great heights is less than half the battle. Holding them is what poses the greatest challenge.

Did Atticus Finch change? Did he fall from the lofty heights of his convictions? That is one possibility. After all, back in the 1930s white privilege was firmly entrenched. One could stoop down to help a person of color as an act of noble compassion without challenging the systemic inequality upholding that privilege. Two and a half decades later the landscape had changed. African Americans were not asking for favors. They were demanding their rights. They were fighting for an end to systemic racism and white privilege. The objects of Atticus’ pity were now challenging his entitlements. Like many other white folk, I suspect Atticus felt threatened. When people feel threatened they become hostile. Fear causes us to revert to the most primitive types of human conduct.

Then too, we learn that Atticus has come down with rheumatoid arthritis in his old age. Pain and disability can do strange things to us. They make us feel vulnerable, dependent and resentful. Pain robs us of sleep and depletes our energy. It can push us into self-obsession and self-pity. Pain medication can alter our judgments and skew our perceptions. All of these things could well have contributed to Atticus’ seeming change of heart.

Though Watchman reads like a sequel to Mocking Bird, Lee actually wrote it before Mocking Bird and submitted it for publication. Only after Watchman had been rejected did Lee write Mocking Bird. Sadly, Harper Lee passed away early this year and so we will never hear her take on the two natures of Atticus Finch. Is the Atticus Jean Louise comes to see in Watchman a truer version of the father she idolized as a child? Or is the Atticus of Mocking Bird Lee’s more reflective and nuanced version of the stereotypical southern racist we meet in Watchman? I suspect Lee might tell us that he is both and neither. At the end of the day, each individual is a complex mixture of genetic traits, inherited beliefs, learned behaviors, desires, passions and memories. One seldom knows whether s/he is a hero, coward, racist or not until the moment of trial comes. Much may depend upon when and where in life’s journey the challenge arises. It is dangerous to presume too much or to judge too harshly-particularly for those of us who have not yet been put to the test. We can only pray, “Save us from the time of trial.”

Our second lesson from the Book of Acts also tells of a profound transformation of character. We read how Saul, persecutor of the church, became Paul the Apostle of Jesus Christ. Paul’s story is as important as anything he ever wrote because it affirms that yes, indeed, people are capable of change. Or, more accurately put, God is capable of changing human beings. It doesn’t always happen in a flash and it is probably never complete this side of the grave. There is plenty of evidence in his letters to suggest that Paul’s transformation was a work in progress. Paul frequently lashes out in anger, sometimes wallows in self-pity and often employs what can fairly be called manipulative tactics to get his churches to do what he thinks they should. Yet at the same time, Paul displays a remarkable self-awareness of his “foolishness.” He knows only too well his own weakness and the strength of Christ which alone is sufficient to compensate for it. He knows that he has yet to experience fully the power of Jesus’ resurrection, yet forgetting what is behind and striving for what lies ahead, he pushes forward to make that precious gift his own.

Every life is something of a mystery. The totality of who we are cannot be known until such time as Christ is all in all and we know as we are known. Here is a poem by teacher and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer composed during his imprisonment touching on that point.

Who am I?

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equally, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were
compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

Source: Letters and Papers from Prison, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (c. 1953 by SCM Press). Dietrich Bonhoeffer was born in 1906. He studied theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and at Berlin University where he became a professor of systematic theology. At the outbreak of World War II, Bonhoeffer was on a lecturing tour in the United States. Against the advice of his friends and colleagues, he answered the call to return to Germany and lead the Confessing Church in its opposition to National Socialism. Bonhoeffer was arrested in 1943 and imprisoned at Buchenwald. He was subsequently transferred to Flossenburg prison where he was hanged by the Gestapo just days before the end of the war. To learn more about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, his books and poems check out this website.

Acts 9:1-6

This story fascinates me. It seems that Saul (later to be called Paul) has just made a U Turn in his fundamental beliefs and self-understanding. From this day forward, he takes his orders from Jesus-a man he presumed dead and whose followers he has been busy exterminating. I am captivated by this story because I cannot say that I have ever had such an experience. My mind changes slowly. It changes direction like an aircraft carrier: in small increments that seem inconsequential at the time but ultimately alter my direction in significant ways. When I read my journal entries of thirty years ago I can see that I have changed my mind about a great many things, though I would be hard put to say exactly when that happened. I am not even sure there ever was a conscious turning point. I expect that conversations with family and friends, reading and study along with my life experiences have worked together in gradually shaping and re-shaping my outlook over the years. I hope that worship, preaching and prayer have also played a significant role. That seems to be the way most of us are formed most of the time.

But not always. There are “Damascus Road” moments that can turn you around. Perhaps one contemporary example is Senator Robert Portman, a conservative legislator representing Ohio who embraced marriage equality upon learning that his son was gay. I suppose there is reason to question the sincerity of the senator’s conversion, which many have dismissed as a classic political “flip-flop.” It is a little suspicious that this politician should have experienced his change of heart just following the release of poll numbers showing a clear majority of Americans favoring marriage equality. Still, I tend to believe that Portman’s turnabout was genuine. Discovering that your own son is among the folks you have been trying to exclude as inherently immoral cannot be too different from Paul’s discovery that the Jesus he was striving to destroy was actually the God he worshipped.

In approaching this text it might be helpful to begin listing some of the strongest convictions you hold. Then ask yourself what it would take to change your mind. What could make you see things differently? If you are convinced that your beliefs and opinions are so solidly based that nothing could change them, I would caution you with my mother’s oft repeated dictum: “There is no mind as weak as that mind which is too strong to change.” We will come up against this question of conversion again in next week’s lesson from Acts where Peter is confronted with what he probably assumed was not possible: faith among pagans.

Psalm 30

The title of this psalm is a little confusing. It reads: “A Psalm of David. A Song at the dedication of the Temple.” In the first place, the Temple was built by Solomon after David had died. If David wrote this psalm, it would not likely have been for the dedication of a building constructed well after his death. I should add, though, that Davidic authorship is not altogether impossible. According to the book of I Chronicles, David was heavily involved in planning for the erection of the Temple even though he took no part in actually building it. Thus, he could conceivably have composed psalms in anticipation of its dedication. This seems unlikely, however. A further difficulty is that the psalm itself is a personal prayer of thanksgiving for salvation. It does not even mention the Temple. One commentator suggests that the psalm, though composed much earlier, might have been used at the re-dedication of the Temple following its cleansing by Judas Maccabaeus in 164 B.C.E. (celebrated today as Hanukkah). J.W. Rogerson and J.W. McKay, The Cambridge Bible Commentary, Psalms 1-50 (Cambridge University Press, c. 1977), p. 133. That would explain the title linking the psalm to the Temple. The attribution of the psalm to David was likely a separate and much older title. It should be noted that the Hebrew preposition le translated as “by” in the Davidic title can also mean “to” or “in the manner of” or perhaps “in the tradition of.” Thus, actual Davidic authorship is not necessarily implied.

This psalm is one that Professor of Old Testament, Walter Brueggemann would probably classify as a “psalm of reorientation.” Brueggemann divides the psalms into three categories: Psalms of orientation, psalms of disorientation and psalms of re-orientation. I believe that is a helpful distinction because at any given time in our lives we find ourselves orientated, disorientated or re-orientated. There are times when all seems well with the world. The job is exciting and filled with opportunities for advancement. Marriage is filled with intimacy, spontaneity and delight. The kids are getting good grades and behaving themselves. There is not a cloud in the sky. A psalm of orientation, of praise and thanksgiving for God’s faithfulness and goodness is appropriate.

Then tragedy strikes. The company you work for goes out of business. A spouse proves unfaithful. One of the kids gets sick-really sick. Or that routine X-ray exposes something very wrong going on under the skin. That picture perfect life is thrown into disarray. The darkness seems impenetrable. At times like these, psalms of disorientation give expression to our feelings of panic and abandonment. A good example is Psalm 39 which concludes with a prayer that God would “look away from me, that I may know gladness, before I depart and be no more.” Yet even though the psalmist seems to have given up on God, the psalmist is nonetheless still speaking to God!

Psalms of re-orientation, such as Psalm 30, are songs of those who have fallen from a secure and well oriented life into disorientation, but have experienced the salvation of a God who has led them out of the darkness and re-orientated their lives. The journey has not been easy, nor does it bring them back to where they were before. Re-orientated people have been changed forever by their trek through the darkness. They now know just how dark and terrifying life can be. But they also know just how faithful and steadfast is the God who continues to lead them even as they pass through the valley of the shadow. See The Message of the Psalms, Brueggemann, Walter (Augsburg Publishing House, c 1984).

It seems that the psalmist was experiencing threats from his enemies as well as sickness. This psalm does not explain what caused the psalmist’s suffering. Nor does it suggest that the psalmist is somehow at fault or that his or her suffering is part of some greater plan. Sometimes suffering just is. There is no explanation for it, but one thing is clear. The psalmist knows that God has not deserted him or her throughout the dark times. God has been present all along the difficult journey from darkness into light. It is important to understand that this journey does not take the psalmist back to “the way things were.” Often, there is no going back. The scars of surgery remain even after a full recovery. Life after divorce can be filled with love, life and hope-but it does not restore the relationship that was lost. The psalmist recognizes in resolution of his or her trials the saving hand of God. Thanksgiving is the only conceivable response.

Revelation 5:11-14

For the next few weeks the lectionary will be treating us to some excerpts from the Book of Revelation. I have noticed that this book has an unholy appeal to all sorts of people for all kinds of reasons. Whenever I offer a Bible Study course on Revelation, the initial response is usually enthusiastic. But after the first session, when it becomes clear that I am not going to predict the date of the world’s end or reveal the identity of the antichrist (who is not even mentioned in the book), interest soon wanes. That is unfortunate because I believe John of Patmos, the putative author of Revelation, has a lot to say. Also unfortunate is the absence of Revelation 2-3 from the common lectionary. These chapters consist of prophetic/angelic messages to seven churches in Asia Minor (modern day Turkey), the audience to which the book is addressed. Though delivered in graphic symbols, metaphors and occasional numerical code, these “letters to the seven churches” give us a piercing glimpse into the life of these fledgling congregations as they sought to live out their faith under the shadow of the Roman Empire.

Though imprisoned more than once and most likely executed by the Roman government, Paul still saw the empire as the instrument of God’s judgment on wickedness (whether knowingly or not). It was “the servant of God to execute his wrath on the wrongdoer.” Romans 13:4. John of Patmos held no such sanguine view of Rome. He saw the empire as a “beast” that “utters blasphemies against God,” “makes war on the saints,” and causes “all who dwell on the earth” to worship it. Revelation 13:5-9. Roman society, epitomized by its capital, is a modern “Babylon.” The nations have “drunk the wine of her impure passion,” “the merchants of the earth have grown rich with the wealth of her wantonness.” Revelation 18:1-3. Paul’s church lived uneasily in the shadow of a menacing, though mostly indifferent government. John’s church was engaged in a life and death struggle with an empire that was unequivocally hostile.

The world dominating beast of which John of Patmos speaks in Revelation was personified as an emperor of Rome. Scholars are divided over whether John was referring to a specific emperor at the end of the first century. Most seem to take this view, though some hold out for an earlier composition of Revelation maintaining that the “beast” refers rather to a future emperor expected to emerge from the chaos and civil war convulsing the empire following the death of Nero in 68 C.E. If John was referring to an actual emperor, the most likely candidate is Domitian who reigned from 81 C.E. to 96 C.E. Previous Roman emperors were inducted into the Roman pantheon of divinities upon their death. This ceremony amounted to the civil bestowal of an honorary title. It had practically no religious significance. The emperor Claudius was known to have joked, when asked how he was feeling on a particularly bad day, “I feel as though I am about to become a god.” For Domitian, however, godhood was no laughing matter. He bestowed the title “Lord and God” upon himself during his own lifetime. Ceremonial feasts where held in his honor at patriotic observances in which participation, from the perspective of Jews and Christians, amounted to idolatry.

John’s lurid images of cruelty, oppression and destruction of the earth set forth in Revelation accurately depict life under Roman occupation and more particularly, life for the churches in Asia Minor at the end of the first century. Governmental persecution of the church, though not wide spread or focused at this time, was a common enough occurrence for disciples of Jesus who refused to acknowledge Caesar as “Lord,” a title they reserved for Christ alone. Exclusion from economic and professional opportunities was often the price of worshiping Christ alone. Christians were not the only ones to experience Rome’s oppression. It is not only for the death of the prophets and saints, but for “all who have been slain on the earth” that Rome (code named “Babylon”) and the beast come to judgment in Revelation Chapter 18. Significantly, all those who profited socially, politically and commercially from Rome’s unjust reign share in its judgment. Revelation 18:11-20.

In seeking to hear Revelation as a word of God to the church of our time, we need to ask ourselves where and how we experience “empire” today. Jorge Rieger’s fine book, Christ and Empire, (AugsburgFortress, c. 2007) is helpful to us here:

“Empire, in sum, has to do with massive concentrations of power that permeate all aspects of life and that cannot be controlled by any one actor alone. This is one of the basic marks of empire throughout history. Empire seeks to extend its control as far as possible; not only geographically, politically, and economically-these factors are commonly recognized-but also intellectually, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, culturally and religiously.” pp. 2-3.

Conceived of in this way, it is clear that imperial power is not confined exclusively or even primarily to governmental institutions. Indeed, when I think of the institutions that directly affect my daily life-my credit card company, my bank, my health insurer-I realize that I am governed far more extensively by the so-called “private sector” than by any governmental unit. Furthermore, the constitutional protections preventing the government from invading my privacy, confiscating my property and restricting my freedom of expression are of little use to me in negotiating the workplace, dealing with the intrusive demands of my lender or resolving disputed claims with my insurers. Such rights as I have against these entities are determined by contractual agreements that were not negotiated in any real sense. Credit, banking services and insurance are offered to me on the companies’ terms and on a take it or leave it basis. The power of these entities to deprive me of my livelihood, deny me needed medical help or re-possess my home is far more disturbing to me than some abstract fear of the government getting into my computer to peek at pictures of my grandchildren or critique my taste in poetry.

More disturbing than the raw power exercised by corporate commercial entities is their subtle promotion of materialistic greed. At its best, the American Dream represents a society in which all members have the opportunity to thrive and build lives for themselves of value and significance. There is no guarantee of success, whatever that might mean, but there are opportunities for success and no penalty for failure beyond personal disappointment and loss. As promoted by corporate imperialism, however, the American Dream has become narrowly focused on accumulation. Business has become increasingly focused on short term profit. Wealth has been confused with money. Consumption has been misconstrued as prosperity. Greed is the engine of this demonic economy that fouls our drinking water, pollutes our air, exploits human labor, increases economic inequality, breaks up productive businesses for short term corporate gain, destroys jobs and, after all that, leaves us as restless, anxious and empty as ever. We have bought into a dream that is fast becoming a nightmare.

For those of us doing reasonably well under the imperial reign of corporate America, it might be hard to recognize in it the beast of Revelation. Like the church in Laodicia, we might be thinking to ourselves, “What beast? Things aren’t so bad.” “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.” Like that complacent congregation, we might not recognize the “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked” state to which our souls have fallen. Revelation 3:17. We need to see empire not through the eyes of the “merchants of the earth [who] have grown rich with the wealth of her wantonness,” but through the eyes of “all who have been slain [by her] on earth.” Revelation 18:3; Revelation 18:24. If we do that, we will discover that the beast of empire is alive and well today exercising its murderous power not only through dictators that starve their people to feed their military machines, but also in corporations that exploit labor, corrupt governments and destroy the environment for the sake of profit. The victims of the beast live in squalid refugee camps having fled the carnage of conflicts they wanted no part of. They are children employed at near starvation wages by manufacturers whose CEOs have made the cold (and heartless) determination that such “out sourcing” best serves the bottom line. They are the wounded men, grieving mothers and dead children who had the misfortune to be in the way of a drone attack-the folks we speak of in unfeeling clinical terms as “collateral damage.” Those of you old enough to remember the comic strip Pogo may also recall the lead character’s immortal line: “We have met the enemy and he is us.” So also I think we can say that we have met “the beast” and he is us. Today’s nation states, military alliances and commercial entities (all of them) share in some measure the toxic nature of the imperial beast.

In order to appreciate the full impact of this lesson, you need to read from the beginning of Chapter 4. See Revelation 4:1-5:10. John of Patmos is summoned to the throne room of God almighty. The throne of God is surrounded by 24 elders and four angelic creatures all singing praises to God. There is no description of God, but in God’s right hand is a scroll sealed with seven seals. An angel cries out, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” No one responds to this question and John is greatly distressed to learn that there is nobody in heaven or on earth able to open the scroll. But then one of the elders says to John, “Weep not; lo, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” Now comes the drum roll. What will he look like, this Lion, this Davidic King who dares to break the seals and open the scroll? We expect Arnold Schwarzenegger to strut out onto the stage, bulging with muscle, armed to the teeth. But when we look up we see-a lamb! A lamb that has been slain, no less. Seriously? This is the Lion of Judah? This is the Root of David?

At this point the angelic creatures and the elders break into their song: “Worthy art thou to take the scroll and open its seals, for thou wast slain and by thy blood didst ransom people for God from every tribe and tongue and people and nation, and hast made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on earth.” Vss 9-10. In the lurid imagery that follows, John pictures for us the war of the lamb. This matchup between a leopard like beast with seven heads, ten horns, feet like a bear and mouth like a lion on the one hand, and a lamb on the other seems terribly one sided. The lamb doesn’t appear to stand much of a chance. Yet John would have us know that God is on the side of the lamb whose suffering love for humanity braves even death.

This lesson is filled with images similar to many found in the Book of Daniel, another apocalyptic work. Daniel 7:9-10 relates the prophet’s vision of descending thrones upon which sat “one that was ancient of days.” “Ten thousand times ten thousands stood before him.” “The books were opened.” Dominion is given to “one like a son of man.” Some scholars suggest that John may have drawn his vision from that related in Daniel Chapter 7. Though possible, it seems unlikely to me. There is little in the way of actual textual similarity. There is virtually no correspondence between the two visions other than the assurance that the enemies of God’s people ultimately will be defeated by divine agency, a theme common to nearly all apocalyptic literature. John’s vision also bears similarity to divine appearances in Isaiah 6 and Ezekiel 1-2.

As I pointed out, the letters to the seven churches in Asia Minor in Revelation 2-3 are critical to understanding what John of Patmos is trying to accomplish with his work. Just as the lamb seems an unlikely champion against the beast, so the crucified Lamb of God and his beleaguered and persecuted followers’ struggle against the empire looks hopeless. John strives to assure the churches of Asia Minor that their struggles to remain faithful are not futile, but are of cosmic significance. The cross is mightier than the sword. Love is stronger than violence and will prevail in the end.

Though much speculation generated by the Book of Revelation focuses on the identity of “the beast,” this wonderful book is not all about “the beast.” It is about the “Lamb who was slain.” It is not about the destruction of the earth, but its salvation and renewal. Most importantly, Revelation is not a war movie or a spaghetti western in which the forces of good out gun the forces of evil. Understand that the final victory of God over evil does not come through an exercise of divine violence. Throughout the Book of Revelation, the powers of the empire are portrayed as fearsome beasts, dragons and warriors. But God’s son and God’s people are always portrayed as peaceful, vulnerable and weak. Israel is portrayed as a woman giving birth under the watch of a fearsome dragon waiting to devour her child. Revelation 12:1-6. The conqueror, the lion of Judah, God’s Messiah turns out to be, of all things, a lamb. Revelation 5:1-5. Not only so, but a lamb that was slain! When Christ returns to claim his kingdom, his title is “the Word of God,” and he slays his enemies with the sword that “comes out of his mouth.” Revelation 19:11-16. Just as the world began with God speaking it into existence, so by that same life giving (not death dealing) Word the world will be brought under God’s gentle reign. God triumphs through winning hearts, not battles. Thus, the churches in Asia Minor are comforted with the knowledge that by their faithful obedience to Jesus’ commands, their love for one another, their forgiveness of their enemies and their peaceful witness they are waging God’s battle against the powers of empire. This battle is fought not with weapons of war, but with the weapons of prayer, forgiveness and love for the neighbor-even the hostile one. The struggling churches are assured that the suffering love of God is mightier and more enduring than the violence of empire. Caesar and his legions might look impressive today, but the smart money is on the Lamb.

John 21:1-19

Of all the four gospels, I find the ending of John’s gospel to be the most satisfying. Unlike Luke, Jesus does not ascend into heaven and direct the disciples to wait for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Unlike Matthew, Jesus does not send his disciples out with a promise of his presence. We are not left wondering whether or how the disciples will ever hook up again with the resurrected Christ as in Mark. John’s ascension takes place at Golgotha where Jesus is “lifted up.” The outpouring of the Holy Spirit coincides with Jesus’ resurrection. Remarkably, the Gospel of John ends the way the other gospels begin: with the disciples leaving their fishing nets and boats behind to follow Jesus. Jesus’ last words in the gospel are, “follow me.”

John’s gospel challenges us to take seriously the presence of Jesus in the Church. I think this is the underpinning for our Lutheran insistence on the real presence of Christ which is not limited to the sacraments. We confess in the Nicene Creed our belief in the “One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.” If that only means that there exists an organization called the church, we would hardly need to include it as an article of faith any more than we would need to confess that the sky is blue. But to say that the church is one just as Jesus is one with the Father; that the church is a holy people; that the church is catholic embracing all nations and true to the apostolic witness that birthed it-that is another thing altogether. It is not always evident that the church as we experience it is any of these things. Yet our confession is that the church, flesh and blood congregations with all of their shortcomings, failures and imperfections constitutes the Body of the Resurrected Christ. That calls for a leap of faith! It also challenges us to think deeply about how we make our unity, holiness, catholicity and apostolic teaching more visible.

I think this appearance must have happened on a Monday. I don’t have an ounce of biblical support for that assertion, but it sure has the feel of going back to work at the beginning of another week. Commentators believe that this third appearance of Jesus to his disciples in John is a later addition to the gospel. They suggest that this story comes from a different version of events similar to the sequence in Matthew. The disciples, scattered after Jesus’ crucifixion, flee to Galilee (or go there to meet him upon instructions from Jesus to the women) and there try to pick up their old lives. In so doing, they encounter the resurrected Christ who calls them back to a life of discipleship. However this might be, there is no question but that the disciples have turned their attention back to the more mundane yet urgent needs for survival. They turn back to what they know, namely, fishing. Yet they toil through the night taking nothing, echoing Jesus’ warning that “apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5. Not until Jesus instructs them to cast their net out on the right side of the boat do they find success, and that beyond expectation. It is at this point that the beloved disciple recognizes Jesus.

Meals occupy a significant place in the ministry of Jesus (and throughout the whole Bible for that matter). Jesus feeds five thousand hungry people; Jesus eats with outcasts and sinners-as well as wealthy religious leaders. Jesus’ last evening with his disciples was a meal and Jesus makes a point of sharing food with them after his resurrection. Jesus frequently uses the image of a banquet to describe the kingdom of God. So it is not surprising that he invites his disciples to breakfast on the shore and that it is within this context that Jesus reconciles himself to Peter.

The interchange between Jesus and Peter is moving and illustrative of Jesus’ way with his disciples. Ours is the Lord of the second chance-and the third and the fourth. But what I find remarkable here is Peter’s commission: “Feed my sheep.” There has been much debate over the centuries about what that means and what significance it has for how we understand apostolic succession. Without entering these treacherous waters, let me just say that what I find most intriguing is the content of the command. If Peter is being given a special task here, it does not seem to have anything to do with leading, oversight or primacy. His job is not to shepherd the sheep, but simply to feed them.

At the recent ELCA Youth Gathering, one of my young people elbowed me just as then Bishop Mark Hanson was being introduced as “shepherd of the sheep.” “What happened to Jesus” she said. “Did he retire?” This clever if less than reverent comment reflects the basis for my discomfort with the term “pastor” which means shepherd. I am only too aware of the fact that I do not know where the green pastures or the still waters are. Like everyone else, I have to rely upon the Good Shepherd’s leading for that. At best, I am just the sheep dog that tries to keep the herd together or the farm hand in charge of seeing to it that the sheep are fed. Like my namesake, I can only lead by following.

Sunday, April 3rd

March 28, 2016UncategorizedBook of Acts, Book of Revelation, Church, discipleship, faith, gospel, gun violence, Holy Spirit, Jerusalem, john of patmos, justice, Lectionary, miracle, peace, preaching, Psalms, Religion, resurrection, Saint John, Saint Thomas, unbeliefrevolsen

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 5:27-32
Psalm 118:14-29
Revelation 1:4-8
John 20:19-31

Prayer of the Day: O God of life, you reach out to us amid our fears with the wounded hands of your risen Son. By your Spirit’s breath revive our faith in your mercy, and strengthen us to be the body of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Sometimes a single word, act or decision comes to define us. Benedict Arnold’s act of betrayal rendered his name synonymous with treason. So, too, the once noble name of Judas has been forever tainted by its owner’s single act of treachery. Thomas’ name did not fare quite so poorly, though it cannot seem to shake the prefix “doubting” in common parlance. That is unfortunate because Thomas was not a doubter. He was not sitting on the fence with respect to the resurrection. He was an unbeliever. He flat out rejected the testimony of the rest of the disciples. “Not buying it,” he says. “Not until I see it myself.”

I have heard more sermons than I can count misinterpreting poor Thomas as well as Jesus’ response to him. We tend to project into this story our own 21^st Century difficulties of reconciling Jesus’ resurrection with modern biological science. We assume that Thomas shared the same incredulity we do when we hear that Jesus died and was raised from death. How could such a thing happen? That, however, was not Thomas’ problem. Few people in the 1^st Century doubted that God or the gods could raise a person from death. The question for Thomas was not “How?” but “Why?” In ancient myths, legends and religious lore immortality was earned through acts of heroism or works of power. For example, the emperor Augustus Caesar was said to have been taken up into heaven and deified upon his death. And why not? He was responsible for establishing Rome’s rule over the Mediterranean world, the pax romana. But why would the God of Israel-or any god for that matter-raise Jesus? After Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, things rapidly went south. He alienated the religious leadership, failed to liberate Jerusalem from oppression or even establish a sustainable movement. His life ended in a shameful and humiliating execution. His followers, who never more than half understood him, fled and left him to his fate. Jesus’ life was, by any reasonable measure, a failure.

Thomas’ unbelief arises not from his inability to entertain the possibility of a miracle, but from his failure to comprehend the depth of the Father’s love for the Son and the Son’s love for the world. Very tellingly, Thomas insists that he must see the very wounds of the cross on Jesus’ Body. More tellingly still, Jesus invites Thomas to touch these very wounds. Therein lies the key to understanding this encounter. Thomas is confronted by a God with a Body-a Body that suffers, bleeds and feels pain. Though risen and glorified, Jesus nevertheless bears the wounds of the world. God is very much in, with and under our creaturely existence experiencing at every level of creation its death and passing away. The Incarnation was not a temporary state. God’s becoming human, the Word’s becoming flesh was a decisive one way transaction. God is and always will remain human. God’s voice will forever be heard in the cries of the oppressed, the hunger of the poor and the loneliness of the outcast. God’s grief-and joy-will forever be found in the fragile bursts of life on this planet that flare up, burn brightly for an instant and fade.

The miracle that is Jesus’ resurrection does not consist chiefly in the fact that God raised Jesus from death. It consists rather in the fact that God raised Jesus from death, the man who lived obediently to God, passionately loving to the end the world God sent him to save. God raised not the warrior, but the one who would not invoke God’s power to defeat his enemies or allow his friends to raise the sword in his defense. God raised the one who trusted God, even when it seemed to all the world and even to him that God had abandoned him. This is the one Thomas finally acknowledges as “My Lord and my God.”

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter much whether there is a God or whether God is able to raise the dead if that God resides somewhere beyond the blue managing the universe by remote control. Only a God so invested in the world he made that he suffers with it, bleeds into it and dies for it can make a difference. Only a God whose love throbs in every molecule, holding the world together against the destructive forces that threaten to rip it apart can save us. Here is a poem by Pattiann Rogers that seems to know something of this God Thomas discovered in Jesus.

where god’s grief appears

in the bobbing of the waterthrush, in the trotting
of the wild boar, in the stiff-legged jogging
of the nine-banded armadillo, the sideways

darting of the desert cottontail
and the drumming
hind feet of kangaroo rats, in flight
of the blue throat across the Bering Sea,

the floating of the purples sea snail in its raft

of mucous bubbles, the pouncing of coyote, the springing
leap of springbok and springtail,

the green gangly ascending of treefrog, the burrowing

of the two-gilled bloodworm and the scrambling of the flightless
tiger beetle, present in the scarlet blooming forth

of claret cup cacti,

in the creeping morning glory and the winding
of kinnickinnick, present
in the gripping of coon oysters to sea whips and to each other,

in the wind drifting the seed of cotton grass, carrying
the keys of white ash, the rolling

of tumbleweed, the sailing of white-tailed kite,
the gliding of crystal spider on its glassy strand, found
in the falling of golden persimmons,

the dropping of butternuts, pecans, the rooting

of the fragrant roseroot, in the changing colors of the luring
sargassum fish, the balancing upside down
of the trumpet fish among sea feathers, in the water-skating
of the stilt spider, the soaring of flying fish,
in the climbing, the tumbling, the swinging,

the pirouetting, the vaulting…in light in living

motion everywhere it appears, as offering, as evidence,
as recompense.

Source: generations by Pattian Rogers (c. 2004 by Pattian Rogers, pub. by Penguin Books). Pattiann Rogers was born in Joplin, Missouri. She attended the University of Missouri and earned her master’s degree from the University of Houston. She has been awarded two National Endowment for the Arts grants, a Guggenheim Fellowship and a Lannan Poetry Fellowship. She also won Poetry’s Tietjens and Bess Hokin Prizes, the Roethke Prize from Poetry Northwest and the Strousse Award. You can read more of Pattiann Rogers’ poems at the Poetry Foundation website.

Acts 5:27-32

Peter and his fellow apostles are in trouble again. At their last hearing, they were warned not to teach, preach or heal in the name of Jesus. Note well that the prohibition is not against teaching, preaching or healing generally. Some years ago a colleague of mine told me about how the churches in her city were hosting a statewide breakfast program for low income children. To qualify for participation in the program, churches were compelled to cover up or remove all religious images such as icons, crosses and statues. This was necessary, she explained, to avoid running afoul of the First Amendment prohibition against government establishment of religion. My colleague did not seem to have any problem with the conditions for her church’s involvement in the program. From her perspective, the important thing was that the kids were getting breakfast. If covering or removing images of Jesus was the price to be paid for cooperation in a venture that was surely in the spirit of Jesus, it was well worth the cost.

Is that really the case? Were the apostles being stubborn and pig headed? Why not continue the good work of teaching, healing and caring for the poor without bringing up Jesus? Does it matter whether the church is publically associated with Jesus in its work? Is the public proclamation of Jesus indispensable to doing God’s will in the world? Can you do works in Jesus’ name without mentioning that name? As long as you are doing what Jesus requires, why does it matter whose name is on the final product?

At the risk of sounding ruthlessly sectarian, I believe that the name of Jesus is indispensible to the church’s mission. Thus, were I in the place of my colleague, I would with great sorrow let the breakfast hosting opportunity go. To those who would fault me for my seeming lack of concern for hungry children, I would reply that children do not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. Words and actions are not as easily separable as we moderns imagine. In fact, if you take the Gospel of John at all seriously, Word and action are entirely inseparable. That is the reason why Peter and John could say last week that “we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.” Acts 4:20. The proclamation of Jesus simply was not negotiable. The apostles’ actions were grounded in the Word they were preaching. We call that Incarnation.

As an attorney, I understand and respect the legitimate concern of the government to avoid entanglement between state services and the promotion of religion. I also understand that the circumstances in which my colleague found herself were vastly different from those of the apostles. In her case, she was working with a friendly government to achieve a common humanitarian objective. The apostles were struggling to be faithful under the weight of persecution by a hostile government. Yet whether the state employs threats of violence, entices us with promises or appeals to us on the basis of the common good to abandon Jesus, the net effect is the same. As church, we are not motivated by some vague notion of the common good (which is always less “common” and frequently less “good” than is claimed). The church lives and acts out of its relationship to Jesus and its call to bear witness to God’s salvation in his name. Apart from that relationship, we are no longer the church.

Psalm 118:14-29

The psalm for this week is a continuation of the same one used for Easter Sunday. I therefore refer you to my comments from my post of Sunday, March 27, 2016.

Revelation 1:4-8

These verses serve as an introduction to a series of messages addressed to the “seven churches that are in Asia.” The reference here is actually to Asia Minor, what is now modern day Turkey. The seven churches are later identified as those of Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea. The number of “seven” is symbolic of completeness or perfection and therefore may be a literary device. Thus, it could well be that the letters were meant for general circulation as a group throughout Asia Minor rather than individually addressed to the seven specific churches mentioned and that the matters discussed with these congregations were actually issues common to most or all of the churches in the area.

Much speculation has been given to what the “seven spirits” of God represent. Again, the symbolic meaning suggested by use of the number “seven” implies that John is simply referring to the manifold energies of the one Spirit of God. It is also possible that the “spirits” are simply another designation of the “angels” of each of the seven churches referenced throughout the balance of chapter 1 and chapter 2 of Revelation. Some ancient commentators have identified the seven spirits with the seven aspects of the Spirit to be conferred upon the “shoot from the stump of Jesse” referenced in Isaiah 11:2. Frankly, I think this latter interpretation is a bit of a stretch.

The reference to the Son of Man coming in the clouds echoes Jesus’ testimony before the Sanhedrin. Mark 14:62; Matthew 26:64 and Luke 22:69. These passages, in turn, point back to Daniel 7:13. Also referenced in this verse is Zechariah 12:10. The alpha and omega are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet respectively; hence, the Lord God is the beginning and end of all things, “the one who is, who was and who is to come.” Vs. 4.

This introduction sets the stage for John of Patmos to deliver the message of his widely misunderstood and woefully misinterpreted book of Revelation. He seeks to impress upon the churches of Asia Minor that their struggles to live faithfully are of cosmic importance and eternal significance. He accomplishes this objective by projecting those struggles upon the screen of apocalyptic drama in which good and evil engage each other as fantastic beasts, angels and spirits. These characters are pregnant with symbolic meanings, many of which are now lost to us. Still, the rich poetry of Revelation has always been and continues to be a rich fountain for inspired and hopeful preaching. The refrain of this book, sounded in so many different keys, is the promise that God’s gentle reign will be implemented not through the violent ways of human empire, but through the patient and persistent love of God manifest in the crucified Lamb of God.

John 20:19-31

Something is different about Jesus after his resurrection. He appears, disappears, and is able come into a room that has been locked up tight without breaking down the door. Yet he is no mere spirit. You can touch him. He still bears the wounds of the cross and this is important. As noted in my introductory comments, incarnation is irreversible. Jesus became human and remains so. God, having become flesh, will never shed his humanity. The body of Jesus was not just a clever disguise. Jesus’ body is Jesus. The resurrected Christ is still wounded and bleeding, still suffers the pain of a broken humanity and continues to struggle toward the promised reign of God. Now, however, it is clear that not even death can extinguish God’s incarnate love.

John’s Pentecost occurs on the day of resurrection. Jesus breathes on his disciples the Holy Spirit and commissions them to go forth even as he was sent forth from the Father. The life of the disciples is to be a continuation of Jesus’ ministry. As Jesus embodied the Word of God, so they are to embody that same Word now through the power of the Holy Spirit. What Jesus prayed for in Chapter 17 is now being implemented. Jesus will be in his disciples just as he is in the Father. By the agency of the Holy Spirit they will be made one and by their love for one another the love of God will be made known to the world.

“If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” Vs. 23. Exactly what does this mean? This verse has always been associated with the “office of the keys,” the peculiar power of the church “to forgive the sins of penitent sinners, but to retain the sins of the impenitent as long as they do not repent.” LSC, Part V. But is that really what John had in mind here? In my view, the context makes that interpretation extremely doubtful. The focus is not upon the internal workings of the community of disciples but upon the disciples’ mission to the world. Undoubtedly, the two are related in this gospel. It is through the disciples’ love for one another that they will be identified as followers of Jesus. John 13:35. But the principal emphasis is on the disciples’ witness to the world, not to their relationship with one another. So what can it mean to “retain” sins?

I believe that John is emphasizing the importance of the commission that Jesus has just given to his disciples. It is through them that the life giving Word of forgiveness is to be made known to the world. It is “in” them that the Spirit now resides. If the disciples of Jesus do not make known God’s forgiveness of sin, the world will remain in the grip of sin. Those sins will be retained. But if the Word is spoken, it will be accompanied by the Spirit of God that inspires faith and breaks the bondage of sin. I believe that is what commentator Raymond Brown is saying in the following quote:

“In summary, we doubt that there is sufficient evidence to confirm the power of forgiving and holding of sin, granted in John 20:23 to a specific exercise of power in the Christian community, whether that be admission to Baptism or forgiveness in Penance. These are but partial manifestations of a much larger power, namely, the power to isolate, repel, and negate evil and sin, a power given to Jesus in his mission by the Father and given in turn by Jesus through the Spirit to those whom he commissions. It is an effective, not merely declaratory, power against sin, a power that touches new and old followers of Christ, a power that challenges those who refuse to believe. John does not tell us how or by whom this power was exercised in the community for whom he wrote, but the very fact that he mentions it shows that it was exercised.” The Gospel According to John, XIII-XX1, Raymond E. Brown, The Anchor Bible, Vol. 29a, (Doubleday, c. 1970) p. 1044.

Poor Thomas gets a regular drubbing whenever this lesson comes up. I say it is time to give Thomas a break. For the last two millennia he has had to live with the shameful moniker “Doubting Thomas” even though he sought nothing more in the way of proof for the resurrection than the other disciples had already received. I think that too much emphasis has been placed on Thomas’ faith or the lack thereof and too little upon the wounds in the Body of Christ that demonstrate God’s continued suffering love for a rebellious world. This will likely be the focus of my sermon if I wind up preaching on this text.

Sunday, March 27th

March 21, 2016UncategorizedBabylonian Exile, Baptism, Bible, Church, Death and Dying, discipleship, Easter, Exodus, faith, funerals, gospel, idolatry, Isaiah, John Updike, justice, Lectionary, Luke, miracle, poor, poverty, preaching, Psalms, Religion, resurrection, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, theologyrevolsen

EASTER SUNDAY

Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
Luke 24:1-12

Prayer of the Day: O God, you gave your only Son to suffer death on the cross for our redemption, and by his glorious resurrection you delivered us from the power of death. Make us die every day to sin, that we may live with him forever in the joy of the resurrection, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages…”

John Updike on the Resurrection of Jesus

Modern American mainline Protestants like me are embarrassed by miracles. Often we fall all over ourselves trying to assure our detractors that we don’t really believe in them anymore and that one need not accept them in order to be Christian. We seem always to be asking, “What’s the Least I Can Believe and Still Be a Christian?” That is actually the title of a book written by Martin Thielen. The book evolved from Thielen’s friendship with a self-identified atheist who, over time, became increasingly open to faith and finally posed the question that became the title. The first half of Thielen’s book identifies ten notions that Christians do not need to accept. These include the claim that God causes cancer, that the theory of evolution must be rejected, that women must be subject to men and that God is indifferent to ecology. If these notions were all that stood between atheists and faith in Jesus, then the scandal of the gospel would be just a PR problem. The church has bad actors and bad theologians in her midst who have muddled the message. If we can just make the atheist understand who Jesus really is and what he is really about, the atheist will recognize that we don’t confess the god s/he has rejected. Conversion is just a few conversations away.

To be fair, Thielen’s book does an admirable job of dispelling inaccurate notions about Christianity and clarifying what is central to Christian teaching for those harboring hostility toward the church. Similarly, Marcus Borg, a teacher and theologian I greatly respect and who died this last year, argued in one of his books that Christianity is losing members and influence because its preaching and teaching are mired in antiquated language and a world view that no longer makes sense to Twenty-First Century people. There is a good deal of truth in what Borg and Thielen have to say. The Bible’s cosmology is impossible to reconcile with the universe we have come to understand through the discoveries of the various sciences. If being Christian requires us to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to all that science has taught us, then its detractors rightly contend that faith is untenable for anyone with a brain.

But does the answer lie in reducing biblical language to mere metaphors that do not challenge our understanding of the way things are or coax our imagination into the realm of the seemingly impossible? Professor Borg seems to think so. “Heaven” and “eternal life” are two of the concepts Borg finds unintelligible to modern thought. They are therefore in need of harmonization with our Twenty-first Century world view. Words like “heaven” and “eternal life” must be interpreted metaphorically as God’s hopeful outlook for humanity’s future as a whole rather than promises of individual immortality. Borg declares that he has no need for the promise of personal resurrection from death and that “We die into God…that is all I need to know.” Speaking Christian, Borg, Marcus, (c. 2011 by HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.) p. 201.

Is that really enough, though? One of the characters in John Updike’s very first novel, The Poorhouse Fair, felt much the same way as Professor Borg on the matter of eternal life. Updike’s story takes place in a state run home for the destitute elderly overseen by prefect Stephen Conner. Conner is a product of the New Deal. He believes in the inevitability of human progress through social evolution and the perfection of governmental institutions. Conner becomes engaged in a conversation among the residents about the afterlife. He shares his vision of “heaven on earth” formed in a future society where illness is overcome by advanced medicine; pollution eliminated through harnessing of atomic power; and oppression defeated through the spread of democracy. Mrs. Mortis, one of the residents, asks him whether this heaven on earth will come soon enough for her to see it. Conner responds: “Not personally perhaps. But for your children, your grandchildren.”

“But not for ourselves?”

“No.” The word hung huge in the living room, the “o” a hole that let in the cold of the void.

“Well, then,” Mrs. Mortis spryly said, “to hell with it.”

Updike, John, The Poorhouse Fair, (c. 1958 by John Updike, pub. by Random House, Inc.)

I side with Mrs. Mortis over against Professor Borg and Mr. Conner. So, it seems, does Saint Paul who declares that “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” I Corinthians 15:19. It seems Jesus’ declaration that God is God of the living and that all live to him (Mark 12:26-27) can only mean that “dying into God,” is at the same time being “united with Jesus in a resurrection like his.” Romans 6:5. The New Testament promise of eternal life includes the assurance that all who live under God’s reign in this age beneath the sign of the cross will share in its consummation in the age to come. That means bodily existence in a renewed and reconciled world. What does that look like? The New Testament gives us neither the specificity my literalist friends require, nor the neat rational fit with our modern scientific sensibilities that my more liberal friends seem to need.

Dispelling misunderstandings about the Christian faith is a worthy undertaking. So also are efforts to express our biblical faith in fresh and compelling ways. I doubt, however, that reducing the imponderables in the Bible and the Creeds to metaphors brings atheists or any of the rest of us closer to faith in Jesus. Having less to believe might seem to make faith a lot easier. But faith is not supposed to get any easier. The truth is, the more you learn about the God of the Bible and what that God demands of you, the more you are called upon to believe. The deeper you are drawn into the mystery of God, the more problematic your life in this world becomes. The more the mind of Christ is formed within you, the deeper the contradictions between what you see and what you believe. If you follow Jesus to the end, you will be reduced to walking by faith and not by sight. II Corinthians 5:7. Perhaps we moderns have gotten things backwards with our insistence on understanding what we are called upon to believe. Maybe Augustine had it right when he taught us that we must believe in order to understand.

Here is the complete poem by John Updike cited in part above:

Seven Stanzas at Easter

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

Source, Updike, John, Collected Poems, (c. 1993 by John Updike, pub. by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.). John Updike (1932-2009) was a prolific American author and poet. He grew up in Shillington, Pennsylvania. His early poems and fiction are grounded in the gritty industrial and cultural environment of the rust belt. His awards include the Pulitzer Prize for fiction, the American Book Award for fiction and the National Book Critics Circle Award for both fiction and criticism. You can learn more about John Updike and read more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Acts 10:34-43

Unfortunately, the context is not discernible from the section of text we have in this lesson. Peter’s sermon here is part of a larger narrative in which the disciple is confronted with his prejudices, smallness of heart and the grand sweep of God’s good news in Jesus that reaches across national borders and ethnic divides to include all who respond to that news in faith. On another day, I might preach a sermon on what I believe to be one of the most damaging idolatries of our age, namely, nationalism. One way to ask the question “Who is your God?” is to ask “What are you willing to die for?” I find it very telling that in this country many of us will proudly send our children to die in our nation’s wars, but often object to taking them out of a sports program for church on Sunday. I recently heard a Christian preacher declare at a civil ceremony, “We may be Christians, we may be Jews or we may be Muslims. But the important thing is, whatever our religious differences might be, we are all Americans.” Understand that nobody believes more firmly than I do that disciples of Jesus should live peacefully with everyone of every faith. I also have a profound respect and appreciation for the cultural and religious contributions of faithful Jews and Muslims to American society. But is it really the case that our commitment to the United States of America is deeper and more fundamental than our baptism into Jesus Christ? If God shows no partiality among nations, how can we? Do I love my country? Of course! There is nowhere else I would rather live than in the United States of America. But I love Jesus and his church more. So if and when it comes to choosing between duty to country and loyalty to Jesus, “We must obey God rather than human authority.” Acts 5:29.

As I said, though, that sermon is for another day. The focus of this lesson is necessarily dictated by its placement in the liturgical calendar. This is Easter, the queen of seasons. So I am looking at this text today through the lens of the resurrection of Jesus. Notice that in this sermon Peter welds the faithful life of Jesus to his death. Jesus died precisely because the life he lived led him into conflict with the powers that be. Moreover, he died a shameful death; the death of a criminal. Yet God raised Jesus from death. Understand the emphasis here. The remarkable thing is not that God raised Jesus from death, but that God raised Jesus from death. Unlike us moderns who struggle with the very concept of resurrection, the people of Jesus’ day had no doubt that God could raise a person from death. A miraculous resurrection would not have strained credibility in the ancient world. What proved to be such a scandal and cause of incredulity for the gospel message was the claim that God would bestow such a favor on a man whose life and career had ended in failure and shame. If you accept the proposition that God raised the one who spent his life associating with sinners, the unclean, the sick and the outcast only to die naked on an implement of torture, then you have to reconsider everything you think you know about God and divine power and salvation. The nature of God’s reign over creation is not demonstrated by the fact that God raised the dead, but by who God raised from the dead. If God had raised Augustus Caesar, Napoleon Bonaparte, General Patten or President Kennedy we could then go on believing in a God who reigns more or less like any other human ruler-but with more clout. God, however, raised Jesus whose life was spent serving the least of all people and who was put to death under the laws of the empire. God is not Caesar on steroids. God is Jesus, the crucified one.

Luke (who also wrote the Book of Acts) makes a point of letting his audience know through Peter’s sermon that Jesus ate and drank with his disciples after the resurrection. Vs. 41. Eating and drinking is a big part of Jesus’ ministry (and the whole Bible for that matter). Jesus fed crowds of hungry people. He broke bread both in dens of iniquity among notorious sinners and in the homes of respected religious leaders. His last meal with his disciples forms the heart of the church’s worship. The consummation of God’s reign is frequently described by Jesus as a banquet. Though food is a rich metaphor in Jesus’ teaching and ministry, it is never just that. Starvation resulting from barbaric inequality was a brutal fact of life for the world in which Jesus lived. 97% of the wealth was owned or controlled by 5% of the population leaving the remaining 95% of the population to survive on the remaining 3%. This stark reality is the subject matter addressed in Jesus’ parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Luke 16:19-31.

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

This psalm contains many verses that are quoted or alluded to in the New Testament. Because the psalmist switches from singular to plural, addressing God at one point, the assembled worshipers at another while some passages seem to be addressed by God to the psalmist, many Old Testament scholars believe this hymn to be a compilation of several different works. Verse 14, “The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation,” is nearly identical to Exodus 15:2 which, in turn, is taken from the Song of Moses celebrating Israel’s salvation from Egypt’s armies at the Red Sea. Exodus 15:1-18. Whether the psalm commemorates the victory of one of Judah’s kings in battle or a procession bearing the Ark of the Covenant into the temple and regardless of when it reached its final form, fragments of this hymn have ancient roots in Israel’s worship pre-dating the Babylonian Exile.

The Exodus clearly stands at the heart of Israel’s worship and history. It was the paradigm for God’s saving acts. As we have seen throughout Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40-55), God’s victory for Israel at the Red Sea and God’s guidance and protection as Israel made her way through the wilderness to the promised land provided a rich supply of images for prophets seeking to encourage the people in their darkest hours. Not surprisingly, then, Luke refers to Jesus’ passion in Jerusalem as his “Exodus.” See Luke 9:28-36. The context given for the last supper in Matthew, Mark and Luke is the Passover meal commemorating the Exodus. So the selection of this psalm for use in celebrating the Easter Eucharist is appropriate.

1 Corinthians 15:19-26

This text is but one small part of Paul’s extended discussion of the resurrection throughout the whole of I Corinthians 15. I encourage you to read it in its entirety. Here Paul makes the very important point that Jesus’ resurrection is not simply his own, but the beginning of a general resurrection of the dead in which all believers participate even now. Jesus is the “first fruits” of the dead whose resurrection follows. The end comes when Christ “delivers up the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every authority and every power.” Vs. 24. This is precisely the claim that ultimately got disciples of Jesus into big trouble with the Roman Empire. As far as Caesar was concerned, there was only one kingdom and that was Rome. Suggesting that there might be another kingdom to which allegiance was owed could get you nailed to a cross. Asserting that all other kingdoms, including Rome, must finally be brought under the reign of such other kingdom was a direct shot across the imperial bow. These letters of Paul were considered subversive material in the First Century and would be equally so in the Twenty-first Century-if we really paid attention to what Paul is saying.

A word or two should be said about the destruction of death. This is not a distant hope to be fulfilled only in the indefinite future. Death is destroyed even now-if we understand that it is not the last word. I must say that one of the greatest disappointments I have experienced throughout my life in the church is our inordinate fear death. I cannot honestly say that I have found in the church any less denial of death, inability to discuss death or acceptance of death than in the public at large. Now I am not suggesting that death should be treated lightly or that anxiety about dying is unnatural or suggests a lack of faith. But I do believe that disciples of Jesus ought to know how to die. Like all other disciplines, the art of dying well is learned and practiced in a community of faith. The church should be a place where a person can discuss the deterioration of health, life threatening sickness and the effects of chronic pain in comfort and without awkwardness. We should all be assured that no one of us has to die alone. People in hospice should be comforted by visitors who read psalms to them, pray over them or simply sit at their bedside. A disciple’s funeral should be in the sanctuary where s/he worshiped. The casket should stand in the presence of the baptismal font and be surrounded by the symbols of faith. The Lord’s Supper should be celebrated as a testament both to our resurrection hope and the communion of saints that even now transcends the grave. The church should then accompany the casket to the cemetery where the body is placed in the earth like a seed awaiting the life giving Spring of the resurrection. None of this makes death pleasant. But, as Paul tells us, it can take the sting out of it. I Corinthians 15:54-58.

Luke 24:1-12

Archaeological research has revealed that burial in First Century Palestine consisted of two steps. The body was placed into a shelf like compartment cut into stone. For the rural poor, these compartments were made in the soft rock of cliffs and hillsides. Families that could afford it purchased space in burial caves. These caverns occurred naturally or were excavated. They typically contained many such compartments. The body would be wrapped, anointed with spices to alleviate the stench of decay and placed in a compartment. Sometimes a slab of lime would be placed over the mouth of the compartment. After a period of years, the body would decay. When only the bones remained, these would be collected and placed in a large jar made of stone or clay called an “ossuary.” The name of the deceased would be inscribed on the jar which would then be placed in another part of the burial cave. Because the Sabbath began on Friday at sunset on the day of Jesus crucifixion, the women were unable to apply the customary spices to Jesus’ body until after Saturday. That explains why they came as early as possible on Sunday. This entire process and the archeological research through which it has come to us are discussed at length in a fascinating book jointly authored by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed entitled Excavating Jesus, (HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., c. 2001).

The men appearing to the women at the tomb on Easter morning are introduced into the narrative with the words, “Behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel…” vs. 4. It may be that Luke is drawing a parallel here between the resurrection and the transfiguration story where we are told that, as Jesus was praying, “the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white. And behold, two men talked with him, Moses and Elijah who appeared in glory and spoke of his “departure” (literally, “exodus”). That great act of salvation Moses and Elijah foretold on the Mountain of Transfiguration has now come to pass in Jesus’ resurrection.

The two men repeat to the women the same message Jesus has been giving his disciples since Chapter 9 of Luke: “The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on the third day rise.” Vs. 7. It is hard to gage the extent to which the women understand this message which has eluded the rest of the disciples throughout the narrative. In the Gospel of Mark, the women flee from the tomb in terror without telling anyone about what they had seen. According to Luke, the women make their report to the rest of the disciples only to be met with skepticism. The gospel narrative then adds in the final verse (vs. 12) that Peter went out to the tomb, looked in, saw the linen burial wrappings and returned home puzzled over what had taken place. Some of the earliest New Testament manuscripts do not contain verse 12 and the old Revised Standard Version omits it from the text referencing it only in a footnote. Whether or not we include the verse, however, the narrative theme does not change. The empty tomb, even when augmented by the announcement of the two men in dazzling apparel, is not sufficient to evoke understanding, much less belief.

The women and, if we accept vs. 12 as part of the text, Peter are looking for Jesus in all the wrong places. They are seeking the living and resurrected one among the dead. It is hard to be too critical of them. The promise of resurrection is pretty radical and difficult to grasp. At my first council meeting at my first congregation someone asked me, “Pastor, what do you think we can do to get all of our former members to come back to church?” We took a good hour or more going through the membership directory to determine just who these “old members” were. At the end of this exercise, it was pretty clear that getting the old members back would require kidnapping expeditions into the Sunbelt or grave robbery. I then launched into my standard speech about how the days of Lutherans coming into the neighborhood looking for a church to join were over and that if we were going to grow, we would need to start doing what Jesus has always told us to do-make disciples of all nations. We would need to start deepening our own discipleship and sense of call so that we could reach our neighborhood with the gospel. This we could do because the resurrected Christ has promised to be with us until the end of the age. When I was finished, the same council member said, “OK, well that’s interesting. But I was really wondering what we could do to get some of our former members to come back.” At this point I would have been ripping my hair out if I had had any. But I learned a valuable lesson just the same. People tend not to hear until they are ready to hear. That means we have to move according to the Holy Spirit’s schedule faithfully witnessing to the good news of the resurrection until, by that gracious Spirit’s work, it finally sinks in.

The disciples finally will believe the good news of Jesus’ resurrection. They will discover that, while the days of having Jesus among them as their teacher in the time of his ministry are over, Jesus will still be with them in a more profoundly intimate way. Jesus will now lead his church through the outpouring of his Spirit. For that chapter, you need to read the Book of Acts. For now, though, the disciples remain too shell shocked from the crucifixion and the bitter memory of their failures to recognize that a new day is dawning.

Sunday, March 13th

March 7, 2016UncategorizedBabylonian Exile, Baptism, Bible, Church, Covenant, discipleship, Exodus, faith, gospel, Isaiah, Lectionary, Paul's Letter to the Philippians, poor, poverty, prayer, preaching, Psalms, Religion, Saint John, Saint Paulrevolsen

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.

“He that goes forth weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” Psalm 127:6

Planting is an inherently hopeful task. A fruitful harvest requires the back breaking work of sowing, but no amount of such work guarantees it. Any number of natural occurrences beyond a farmer’s control can thwart a successful crop. As Jesus points out, at the end of the day, a farmer can only plant in hope and wait with anticipation for the miracle of growth beyond human control or comprehension. Mark 4:26-29. Perhaps that is why planting and harvesting are such apt metaphors for the Kingdom of God. Disciples of Jesus are invited to proclaim the kingdom, live the virtues of the kingdom and perhaps die for the kingdom. But as Martin Luther reminds us, the kingdom comes without our prayers-or anything else we can do. We cannot hasten or impede it.

Subsistence farmers who live just one bad harvest away from starvation understand only too well how dependent we are on the biosphere around us. Those of us who get our food packaged, processed and neatly cut from the shelves of retailers lose sight of our connection to the land. We are too full of 19^th Century hubris, imagining that the natural world is a soulless ball of resources that can be managed as easily as a warehouse full of merchandise. I believe that this sense of detachment is largely responsible for numbing us to the threat of global warming, the increase of toxins in our food and the alarming rate of worldwide deforestation. We cannot help but believe there will be some sort of technological fix to all of this that will save us from the consequences of our fanatical consumption.

I find the same kind of denial within the church-or at least my American protestant section of it. From the national denominational level down to individual congregations, we are turning to consultants, adopting the failed transformational techniques of the corporate world and grasping every straw that promises to turn around our decade’s long slide into membership decline. We keep telling ourselves that there must be some technique out there that will work for us, some way to reach these millennials, some marketing strategy that will appeal to young families and draw them into the church. So we sharpen up our websites, redesign our sanctuaries and pep up our worship services in hopes that this will make us more attractive to contemporary culture. Now I am not adverse to new ideas, innovative programming or new worship styles. I am just not convinced any of that gets to the root of our dilemma. The issue may not be between the church and the rest of the world at all. It may very well be and issue between God and the church. Perhaps we are in the midst of what the prophet Amos calls a “famine of hearing the words of the Lord.” Amos 8:11-12. Maybe we are in a season of drought during which nothing will grow-and there isn’t a thing we can do about it.

Last week I learned that Youth Encounter (formerly Lutheran Youth Encounter) is closing its doors bringing to an end half century of ministry. The news hit me on a visceral level. Throughout my high school years I attended Youth Congresses sponsored by Youth Encounter where my faith was formed and deepened. I met some of the best friends I have ever had through its programs, young people who, like me, were hungry for more than a Sunday morning religion. Youth Encounter enabled me to experience full participation in the church’s ministry in a way that my denomination’s programs did not. I am not sure whether I would be in ministry today if I had not had not come under the influence of Youth Encounter. It’s demise is a great loss to the church.

It is tempting to respond with anger and frustration. I could retire if I got a nickel for every time I’ve heard someone say, “What’s wrong with kids these days?” Or, “People just don’t care anymore” or “our country has abandoned religion,” or (my favorite) “there is a war being waged on Christianity.” Such anger is unproductive for two reasons. In the first place, it is hard to attract people with whom you are angry. You don’t sell more lemonade by insulting everyone who walks away from your stand without buying any. Moreover, if what I am suggesting is true, such anger is misplaced. God, not our godless culture, is to blame for this drought. If we want to see things change, we need to stop complaining about the world into which we have been sent and get right with the God who sends us there.

There is more than a silver lining in all of this. The people of God have seen such times of spiritual famine before. I have already cited the words of the prophet Amos as an example. We read also that in the years of Samuel’s childhood “the word of the Lord was rare.” I Samuel 3:1. The prayer of the Psalmist might very well be the prayer of the American protestant churches today:

“We do not see our signs;
there is no longer any prophet,
and there is none among us who
knows how long.” Psalm 74:9

Such prayers can be made only by a people convinced that the answer to “how long?” is not “forever.” If the church really is going through a collective “dark night of the soul,” we can take comfort in the knowledge that numerous prophets, saints and martyrs have passed through that darkness before us. So also have the people of God as a whole. The key to getting through all this is recognizing it for what it is. This is nighttime and we cannot make the sun come up. We need to master the art of being at home in the darkness. We must get used to the idea that faithful attention to the work of worship, witness and service might not yield visible results. We must resist the siren song of false prophets promising us short cuts through the woods, easy solutions and painless growth. We must come to grips with Jesus’ warning that trying to save ourselves is the surest way to lose everything. By contrast, a willingness to die is the only way to resurrection. We must endure the drought with weeping and faithful planting, knowing that in God’s time (not that of our own choosing) the harvest will come and we will “come home with shouts of joy, bringing [our] sheaves with [us.]”

Here is a poem about planting in the holy anticipation of resurrection.

Planting Peas
By Linda M. Hasselstrom

It’s not spring yet, but I can’t
wait anymore. I get the hoe,
pull back the snow from the old
furrows, expose the rich dark earth.
I bare my hand and dole out shriveled peas,
one by one.

I see my grandmother’s hand,
doing just this, dropping peas
into gray gumbo that clings like clay.
This moist earth is rich and dark
as chocolate cake.

Her hands cradle
baby chicks; she finds kittens in the loft
and hands them down to me, safe beside
the ladder leading up to darkness.

I miss
her smile, her blue eyes, her biscuits and gravy,
but mostly her hands.
I push a pea into the earth,
feel her hands pushing me back. She’ll come in May,
she says, in long straight rows,
dancing in light green dresses.

©1984 by Linda M. Hasselstrom; Hasselstrom lives in South Dakota. Her thirteen books reflect more than fifty years of ranching and her concern for the wildlife and plants sharing the grasslands with cattle. Her most recent book of poems, written with Twyla Hansen, is Dirt Songs, (The Backwaters Press, 2011). You can learn more about Linda M. Hasselstrom and read more of her poetry at her website.

Isaiah 43:16-21

These words of the prophet are addressed to the Jews living in exile at Babylon. For a fuller account of this prophet’s work and its relationship to the rest of the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, see my post of Sunday, December 13, 2015. 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” (vs. 18), 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. Vs. 19. Israel, the people God formed for himself, will give praise to their God as they make their triumphal journey home. Vs. 21. Even the animals will find shade and nourishment in this marvelous highway through the wilderness and will honor Israel’s God. Vs. 20.

“Thus says the Lord.” Vs. 16. 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.” Vss. 16-17. 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?” vs. 19. 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. In 1878 a clay cylinder typically used for the inscription of royal decrees was discovered at the site of ancient Babylon. Now housed in the British Museum, the cylinder describes in Akkadian cuneiform, in Cyrus’ own words, his conquest of Babylon in 539 BCE and his subsequent humane treatment of his conquered subjects. the Cyrus Cylinder, alongside the Biblical and other historical statements, seems to substantiate the idea that Cyrus not only allowed many of the nations he conquered to practice their various religious beliefs, but even assisted captive peoples, including the Jews, to return to their lands of origin. This support was not only political but even financial – as he gave grants both from the Imperial treasury and also from his own personal fortune. The prophet recognizes in this development a golden opportunity for the exiles to return to Jerusalem and renew their commitment to living the covenant with Yahweh. The question is, will the exiles perceive this new thing God’s doing? To be sure, Cyrus had 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.” vs. 1. 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. As noted above, 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!” vs. 4. 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.” Vs. 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

Matthew, Mark and Luke each have Jesus anointed by a woman although the timing and details differ. It is significant that John has Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus anointing Jesus. In John’s gospel, it was the raising of Lazarus from death that convinced the chief priest that Jesus would have to be killed to avoid trouble with Rome. John 11:45-53. It was arguably for Mary’s sake that Jesus raised Lazarus. Unlike her sister Martha, Mary cannot bring herself to confess belief in the resurrection from death. It was, again, arguably, her lack of faith that brought Jesus to tears at John 11:35. In any event, one cannot help but wonder whether Mary understood at some level that Jesus’ great act of love toward her and her sister would prove to be Jesus’ undoing.

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.

Judas’ problem is that he fails to comprehend the economy of God. He is caught up in the belief that the world is a shrinking pie. There is only so much to go around. Generosity toward one cannot but impoverish another. Judas would do well to recall the abundance of wine at the Wedding in Cana and the five thousand fed with a few loaves and fishes. Where God is recognized as the One whose generosity is without limit, there can be no limit on the generosity of God’s people. Mary is anointing Jesus for burial. Her act is one of profound love and generosity 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.

Sunday, March 6th

February 29, 2016UncategorizedBible, Book of Joshua, Church, Covenant, discipleship, faith, gospel, II Corinthians, Joshua, Lectionary, Luke, Parables, parenting, prayer, Prodigal Son, Psalms, Religion, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, theologyrevolsen

Fourth Sunday in Lent

Joshua 5:9-12
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Prayer of the Day: God of compassion, you welcome the wayward, and you embrace us all with your mercy. By our baptism clothe us with garments of your grace, and feed us at the table of your love, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Probably from the time I first gave Jesus’ parable of the “Prodigal Son” more than a superficial glance, my sympathies lay with the elder son. I know this kid who grew up under the storm clouds of conflict between his parents and his rebellious sibling. I know the compulsion he felt to ease his parents’ heartbreak by being good enough to make up for the pain his brother’s selfish conduct was causing. I understand his deep desire to smooth things over and make peace in the family. I know the burden of guilt he carried for having failed at this hopeless task. I know well the nights he cried himself to sleep and, if he could have articulated his pain, might have said, “Daddy, I know my problems are not as great as my brother’s, I know my sins are not as weighty as his. But I hurt too. I am also afraid and insecure. I need your understanding and forgiveness. Forgive me, but I sometimes wish your heart would break for me too. You yearn for the son you have lost-but this son is still with you and needs you too.” The prodigal son learned some hard lessons in the far country. But the elder son’s journey on the home front wasn’t a cake walk either.

If we resist the temptation to place this familiar parable of Jesus into the straight jacket of a simplistic morality play or reduce it to mere illustrative scaffolding for some abstract theology of grace, the story can lead us into a deeper understanding of family, faith and salvation. Now that I have become a father myself, it’s easier for me to understand the anguish of the father in Jesus’ parable. We love our children, to be sure. Yet their needs exceed everything we have to give them. We yearn to save them from the mistakes we have made in life and arm them with the hard won knowledge we have gained through life experience. But the wisdom we have to share comes across as irrelevant, pedantic and judgmental. We want desperately to support our children with our love, but a growing child is a moving target. Just when it seems we have this parenting thing down pat, the kids enter into another stage of their development and all bets are off. We can never love our children enough in the right way at the right time.

Consequently, the results of our parenting are always mixed. Under the best of circumstances, our relationship with our parents is nuanced, conflicted and ambiguous. Love and admiration mix with resentment and disappointment. Thankfulness is laced with blame. Perhaps we can never do more than love our children the best we can, keep our doors ever open to them and continue urging them “to come home,” whether that means actually returning to the homestead or being reconciled with each other through repentance and forgiveness. That, in any event, is where Jesus’ parable leaves us.

There is a reason why the scriptures employ parenthood (not fatherhood exclusively!) as the strongest metaphor for God’s covenant relationship with Israel and with the church. That relationship, too, is laden with ambiguity and unreconciled conflict. Nowhere is the ambivalence in our relationship to God more evident than in the Psalms, that treasury of prayer found at the heart of the Bible. There, as in the parable, we find the whole spectrum of parent/child sentiment from profound love, pride and thankfulness to rage, blame and resentment. Yet the very fact that the covenantal dialogue continues throughout the darkest of times testifies to God’s dogged determination to keep that covenant alive and bring its promises to fruition. The father’s pleading prefigures Jesus’ weeping over Jerusalem. The cross is finally the price God willingly pays to keep the covenantal line from going dead and hold together the fraying bonds of God’s covenant family.

At the end of the parable, we find the father pleading with his elder son to join the festive celebration for prodigal’s return. He offers the boy his very self and all he has. Still, it is not enough. Nor is it clear that his lavish welcome for the returning prodigal succeeded in turning that boy’s heart to obedience and humility. For all we know, the prodigal son might have been off the very next day to another far country for more riotous living. Like last Sunday’s parable of the fig tree, this story leaves a lot of loose ends for us to ponder. But that, after all, is the purpose of parables.

Here is a poem about parenthood by Langston Hughes. Perhaps you too can hear in this an echo of the God who urges us never to despair of his covenant love.

Mother to Son

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So, boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Source: The Weary Blues, by Langston Hughes (c. 1926 by Alfred A. Knopf, pub. by Random House, LLC). Langston Hughes was an important African American voice in the “Harlem Renaissance” of the 1920s. Though well-educated and widely traveled, Hughes’ poetry never strayed far from his roots in the African American community. Early in his career, Hughes’ work was criticized by some African American intellectuals for portraying what they viewed as an unflattering representation of back life. In a response to these critics, Hughes replied, “I didn’t know the upper class Negroes well enough to write much about them. I knew only the people I had grown up with, and they weren’t people whose shoes were always shined, who had been to Harvard, or who had heard of Bach. But they seemed to me good people, too.” Today Langston Hughes is recognized globally as a towering literary figure of the 20^th Century. You can read more about Hughes and discover more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website (from which the above quote is taken).

Joshua 5:9-12

Sunday’s reading from the book of Joshua marks a significant transition in the story of Israel. Moses, the man who led Israel through the wilderness for forty years is dead. Israel’s nomadic existence is ended. No longer will she eat bread from the hand of God and water from miraculous springs. She will now get her bread from the good earth God has given to her-and therein lurks the next temptation. Israel has no experience with agriculture. Though the God of Israel is clearly competent when it comes to leading nomads through the wilderness, what does he know about farming? Can Israel manage to transform herself from a nomadic society into an agricultural society without losing her soul to the Canaanite gods of fertility?

Israel’s new Canaanite neighbors’ entire culture is founded on farming and fertility. Where religion permeates all of life, it is nearly impossible to separate the mechanics of planting, growing and harvesting from the mythical underpinnings and cultic practices that accompany these tasks. It was hard for Israel to download this new agricultural app from the surrounding culture without importing the designer’s malware into her spiritual hard drive. The tales recounted in the much older book of Judges suggest that Israel’s transition was a rocky one. The conquest narrative in the book of Joshua reflects the gravity of the issues involved and the stark choices Israel must face every time she finds herself in a new cultural context-whether that be Canaanite, Babylonian, Persian, Roman or American.

I sometimes wonder whether the internet and the cornucopia of communication options it makes available does not pose some of the same threats for the church that Israel faced in the land of Canaan. I have heard terms like “virtual church” and “liquid church” tossed around in some circles. Online discussion groups consisting of faceless monikers and online IDs can sometimes approach a sort of closeness that resembles intimacy. Yet how, I wonder, can intimacy exist in such a medium where you cannot even be sure that the people you are communicating with really exist? More to the point, how can a church professing to be the Body of Christ, claiming that the Word of God became flesh and asserting that the body and blood of Christ are truly present in bread and wine exist in a virtual universe? How do you share the peace of God in a chat room?

Of course, I recognize the irony involved in posing these questions on an internet blog. Obviously, I am not a Luddite rejecting all things digital. The internet brings together people and perspectives that might not otherwise meet. Online discussions may lack the warmth and humanity of a face to face discussion. Still, they enable persons who might otherwise lack time or mobility to engage in conversation with others about things that matter. Moreover, I tend to think online discussions give introverted persons who usually get shouted down and talked over in face to face meetings a better shot at being heard. This blog, Trinity’s Facebook presence and our webpage provide valuable links to folks we might not otherwise reach. Still, I am fully aware that whatever else I might be doing here, it is not church. The folks who regularly interact with me on these posts might arguably be classified in some sense as a community, but they are not the Body of Christ. For that you need to be physically present at 167 Palisade Avenue on Sunday at 9:00 a.m.

For some good background information on the book of Joshua, see the Summary Article by Kathryn Schifferdecker, Associate Professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary, St. Paul, M.N. on enterthebible.org.

Psalm 32

This is one of the seven “penitential psalms” so classified in the commentary of Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator written in the 6^th century C.E. (The others being Psalms 6, 38, 51, 102, 130 and 143). Not surprisingly, it was a favorite of Augustine and Luther. The psalmist speaks eloquently about the joy and relief found in forgiveness of sin and the futility of denial and self justification. The psalmist does not disclose the nature of his or her sins, but indicates that it was some illness that brought him or her to an acknowledgement of sin and the need for confession. There is no question but that guilt induced stress can bring about illness, but it is far more likely in this case that the psalmist’s illness was the catalyst for guilt. Sickness was almost universally understood in ancient cultures as an affliction from God intended to punish sin. As such, its onset naturally drove the psalmist to introspection and self examination.

In this case, the psalmist’s self examination led to the discovery of sin that the psalmist had been trying to hide from God and perhaps even from the psalmist’s own self. In the confession and acknowledgement of sin, the psalmist found healing and relief. The psalmist therefore instructs fellow worshipers not take the path of sin and self deception that leads to illness and misfortune, but to “come clean” with God and cry out for deliverance. Mulish stubbornness will only lead to grief. As Augustine puts it, “much is he scourged, who, confessing not his sins to God, would be his own ruler.” Moreover, “it is right to be subject unto [God], that so you may be placed above all things beside.” Augustine’s Commentary of Psalm 32 published in The Nicine and Post Nicine Fathers, Vol 8, (Erdmans, 1979) p. 71.

This advice is good as far as it goes, but the psalmist’s experience, valid and instructive though it may be, must not be elevated to a universal principle. As the case of Job illustrates, illness is not always the result of sin. The preacher from Ecclesiastes points out that in many cases justice and right do not prevail and all seems like “vanity.” As last week’s gospel makes clear, sometimes tragedy happens for no apparent reason. There are psalms to address these circumstances as well. See, e.g. Psalm 39.

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

A few introductory words about the Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians are in order. The church in Corinth, you may recall from previous weeks, was a congregation only Paul could love. See post for Sunday, January 17th Paul’s first letter makes clear just how divided, conflicted and scandal ridden this church was. Paul evidently made a visit to the church in Corinth after writing his first letter. This visit was “painful” and did not result in any reconciliation of differences between the apostle and his congregation. Rather than attempting another visit that he feared would also be unsuccessful, Paul wrote a “letter of tears” to Corinth sent by the hand of Titus. II Corinthians 2:1-13; II Corinthians 7: 5-16. Fearing the effects of this severe letter, Paul left Troas in Asia Minor where he had begun a successful mission and returned to Macedonia in search of Titus. Paul rejoined Titus in Macedonia and was greatly relieved to learn that the Corinthians had indeed responded favorably to his “severe” letter with a change of heart toward him. Paul wrote his second letter to express his gratitude to the Corinthians and to encourage them in their faith.

For centuries biblical scholars have puzzled over the abrupt change in tone between II Corinthians 1-9 and II Corinthians 10-13. Most scholars now agree that these two sections represent different letters, though both authored by Paul. To further complicate matters, there is a fragment at II Corinthians 6:14-7:1 that seems to have no bearing on what precedes or follows suggesting that we might have part of a third letter in the mix. Some scholars believe that chapters 10-13 constitute all or part of Paul’s “letter of tears” while chapters 1-9 constitute a letter of thanksgiving written in response to Titus’ favorable report. Enslin, Morton Scott, Christian Beginnings, (c. 1938 by Westminster Press) pp. 254-261; Filson, Floyd V., “Introduction and Exegesis,” The Interpreter’s Bible, 10^th Ed. (c. 1953 by Abingdon Press). If that is in fact the case, the reading for this Sunday comes from Paul’s letter of thanksgiving. As appealing as this hypothesis might seem at first blush, there are substantial grounds for dating the material found in chapters 10-13 after rather than before the composition of chapters 1-9. Furnish, Victor Paul, II Corinthians, The Anchor Bible, Vol. 32A, (c. 1984 by Doubleday & Company, Inc.) p. 38-41. Accordingly, chapters 10-13 most likely are not Paul’s tearful letter.

“From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view.” To fully understand the import of this sentence, you need to back up and read verses II Corinthians 5:14-15: “For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.” To regard no one from a human point of view is to regard everyone from God’s viewpoint-as people for whom Christ died. Consequently, I believe when we read that “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation,” or, as some translators put it, “when anyone is in Christ-new creation,” Paul is not talking only about some inward individual spiritual renewal. We are talking about a radical reorientation in terms of how we see the world and the people in it. Because Christ has died, all have died. Because all have died, all are reconciled. It is the task of the church to live as an embassy of God modeling and proclaiming the reconciliation accomplished in Jesus.

From a human point of view, our enemies are defined for us by the U.S. Department of State. Our interests are defined by national borders and international treaties. Our neighbors are defined by accidents of geography, demography and history. But from the perspective of God in Christ, these are distinctions without a substantive difference. The starting point for viewing every individual is the conviction that such individual is reconciled to God in Christ. Whether he or she knows it is entirely beside the point. We know it and that knowledge shapes our thoughts and actions. The implications of this text are subversive to say the least. Reconciliation is a fine objective-as long as it applies only to neighbors with nothing between them but white picket fences. Take it into the arena of geopolitics and you could get yourself crucified.

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

I have expressed my reflections on the gospel lesson above. Here are some interesting points that may or may not influence your understanding of the story.

A father could dispose of his property in one of two ways: 1) by a will that is probated after his death; or 2) by a gift made during his lifetime. Though there is no specific provision for disposition of an estate prior to the testator’s death in the Old Testament, there is some evidence that the practice existed even if discouraged. The book of Sirach written in the early 2^nd Century B.C.E. contains the following admonition:

“To son or wife, to brother or friend, do not give power over yourself, as long as you live; and do not give your property to another, in case you change your mind and must ask for it. While you are still alive and have breath in you, do not let anyone take your place. For it is better that your children should ask from you than that you should look to the hand of your children. Excel in all that you do; bring no stain upon your honor. At the time when you end the days of your life, in the hour of death, distribute your inheritance.” Sirach 33:19-23.

In any event, it would be highly irregular, to say nothing of presumptuous, for a younger son to initiate the settlement of his father’s estate with his living father. The parable tells us nothing of the son’s motives in making such an unusual request or those of the father in acquiescing. At first blush, it might appear as though in “dividing his living between them” the father had made a complete disposition of his estate between his two sons. But it is obvious from the balance of the story that, at the very least, he maintained control over his property. His gifts to the returning prodigal, slaughter of the “fatted calf” and preparation of the lavish celebration all indicate that the balance of the estate remained under the father’s control.

The degree of the younger son’s reinstatement is a matter of dispute. Some commentators see in the provision of the robe and the ring an echo of Pharaoh’s elevation of Joseph, the implication being that the younger son was being included once again in the father’s inheritance. Jeremias, Joachim, The Parables of Jesus, (c. 1971 by SCM Press) p. 130; Marshall, I. Howard., The Gospel according to Luke, New International Greek Testament Commentary (c. 1978 by Paternoster Press, Ltd.) pp. 610-611. I think that is something of a stretch. The father assures his older son at the end of the parable that “all that is mine is yours.” Vs. 31. In view of this assurance, the only conceivable complaint the older son might have is that the lavish party for his brother was diminishing his future inheritance. I am not convinced that the legal framework of the transactions in the parable can be reconstructed or that doing so would give us any clearer picture of what is going on. Like the ungrateful guests who refused the lavish wedding invitation (Luke 14:16-24), the circumstances of this parable appear to be exaggerated for literary effect. No one could imagine a son so blatantly disrespectful and imprudent. Nor could anyone imagine a father forgiving and receiving back such a son, much less with so lavish a reception. Against this seeming madness, the elder son’s protests come across as the single voice of sanity.

The one constant in this parable is the father whose love pursues in unrestrained measure both of his wayward sons. The lavish party is given not because the younger son deserves it, but because he needs it. The elder son must learn that his father’s love for him cannot be earned but only received as the free gift genuine love always is. We cannot know how these two sons will respond to their father’s love, but it is clear that their father is determination to continue loving both his sons, come what may.

Sunday, February 28th

February 22, 2016UncategorizedBabylonian Exile, Bible, Church, Covenant, David, Death and Dying, discipleship, Exodus, faith, gospel, Isaiah, Jane Kenyon, Jerusalem, justice, Lectionary, Lent, Lenten Practices, Luke, Pilate, prayer, preaching, Psalms, Religion, repentance, resurrection, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, terrorism, theology, violencerevolsen

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT

Isaiah 55:1-9
Psalm 63:1-8
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9

Prayer of the Day: Eternal God, your kingdom has broken into our troubled world through the life, death, and resurrection of your Son. Help us to hear your word and obey it, and bring your saving love to fruition in our lives through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Young lives tragically and undeservedly cut short. A life mercifully and undeservedly spared. This Sunday’s gospel places these very different outcomes in stark contrast. The story about the eighteen killed by the collapse of a tower has a contemporary ring to it. Only last week a crane in New York City fell from the top of a building killing instantly a man sitting in his car below. Also last week a dislodged manhole cover somehow became airborne and crashed through the windshield of an SUV killing the driver, an art teacher. It is not clear why Pilate killed the Galileans in our reading. It is possible they were involved in an insurrection of some sort, but they were most likely innocent victims selected for slaughter at random “to send a message” to any would be insurrectionists. Maybe, like so many killed in Syria and Iraq these days, they were simply caught in the crossfire of someone else’s fight. Acts of terror against innocent civilians are hardly novel these days.

Events like these send chills down the spine. They bring home to us how frail and vulnerable we all are. It takes only one defective screw, a second’s inattention, an unanticipated change in weather patterns to cut off a bright and promising future for an unsuspecting victim. It takes years of dedication, patience, sacrifice and anguish to raise a child. It takes only the pull of a trigger erase all of that. When we read about these horrific events, we can’t help thinking, “That could have been me or someone I love!”

Blaming the victims comes naturally. We take a perverse comfort in believing that the victims were somehow at fault for what befell them. After all, if I can identify some error, moral infraction or misjudgment on their part, it is easier for me to convince myself that I can avoid their fate. I just have to exercise more care than they did, stay off the route they were driving, or refrain from the sinful conduct I believe brought down upon them the wrath of God. I can fool myself into thinking that I am in control of my life and safe from the randomness with which death and destruction so often strike.

Jesus dispels that notion altogether. Are the victims of accident and violence any more deserving of death than those who lived to tell about it? “I tell you, No,” says Jesus, but he goes on to say that “unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” What does Jesus mean by that? I doubt he meant that repentance shields one from a violent death. Jesus has already made it clear that repentance and faith take us on the path of the cross. Discipleship makes a violent end more rather than less likely. I believe the explanation lies hidden in Jesus’ parable of the fig tree that follows.

Unlike the seemingly hapless victims in the daily news-both in Jesus’ day and our own-the fig tree has earned the judgment of destruction passed by the owner of the vineyard. In a semi-arid climate where cultivatable land is limited, it is difficult to justify allowing an unproductive tree to go on using up valuable soil. Yet as unexpected and cruel as was the fate of the victims we read about earlier, equally unexpected and undeserved is the owner’s act of mercy sparing the fig tree. At the request of the vinedresser, the tree is given a year’s reprieve. That is where the parable ends and we are left with a huge question. Will the tree use wisely and well the year of grace it has been given? Will it respond to the care and attention of the vinedresser? We might find it strange that Jesus imposes such heavy moral and spiritual responsibility on a plant. But bear in mind that Israel is frequently compared to a vine, a branch or a tree throughout the scriptures. Anyone listening to this parable would have known that Jesus is addressing his people Israel and, by extension, us.

Almost two weeks ago many of us received ashes on our foreheads in the sign of the cross. These ashes are a graphic reminder that we are indeed dust and will, sooner or later, return to dust. Death is God’s judgment upon us and there is no getting around it. The question is not how soon or late that judgment overtakes us, but whether we meet it confident that the life we must now surrender has borne fruit for the kingdom of heaven. Or as Paul would put it, have we built on the foundation which is Christ with gold, silver and precious stones, or have we contributed only hay, stubble and chaff that will not withstand the fire of judgment? I Corinthians 3:10-15.

How, then, shall we live? It is tempting to begin filling up our remaining days with good intentions. I will buy only Free Trade coffee; I will increase my giving to the church and to the poor; I will be more “intentional” (whatever that means) in working for justice and equality. All of those objectives are noble. But true discipleship begins with being rather than doing. Only a good tree is capable of bearing good fruit. Thus, before we can begin to do anything fruitful, we must be the kind of tree Jesus is looking for. We must become creatures capable of living joyfully, thankfully and obediently within the limits of our human mortality.

Our death denying culture hides its dying members away in institutions, sells all manner of cosmetics to hide the effects of aging, celebrates youth and encourages retirees to revert in their “golden years” to a self-absorbed, adolescent lifestyle. But disciples of Jesus are called to embrace with thanksgiving life in all its manifold stages. Disciples are challenged to receive each day as one that the Lord has made and offers as a gift. They are mindful that the number of such days is finite, that tomorrow is not a foregone conclusion and that health, strength and length of days is guaranteed to no one. But that only makes today all the more precious. It is out of such faithful gratitude that generosity flows. Generosity gives birth to compassion and compassion fuels zeal for justice, righteousness and reconciliation.

Here is a poem by New Hampshire poet laurite, Jane Kenyon, a woman whose struggle with depression and chronic illness taught her the art of living thankfully, generously and compassionately.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Source: Constance, Graywolf Press, 1993 (c. Jane Kenyon). Jane Kenyon was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She attended the University of Michigan in her hometown and completed her master’s degree there in 1972. It was there also that she met her husband, the poet Donald Hall, who taught there. Kenyon moved with Hall to Eagle Pond Farm, in New Hampshire where she lived until her untimely death in 1995 at age 47. You can read more of Jane Kenyon’s poetry and find out more about her at the Poetry Foundation Website.

Isaiah 55:1-9

For a brief but thorough overview of the book of Isaiah, see the Summary Article by Fred Gaiser, Professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN published at enterthebible.org. Here it is enough to say that these words were spoken by the prophet to the Judean exiles living in Babylon. The conquest of Babylon by Cyrus the Persian opened up the possibility for the exiles to return to their homeland in Palestine. The prophet sees in this development the hand of God at work creating a new future for Judah. The exiles are naturally skeptical. Most have built new lives for themselves in the foreign land. Those born in Babylon know of Israel only through the legends and stories told by their elders. The prophet’s task is to make his fellow exiles see the glorious new future God is offering them. To that end, the prophet employs some of the most beautiful poetic language in the scriptures. He compares the opportunity for return from Babylon to the Exodus from Egypt. He promises that, just as God provided miraculous protection and provision for the Israelites as they traveled through the wilderness from Egypt to the land of Canaan, so God will shelter and protect the exiles as they travel once again to that promised land from captivity in Babylon.

In our lesson for today, God speaks as though he were a street vendor or a carnival barker inviting all those passing by to “come.” The remarkable thing here is that the voice of the Lord goes on to announce that the goods are free. “He who has no money, come, buy and eat.” Verse 1. The banquet is a frequent metaphor for the new life God offers Israel. The point is clear. God is giving a banquet for which there is no admission charge. Only a fool would turn away from such an opportunity! Yet that is precisely the choice Israel will have made should she ignore the opportunity for return to the land promised to her ancestors. This is reminiscent of Jesus’ parable of the ungrateful guests invited to the wedding feast. (Matthew 22:1-14; Luke 14:15-24). The reference to milk and wine, foods associated with richness, seems to echo the image of Palestine as the land of “milk and honey.” Deuteronomy 26:9.

This is the only passage in the writings of “Second Isaiah” (Isaiah 40-55) in which King David is mentioned. The prophet is far more interested in the messianic role of Israel as a whole than in any of her leaders. Yet he or she can hardly ignore so prominent a theme in Israel’s faith and history as God’s covenant with David: “Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me; your throne shall be established forever.” II Samuel 7:16. Yet what hope can this promise offer now that the line of David has been extinguished? As the prophet sees it, the covenant with David is now extended to all the people. God’s “steadfast love” for David is now embodied in an “everlasting covenant” with all Israel. Vs. 3. It should be noted also that Israel has been given as “a covenant to the people, a light to the nations…” Isaiah 42:6. Thus, God opens up the Davidic covenant to the whole of Israel so that Israel might become a channel of God’s salvation to all the nations of the world.

“‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways,’ says the Lord.” This verse summarizes well a recurring theme throughout Second Isaiah: That God is God and we are not. One of the more subtle forms of idolatry is the assumption that God’s ways are our ways. Though the so called “Christian Right” has been justly criticized for linking godliness and morality to a narrowly defined set of white, middle class cultural biases, I think that we mainline protestant types are often far too certain about what “social justice” ought to look like and far too eager to identify the will of God with our own partisan projects and agendas. Conservatives should be weary of assuming they know what God desires to conserve. Progressives should be equally weary of assuming they know which way God is progressing. What a hoot it would be to find out at the close of the age that nothing we thought was historic, significant and earth shaking, nothing we have given our lives to achieve ever really mattered. How rich it would be to learn that the real history was taking place in some corner of the earth we never even thought to look-like a stable in Bethlehem.

Psalm 63:1-8

The reference in verse 11 to “the king” rejoicing in God (not included in our reading) and the psalmist’s having “looked upon [God] in the sanctuary” suggest that this psalm was probably composed before the Babylonian Exile and during the reign of the Davidic kings over the Judean monarchy. The longing for God’s presence expressed in verse 1 through the metaphors of hunger and thirst of a person lost in the wilderness are artfully contrasted with the images of feasting on “marrow” and “fat” in verse 5. The psalmist’s need for God is as critical as reliance on food and water. This need is satisfied through praise and thanksgiving in God’s sanctuary. The psalmist has experienced God’s help and protection throughout his/her life and so “clings” to God. Vs. 8. God’s steadfast love (“chesed” in Hebrew) is better than life itself. Vs. 3.

From a strictly liturgical perspective, it is hard to sanction this wanton show of gluttony during Lent, even though we know it is expressed only in a metaphorical sense. Yet on further reflection, is it not appropriate to ask during this season of repentance whether in fact we actually experience this sort of hunger for God’s presence? If we do not, then perhaps, like the audience of the prophet in our first lesson, we are spending “[]our money for that which is not bread and []our labor for that which does not satisfy.” Isaiah 55:2. Our appetites need instruction. We need to learn to yearn for and crave the things that will sustain us. We need to learn to pray well. For that purpose, I can find no better teachers than the psalmists. I have said it before. I will say it again. Two psalms per day, one in the morning and one at night. There is no surer way to a rich and satisfying life of prayer.

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Few sections of the Hebrew Scriptures have been as instructive for the church as the forty years of Israel’s wilderness wandering recounted from the middle of Exodus to the end of Deuteronomy. This period between Israel’s deliverance from Egypt and her entry into the Promised Land was a fertile source of instruction, admonition and encouragement for the early church living between the inauguration of God’s kingdom through the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus and the promise of his coming again in glory. Disciples of Jesus, who remember with thanksgiving the “exodus” accomplished by Jesus in Jerusalem and look forward in anticipation to his return in glory, naturally identify with the Israelites at this period in their history. During these “in between” years Israel was totally dependent upon her God for food, water and protection from enemies. She was tested, tried and prepped for her entry into and occupation of Canaan.

In our reading Paul calls upon the church at Corinth to understand her own day to day existence as a time of testing and sanctification. She needs to understand that her sins of divisiveness, rebellion and lack of love (See post for Sunday, January 31, 2016 ) will produce dire consequences for her. Nevertheless, the Corinthians must also keep in mind that God’s judgment is to be understood as another side of God’s mercy. God wounds in order to heal; God judges in order to induce repentance; God’s wrath is born of God’s zealous passion for the salvation of God’s people. For this reason, Paul asserts that “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man…” vs. 13. Temptation here is not to be understood as a personal affliction. Paul is speaking here to the church. The temptations afflicting the Corinthian church are those that threaten her oneness in Christ and lure her into the quagmire of destructive conflict, class distinctions and partisan divisions. Just as God forged a group of escaped slaves into a mighty nation in the furnace of wilderness wandering, so the Spirit of God is shaping the Corinthian church, a fractured and divided community, into the Body of Christ where all work as one. The take away: sanctification is a slow, painful and difficult process. Left to ourselves, we are tempted to abandon it. Thankfully, God can be trusted to complete the job of transforming the church into the image of Jesus.

Luke 13:1-9

The two incidents referenced here, Pilate’s killing of an unspecified number of Galileans and the death of eighteen people in the collapse of a tower, are not referenced in any other historical source. That is not surprising. Violent and repressive measures were the modus operendi of the occupying Roman forces. The death of a few Galileans would hardly have been front page news. These Galileans were most likely put to death in Jerusalem during Passover. This is the only occasion on which lay people would be sacrificing their own animals. Longing for independence and resentment at Rome ran high during Passover. For this reason, Pilate made a point of being present in Jerusalem during the feast with additional troops to maintain order. That, of course, only added to the resentment of the people. It is easy to see how violent conflicts between Pilate’s troops and the Passover pilgrims might erupt.

The incident Jesus brought up involving the fall of the tower also appears to have been a relatively minor occurrence. “Silome” was a name given to the reservoir associated with the water supply in Jerusalem fed by the spring of Gihon. The spring was the main source of water for the city. It is referenced in Psalm 46. An aqueduct built during the Bronze Age brought the waters of the spring into the city. According to the Biblical account, it was through this aqueduct or one like it that David and his army were able to invade and conquer Jerusalem without breaching its walls. II Samuel 5:6-10. Interestingly, Pilate oversaw the construction of an aqueduct designed to improve the water supply system for the city. While it is possible that the fall of the tower to which Jesus referred had something to do with this project, there is no positive evidence on that score.

The implication here is that the people bringing to Jesus news of the unfortunate victims of Pilate’s wrath believed those victims were responsible for their plight by reason of their sins. Jesus does not specifically refute them on this point, but states that the Galileans were no more sinful than anyone else. Consequently, these people should not be focusing on what the Galileans may or may not have done, but rather upon turning from their own sin lest they meet the same fate. The same point is made with respect to the victims of the tower collapse. People should not be asking why these eighteen people died, but recognize instead God’s mercy in the very fact that they are still alive and still able to repent.

The parable of the unfruitful fig tree follows. Like this tree that has taken up good soil for three years without producing fruit, Jesus points out that the folks he is addressing are living similarly unfruitful lives. Like the butchered Galileans and the victims of the tower collapse, they deserve God’s punishment. But the ax has not fallen-yet. God has graciously given them time. The question is, how will they use it?

This parable of the fig tree is intriguing. It is tempting to interpret it allegorically with God being the owner of the vineyard and the vinedresser Jesus interceding on our behalf for mercy. But that does not work for a number of reasons. God clearly does not wish for the destruction of anyone. Even when God threatens judgment, it is with the hope that those who are so threatened will turn and repent. The owner of the vineyard is making no such threat and seems to have no hope for the tree. This is simply a business decision. The tree is an investment that has failed for three years to yield a return. It is time to pull the plug and invest elsewhere. The vinedresser’s motives are unclear. Perhaps he sees more potential in the tree than does the owner. In any event, the vinedresser is convinced he can get fruit out of the tree and tries to convince the owner to give him one more year.

As I see it, the parable has but one purpose: to illustrate the point Jesus has made with respect to the two tragedies discussed in the previous section. Fruitless as we are, we have lived to see another day. That is sheer grace. We have done nothing to earn this new day and have no guarantee that we will see another. Note well that we never hear the owner’s response to the vinedresser’s plea for more time. We would like to think that the owner said, “Fine. You think you can make this tree produce some figs? You have one year and one year only. Knock yourself out.” But it is just as likely that he said, “You have to be kidding! Three years this tree has produced nothing. What do you think will be different about year four? Cut it down!” Given that, undeservedly and inexplicably, we have been freely given this day, this hour, this minute-what are we going to do about it?

Sunday, February 21st

February 15, 2016UncategorizedAbraham, Babylonian Exile, Bible, Book of Genesis, Church, Covenant, discipleship, Exodus, faith, gospel, Jeremiah, Jerusalem, justice, Lectionary, Luke, Paul's Letter to the Philippians, poor, poverty, prayer, preaching, Psalms, Religion, Saint Paul, Sunday Lessons, theologyrevolsen

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3:17–4:1
Luke 13:31-35

Prayer of the Day: God of the covenant, in the mystery of the cross you promise everlasting life to the world. Gather all peoples into your arms, and shelter us with your mercy, that we may rejoice in the life we share in your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often I would have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you would not! Behold, your house is forsaken.” Luke 13:35.

Jesus takes no delight in pronouncing Jerusalem’s doom. He does not speak here as an angry firebrand, a zealot for justice burning with contempt for oppression and tyranny. Jesus does not speak as one throwing his life defiantly against the Roman military machine. His mood is sad more than it is angry; heartbroken more than outraged; tired more than inspired. He is a man resigned to a violent death at the hands of his own people for the sake of a new age he will not live to see. Nevertheless, he takes the next step in his journey to Jerusalem toward which he “set his face” back in Chapter 9. Luke 9:51. Jesus displays a grim determination to complete this race in which he is hopelessly behind and cannot hope to win. Compassion is the driving force for Jesus. Jesus loves the city of Jerusalem and all that it symbolizes throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. His compassion survives where his vision has grown dim and the kingdom he longs for seems further away than ever.

I have often wondered how it is that some people are able to work in conditions of human suffering that defy description-such as refugee camps throughout northern Africa and the Middle East-for years on end without burning out. I wonder too why some pastors burn out of parish ministry within their first five years while others continue to grow in their faith and thrive in their work, even when the work itself is less than successful. I suspect that the common denominator for those with staying power is compassion. When someone you love deeply becomes ill, you keep on caring for them no matter how hard it gets, no matter sick they get and regardless whether there is any likelihood they will ever recover. In just that way Jesus loved the city of Jerusalem and its people ground under the heels of poverty, sickness and injustice.

I am afraid that much of what we do in the church grows out of a commitment to abstract principles of justice, equality and social progress that find expression in programmatic activity. Though well-intentioned, much of this work can result in distancing ourselves from the people we seek to assist. In his book, Toxic Charity, Robert D. Lupton shows how good-intentioned Christians are actually harming the people they are trying to help. Too many efforts to help the poor actually make the poor feel judged, looked down upon, only worthy of charity and handouts. The tendency is to see these people as “social problems” that need to be fixed rather than valued persons deserving honor, respect and friendship. Lupton, Robert D., Toxic Charity, (c. 2011 by Robert D. Lupton, pub. by HarperCollins Publishers). Whereas Jesus ate with sinners and outcasts, calling them to be his disciples, our programs tend rather to remain a safe distance from these folks, handing them care packages and sending them on their way. While there are some very notable exceptions to these antiseptic procedures, they are unfortunately the exception rather than the rule.

Instead of trying to raise people up to a standard of success and social acceptability where it becomes possible to include them in our community, we need to enter into their world with an openness to being transformed. That is the only way to become transformative. Transformation is a slow and tedious process. It is not for impatient people who crave results. It is not for problem solvers who are bent on finding a “fix.” The only people that can survive discipleship burnout are those whose love for the people they serve simply won’t let them quit.

Here’s a heart break a poem that I think expresses something of the compassion Jesus felt for the people of Jerusalem and the compassion to which he calls his disciples.

Harlem Shadows

I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall
its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass
To bend and barter at desire’s call.
Ah, little dark girls who in slippered feet
Go prowling through the night from street to street!

Through the long night until the silver break
Of day the little gray feet know no rest;
Through the lone night until the last snow-flake
Has dropped from heaven upon the earth’s white breast,
The dusky, half-clad girls of tired feet
Are trudging, thinly shod, from street to street.

Ah, stern harsh world, that in the wretched way
Of poverty, dishonor and disgrace,
Has pushed the timid little feet of clay,
The sacred brown feet of my fallen race!
Ah, heart of me, the weary, weary feet
In Harlem wandering from street to street.

By Claude McKay

Source: Harlem Shadows, Poems by Claude McKay (c. 1992 by Harcourt, Brace and Company). Claude McKay was born in Sunny Ville, Jamaica, in 1889. He was a key figure in the Harlem Renaissance movememt of the 1920s. His work ranges from verse celebrating peasant life in Jamaica to poems challenging white dominance in the United States. You can find out more about the life and literature of Claude McKay on the Poetry Foundation Website.

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

Why would a man take a bunch of animals, cut them in half and make a path through the two halves of each of the bloody carcasses? In order to answer this question, we need to take a trip back in time to the Bronze Age. Society is made up of city states that owe their allegiance to larger kingdoms that in time will become the empires of the Iron Age. Obviously, such alliances are not agreements between equals. The ruler of a smaller state received a promise of non-aggression from the larger kingdom in return for payment of tribute and a pledge of military support if required. If this sounds rather like a protection racket, it is because that is essentially what the agreements were. These lopsided alliances were sealed by covenant ceremonies in which numerous animals were slain and cut in two. The subject king would then swear absolute allegiance, promise tribute and pledge military support to the dominant king. The dominant king would then force the subject king to walk on the bloody path between the severed animal parts. It was supposed to produce the same effect as the horse head next to which Jack Woltz woke up in the movie, The Godfather. “See these hacked up animals little king? This is what happens to little kings that try to cross the Big King? Any questions?”

In Sunday’s lesson from Genesis, God stands the whole notion of covenant making on its head. Abraham asked God “how am I to know that I shall possess [the land of Canaan]?” God’s response is to make a covenant with Abraham. Usually, it is the weaker, vassal king who seeks covenant protection from the dominant king. But here God is the one seeking a covenant with Abraham. In near eastern politics, the weaker king is the one who makes all the promises. In this case, God is the one who makes an oath to Abraham. Instead of forcing Abraham to walk between the mangled carcasses, God passes along the bloody path saying, in effect, “Abraham, if I fail to keep my promise to give you a child, a land and a blessing, may I be hacked in pieces like these animals.”

This remarkable story illustrates what one of my seminary professors, Fred Gaiser, once said: “The Old Testament tends toward incarnation.” The New Testament witness is that the Word of God became flesh, that is, became vulnerable to the rending and slaughter experienced by the sacrificial animals used in the covenant ceremony. In fact, we can go further and say that God’s flesh was torn apart, God’s heart was broken and that this rending of God’s flesh was the cost of God’s faithfulness to the covenant. So understood, it is possible to recognize the cross in this strange and wonderful tale from dawn of history.

Psalm 27

The scholarly consensus seems to be that this psalm actually consists of two psalms, the first being a prayer of trust not unlike Psalm 23 including verses 1-6. The second is a lament consisting of verses 7-14. Rogerson, J.W. & McKay, J.W., Psalms 1-50, The Cambridge Bible Commentary (c. 1977 by Cambridge University Press) p. 121. However that might be, I still believe the psalm fits together nicely as a unit. It is precisely because the psalmist has such great confidence in God’s willingness and power to give protection that the psalmist feels free to cry out for that very protection in times of danger. Though as previously noted the commentators characterize verses 7-14 as a lament, it concludes with an affirmation of confidence in God’s anticipated salvation and an admonition to “be strong, and let your heart take courage; yea, wait for the Lord.” Vs. 14.

Two things are noteworthy. First, this psalm is focused on dangers posed by enemies. By enemies the psalmist does not mean people who are merely disagreeable or less than friendly. These are people who “breathe out violence.” Vs. 12. The psalmist’s response to these enemies is prayer. He or she does not strap on a six shooter with the intent of “taking care of business.” Instead, s/he calls upon the Lord to deal with the enemy. This is the characteristic approach of the psalms. Even when the psalmist expresses a distinct desire to see the enemy punished in very violent and graphic terms, the psalmist leaves the business of retribution to God. That, of course, is precisely in line with what Jesus teaches his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount.

Second, the last verse of the psalm is very telling. The psalmist encourages his hearers to “wait for the Lord.” Vs. 14. The odd thing about the psalms is that, although they are prayers addressed to God, they often contain admonitions from God in the psalmists’ mouths. Sometimes the psalmists seem to be conscious of an audience listening in on their prayers. God hardly needs to be reminded to “wait on the Lord.” Biblical prayer is a dialogical process. The psalmists’ outpouring of prayer to God is only one side. God responds to the psalmists. Sometimes these responses are oracles delivered by a prophet or priest that have become imbedded in the psalm. See, e.g., Psalm 60:6-12. Often these prayers are sung as praises by the psalmist in corporate worship where they give encouragement to the assembly. See Psalm 27:6. For Israel, prayer was never an entirely personal matter. The confidence of this psalmist is drawn as much from God’s faithfulness to Israel throughout history as from his or her own experience. So also, the psalmists’ personal struggles become a public arena for God to demonstrate his compassion and salvation to Israel.

Philippians 3:17–4:1

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 of chapter 3, 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.”

Knowing all of this makes it a little easier to stomach Paul’s call to imitate him. Paul is not just being a pompoms ass here (though I suspect that he could be just that at times). It isn’t his moral example or his sterling character that Paul calls us to imitate. Rather, he calls us to imitate his indifference to racial identity, cultural status and religious achievement. You don’t come into the church through your success in living as an observant Jew anymore than you win God’s love by living as an observant Lutheran. You come into the church by Jesus’ invitation. Everything else you bring with you is just excess baggage.

Luke 13:31-35

This encounter of Jesus with the Pharisees needs to be placed in the larger context of Luke’s story about Jesus. Recall how two Sundays ago Jesus stood with Moses and Elijah discussing the “Exodus” he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. From that point on, it was clear that something big was about to occur in the Holy City. So when we read in Luke 9:51 that Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem,” it is clear that the time is at hand. From here on out, everything that occurs is leading up to the final confrontation that we know is approaching with every step Jesus takes toward his goal.

The Pharisees warn Jesus that Herod Antipas is seeking his life and urge him to flee. We do not know their motivation. Though the Pharisees were often hostile toward Jesus, this was not always the case in Luke’s gospel. In fact, in the very next chapter Jesus is invited to dinner at the home of a very prominent Pharisee. Moreover, the Pharisees had no great love for Herod. However much they might have disagreed with Jesus over any number of issues, Jesus was still a Jew that cared deeply about the Torah. Herod was a thug and a bully appointed by Rome who cared little about anything beyond his own comfort. As between the two, it is likely that the Pharisees would have sympathized with Jesus.

Of course, it is also possible that the Pharisees were trying to intimidate Jesus. Perhaps they felt that raising the specter of Herod might frighten him away from Judea and back into the more remote parts of Galilee where he would be someone else’s problem. In either case, Jesus will not be deterred from the course he set out in chapter 9. So far from fleeing, Jesus sends the Pharisees back to Herod with his travel itinerary.

Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem is one of the most moving passages in the gospels. We seldom get a glance into the head of Jesus. It seems to me that all four gospel writers are intent on preventing us from doing that. We are almost never told how Jesus felt or what his thoughts were about the things taking place around him. This passage marks one of the rare exceptions to that rule. Unlike the account in Matthew, Luke does not tell us that Jesus wept over the city. Nevertheless, his lament is filled with compassion. Jesus is resigned, it seems, to failure. The city that kills the prophets and stones the messengers sent to it will deal likewise with Jesus. Its people will not be gathered together by Jesus. Jesus is going to die without seeing the consummation of the reign of God to which he has given his life.

New Testament scholars are in virtual agreement that the Gospel of Luke was composed anywhere from fifteen to thirty years after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by Rome in 70 C.E. Many of them are also inclined to view this saying less as a reflection of Jesus’ sentiments upon his arrival in the city toward the close of his ministry and more as the early church’s effort to provide a theological explanation for the Temple’s destruction. No doubt Luke’s telling of the story is colored by the church’s experience of historical events that followed the ministry of Jesus. That said, I don’t think it is possible to divorce Jesus from his dire judgment upon the Holy City. All four gospels contain Jesus’ words of judgment against the Temple and its corrupt leadership. One of the more serious charges leveled against Jesus at his trial was his alleged claim that he would “destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days…build another temple not made with hands.” Mark 14:58. Furthermore, Jesus was not the first prophet to pronounce a judgment of destruction against Jerusalem. Jeremiah and Micah similarly warned that, however much God might treasure the Temple and the city of David, neither could be used as a shield against God’s punishment for injustice and unrighteousness. Jeremiah 12:7; Jeremiah 22:5; Micah 3:9-12. The judgment against the Holy city brought about in Jeremiah’s time by the Babylonian invasion served as a solemn warning for all subsequent generations. It is hardly surprising that Jesus should draw upon this prophetic tradition in speaking to the Jerusalem of his day.

Jesus’ statement, “How often I would have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood,” calls to mind a host of images from the Hebrew Scriptures. See e.g., Deuteronomy 32:11; Psalm 17:8; Psalm 36:7;Psalm 57:1; Psalm 91:4; Ruth 2:12. The shelter Jesus promises affords the kind of protection proclaimed in Psalm 27, our Psalm for this Sunday. Jesus makes it clear to us that he knows he is walking into a conflict that will claim his life. He does so with the confidence that God will see to the completion of what his “Exodus” in Jerusalem will begin and that the people will one day cry out, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

Peter's Outer Cape Portico

A place where prophets, apostles and poets meet in the lessons for each Sunday of the church year

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