My heartfelt thanks go out to the Reverend Candasu Vernon of Westminster Presbyterian Church in Montgomery, Alabama, both for her friendship and for allowing me access to the excellent sermon she delivered at a recent Presbytery meeting, and to the Reverend Gene Anderson, who continues to provide inspiration, education, and direction through his "Rucksack Revolution" blog. I also received help on this sermon from Wayne Brouwer and Schuyler Rhodes of "Sermon Suite." Thanks also to Chad Estes for the story behind his hilarious, and too often painfully true, "Jesus or Squirrel" blog.
Before the sermon, let me ask a favor. My dear friend (and apparent twin brother) Pastor Nar Martinez is in need of transportation. He is a constant force for restoration and community in Struthers, Ohio, as well as in the online community of Outlaw Preachers. His car is literally on its last legs, being held together by the expertise (and possible necromancy) of skilled mechanics, but the car's demise is inevitable.
A PayPal account, PastorNarFund@gmail.com, has been set up, and I would deeply appreciate you prayerfully considering making a donation to help Pastor Nar get a reliable vehicle. Donations are (at this point in time) not tax-deductible, but they are needed and deserved. Thank you for whatever you are able to do.
Exodus 1:8-2:10
Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. He said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites.and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them.
The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live.” But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?” The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” So God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, “Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.”
Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him.
The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him, “This must be one of the Hebrews’ children,” she said. Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get you a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?” Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Yes.” So the girl went and called the child’s mother. Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will give you your wages.” So the woman took the child and nursed it. When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and she took him as her son. She named him Moses, “because,” she said, “I drew him out of the water.”
Romans 12:1-8
I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect.
For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness.
Matthew 16:13-20
Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.
This is the Word of the Lord.
It was an interesting place for a stroll, this Caesarea Philippi, especially if you were a devout Jew, and more especially if you were a first-century Jew living under the oppressive rule of the Roman Empire and its power-hungry minions – people like the Herods, for example. Yes, there was more than one, and yes, it was a family, and yes, they were bloodthirsty, power-hungry, greedy, everything that comes to mind when the name “Herod” is mentioned.
Philip the Tetrarch, one of three Herod brothers that, with the backing of Rome, ruled Palestine during the time of Christ, had not many years before established a city here, at the southwestern base of Mount Hermon, named it after his patron, the Emperor of Rome, and added his own name to keep it from being confused with the other Caesarea on the Mediterranean coast. Thus “Caesarea Philippi.”
And what an area this was! Because the waters bubbled and gurgled up from caves at the base of the mountain, area residents had long believed this to be the doorway into the underworld. Here, they thought, the spirits of the deep tried to communicate with creatures on the surface. Sometimes sulfuric gases were emitted, and these only confirmed the presence of other-worldly voices and the breath of Hades.
Over the centuries a variety of religious sects had used the place as a cultic shrine. They cut niches in the rock walls of the mountain just above the burbling caves and set up statues of gods they thought might be resident there. They even gave the place a spiritual name. They called it "The Gates of Hades." Here, they believed, was the doorway between the realm of the living and the abode of the dead. Those with keen faculties would be able to hear the whispers of the departed and the voice of the underworld gods. It was considered to be a very holy place. Over there was a temple to Caesar, and over there was an older temple to the pagan god Pan.
There on the road outside the city, Jesus struck up a conversation. “Hey guys, give me the skinny: What’s the word on the street? Who are folks saying that the Son of Man is?”
This is, by the way, a phrase from the Book of Ezekiel, and signified a human being who is a conduit or messenger of the Divine.
I imagine the disciples glanced at one another, looking to see who wanted to go first. But the responses would have been fairly quick, because it was a subject they were intimately familiar with. They heard, and participated in, these kinds of discussions all the time.
“Well, some folks say you’re John the Baptist,” one said. Another voice, “Yeah, or Elijah, even.” Someone else says “I’ve heard Jeremiah, or one of those kind of prophets.” Any or all of these comments might have gotten a laugh from the group.
Jesus and John the Baptist were cousins, after all. They bore a family resemblance, probably spoke with a similar accent, and as word of Jesus made its way back to Philip the Tetrarch, it no doubt gave that particular Herod the creeps, because he’d seen John the Baptist’s head served up on a platter like a roast pig. In his nightmares, John the Baptist had come back for a public and painful revenge. The laughter would have been soft, because no doubt John’s execution was still heavy on their hearts, but they had seen Jesus and John together; the idea that Jesus was some kind of Zombie John the Baptist was patently ridiculous.
As for Elijah, the Prophet Malachi had written that God would send a messenger before the coming of the Messiah, Elijah, the first of the great prophets, and he would make things ready. Elijah would appear with stern speeches and mighty miracles. The people should get ready, for when Elijah came, God would follow quickly on his heels. Since Jesus spoke with divine authority, and performed miraculous healings, just like Elijah had done, it made sense that Jesus was Elijah, right? Only the disciples had heard Jesus state plainly that it was his cousin John, and not him, who had been the fulfillment of Malachi’s prophecy. Another silly idea they could chuckle at, just like all the other things they’d heard; this or that prophet come back from the dead.
This was an easy conversation, this talk about what everyone else was saying. No pressure, you could make a joke and go off on tangents, just the kind of stuff for a stroll though the countryside.
But then Jesus turned the question on its head. “But who do you say that I am?”
And things got real quiet, and real tense. Jesus was, after all, their rabbi, their teacher, and you can imagine the fear of piping up in class with the wrong answer. That would be humiliating! But what was the right answer?
It’s a lot like the story my friend Chad Estes tells about this pastor who was using squirrels for an object lesson for the children’s sermon. He started, “I'm going to describe something, and I want you to raise your hand when you know what it is.” The children nodded eagerly.
“This thing lives in trees… and eats nuts...” No hands went up. “And it is gray… and has a long bushy tail...” The children were looking at each other nervously, but still no hands raised. “It jumps from branch to branch… and chatters and flips its tail when it's excited...”
Finally one little boy tentatively raised his hand. The pastor quickly called on him. “Well,” said the boy, “I know the answer must be ‘Jesus’ ... but it sure sounds like a squirrel!”
I think that the fact we know the answer, we know who said it, and we know how the rest of the Gospel plays out kind of works against us in a lot of ways.
But there in that moment, surrounded by the temples and trappings of a culture that had too many gods for too many things, these men who had been immersed in a tradition where the answers were finite and fixed and immovable, they were confronted with the most important question that had ever and would ever be asked.
Think about it. So often, and this is especially true in the “Western World,” too many Christians are in fact “practical atheists.” We speak of God, go to church, say our prayers… and then too many of us live our lives as though we don't believe any of it. There’s no real danger in answering that question, it’s as simple as reciting a creed or singing a hymn. As a culture, American Christianity has ceased to be a Kingdom movement – a powerful new covenant which replaces empire with a Kingdom of God which erases barriers and overthrows dominions of power and privilege with love and grace. We are instead, far too often, the protector of the status quo, a symbol of good citizenship and a political catchphrase.
But take away the safety of freedom of religion. Remove the comfort of the pew. Erase the familiarity of family tradition.
Instead, you are a first-century Jewish man, barely out of your teens, if that old. Your whole world can be mapped out on a table napkin – there’s the synagogue in your little town, and the coastline where your fishing boat is moored. You push off from the shore each evening as the sun sets, and spend the night throwing the net into the Sea of Galilee, hoping to catch enough fish to help feed the family and pay the bills.
Then one day an amazing man comes along, with words of life and hope that you’ve never heard before, and your life is forever changed. You leave this familiar life behind, and strike off across the countryside, hanging on his every word, amazed at the miracles, astounded by the teaching, terrified by the challenges, your mind is stretched in new and exciting ways.
You have heard, since birth, that this life you’ve lived under Roman rule, where the taxes are heavy and the freedoms nonexistent, is not the life God intended for his people Israel. That there would be a new King – God’s Messiah – who would utterly destroy the power of Caesar, erase the corrupt Temple system, and restore the Throne of David, establishing God’s eternal kingdom. Jesus’ words give you hope that, at last, the time had come.
But power structures like Caesar’s, like the Herods’, like the Sadducees and the Great Sanhedrin which controlled the Temple do not take kindly to talk of revolution. To proclaim what they all, to one degree or another, were thinking was to face death, unless they were right, and this amazing man was indeed here to overthrow Rome, destroy the Herods, and restore Israel to its former glory.
And Simon spoke up. I don’t think this was a matter, though, of simply saying what everyone was thinking. “Messiah,” or “Christ,” after all, means something, but it only goes so far. With “Messiah,” you have an anointed vessel of God, a divinely appointed person who would bring about God’s ultimate will for Israel, and, by extension, all of humankind. “Son of Man” goes quite far enough as a description.
No, there was more to it. In that moment, Simon no longer heard the sound of the other disciples’ voices. He couldn’t see the Temple of Pan off in the distance, or smell the incense burning in Caesar’s Temple somewhere behind him. He looked at Jesus, and their eyes locked for one of those moments that lasts forever.
And I am not saying that Simon, in that instant, knew everything. But God spoke to him, and he heard. He knew. He knew there was more to the story, more to this rabbi than merely being a prophet or even being God’s specially chosen vessel. From this moment on, everything would change. “You are the Messiah… the son of the living God.”
“Who do you say that I am?”
If a stranger stopped us on the street and asked “What do you believe?” how would we respond? Reciting the Apostles Creed or the Nicene Creed is nice, but it isn’t an answer, it’s something we’ve memorized. “Who do YOU say that I am?”
Are we satisfied to let those around us think that they know what we believe simply because they’ve seen Christian portrayed on TV or in the movies, or they’ve seen a TV preacher or been confronted by a guy with a Gospel tract?
And what if the act of recognizing and proclaiming Jesus as Messiah and Son of the living God was more than a creedal confession, more than responding as we are expected to respond? How would our prayers change? How would our actions in the world around us be changed? Would our prayers be conversations seeking the will of God, or would they be the usual requests and reminders of things that God needs to give some attention? Would our primary concern shift from arguing over political and human rights issues to really – really – loving our neighbor?
If we answer the question “Who do you say that I am?” in the way, and with the spirit, that Simon Peter did, then we must acknowledge that everything Jesus said is, in fact, true. The way he told us to live, the way he told us he will be with us always, the way he died for our sins, is all true. It’s true, and it’s frightening.
Because if we admit that Jesus Christ is God – if he is Lord, Savior, and Friend, then our lives have to start to change. If we as individuals, and as a church, and as a Presbytery confess that Jesus is the Messiah, really and truly is the Son of the living God, then we have to be ready to change everything, must be willing to do anything in whatever direction God leads.
And, like Simon, we don’t know everything. But we know this: Jesus is the son of the living God, truly is Lord, and every bit of his life, every bit of his death, and every bit of his resurrection are still in force, still active, still in the business of transformation and restoration and healing and salvation. He still calls us to identify with the poor and excluded. He still wants to turn moments of despair into moments of hope. He still wants to transform lives and make us whole again.
“Who do you say that I am?” Though Simon answered with words, he ultimately answered with his entire life. I hope and pray that we, too, are ready to answer that question with more than words. I hope that we will answer with our lives, our money, our decisions, our kindness and our humility. I hope that we will answer by our actions, loving instead of just talking about love.
“Who do you say that I am?”
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Canaanite Conquers the Israelite...
I made abundant use of many sources of information in the writing of this sermon. Foremost was the work of Paul J. Nuechterlein, Grant LeMarquand, and "Girardian Reflections on the Lectionary." You will notice that I also blatantly borrowed ideas from Rev. Dr. Delmer L. Chilton and Marilyn Salmon, and picked the closing prayer whole from Rev. Gene Anderson's excellent blog.
Genesis 45:1-15
Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who stood by him, and he cried out, “Send everyone away from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence.
Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me, do not delay. You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there: since there are five more years of famine to come — so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.’ And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. You must tell my father how greatly I am honored in Egypt, and all that you have seen. Hurry and bring my father down here.” Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! I myself am an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew.
... for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable. Just as you were once disobedient to God but have now received mercy because of their disobedience, so they have now been disobedient in order that, by the mercy shown to you, they too may now receive mercy. For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all.
Matthew 15:10-28
Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: 11it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.” But Peter said to him, “Explain this parable to us.” Then he said, “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”
Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.
This is the Word of the Lord.
And it is the Word of the Lord, even when that Word makes us uncomfortable. And I have to confess to you, few passages of Scripture make me more uncomfortable than this account of Jesus’ interaction with the Canaanite woman. It’s as if someone has stolen my Bible and replaced it with one where the part of Jesus is played by Archie Bunker! Honestly, calling someone a dog? To their face? This would be a good week to preach on the Old Testament reading instead, wouldn’t it?
I’m not alone in my discomfort, it seems. Over the centuries, commentators and preachers have come up with a lot of explanations about the way that Jesus acts here.
Some say that this is all an acted out parable. That Jesus was just saying what he knew his followers thought and he wanted them to see how bad it sounded so he could then correct it. We can call this the “He didn't really mean it” explanation.
Some say that this is an inauthentic saying, words put into his mouth by the early church and the Gospel writer. For these folks, the key to understanding this passage is to decide why the early church would tell such a story of Jesus. This would be the “He didn't really say it” explanation.
Still others say Jesus was not referring to her as a dog but was simply using an old saying or a village proverb, like saying “The early bird gets the worm.” No one gets their feelings hurt over metaphor or clichés, right? This is the “We don't really get it” explanation.
So… what’s really going on?
I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know I should be able to package this whole thing up in a neat, digestible package for you, say the prayer, take the offering, don’t forget to dance, see you next Sunday, but I cannot simply hide behind an easy explanation for a difficult passage.
One of the most difficult readings I have heard was the suggestion that Jesus was absolutely serious when he said “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” and “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” There was no twinkle in his eye, no softening of his voice, nothing to suggest he was playing around, bringing out the depth of this woman’s faith.
This reading of the passage suggests that, in his interaction with the Canaanite woman, it is Jesus who is changed, Jesus who is, in a manner of speaking, converted, Jesus who goes from seeing himself as the Savior of the Jewish people only to truly the Savior of the world.
That is a tough pill to swallow. There is a principle of Biblical translation and interpretation that says the most difficult reading is usually the correct one. And this idea of Jesus being changed by his interaction with the Canaanite woman has a lot of merit. After all, as we too often forget, Jesus, though completely divine, utterly God, was completely human as well. We can comfortably assume that Jesus had to learn how to walk, had to be potty trained, had to learn to talk, had to learn how to feed himself, had to learn how to read, had to learn how to dress himself, and on and on and on.
Is it too great a logical leap to say that Jesus may have discovered the scope and direction of God’s plan for him, the breadth and depth of his earthly mission, in part while he was in the midst of his earthly mission?
The Canaanite woman certainly comes out of this account as the one with the upper hand. It is she, and not Jesus, who models the most admirable human behavior. She shows willingness to be vulnerable by seeking help from a longstanding foe whom she knows despises her because of national and racial divisions. She asks for help for her daughter, not for herself. She is persistent in the face of insults and rejection, for her daughter's sake. The Canaanite woman has the best lines in the story, especially her last one. "Call me dog," she says, "but even the dogs get the crumbs that fall from the table." She is the clear underdog (pun intended) who wins the prize of highest value for any mother, Jew or despised Canaanite – her child's health and well-being.
And Jesus appears to go from, frankly, acting like a jerk – a staunch nationalist, a good Jew who won’t have anything to do with unclean Gentiles – to one who is amazed at the faithfulness of someone from outside the Jewish faith, and convinced that God is indeed actively pursuing, constantly calling every human being, no matter their nationality or original belief system, into relationship and into the Kingdom of God.
Or… could there be something else at work here?
Why on earth is Matthew insisting on calling this woman a Canaanite? No one in the first century used that word to describe anyone. It would be like calling New York “New Amsterdam,” or describing a trip to Haleyville as a visit to the “Free State of Winston.”
And besides, what in the world is Jesus doing in Tyre and Sidon anyway, if he’s “sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” like he says? He’s in Gentile country, for cryin’ out loud! Guess what, Jesus, the house of Israel is back the way you came, bro!
Well, Canaan had a history with Israel, you see. Back in Joshua’s time, when they were crossing the Jordan to take the Promised Land, God specifically instructed the Israelites, in no uncertain terms, to utterly destroy the Canaanites – if you will, to commit genocide on the entire race. Here it is, from Deuteronomy, the seventh chapter, verses one through four:
“When the LORD your God brings you into the land that you are entering to take possession of it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations more numerous and mightier than yourselves, and when the LORD your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction. You shall make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them. You shall not intermarry with them, giving your daughters to their sons or taking their daughters for your sons, for they would turn away your sons from following me, to serve other gods. Then the anger of the LORD would be kindled against you, and he would destroy you quickly.”
The Canaanites were not just pagans. Not just Gentiles. They were the God-ordained enemies of Jewish people everywhere!
So why is Jesus there? Remember, a couple of weeks back, we read about Jesus’ Feeding of the Five Thousand. That was smack-dab in Jewish territory, and everyone who as fed was, presumably, of the Jewish faith. There were enough leftovers, you will remember, to fill twelve baskets. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see the connection to the Twelve Tribes of Israel in that gathering, does it?
Immediately following our reading today, Jesus travels along the Sea of Galilee for a bit, climbs a mountain, heals everyone who is brought to him, and feeds four thousand people with seven loaves and some fishes. There is enough left over to fill seven baskets this time… and is it much of a stretch to connect those seven baskets to the seven nations that God commanded Joshua and the Children of Israel to annihilate roughly fourteen centuries before?
I want to suggest to you that we do not have to choose between a Jesus who is playing games with the Canaanite woman, or a Jesus who is taught a lesson by the Canaanite woman. There is a third way, one that does not force us to see Jesus as either the conqueror or the conquered!
The third option is to see him as both: Jesus is first and foremost a conqueror by purposefully letting himself be 'conquered'. By this way of thinking, Jesus does enter into the conversation foreknowing that this woman's faith is up to the test. But instead of flaunting this foreknowledge, or intuition, he lets himself look like an abuser. He lets the tables be turned so that, in an act of faith, the Israelite is conquered by the Canaanite.
The point is this: In Deuteronomy, God commands that the Canaanites, and the six other nations mentioned there, receive no mercy, be granted no covenant. What does the Canaanite woman ask for, on behalf of her daughter? Mercy. What, ultimately, does Jesus give the Canaanite woman? Mercy, and healing.
I do not believe it is an accident that the breaking of the bread there in the Gentile lands, like the breaking of the bread in the Jewish land, seems to foreshadow the breaking of the bread at the Lord’s Supper. If the bread and the cup symbolize for us the New Covenant in Christ’s blood, how much more does the breaking of the bread and the feeding of the four thousand symbolize a covenant with a people whom God had commanded, some fourteen hundred years before, there be no covenant made?
Instead of a God who shows no mercy through the first Joshua, we meet a God of mercy through a new Joshua (and, in fact, the name “Joshua” and the name “Jesus” are exactly the same in Hebrew!), who shows forth that mercy, first of all, through the willingness to suffer violence rather than inflict it, and then, second of all, as the true power of life itself, rather than of death -- namely, through the power to heal the sick and nourish a crowd.
Like the walls of Jericho, the wall between Jew and Gentile have fallen. And the walls are still fallen! Look around you in this place, and look around you, really look around you, when you leave this place today. Look around you everywhere, all week, all the time. We will not, at any point, in any context, in any place, find any person who is too different or too bad or too wrong or too anything to be out of reach of the love and mercy and forgiveness and reconciling grace of God!
Oh, this is not to say that we won’t see people that we are not comfortable imagining being loved by God. We have our own walls – walls of prejudice, walls of sexism, walls of class pride and class envy, walls of privilege and walls built by pain and injury. “For out of the heart,” Jesus said, “come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander.” Out of the heart comes racism, out of the heart comes jealousy, out of the heart comes pride. “These are what defile a person…” and it is high time we call these things what they are, and begin the hard work of setting them aside.
We can choose to be like the disciples who complained about all the noise the needy Canaanite woman was making, or we can choose to be like the disciples who eagerly distributed the broken loaves and fishes to the hungry Gentile crowd. The difference is this: are we willing to see the walls come down?
Let us pray:
Lord, grant us the wisdom of the Canaanite woman,
To know our need,
To acknowledge your power,
And to share your love with others.
Open our ears and our hearts to the real needs
Of all your children
For Jesus’ sake…
Genesis 45:1-15
Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who stood by him, and he cried out, “Send everyone away from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence.
Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me, do not delay. You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there: since there are five more years of famine to come — so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.’ And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. You must tell my father how greatly I am honored in Egypt, and all that you have seen. Hurry and bring my father down here.” Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! I myself am an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew.
... for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable. Just as you were once disobedient to God but have now received mercy because of their disobedience, so they have now been disobedient in order that, by the mercy shown to you, they too may now receive mercy. For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all.
Matthew 15:10-28
Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: 11it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.” But Peter said to him, “Explain this parable to us.” Then he said, “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”
Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.
This is the Word of the Lord.
And it is the Word of the Lord, even when that Word makes us uncomfortable. And I have to confess to you, few passages of Scripture make me more uncomfortable than this account of Jesus’ interaction with the Canaanite woman. It’s as if someone has stolen my Bible and replaced it with one where the part of Jesus is played by Archie Bunker! Honestly, calling someone a dog? To their face? This would be a good week to preach on the Old Testament reading instead, wouldn’t it?
I’m not alone in my discomfort, it seems. Over the centuries, commentators and preachers have come up with a lot of explanations about the way that Jesus acts here.
Some say that this is all an acted out parable. That Jesus was just saying what he knew his followers thought and he wanted them to see how bad it sounded so he could then correct it. We can call this the “He didn't really mean it” explanation.
Some say that this is an inauthentic saying, words put into his mouth by the early church and the Gospel writer. For these folks, the key to understanding this passage is to decide why the early church would tell such a story of Jesus. This would be the “He didn't really say it” explanation.
Still others say Jesus was not referring to her as a dog but was simply using an old saying or a village proverb, like saying “The early bird gets the worm.” No one gets their feelings hurt over metaphor or clichés, right? This is the “We don't really get it” explanation.
So… what’s really going on?
I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know I should be able to package this whole thing up in a neat, digestible package for you, say the prayer, take the offering, don’t forget to dance, see you next Sunday, but I cannot simply hide behind an easy explanation for a difficult passage.
One of the most difficult readings I have heard was the suggestion that Jesus was absolutely serious when he said “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” and “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” There was no twinkle in his eye, no softening of his voice, nothing to suggest he was playing around, bringing out the depth of this woman’s faith.
This reading of the passage suggests that, in his interaction with the Canaanite woman, it is Jesus who is changed, Jesus who is, in a manner of speaking, converted, Jesus who goes from seeing himself as the Savior of the Jewish people only to truly the Savior of the world.
That is a tough pill to swallow. There is a principle of Biblical translation and interpretation that says the most difficult reading is usually the correct one. And this idea of Jesus being changed by his interaction with the Canaanite woman has a lot of merit. After all, as we too often forget, Jesus, though completely divine, utterly God, was completely human as well. We can comfortably assume that Jesus had to learn how to walk, had to be potty trained, had to learn to talk, had to learn how to feed himself, had to learn how to read, had to learn how to dress himself, and on and on and on.
Is it too great a logical leap to say that Jesus may have discovered the scope and direction of God’s plan for him, the breadth and depth of his earthly mission, in part while he was in the midst of his earthly mission?
The Canaanite woman certainly comes out of this account as the one with the upper hand. It is she, and not Jesus, who models the most admirable human behavior. She shows willingness to be vulnerable by seeking help from a longstanding foe whom she knows despises her because of national and racial divisions. She asks for help for her daughter, not for herself. She is persistent in the face of insults and rejection, for her daughter's sake. The Canaanite woman has the best lines in the story, especially her last one. "Call me dog," she says, "but even the dogs get the crumbs that fall from the table." She is the clear underdog (pun intended) who wins the prize of highest value for any mother, Jew or despised Canaanite – her child's health and well-being.
And Jesus appears to go from, frankly, acting like a jerk – a staunch nationalist, a good Jew who won’t have anything to do with unclean Gentiles – to one who is amazed at the faithfulness of someone from outside the Jewish faith, and convinced that God is indeed actively pursuing, constantly calling every human being, no matter their nationality or original belief system, into relationship and into the Kingdom of God.
Or… could there be something else at work here?
Why on earth is Matthew insisting on calling this woman a Canaanite? No one in the first century used that word to describe anyone. It would be like calling New York “New Amsterdam,” or describing a trip to Haleyville as a visit to the “Free State of Winston.”
And besides, what in the world is Jesus doing in Tyre and Sidon anyway, if he’s “sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” like he says? He’s in Gentile country, for cryin’ out loud! Guess what, Jesus, the house of Israel is back the way you came, bro!
Well, Canaan had a history with Israel, you see. Back in Joshua’s time, when they were crossing the Jordan to take the Promised Land, God specifically instructed the Israelites, in no uncertain terms, to utterly destroy the Canaanites – if you will, to commit genocide on the entire race. Here it is, from Deuteronomy, the seventh chapter, verses one through four:
“When the LORD your God brings you into the land that you are entering to take possession of it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations more numerous and mightier than yourselves, and when the LORD your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction. You shall make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them. You shall not intermarry with them, giving your daughters to their sons or taking their daughters for your sons, for they would turn away your sons from following me, to serve other gods. Then the anger of the LORD would be kindled against you, and he would destroy you quickly.”
The Canaanites were not just pagans. Not just Gentiles. They were the God-ordained enemies of Jewish people everywhere!
So why is Jesus there? Remember, a couple of weeks back, we read about Jesus’ Feeding of the Five Thousand. That was smack-dab in Jewish territory, and everyone who as fed was, presumably, of the Jewish faith. There were enough leftovers, you will remember, to fill twelve baskets. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see the connection to the Twelve Tribes of Israel in that gathering, does it?
Immediately following our reading today, Jesus travels along the Sea of Galilee for a bit, climbs a mountain, heals everyone who is brought to him, and feeds four thousand people with seven loaves and some fishes. There is enough left over to fill seven baskets this time… and is it much of a stretch to connect those seven baskets to the seven nations that God commanded Joshua and the Children of Israel to annihilate roughly fourteen centuries before?
I want to suggest to you that we do not have to choose between a Jesus who is playing games with the Canaanite woman, or a Jesus who is taught a lesson by the Canaanite woman. There is a third way, one that does not force us to see Jesus as either the conqueror or the conquered!
The third option is to see him as both: Jesus is first and foremost a conqueror by purposefully letting himself be 'conquered'. By this way of thinking, Jesus does enter into the conversation foreknowing that this woman's faith is up to the test. But instead of flaunting this foreknowledge, or intuition, he lets himself look like an abuser. He lets the tables be turned so that, in an act of faith, the Israelite is conquered by the Canaanite.
The point is this: In Deuteronomy, God commands that the Canaanites, and the six other nations mentioned there, receive no mercy, be granted no covenant. What does the Canaanite woman ask for, on behalf of her daughter? Mercy. What, ultimately, does Jesus give the Canaanite woman? Mercy, and healing.
I do not believe it is an accident that the breaking of the bread there in the Gentile lands, like the breaking of the bread in the Jewish land, seems to foreshadow the breaking of the bread at the Lord’s Supper. If the bread and the cup symbolize for us the New Covenant in Christ’s blood, how much more does the breaking of the bread and the feeding of the four thousand symbolize a covenant with a people whom God had commanded, some fourteen hundred years before, there be no covenant made?
Instead of a God who shows no mercy through the first Joshua, we meet a God of mercy through a new Joshua (and, in fact, the name “Joshua” and the name “Jesus” are exactly the same in Hebrew!), who shows forth that mercy, first of all, through the willingness to suffer violence rather than inflict it, and then, second of all, as the true power of life itself, rather than of death -- namely, through the power to heal the sick and nourish a crowd.
Like the walls of Jericho, the wall between Jew and Gentile have fallen. And the walls are still fallen! Look around you in this place, and look around you, really look around you, when you leave this place today. Look around you everywhere, all week, all the time. We will not, at any point, in any context, in any place, find any person who is too different or too bad or too wrong or too anything to be out of reach of the love and mercy and forgiveness and reconciling grace of God!
Oh, this is not to say that we won’t see people that we are not comfortable imagining being loved by God. We have our own walls – walls of prejudice, walls of sexism, walls of class pride and class envy, walls of privilege and walls built by pain and injury. “For out of the heart,” Jesus said, “come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander.” Out of the heart comes racism, out of the heart comes jealousy, out of the heart comes pride. “These are what defile a person…” and it is high time we call these things what they are, and begin the hard work of setting them aside.
We can choose to be like the disciples who complained about all the noise the needy Canaanite woman was making, or we can choose to be like the disciples who eagerly distributed the broken loaves and fishes to the hungry Gentile crowd. The difference is this: are we willing to see the walls come down?
Let us pray:
Lord, grant us the wisdom of the Canaanite woman,
To know our need,
To acknowledge your power,
And to share your love with others.
Open our ears and our hearts to the real needs
Of all your children
For Jesus’ sake…
Sunday, August 7, 2011
“Hey, cheer up! It’s me, don’t be scared.”
Special thanks to Mark G. Vitalis Hoffman, who showed me a completely new way to look at the account of Jesus walking on the water, and to Scott Hoezee, whose work I borrowed heavily from in completing the sermon.
Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Jacob settled in the land where his father had lived as an alien, the land of Canaan. This is the story of the family of Jacob.
Joseph, being seventeen years old, was shepherding the flock with his brothers; he was a helper to the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father’s wives; and Joseph brought a bad report of them to their father. Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he had made him a long robe with sleeves. But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.
Now his brothers went to pasture their father’s flock near Shechem. And Israel said to Joseph, “Are not your brothers pasturing the flock at Shechem? Come, I will send you to them.” He answered, “Here I am.” So he said to him, “Go now, see if it is well with your brothers and with the flock; and bring word back to me.” So he sent him from the valley of Hebron.
He came to Shechem, and a man found him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, “What are you seeking?” “I am seeking my brothers,” he said; “tell me, please, where they are pasturing the flock.” The man said, “They have gone away, for I heard them say, ‘Let us go to Dothan.’” So Joseph went after his brothers, and found them at Dothan. They saw him from a distance, and before he came near to them, they conspired to kill him. They said to one another, “Here comes this dreamer. Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams.” But when Reuben heard it, he delivered him out of their hands, saying, “Let us not take his life.” Reuben said to them, “Shed no blood; throw him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him” — that he might rescue him out of their hand and restore him to his father. So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore; and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.
Then they sat down to eat; and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt. Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers agreed. When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.
Romans 10:5-15
Moses writes concerning the righteousness that comes from the law, that “the person who does these things will live by them.” But the righteousness that comes from faith says, “Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’” (that is, to bring Christ down) “or ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’” (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead). But what does it say? “The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved. The scripture says, “No one who believes in him will be put to shame.” For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”
Gospel Matthew 14:22-33
Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
This is the Word of the Lord.
We’re picking up, in our Gospel reading, where we left off last Sunday. Jesus has spent the day touching, healing, and ministering to the thousands of people who met him when his lonely boat reached the shore, and he had multiplied loaves and fishes and fed the five thousand. Now, as the shadows lengthen, Jesus sends the disciples back across the Sea of Galilee in the boat, and sends the crowd home with full bellies.
And Jesus went to pray.
Jesus prayed a lot. Sometimes he prayed all night. And with his heart still heavy over the news of the execution of his cousin John, perhaps this was his chance to finally be alone with his Father, to finally have a moment to as “why?” Perhaps he finally had time to ask his Father, “what’s next?”
Hours pass, and for the disciples, a little solitude and “alone time” with God would have been a welcome relief from the frenzy of rowing, bailing, and worrying as they fought against the Sea of Galilee. Our translation does very little to convey just how bad things were for the Twelve, there in that little boat. The Greek tells us that, in fact, the waves tortured the boat, and the wind fought against them, opposed their every move! The Sea of Galilee is well-known for how quickly the weather changes there, and as the night went on, the disciples were literally fighting for their life!
And in the midst of all of this chaos, Jesus took a stroll, and like to have scared the disciples half to death!
Now, I need to back up a bit and say a word about superstitions. Just as there are American superstitions like the one about walking under a ladder, or specifically Southern superstitions like the one about rocking an empty rocking chair, the Jewish people in the first century had superstitions. For example, there was the one about large bodies of open water. They said that the open water was filled with demons. So it isn’t hard to imagine that these worn-out and terrified disciples, seeing, in a flash of lightning, a figure coming toward them across the open water, might not have had, “oh, cool, it’s Jesus!” as the first thought on their mind.
Now, if you’re like me, you’ve heard a lot of sermons about Jesus walking on the water, and I am betting you’ve heard some where Peter is praised for his faith, congratulated for having the courage to step out of the boat and walk toward Jesus. I know I’ve preached that sermon at least once.
But something has always bothered me about that. Peter stepped out of the boat, successfully walked on the water, at least for a few steps, and Jesus called him “You of little faith?” Really? Not even a “good effort, Pete, let’s try it again from the top.” or “Hey, nice try, buddy. Better luck next time.”
Jesus and Peter got in the boat, the seas were calmed, but no one patted Peter on the back, not even the writer of the Gospel acknowledges that he did something praiseworthy – Jesus is the one being worshipped, for the first time in the Gospels. Poor old Peter! He walked on water, man! Give him some credit!
Or… maybe not.
When the disciples saw that shadowy figure doing what no human being can do, move across the open face of the water, they were absolutely certain that they were going to die – that a demon was coming to finish the job the sea had started.
Imagine their relief, even joy, when Jesus called out to them, “Hey, cheer up! It’s me, don’t be scared.” No doubt they remembered the time, on this very body of water, when Jesus had stood in the boat and had calmed the wind and the waves with a word. Finally, they thought, everything is going to be all right.
Well, almost all of them thought that, anyway.
It’s easy to miss what Peter really says to Jesus. It sounds like a harebrained request in any light, and the sheer audacity of Simon Peter, getting out of the boat and walking off, captures our imagination. But is Peter acting in faith?
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
Does that sound familiar? Doesn’t it sound like exactly what Satan said to Jesus while he as testing the Lord in the wilderness?
“If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread… throw yourself down from [the pinnacle of the Temple].”
Doesn’t it sound exactly like what the Pharisees asked for constantly: proof? “Teacher, we want to see a sign from you.”
The lesson we are most often taught about Jesus walking on the water is that Peter had the right idea, stepping out of the boat, and would have been A-OK if he’d just kept his eyes on Jesus! And while there is, I suppose, merit in that teaching, I would contend that Peter’s error started long before he stepped out of the boat. Notice that Jesus asks Peter “Why did you doubt?” But that word for doubt doesn’t refer to the loss of faith which caused Peter to sink. Nor does it refer to the fear brought on by the surrounding storm. No, that specific Greek word for “doubt” refers specifically to doubt about the person of Jesus Christ – Peter’s doubt was that Jesus was who he said he was!
Jesus could well have been asking Peter, "What are you doing outside the boat in the first place?" Jesus had just shown them how much he could do with no more than simple bread and fish, he had fed well over five thousand people, with more than enough to spare! But Peter wanted something more as a way to test out Jesus' true power and identity.
Many scholars and commentators note that the feeding of the five thousand, our Gospel lesson from last week, has very strong connections with the Lord’s Supper – the breaking of the bread, the fact that so many were fed from one loaf, and so on. Since the only other time that Matthew’s Gospel makes mention of the disciples worshipping Jesus is when he appears to them after the Resurrection, it is arguable that this act of walking on the water is a parallel to the Resurrection appearances of Christ.
In walking on the water, climbing in the boat, and making the sea instantly calm, Jesus is demonstrating that he is who he has said all along that he is. He is demonstrating, decisively, his lordship over all of creation, his mastery of everything that exists, no matter how powerful, daunting, or dangerous. In demanding that Jesus prove himself, in stepping out of the boat, sinking, and requiring help, Peter not only endangered his fellow disciples by delaying Jesus, he made it all about himself.
It’s been said that if you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat, and that’s right. And there are times and situations that call for the people of God to step out boldly, to act out their faith in heroic and dramatic ways for the cause of Christ.
But there are times when we don’t need to act like Simon Peter. We don’t usually think much about the eleven disciples who stayed in the boat--you know, the ones who didn’t jump over the side of the boat and try for some fancy footwork on the waves. Those disciples just pulled on their oars against the wind, steering their way toward Jesus for no other purpose than allowing him to get on board along with the rest of them. Sometimes it's enough just to be in the boat, awaiting Jesus' presence among us, believing that winds and waves or calm seas, he is surely with us, even to the end of the age.
Even if this story is about what people have always thought--that is, the need to do heroic and dramatic acts of stepping out on faith--even so, there is something to be said about faithful, low-key, non-dramatic work in the boat, too. There's something to be said for just believing the power of Jesus' word when he claims we need not fear because he is the Great I Am. There’s something to be said for pressing on in faith not because we’ve tested Jesus and found that he lived up to all the hype. Not because Jesus has enabled us to get attention for ourselves by doing something spectacular. No, we press on because you believe Jesus when, through the Spirit, we hear him say , “Hey, cheer up! It’s me, don’t be scared.”
Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Jacob settled in the land where his father had lived as an alien, the land of Canaan. This is the story of the family of Jacob.
Joseph, being seventeen years old, was shepherding the flock with his brothers; he was a helper to the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father’s wives; and Joseph brought a bad report of them to their father. Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he had made him a long robe with sleeves. But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.
Now his brothers went to pasture their father’s flock near Shechem. And Israel said to Joseph, “Are not your brothers pasturing the flock at Shechem? Come, I will send you to them.” He answered, “Here I am.” So he said to him, “Go now, see if it is well with your brothers and with the flock; and bring word back to me.” So he sent him from the valley of Hebron.
He came to Shechem, and a man found him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, “What are you seeking?” “I am seeking my brothers,” he said; “tell me, please, where they are pasturing the flock.” The man said, “They have gone away, for I heard them say, ‘Let us go to Dothan.’” So Joseph went after his brothers, and found them at Dothan. They saw him from a distance, and before he came near to them, they conspired to kill him. They said to one another, “Here comes this dreamer. Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams.” But when Reuben heard it, he delivered him out of their hands, saying, “Let us not take his life.” Reuben said to them, “Shed no blood; throw him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him” — that he might rescue him out of their hand and restore him to his father. So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore; and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.
Then they sat down to eat; and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt. Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers agreed. When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.
Romans 10:5-15
Moses writes concerning the righteousness that comes from the law, that “the person who does these things will live by them.” But the righteousness that comes from faith says, “Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’” (that is, to bring Christ down) “or ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’” (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead). But what does it say? “The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved. The scripture says, “No one who believes in him will be put to shame.” For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”
Gospel Matthew 14:22-33
Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
This is the Word of the Lord.
We’re picking up, in our Gospel reading, where we left off last Sunday. Jesus has spent the day touching, healing, and ministering to the thousands of people who met him when his lonely boat reached the shore, and he had multiplied loaves and fishes and fed the five thousand. Now, as the shadows lengthen, Jesus sends the disciples back across the Sea of Galilee in the boat, and sends the crowd home with full bellies.
And Jesus went to pray.
Jesus prayed a lot. Sometimes he prayed all night. And with his heart still heavy over the news of the execution of his cousin John, perhaps this was his chance to finally be alone with his Father, to finally have a moment to as “why?” Perhaps he finally had time to ask his Father, “what’s next?”
Hours pass, and for the disciples, a little solitude and “alone time” with God would have been a welcome relief from the frenzy of rowing, bailing, and worrying as they fought against the Sea of Galilee. Our translation does very little to convey just how bad things were for the Twelve, there in that little boat. The Greek tells us that, in fact, the waves tortured the boat, and the wind fought against them, opposed their every move! The Sea of Galilee is well-known for how quickly the weather changes there, and as the night went on, the disciples were literally fighting for their life!
And in the midst of all of this chaos, Jesus took a stroll, and like to have scared the disciples half to death!
Now, I need to back up a bit and say a word about superstitions. Just as there are American superstitions like the one about walking under a ladder, or specifically Southern superstitions like the one about rocking an empty rocking chair, the Jewish people in the first century had superstitions. For example, there was the one about large bodies of open water. They said that the open water was filled with demons. So it isn’t hard to imagine that these worn-out and terrified disciples, seeing, in a flash of lightning, a figure coming toward them across the open water, might not have had, “oh, cool, it’s Jesus!” as the first thought on their mind.
Now, if you’re like me, you’ve heard a lot of sermons about Jesus walking on the water, and I am betting you’ve heard some where Peter is praised for his faith, congratulated for having the courage to step out of the boat and walk toward Jesus. I know I’ve preached that sermon at least once.
But something has always bothered me about that. Peter stepped out of the boat, successfully walked on the water, at least for a few steps, and Jesus called him “You of little faith?” Really? Not even a “good effort, Pete, let’s try it again from the top.” or “Hey, nice try, buddy. Better luck next time.”
Jesus and Peter got in the boat, the seas were calmed, but no one patted Peter on the back, not even the writer of the Gospel acknowledges that he did something praiseworthy – Jesus is the one being worshipped, for the first time in the Gospels. Poor old Peter! He walked on water, man! Give him some credit!
Or… maybe not.
When the disciples saw that shadowy figure doing what no human being can do, move across the open face of the water, they were absolutely certain that they were going to die – that a demon was coming to finish the job the sea had started.
Imagine their relief, even joy, when Jesus called out to them, “Hey, cheer up! It’s me, don’t be scared.” No doubt they remembered the time, on this very body of water, when Jesus had stood in the boat and had calmed the wind and the waves with a word. Finally, they thought, everything is going to be all right.
Well, almost all of them thought that, anyway.
It’s easy to miss what Peter really says to Jesus. It sounds like a harebrained request in any light, and the sheer audacity of Simon Peter, getting out of the boat and walking off, captures our imagination. But is Peter acting in faith?
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
Does that sound familiar? Doesn’t it sound like exactly what Satan said to Jesus while he as testing the Lord in the wilderness?
“If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread… throw yourself down from [the pinnacle of the Temple].”
Doesn’t it sound exactly like what the Pharisees asked for constantly: proof? “Teacher, we want to see a sign from you.”
The lesson we are most often taught about Jesus walking on the water is that Peter had the right idea, stepping out of the boat, and would have been A-OK if he’d just kept his eyes on Jesus! And while there is, I suppose, merit in that teaching, I would contend that Peter’s error started long before he stepped out of the boat. Notice that Jesus asks Peter “Why did you doubt?” But that word for doubt doesn’t refer to the loss of faith which caused Peter to sink. Nor does it refer to the fear brought on by the surrounding storm. No, that specific Greek word for “doubt” refers specifically to doubt about the person of Jesus Christ – Peter’s doubt was that Jesus was who he said he was!
Jesus could well have been asking Peter, "What are you doing outside the boat in the first place?" Jesus had just shown them how much he could do with no more than simple bread and fish, he had fed well over five thousand people, with more than enough to spare! But Peter wanted something more as a way to test out Jesus' true power and identity.
Many scholars and commentators note that the feeding of the five thousand, our Gospel lesson from last week, has very strong connections with the Lord’s Supper – the breaking of the bread, the fact that so many were fed from one loaf, and so on. Since the only other time that Matthew’s Gospel makes mention of the disciples worshipping Jesus is when he appears to them after the Resurrection, it is arguable that this act of walking on the water is a parallel to the Resurrection appearances of Christ.
In walking on the water, climbing in the boat, and making the sea instantly calm, Jesus is demonstrating that he is who he has said all along that he is. He is demonstrating, decisively, his lordship over all of creation, his mastery of everything that exists, no matter how powerful, daunting, or dangerous. In demanding that Jesus prove himself, in stepping out of the boat, sinking, and requiring help, Peter not only endangered his fellow disciples by delaying Jesus, he made it all about himself.
It’s been said that if you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat, and that’s right. And there are times and situations that call for the people of God to step out boldly, to act out their faith in heroic and dramatic ways for the cause of Christ.
But there are times when we don’t need to act like Simon Peter. We don’t usually think much about the eleven disciples who stayed in the boat--you know, the ones who didn’t jump over the side of the boat and try for some fancy footwork on the waves. Those disciples just pulled on their oars against the wind, steering their way toward Jesus for no other purpose than allowing him to get on board along with the rest of them. Sometimes it's enough just to be in the boat, awaiting Jesus' presence among us, believing that winds and waves or calm seas, he is surely with us, even to the end of the age.
Even if this story is about what people have always thought--that is, the need to do heroic and dramatic acts of stepping out on faith--even so, there is something to be said about faithful, low-key, non-dramatic work in the boat, too. There's something to be said for just believing the power of Jesus' word when he claims we need not fear because he is the Great I Am. There’s something to be said for pressing on in faith not because we’ve tested Jesus and found that he lived up to all the hype. Not because Jesus has enabled us to get attention for ourselves by doing something spectacular. No, we press on because you believe Jesus when, through the Spirit, we hear him say , “Hey, cheer up! It’s me, don’t be scared.”
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…
Many thanks to Twitter friend @thedaveone, who pointed me toward the CNN.com article about Sal Dimiceli, which figures heavily in this sermon. Dr. John Fairless at the Lectionary Lab helped me focus my thoughts on Jesus' grief, as well as his compassion, and "Girardian reflections on the Lectionary" provided the background material for "splagchnizomai."
Genesis 32:22-31
The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.
Romans 9:1-5
I am speaking the truth in Christ — I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit — I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh. They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen.
Matthew 14:13-21
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
This is the Word of the Lord.
Jesus had just heard horrible news – the kind of news that hits like a slap to the face; gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, incapacitating news. His cousin: a man he’d grown up with and loved, a man whose willingness to baptize changed Jesus’ whole life – was dead. Killed at the hands of the despicable King Herod.
Most, if not all of us, have been in this place. Reeling from shock, confused, unable to think… of course his first thought was that he needed to be alone, to get away from the noise of the crowd, their neediness, the challenges of the scribes and the Pharisees, the pressure of proclaiming the Kingdom, if only for a little while.
So he got in a boat and set off across the lake. I can’t say if the disciples were in the boat with him; I suspect they watched him float away and decided to walk around the lake to meet him. As they trudged off for the long journey to the other side, word spread, and before long thousands of people had dropped what they were doing, tied on their sandals, and joined the trek.
And I imagine Jesus there, alone, in the boat, probably paying very little attention to things like setting the sail properly, or rowing, or whatever it is one needed to do to get that particular watercraft from one side of the lake to another. It was a time to grieve and a time to cry. Yes, I’m sure there was prayer; probably along the lines of asking “why?” as his thoughts turned inward, ever inward…
Jesus was, of course, God-made-flesh. But how easily we forget that God-made-flesh was, well, a human being. Jesus was on a life journey, a journey where he learned and experienced and dealt with everything every other human being has ever had to do – potty training and learning to use a fork and learning to walk and read and talk, and, yes, to feel the crushing grief of losing someone we love to Death.
Who knows how long that boat took to cross the lake? Who knows how deep Jesus fell into that well of loss, of sorrow, of grief? Perhaps, at last, the rocking of the boat coaxed him into a fitful sleep…
…a sleep interrupted by the sound of voices. Lots of them. Thousands. Jesus wiped the sleep from his eyes and peered over the railing toward the slowly approaching shore…
…and something happened. Our New Revised Standard Version translation puts it mildly enough, it says that Jesus saw a great crowd and had compassion for them. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? But I want to suggest this morning that something far deeper, more seminal happened right then. You see, the Greek word for what happened in that moment, splagchnizomai, is derived from a word in the Greek translation of the Old Testament which described the removal of an animal’s innards during ritual sacrifice. It’s a much more decisive, even violent word, than what we understand “compassion” to be. Eugene Peterson’s “Message” translation of this Scripture says that Jesus’ heart went out to them, and that’s closer, but it’s much more like Jesus’ love for that crowd – his desire to help them, to heal them – that compassion was so great that it was as if his very heart was torn from him.
And the miracles began. Jesus did what Jesus does – he loved them, he healed their sicknesses. And healed, and healed some more. For hours and hours. As the shadows grew long, his disciples finally came up to Jesus. “Dude, it’s getting late, and these folks need to go find a village and get some dinner.”
Jesus never missed a beat, going from person to person, touching, blessing, healing. “Nah, they don’t need to go anywhere. You give them some supper.”
“Um, Jesus, not to argue with you or anything, but we’re not exactly McDonald’s here. Five loaves, a couple of fish, that’s our inventory.”
And I know that the Gospels don’t record it this way, but I can see Jesus looking up, smiling, and saying, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…”
I suppose the disciples could have held back: “What are you, crazy? This is my lunch! Go get your own loaves and fishes, man!” – but they gave them over to Jesus, and the miracles began anew.
Thousands upon thousands of people sat on the cool grass as Jesus blessed and broke the bread and the fish, and passed them over to the disciples to begin handing out.
The disciples must have thought their Rabbi had lost his ever-loving mind. But they dutifully did as they were told, and walked out among the people, passing out food. And passing out food. And passing out food.
There wasn’t too little after all. In fact, there wasn’t just enough. There was an abundance! Way more than they needed!
There are enough lessons in this passage to fill a month of sermons, but I want to focus on just a couple, which given the news reports over the past couple of weeks, may be particularly important.
I think it’s curious how, in times of natural disaster, we reach out to those in need, giving time and money and goods and services, but in times of economic uncertainty live we’ve been seeing lately, what with the debt ceiling debate, we act more like a person who is experiencing grief – we pull inward, circling the wagons, trying desperately to hold on to what we have. We crawl into our boat, pull our shawl over our head, and hope the people in Washington on both sides of the aisle will stop playing fast and loose with our future before it’s too late.
And we look at the need around us, the millions of homeless in America, the ten million people in the horn of Africa facing starvation according to the UN, those still living in tents and FEMA trailers after the tornadoes here in Alabama, and we see our resources and worry that it just isn’t enough, that we can’t even begin to address the overwhelming problems facing our planet.
But Scripture teaches differently, doesn’t it? We try to focus inwardly, but the Holy Spirit pulls us outward, pulling our heart, calling us to Christlike compassion. Jesus sees what there is, says, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…”
Kathleen Toner of CNN.com wrote this week about a Lake Geneva, Wisconsin woman, Jennifer Cervantes, who for years struggled to make ends meet. She worked all she could, but her paycheck never seemed to cover living expenses for her and her five kids. Hard as she tried, she kept falling further behind.
Desperate, Cervantes decided to write a letter to Sal Dimiceli, whose newspaper column might be considered a "Dear Abby" for the down and out.
Within a few weeks, Dimiceli showed up on her doorstep. They talked for a while, and then he offered to pay one month's rent as well as her outstanding gas and electric bills. He also went to the local grocery store and stocked the family's empty refrigerator.
It was just another day's work for Dimiceli, a 60-year-old real estate broker whose weekly column in the Lake Geneva Regional News focuses on people in dire straits. Through his column and his nonprofit, “The Time Is Now To Help,” Dimiceli has provided about 500 people a year with food, rent, utilities and other necessities. All this, despite the fact that the economic downturn hit his real estate business hard. He gives away at least 20% of his income, and relies on donations to his nonprofit, as well as a network of supporters, for the rest.
When Dimiceli began writing his newspaper column eight years ago, he wrote it anonymously, using the initials “W.C.” It stood for “With Christ.”
For Jennifer Cervantes and about 500 people across Wisconsin and Illinois, Dimiceli has been the healing touch of Jesus, moving through the crowds.
Is Sal Dimiceli unique? If so, he certainly doesn’t have to be. Maybe you and I can’t impact 500 people a year, but we can do something, somewhere, for someone, on some level. What sets Sal apart from so many others is that, when Jesus held out his hand for the loaves and fishes, Sal didn’t hold back.
Jesus looks at what we have and says, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…” Will we hold back, mumbling, “This is mine, you get your own,” or will we let go, and see the miracles begin anew?
Genesis 32:22-31
The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.
Romans 9:1-5
I am speaking the truth in Christ — I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit — I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh. They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen.
Matthew 14:13-21
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
This is the Word of the Lord.
Jesus had just heard horrible news – the kind of news that hits like a slap to the face; gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, incapacitating news. His cousin: a man he’d grown up with and loved, a man whose willingness to baptize changed Jesus’ whole life – was dead. Killed at the hands of the despicable King Herod.
Most, if not all of us, have been in this place. Reeling from shock, confused, unable to think… of course his first thought was that he needed to be alone, to get away from the noise of the crowd, their neediness, the challenges of the scribes and the Pharisees, the pressure of proclaiming the Kingdom, if only for a little while.
So he got in a boat and set off across the lake. I can’t say if the disciples were in the boat with him; I suspect they watched him float away and decided to walk around the lake to meet him. As they trudged off for the long journey to the other side, word spread, and before long thousands of people had dropped what they were doing, tied on their sandals, and joined the trek.
And I imagine Jesus there, alone, in the boat, probably paying very little attention to things like setting the sail properly, or rowing, or whatever it is one needed to do to get that particular watercraft from one side of the lake to another. It was a time to grieve and a time to cry. Yes, I’m sure there was prayer; probably along the lines of asking “why?” as his thoughts turned inward, ever inward…
Jesus was, of course, God-made-flesh. But how easily we forget that God-made-flesh was, well, a human being. Jesus was on a life journey, a journey where he learned and experienced and dealt with everything every other human being has ever had to do – potty training and learning to use a fork and learning to walk and read and talk, and, yes, to feel the crushing grief of losing someone we love to Death.
Who knows how long that boat took to cross the lake? Who knows how deep Jesus fell into that well of loss, of sorrow, of grief? Perhaps, at last, the rocking of the boat coaxed him into a fitful sleep…
…a sleep interrupted by the sound of voices. Lots of them. Thousands. Jesus wiped the sleep from his eyes and peered over the railing toward the slowly approaching shore…
…and something happened. Our New Revised Standard Version translation puts it mildly enough, it says that Jesus saw a great crowd and had compassion for them. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? But I want to suggest this morning that something far deeper, more seminal happened right then. You see, the Greek word for what happened in that moment, splagchnizomai, is derived from a word in the Greek translation of the Old Testament which described the removal of an animal’s innards during ritual sacrifice. It’s a much more decisive, even violent word, than what we understand “compassion” to be. Eugene Peterson’s “Message” translation of this Scripture says that Jesus’ heart went out to them, and that’s closer, but it’s much more like Jesus’ love for that crowd – his desire to help them, to heal them – that compassion was so great that it was as if his very heart was torn from him.
And the miracles began. Jesus did what Jesus does – he loved them, he healed their sicknesses. And healed, and healed some more. For hours and hours. As the shadows grew long, his disciples finally came up to Jesus. “Dude, it’s getting late, and these folks need to go find a village and get some dinner.”
Jesus never missed a beat, going from person to person, touching, blessing, healing. “Nah, they don’t need to go anywhere. You give them some supper.”
“Um, Jesus, not to argue with you or anything, but we’re not exactly McDonald’s here. Five loaves, a couple of fish, that’s our inventory.”
And I know that the Gospels don’t record it this way, but I can see Jesus looking up, smiling, and saying, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…”
I suppose the disciples could have held back: “What are you, crazy? This is my lunch! Go get your own loaves and fishes, man!” – but they gave them over to Jesus, and the miracles began anew.
Thousands upon thousands of people sat on the cool grass as Jesus blessed and broke the bread and the fish, and passed them over to the disciples to begin handing out.
The disciples must have thought their Rabbi had lost his ever-loving mind. But they dutifully did as they were told, and walked out among the people, passing out food. And passing out food. And passing out food.
There wasn’t too little after all. In fact, there wasn’t just enough. There was an abundance! Way more than they needed!
There are enough lessons in this passage to fill a month of sermons, but I want to focus on just a couple, which given the news reports over the past couple of weeks, may be particularly important.
I think it’s curious how, in times of natural disaster, we reach out to those in need, giving time and money and goods and services, but in times of economic uncertainty live we’ve been seeing lately, what with the debt ceiling debate, we act more like a person who is experiencing grief – we pull inward, circling the wagons, trying desperately to hold on to what we have. We crawl into our boat, pull our shawl over our head, and hope the people in Washington on both sides of the aisle will stop playing fast and loose with our future before it’s too late.
And we look at the need around us, the millions of homeless in America, the ten million people in the horn of Africa facing starvation according to the UN, those still living in tents and FEMA trailers after the tornadoes here in Alabama, and we see our resources and worry that it just isn’t enough, that we can’t even begin to address the overwhelming problems facing our planet.
But Scripture teaches differently, doesn’t it? We try to focus inwardly, but the Holy Spirit pulls us outward, pulling our heart, calling us to Christlike compassion. Jesus sees what there is, says, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…”
Kathleen Toner of CNN.com wrote this week about a Lake Geneva, Wisconsin woman, Jennifer Cervantes, who for years struggled to make ends meet. She worked all she could, but her paycheck never seemed to cover living expenses for her and her five kids. Hard as she tried, she kept falling further behind.
Desperate, Cervantes decided to write a letter to Sal Dimiceli, whose newspaper column might be considered a "Dear Abby" for the down and out.
Within a few weeks, Dimiceli showed up on her doorstep. They talked for a while, and then he offered to pay one month's rent as well as her outstanding gas and electric bills. He also went to the local grocery store and stocked the family's empty refrigerator.
It was just another day's work for Dimiceli, a 60-year-old real estate broker whose weekly column in the Lake Geneva Regional News focuses on people in dire straits. Through his column and his nonprofit, “The Time Is Now To Help,” Dimiceli has provided about 500 people a year with food, rent, utilities and other necessities. All this, despite the fact that the economic downturn hit his real estate business hard. He gives away at least 20% of his income, and relies on donations to his nonprofit, as well as a network of supporters, for the rest.
When Dimiceli began writing his newspaper column eight years ago, he wrote it anonymously, using the initials “W.C.” It stood for “With Christ.”
For Jennifer Cervantes and about 500 people across Wisconsin and Illinois, Dimiceli has been the healing touch of Jesus, moving through the crowds.
Is Sal Dimiceli unique? If so, he certainly doesn’t have to be. Maybe you and I can’t impact 500 people a year, but we can do something, somewhere, for someone, on some level. What sets Sal apart from so many others is that, when Jesus held out his hand for the loaves and fishes, Sal didn’t hold back.
Jesus looks at what we have and says, “Perfect! Give ‘em here. That’s plenty. Watch…” Will we hold back, mumbling, “This is mine, you get your own,” or will we let go, and see the miracles begin anew?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Nothing!
Thanks to the work of Dan Clendenin, David Lose, "Starters For Sunday," Mary Hinkle Shore, and Paul S. Berge.
Accounts of modern-day persecution across the world are taken from the website of International Christian Concern, persecution.org.
Genesis 29:15-28
Then Laban said to Jacob, “Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?” Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were lovely, and Rachel was graceful and beautiful. Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.” Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me.” So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.
Then Jacob said to Laban, “Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed.” So Laban gathered together all the people of the place, and made a feast. But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob; and he went in to her. (Laban gave his maid Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her maid.) When morning came, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, “What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?” Laban said, “This is not done in our country — giving the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years.” Jacob did so, and completed her week; then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel as a wife.
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."
He told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
"Have you understood all this?" They answered, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."
Romans 8:26-39
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, "For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This is the Word of the Lord.
No one is really sure how the church in Rome started. Catholic tradition holds that the Apostle Peter started it. Other scholars think that, on the day of Pentecost, some of those who responded to Peter’s message of salvation in Jesus Christ had been pilgrims from the Jewish neighborhoods in Rome. Returning home, they shared the good news of the Messiah, and the church grew.
Whatever the case, life wasn’t easy for these Christians. Already hated for being Jewish, they found themselves more and more distrusted by their friends and family in the synagogues of Rome. What’s more, they lived in the very heart of the Roman Empire, a culture which welcomed the religions of all people, with one stipulation: once a year, every Roman citizen had to offer incense in worship to the god Caesar. And while Julius Caesar himself had exempted the Jewish people from this act of idolatry, as the Christian congregation grew to include people from outside Judaism, these new members found themselves experiencing increasing persecution, increasing pressure to compromise their newfound faith in the one true living God, in favor of this one small act of conformity, the pinch of incense to Caesar.
A rich man could have bought his way out. After all, one simply needed a certificate signed by a priest of Caesar, saying the act of worship had been completed. But the Good News attracted those needing hope. Slaves. Women. The desperately poor.
What’s more, by the time Paul wrote his epistle to the Roman church, the Emperor Nero had assumed power, and it was obvious to anyone with a pulse that this Nero was a raving lunatic. Things could only get worse. Though these Christians didn’t know it, the horrible persecutions which would follow the burning of Rome were less than a decade away.
Imagine not knowing what to do. Quietly sneak out to the nearest temple of Caesar, make the offering, get the certificate, and hope no one in the congregation noticed? Or stand firm and wait for their master or some Roman soldier to take note of the lack of certificate, and face the terror of the Roman judicial system? Leave your family, already malnourished and scraping by day by day, without any means of support? How do you pray about such a thing? How does hope function in that place where it’s no longer an intellectual pursuit, but a matter of life and death?
It’s hard for Western Christians to comprehend, this idea of our faith being a matter of life and death. Believing in God is still socially acceptable, and, for many of us, the idea of attending church, the idea of being a Christian, is the expected norm. We tend to look at people of other religions, or no religion at all, in the same way that the average Roman looked upon the Christian during the first three hundred years of the Church’s existence – with suspicion, distrust, occasional hostility, and perhaps a tinge of fear.
Yet for many, many modern-day followers of Christ, many here-and-now residents of the Kingdom of God, worshiping Jesus Christ means risking exile, imprisonment, torture, and even death.
In Vietnam, the government continues to pursue “Plan 184,” a systematic process to persecute Christians. Montagnard Christians, particularly, continue to endure torture, imprisonment, beatings, and even forced renunciations of their faith and death at the hands of the Vietnamese government.
In Pakistan, some one hundred and fifty Christians are currently in prison for breaking harsh anti-blasphemy laws. Even Muslims who disagree with the law are in danger. The governor of Punjab province, Salmaan Taseer, was gunned down after denouncing the law. His killer was cheered and showered with rose petals as he was led into court.
In Iran, the Supreme Court has upheld a ruling which forces Evangelical pastor Yosef Nadarkhani to choose between renouncing his Christian faith or be put to death by hanging. His attorney, Mohammed Ali Dadkhah, faces nine years in prison and a ten year ban from practicing law for his efforts on Yosef Nadarkhani’s behalf.
On July 10, the All Christian Fellowship Mission church in Suleja, Nigeria was bombed by extremists as members were leaving Sunday service. Three people died in the blast.
It is to this that our Epistle reading this morning speaks three great words of enduring, eternal hope.
The first hope is the presence of the Holy Spirit, who is always present even in our sorrows because the Holy Spirit prays with us and for us to God. What’s more, the Spirit is active when we don’t know what we need… and even when we do not know we have a need! God knows, even when we do not!
The second hope is the hope of God’s providence. The idea of being predestined here is not about some being “in” and others being “out” – too many theologians have spent far too much time on this idea, coming up with convoluted explanations of things like “double predestination,” where those who are doomed to Hell go there no matter what, and the Elect are chosen whether they like it or not. Rather, the Word assures us that God is present in all the matters of this life. Our past, present and future are arenas of God’s action on our behalf.
The third hope is the reminder that God’s providential history is shaped by the cross of Jesus Christ. In the gift of the Son we realize that God is always and absolutely for us. The text does not deny that there are principalities and powers, forces that seem strong and sometimes destructive as well. People have been getting arrested, imprisoned, hated, beaten, and killed for the sake of Christ since Day One. But these powers can never separate us from God’s love.
You may have noticed that I am using the words “we” and “us” a lot, and in light of how I painted we who are Western, American Christians at the outset, it may seem odd. If this word is primarily for those being persecuted, or having to make difficult life decisions for or against belief in Christ, why not use “they” and “them?”
Hear the Word of God from our Epistle reading this morning: “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family.”
“…the firstborn within a large family.”
The message of the Kingdom of God is not one of a replacement of empire, not a new kind of governance or a different way of thinking. We are a family, all of us, and – even more than that – a body, bonded together in the deep and abiding love and grace of God in Jesus Christ. In this context of the Kingdom of God, we cannot, no matter how much we try, no matter how our denominations or creeds or doctrines or theologies differ, no matter how many miles are between us, no matter how many oceans separate us, ever be “us” and “them.”
When one of us is persecuted, be it in Pakistan or Turkey or Egypt or Mexico, we all are persecuted. When one of us is not free, be it in Saudi Arabia or China or Vietnam, none of us are free. When one of us is beaten, be it in Mexico or Nairobi, all of us feel the blows.
So when one of us is silenced, the rest must speak. When one of us is restricted, the rest must move on their behalf. Speaking the truth to power, acting in ways which enhance the lives of the downtrodden, forgotten, neglected and marginalized, these are all Kingdom actions! Suffering is not some kind of Stoic exercise in endurance, hoping that someday things will be better. No, that suffering is a call to action. After all, we are, as a body, as a cohesive unit, as a Kingdom, not simply called to be “more than conquerors,” we already are more than conquerors! This idea that Paul has talked about elsewhere in the Book of Romans, this concept of sharing in the sufferings of Christ, has a point to it! “To preach the Message of good news to the poor, …to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the burdened and battered free, to announce, ‘This is God's year to act!’” (Luke 4:18-19, Message)
But let’s be honest: maybe we don’t endure persecution. Maybe the closest thing to hate we experience is someone disagreeing with us over infant baptism. But we do suffer. Sometimes quietly, and sometimes everyone knows, but we hurt. And I know I cannot speak for you, but there have been times in my life where I have wondered if God still loved me.
If you take nothing else away from this sermon today, take this: the answer to that question, for me and for you and for everyone is a resounding, emphatic, enthusiastic “yes!” Nothing can ever separate us from God’s abundant, extravagant, effusive, ebullient, exuberant, overflowing, unconstrained, and unreserved love! Not death, not life, not angels, not presidents or kings or bosses or juntas, nothing in the present or in the future, not powerful people or things or thoughts or movements, not height, not depth, nothing anywhere ever no matter what, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Take that joyful Good News, and live in it… and give it out, all the time, out there, beyond these walls and that door, to everyone, everywhere.
Amen.
Accounts of modern-day persecution across the world are taken from the website of International Christian Concern, persecution.org.
Genesis 29:15-28
Then Laban said to Jacob, “Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?” Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were lovely, and Rachel was graceful and beautiful. Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.” Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me.” So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.
Then Jacob said to Laban, “Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed.” So Laban gathered together all the people of the place, and made a feast. But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob; and he went in to her. (Laban gave his maid Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her maid.) When morning came, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, “What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?” Laban said, “This is not done in our country — giving the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years.” Jacob did so, and completed her week; then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel as a wife.
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."
He told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
"Have you understood all this?" They answered, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."
Romans 8:26-39
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, "For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This is the Word of the Lord.
No one is really sure how the church in Rome started. Catholic tradition holds that the Apostle Peter started it. Other scholars think that, on the day of Pentecost, some of those who responded to Peter’s message of salvation in Jesus Christ had been pilgrims from the Jewish neighborhoods in Rome. Returning home, they shared the good news of the Messiah, and the church grew.
Whatever the case, life wasn’t easy for these Christians. Already hated for being Jewish, they found themselves more and more distrusted by their friends and family in the synagogues of Rome. What’s more, they lived in the very heart of the Roman Empire, a culture which welcomed the religions of all people, with one stipulation: once a year, every Roman citizen had to offer incense in worship to the god Caesar. And while Julius Caesar himself had exempted the Jewish people from this act of idolatry, as the Christian congregation grew to include people from outside Judaism, these new members found themselves experiencing increasing persecution, increasing pressure to compromise their newfound faith in the one true living God, in favor of this one small act of conformity, the pinch of incense to Caesar.
A rich man could have bought his way out. After all, one simply needed a certificate signed by a priest of Caesar, saying the act of worship had been completed. But the Good News attracted those needing hope. Slaves. Women. The desperately poor.
What’s more, by the time Paul wrote his epistle to the Roman church, the Emperor Nero had assumed power, and it was obvious to anyone with a pulse that this Nero was a raving lunatic. Things could only get worse. Though these Christians didn’t know it, the horrible persecutions which would follow the burning of Rome were less than a decade away.
Imagine not knowing what to do. Quietly sneak out to the nearest temple of Caesar, make the offering, get the certificate, and hope no one in the congregation noticed? Or stand firm and wait for their master or some Roman soldier to take note of the lack of certificate, and face the terror of the Roman judicial system? Leave your family, already malnourished and scraping by day by day, without any means of support? How do you pray about such a thing? How does hope function in that place where it’s no longer an intellectual pursuit, but a matter of life and death?
It’s hard for Western Christians to comprehend, this idea of our faith being a matter of life and death. Believing in God is still socially acceptable, and, for many of us, the idea of attending church, the idea of being a Christian, is the expected norm. We tend to look at people of other religions, or no religion at all, in the same way that the average Roman looked upon the Christian during the first three hundred years of the Church’s existence – with suspicion, distrust, occasional hostility, and perhaps a tinge of fear.
Yet for many, many modern-day followers of Christ, many here-and-now residents of the Kingdom of God, worshiping Jesus Christ means risking exile, imprisonment, torture, and even death.
In Vietnam, the government continues to pursue “Plan 184,” a systematic process to persecute Christians. Montagnard Christians, particularly, continue to endure torture, imprisonment, beatings, and even forced renunciations of their faith and death at the hands of the Vietnamese government.
In Pakistan, some one hundred and fifty Christians are currently in prison for breaking harsh anti-blasphemy laws. Even Muslims who disagree with the law are in danger. The governor of Punjab province, Salmaan Taseer, was gunned down after denouncing the law. His killer was cheered and showered with rose petals as he was led into court.
In Iran, the Supreme Court has upheld a ruling which forces Evangelical pastor Yosef Nadarkhani to choose between renouncing his Christian faith or be put to death by hanging. His attorney, Mohammed Ali Dadkhah, faces nine years in prison and a ten year ban from practicing law for his efforts on Yosef Nadarkhani’s behalf.
On July 10, the All Christian Fellowship Mission church in Suleja, Nigeria was bombed by extremists as members were leaving Sunday service. Three people died in the blast.
It is to this that our Epistle reading this morning speaks three great words of enduring, eternal hope.
The first hope is the presence of the Holy Spirit, who is always present even in our sorrows because the Holy Spirit prays with us and for us to God. What’s more, the Spirit is active when we don’t know what we need… and even when we do not know we have a need! God knows, even when we do not!
The second hope is the hope of God’s providence. The idea of being predestined here is not about some being “in” and others being “out” – too many theologians have spent far too much time on this idea, coming up with convoluted explanations of things like “double predestination,” where those who are doomed to Hell go there no matter what, and the Elect are chosen whether they like it or not. Rather, the Word assures us that God is present in all the matters of this life. Our past, present and future are arenas of God’s action on our behalf.
The third hope is the reminder that God’s providential history is shaped by the cross of Jesus Christ. In the gift of the Son we realize that God is always and absolutely for us. The text does not deny that there are principalities and powers, forces that seem strong and sometimes destructive as well. People have been getting arrested, imprisoned, hated, beaten, and killed for the sake of Christ since Day One. But these powers can never separate us from God’s love.
You may have noticed that I am using the words “we” and “us” a lot, and in light of how I painted we who are Western, American Christians at the outset, it may seem odd. If this word is primarily for those being persecuted, or having to make difficult life decisions for or against belief in Christ, why not use “they” and “them?”
Hear the Word of God from our Epistle reading this morning: “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family.”
“…the firstborn within a large family.”
The message of the Kingdom of God is not one of a replacement of empire, not a new kind of governance or a different way of thinking. We are a family, all of us, and – even more than that – a body, bonded together in the deep and abiding love and grace of God in Jesus Christ. In this context of the Kingdom of God, we cannot, no matter how much we try, no matter how our denominations or creeds or doctrines or theologies differ, no matter how many miles are between us, no matter how many oceans separate us, ever be “us” and “them.”
When one of us is persecuted, be it in Pakistan or Turkey or Egypt or Mexico, we all are persecuted. When one of us is not free, be it in Saudi Arabia or China or Vietnam, none of us are free. When one of us is beaten, be it in Mexico or Nairobi, all of us feel the blows.
So when one of us is silenced, the rest must speak. When one of us is restricted, the rest must move on their behalf. Speaking the truth to power, acting in ways which enhance the lives of the downtrodden, forgotten, neglected and marginalized, these are all Kingdom actions! Suffering is not some kind of Stoic exercise in endurance, hoping that someday things will be better. No, that suffering is a call to action. After all, we are, as a body, as a cohesive unit, as a Kingdom, not simply called to be “more than conquerors,” we already are more than conquerors! This idea that Paul has talked about elsewhere in the Book of Romans, this concept of sharing in the sufferings of Christ, has a point to it! “To preach the Message of good news to the poor, …to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the burdened and battered free, to announce, ‘This is God's year to act!’” (Luke 4:18-19, Message)
But let’s be honest: maybe we don’t endure persecution. Maybe the closest thing to hate we experience is someone disagreeing with us over infant baptism. But we do suffer. Sometimes quietly, and sometimes everyone knows, but we hurt. And I know I cannot speak for you, but there have been times in my life where I have wondered if God still loved me.
If you take nothing else away from this sermon today, take this: the answer to that question, for me and for you and for everyone is a resounding, emphatic, enthusiastic “yes!” Nothing can ever separate us from God’s abundant, extravagant, effusive, ebullient, exuberant, overflowing, unconstrained, and unreserved love! Not death, not life, not angels, not presidents or kings or bosses or juntas, nothing in the present or in the future, not powerful people or things or thoughts or movements, not height, not depth, nothing anywhere ever no matter what, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Take that joyful Good News, and live in it… and give it out, all the time, out there, beyond these walls and that door, to everyone, everywhere.
Amen.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
It's "Horticulturist," not "Horticulturalist."
Not that the title has anything to do with the sermon.
I have a friend who, because of an accumulation of things, including open abuse by Christians, has left the faith. And while, yes, people are responsible for their own decisions, the fact that other Christians drove this person away from faith in Christ is galling, embarrassing, tragic, and inexcusable.
Genesis 28:10-19a
Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the LORD stood beside him and said, “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is in this place — and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. 19aHe called that place Bethel;
Romans 8:12-25
So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh — for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ — if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field;but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”
Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”
This is the Word of the Lord.
I wouldn’t even begin to call myself an expert horticulturist, but I’ve done a little gardening in my time. Well, more precisely, I’ve helped out with gardening on occasion. One of the very few things I know about gardening is that, occasionally, there is weeding that has to be done. So I have to confess a bit of confusion over the panic that the household slaves get in over the weeds in this week’s Gospel reading. I mean, it’s just weeds. What’s the big deal about a few weeds? You have to get in there, look for anything that isn’t wheat, pull it up, and get on with life, right?
Not so much, as it turns out. The weeds Jesus refers to are called “darnel,” and they are both poisonous and indistinguishable from wheat until they reach maturity. It was a crime in the Roman empire to do to this householder what his enemy did – sow darnel among the wheat. It is so pervasive that its roots intertwine with the wheat’s roots, making it impossible to get rid of the bad without destroying the good! No wonder the householder was content just to let everything grow together – there would be ample time for the experts to take care of the problem at harvest time.
And can I tell you this morning, that I think many of us in the Church Universal have forgotten that important key point – that it’s the experts at the harvest time who will do the work of deciding what is, and what is not, fit to eat?
I think it’s a natural reaction for us humans that, whenever we read about separating the wheat from the weeds, we automatically think of people – either groups or individuals – who we think of as weeds, “children of the evil one,” as Jesus puts it. Perhaps, deep down, we feel a twinge of fear that we, ourselves, are weeds, and instead of shining like the sun, we’re destined to go up in smoke.
So we get busy making lists, tabulating what is right and what is wrong, and more than that, who is right and who is wrong, when it comes to Christian faith and practice. We want to make sure we are the “right” ones, the wheat, so we codify in minute detail exactly what it means to be fit for the Kingdom, and we specify the kinds of people who are fit only for the furnace. Churches write constitutions, statements of faith, doctrinal statements… some even require members to sign a contract before they join!
Denominations are created in much the same way as amoeba reproduce, this one splitting off from that one over issues of Scriptural interpretation, baptism, the Lord’s Supper, who can and cannot preach or serve in leadership, which translation of the Bible is the “correct” one, and on and on. Arguments and even outright violence break out and get publicized, lawsuits get filed, and it’s been going on this way for centuries!
The result is that the Body of Christ appears fractured – thirty-five thousand separate Protestant denominations, Catholicism in Roman form, as well as Eastern Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, and all of this to say nothing about Coptic churches, unaffiliated churches, churches in coffee shops and living rooms and bars, Emergent cohorts… all saying different things about the same God. All deciding, in one way or another, who is a weed and who is wheat.
As a direct result of all of the infighting and all the outcasting, more and more people every day are deciding that Christianity isn’t for them. And this is not simply people who have never been to church, looking on from the outside, and saying “no, thank you.” According to Barna Research, in the United States, some fifty-three thousand people – people who are in church, who perhaps grew up there, who have heard the preaching and sung the songs and prayed the prayers – leave church every week… and never come back.
We are, in effect – no, that’s not right, it isn’t “in effect,” it’s exactly that we are ripping out the wheat along with the weeds, and doing it with wild and joyful abandon! In our passion to construct the perfect vehicle with which to express our freedom in Christ, we’ve fenced ourselves in – thirty-five thousand separate plots of theological ground. In our dedication to perfecting our walk, purifying our prayer, sanctifying our thought, we have shut out anything and everyone who does not conform to our precise expectations.
We have forgotten that doctrine does not save. And while our theology defines what we believe about God, it also divides, because not everyone speaks of God with the same words, or from the same perspective. We have forgotten that what unites us – the only thing which can truly make us one in Christ – isn’t our orthodoxy (right thinking) or orthopraxy (right practice)… it’s love.
The lesson of the wheat and the weeds isn’t that there are “children of the evil one” among us. We know this already, it’s not news. The lesson is that we can’t tell. And, further, that it isn’t our job to tell who is a weed and who is wheat. We mess it up when we try to do it.
We are not God’s instruments of judgment. We are instruments of God’s love. We are not designed by our Creator, infused with God’s Holy Spirit, in order to be exclusive, but to reach out, in love, to all of creation – to be inclusive.
We are meant to pray, with Saint Francis of Assisi…
Lord make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred,
Let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, Joy.
O Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
To be understood,as to understand;
To be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
I have a friend who, because of an accumulation of things, including open abuse by Christians, has left the faith. And while, yes, people are responsible for their own decisions, the fact that other Christians drove this person away from faith in Christ is galling, embarrassing, tragic, and inexcusable.
Genesis 28:10-19a
Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the LORD stood beside him and said, “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is in this place — and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. 19aHe called that place Bethel;
Romans 8:12-25
So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh — for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ — if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field;but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”
Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”
This is the Word of the Lord.
I wouldn’t even begin to call myself an expert horticulturist, but I’ve done a little gardening in my time. Well, more precisely, I’ve helped out with gardening on occasion. One of the very few things I know about gardening is that, occasionally, there is weeding that has to be done. So I have to confess a bit of confusion over the panic that the household slaves get in over the weeds in this week’s Gospel reading. I mean, it’s just weeds. What’s the big deal about a few weeds? You have to get in there, look for anything that isn’t wheat, pull it up, and get on with life, right?
Not so much, as it turns out. The weeds Jesus refers to are called “darnel,” and they are both poisonous and indistinguishable from wheat until they reach maturity. It was a crime in the Roman empire to do to this householder what his enemy did – sow darnel among the wheat. It is so pervasive that its roots intertwine with the wheat’s roots, making it impossible to get rid of the bad without destroying the good! No wonder the householder was content just to let everything grow together – there would be ample time for the experts to take care of the problem at harvest time.
And can I tell you this morning, that I think many of us in the Church Universal have forgotten that important key point – that it’s the experts at the harvest time who will do the work of deciding what is, and what is not, fit to eat?
I think it’s a natural reaction for us humans that, whenever we read about separating the wheat from the weeds, we automatically think of people – either groups or individuals – who we think of as weeds, “children of the evil one,” as Jesus puts it. Perhaps, deep down, we feel a twinge of fear that we, ourselves, are weeds, and instead of shining like the sun, we’re destined to go up in smoke.
So we get busy making lists, tabulating what is right and what is wrong, and more than that, who is right and who is wrong, when it comes to Christian faith and practice. We want to make sure we are the “right” ones, the wheat, so we codify in minute detail exactly what it means to be fit for the Kingdom, and we specify the kinds of people who are fit only for the furnace. Churches write constitutions, statements of faith, doctrinal statements… some even require members to sign a contract before they join!
Denominations are created in much the same way as amoeba reproduce, this one splitting off from that one over issues of Scriptural interpretation, baptism, the Lord’s Supper, who can and cannot preach or serve in leadership, which translation of the Bible is the “correct” one, and on and on. Arguments and even outright violence break out and get publicized, lawsuits get filed, and it’s been going on this way for centuries!
The result is that the Body of Christ appears fractured – thirty-five thousand separate Protestant denominations, Catholicism in Roman form, as well as Eastern Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, and all of this to say nothing about Coptic churches, unaffiliated churches, churches in coffee shops and living rooms and bars, Emergent cohorts… all saying different things about the same God. All deciding, in one way or another, who is a weed and who is wheat.
As a direct result of all of the infighting and all the outcasting, more and more people every day are deciding that Christianity isn’t for them. And this is not simply people who have never been to church, looking on from the outside, and saying “no, thank you.” According to Barna Research, in the United States, some fifty-three thousand people – people who are in church, who perhaps grew up there, who have heard the preaching and sung the songs and prayed the prayers – leave church every week… and never come back.
We are, in effect – no, that’s not right, it isn’t “in effect,” it’s exactly that we are ripping out the wheat along with the weeds, and doing it with wild and joyful abandon! In our passion to construct the perfect vehicle with which to express our freedom in Christ, we’ve fenced ourselves in – thirty-five thousand separate plots of theological ground. In our dedication to perfecting our walk, purifying our prayer, sanctifying our thought, we have shut out anything and everyone who does not conform to our precise expectations.
We have forgotten that doctrine does not save. And while our theology defines what we believe about God, it also divides, because not everyone speaks of God with the same words, or from the same perspective. We have forgotten that what unites us – the only thing which can truly make us one in Christ – isn’t our orthodoxy (right thinking) or orthopraxy (right practice)… it’s love.
The lesson of the wheat and the weeds isn’t that there are “children of the evil one” among us. We know this already, it’s not news. The lesson is that we can’t tell. And, further, that it isn’t our job to tell who is a weed and who is wheat. We mess it up when we try to do it.
We are not God’s instruments of judgment. We are instruments of God’s love. We are not designed by our Creator, infused with God’s Holy Spirit, in order to be exclusive, but to reach out, in love, to all of creation – to be inclusive.
We are meant to pray, with Saint Francis of Assisi…
Lord make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred,
Let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, Joy.
O Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
To be understood,as to understand;
To be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Jesus Didn't Drive No John Deere...
I owe much of this sermon to Elisabeth Johnson and Scott Hoezee. I hope you enjoy it.
Genesis 25:19-34
These are the descendants of Isaac, Abraham’s son: Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac was forty years old when he married Rebekah, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Paddan-aram, sister of Laban the Aramean. Isaac prayed to the LORD for his wife, because she was barren; and the LORD granted his prayer, and his wife Rebekah conceived. The children struggled together within her; and she said, “If it is to be this way, why do I live?” So she went to inquire of the LORD. And the LORD said to her,
“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided;
the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.”
When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. The first came out red, all his body like a hairy mantle; so they named him Esau. Afterward his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau’s heel; so he was named Jacob. Isaac was sixty years old when she bore them.
When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents. Isaac loved Esau, because he was fond of game; but Rebekah loved Jacob.
Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, for I am famished!” (Therefore he was called Edom.) Jacob said, “First sell me your birthright.” Esau said, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?” Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank, and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.
Romans 8:1-11
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do: by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and to deal with sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, so that the just requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For this reason the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law — indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.
But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”
“Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
This is the Word of the Lord.
Our Gospel reading this morning is one of the most widely known and understood of Jesus’ parables. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot left to say about it, since Jesus takes the time to explain, carefully and specifically, precisely what he means by the story.
The challenge with this parable, then, isn’t what the allegory means, but what we humans – we Christians – tend to do with it.
Christ says, “Let anyone with ears listen!” And at its most basic, it’s a parable about hearing, really hearing, the Good News.
What do you think of when you hear about the ground that the seed was cast upon? For far too many people, images come to mind of other people – individuals or groups – who either do not follow Christ, or don’t follow Christ as well as they do.
They interpret the parable to mean that when they cast their seed – meaning when they speak their doctrinal position, share their theological worldview, or make a Gospel witness – some people will hear their message or their worldview, be reasonable, and see it their way (the good soil). The ones who dare to disagree, or not care, have only themselves to blame for being bad soil.
Some of those people have built pathways, even roads in the soil of hearts, hard-packed from the busyness of life, by the claims of science, and by the cynicism and arrogance of the age. They sneer at the very idea of God, religion, faith. The seed of the gospel can just bounce off such a hard heart. Maybe a bird of the air will eat it. But by golly, it won’t grow.
Other folks’ hearts aren’t as hard-packed, but the soil is shallow – made so by a get-rich-quick, instant gratification culture of indulgence and fads. They’ve been trained by the media to always be on the lookout for the next big thing – the newest, the nicest, the fastest. Sometimes the seed of the gospel shoots up like kudzu in people’s hearts… but withers when the next reality-show comes on television.
Still other hearts are just plain crowded. It isn’t that these folks are callous or shallow; in fact, the soil of their hearts is deep. Lots of stuff grows there... too much, in fact. The seed of the gospel sprouts just fine, but it’s in competition with the plants of commerce and business, the shrubberies of the 401k fund, the Roth IRA weeds, the stock market portfolio vines, and all the stuff sucks all the nutrients out of the soil, and there’s nothing left.
But the story that Jesus tells here is not a measuring-stick for the faith of others, or a guideline for who is saved and who isn’t (although that seems to be a preoccupation of many of us today). Charles Cousar says it well: “As hearers, the disciples are not allowed the luxury of armchair quarterbacking, of deliberating over someone else's positive or negative response as to who gets the credit or blame. The text bluntly asks, How do you hear? What type of soil are you? Does your hearing lead to understanding?”
It’s a tough question. I mean, I’d like to think I’m good soil… but I can be cynical. I can be self-centered. I get distracted from prayer and meditation and study way too easily. What if I’m not good soil at all? What if there’s really no hope for me?
Well, if we’re honest, we can all find evidence of all kinds of soil in our hearts at once, can’t we? Depending on the day we’re having, the time of day, what time of year, and who knows what-all, we can have hardscrabble paths worn into places where we’ve made up our minds and no one can tell us different, shallow patches where we’ve been jealous about someone else’s car or smart phone, choked-up sections where we’ve exhausted ourselves over worrying about paying bills, and, yes, deep, rich, fertile spots where God’s joyous Good News thrives.
It’s interesting to note that, nowhere in the parable or in Jesus’ explanation of the parable are we commanded to be good soil. Soil can’t make itself good or bad. Dirt doesn’t choose to take up residence amongst rocks, or decide to be home to weeds. It’s dirt, it’s soil, it lives where it is. This analogy can’t go too far, because we humans do have the responsibility to be open to God’s work in our lives, but we can say this: in exactly the same way that soil can only be changed by the work of an outside agent – someone to dig out the rocks, pull out the weeds, work in the fertilizer – our hearts change only through the working of the Holy Spirit. And in the same way that a farmer can’t wave his hands and make a rocky patch into a fertile, tilled field ready for a garden, the change that God brings to our hearts is a long-term – lifelong – process.
When you get down to it, this parable is known far and wide, and as far as I know always has been known far and wide, as the Parable of the Sower, and for good reason. If this were real life, and the sower a modern-day farmer, we would think he had lost his mind! The sheer extravagance of flinging all that seed everywhere at once! It is as if the sower got on his John Deere, hooked up the Model SS10B Broadcast Spreader, and before he even drove out of the barn, pushed the PTO button that started the hopper spinning. As he drives to the field, seed is slinging everywhere! On the driveway, in the grass, bouncing off of passing cars, whizzing into the weeds on the side of the road, and finally – finally – as he drives into the field, the seed flies where it’s actually supposed to go!
It makes no sense… if you’re a farmer.
If you’re God, it makes perfect sense. God is, after all, extravagant, ebullient, fervent in his love for all of us, for all of creation. It makes perfect sense that the word of the kingdom, the Good News of eternal life and reconciliation with our creator through Jesus Christ, would be scattered with wild abandon, with no prequalification or exclusion or second-guessing.
Jesus never played it safe. He invested his time and effort into a ragtag cluster of a dozen fishermen and malcontents, ate his meals with prostitutes and tax collectors, showed mercy to the Roman oppressor and the pagan foreigner, touched the leper, even demanded that the grave give up its dead, and gave his life for the loftiest and the lowliest of sinners.
And Jesus says, “Let anyone with ears listen!”
We who inhabit the Body of Christ are entrusted with Jesus’ ongoing mission in this world. Instead of being egregiously generous with the love, forgiveness, and acceptance that we, ourselves, have enjoyed in Christ Jesus, we too often play it safe, sowing the word only where we are confident it will be well received, and only where those who receive it are likely to do us some good in return. In the name of good stewardship, we hold tightly to our resources, wanting to make sure that nothing is wasted. We stifle creativity and energy, resisting new ideas for fear they might not work -- as though mistakes or failure were to be avoided at all costs.
Jesus gives us freedom to take risks for the sake of the gospel. He endorses extravagant generosity in sowing the word, even in perilous places. Though we may wonder about the wisdom or efficiency of his methods, Jesus promises that the end result will be a bumper crop.
The coming of the seed and its success—when that happens—is all grace. Maybe that’s why the farmer keeps lobbing seeds at even the unlikeliest of targets. It’s not that the farmer doesn’t understand the long odds. It’s just that when you’re talking about salvation by grace, it’s not finally about the odds but about the persistence of the Holy One who won’t stop.
Ever.
Genesis 25:19-34
These are the descendants of Isaac, Abraham’s son: Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac was forty years old when he married Rebekah, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Paddan-aram, sister of Laban the Aramean. Isaac prayed to the LORD for his wife, because she was barren; and the LORD granted his prayer, and his wife Rebekah conceived. The children struggled together within her; and she said, “If it is to be this way, why do I live?” So she went to inquire of the LORD. And the LORD said to her,
“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided;
the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.”
When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. The first came out red, all his body like a hairy mantle; so they named him Esau. Afterward his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau’s heel; so he was named Jacob. Isaac was sixty years old when she bore them.
When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents. Isaac loved Esau, because he was fond of game; but Rebekah loved Jacob.
Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, for I am famished!” (Therefore he was called Edom.) Jacob said, “First sell me your birthright.” Esau said, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?” Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank, and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.
Romans 8:1-11
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do: by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and to deal with sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, so that the just requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For this reason the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law — indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.
But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”
“Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
This is the Word of the Lord.
Our Gospel reading this morning is one of the most widely known and understood of Jesus’ parables. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot left to say about it, since Jesus takes the time to explain, carefully and specifically, precisely what he means by the story.
The challenge with this parable, then, isn’t what the allegory means, but what we humans – we Christians – tend to do with it.
Christ says, “Let anyone with ears listen!” And at its most basic, it’s a parable about hearing, really hearing, the Good News.
What do you think of when you hear about the ground that the seed was cast upon? For far too many people, images come to mind of other people – individuals or groups – who either do not follow Christ, or don’t follow Christ as well as they do.
They interpret the parable to mean that when they cast their seed – meaning when they speak their doctrinal position, share their theological worldview, or make a Gospel witness – some people will hear their message or their worldview, be reasonable, and see it their way (the good soil). The ones who dare to disagree, or not care, have only themselves to blame for being bad soil.
Some of those people have built pathways, even roads in the soil of hearts, hard-packed from the busyness of life, by the claims of science, and by the cynicism and arrogance of the age. They sneer at the very idea of God, religion, faith. The seed of the gospel can just bounce off such a hard heart. Maybe a bird of the air will eat it. But by golly, it won’t grow.
Other folks’ hearts aren’t as hard-packed, but the soil is shallow – made so by a get-rich-quick, instant gratification culture of indulgence and fads. They’ve been trained by the media to always be on the lookout for the next big thing – the newest, the nicest, the fastest. Sometimes the seed of the gospel shoots up like kudzu in people’s hearts… but withers when the next reality-show comes on television.
Still other hearts are just plain crowded. It isn’t that these folks are callous or shallow; in fact, the soil of their hearts is deep. Lots of stuff grows there... too much, in fact. The seed of the gospel sprouts just fine, but it’s in competition with the plants of commerce and business, the shrubberies of the 401k fund, the Roth IRA weeds, the stock market portfolio vines, and all the stuff sucks all the nutrients out of the soil, and there’s nothing left.
But the story that Jesus tells here is not a measuring-stick for the faith of others, or a guideline for who is saved and who isn’t (although that seems to be a preoccupation of many of us today). Charles Cousar says it well: “As hearers, the disciples are not allowed the luxury of armchair quarterbacking, of deliberating over someone else's positive or negative response as to who gets the credit or blame. The text bluntly asks, How do you hear? What type of soil are you? Does your hearing lead to understanding?”
It’s a tough question. I mean, I’d like to think I’m good soil… but I can be cynical. I can be self-centered. I get distracted from prayer and meditation and study way too easily. What if I’m not good soil at all? What if there’s really no hope for me?
Well, if we’re honest, we can all find evidence of all kinds of soil in our hearts at once, can’t we? Depending on the day we’re having, the time of day, what time of year, and who knows what-all, we can have hardscrabble paths worn into places where we’ve made up our minds and no one can tell us different, shallow patches where we’ve been jealous about someone else’s car or smart phone, choked-up sections where we’ve exhausted ourselves over worrying about paying bills, and, yes, deep, rich, fertile spots where God’s joyous Good News thrives.
It’s interesting to note that, nowhere in the parable or in Jesus’ explanation of the parable are we commanded to be good soil. Soil can’t make itself good or bad. Dirt doesn’t choose to take up residence amongst rocks, or decide to be home to weeds. It’s dirt, it’s soil, it lives where it is. This analogy can’t go too far, because we humans do have the responsibility to be open to God’s work in our lives, but we can say this: in exactly the same way that soil can only be changed by the work of an outside agent – someone to dig out the rocks, pull out the weeds, work in the fertilizer – our hearts change only through the working of the Holy Spirit. And in the same way that a farmer can’t wave his hands and make a rocky patch into a fertile, tilled field ready for a garden, the change that God brings to our hearts is a long-term – lifelong – process.
When you get down to it, this parable is known far and wide, and as far as I know always has been known far and wide, as the Parable of the Sower, and for good reason. If this were real life, and the sower a modern-day farmer, we would think he had lost his mind! The sheer extravagance of flinging all that seed everywhere at once! It is as if the sower got on his John Deere, hooked up the Model SS10B Broadcast Spreader, and before he even drove out of the barn, pushed the PTO button that started the hopper spinning. As he drives to the field, seed is slinging everywhere! On the driveway, in the grass, bouncing off of passing cars, whizzing into the weeds on the side of the road, and finally – finally – as he drives into the field, the seed flies where it’s actually supposed to go!
It makes no sense… if you’re a farmer.
If you’re God, it makes perfect sense. God is, after all, extravagant, ebullient, fervent in his love for all of us, for all of creation. It makes perfect sense that the word of the kingdom, the Good News of eternal life and reconciliation with our creator through Jesus Christ, would be scattered with wild abandon, with no prequalification or exclusion or second-guessing.
Jesus never played it safe. He invested his time and effort into a ragtag cluster of a dozen fishermen and malcontents, ate his meals with prostitutes and tax collectors, showed mercy to the Roman oppressor and the pagan foreigner, touched the leper, even demanded that the grave give up its dead, and gave his life for the loftiest and the lowliest of sinners.
And Jesus says, “Let anyone with ears listen!”
We who inhabit the Body of Christ are entrusted with Jesus’ ongoing mission in this world. Instead of being egregiously generous with the love, forgiveness, and acceptance that we, ourselves, have enjoyed in Christ Jesus, we too often play it safe, sowing the word only where we are confident it will be well received, and only where those who receive it are likely to do us some good in return. In the name of good stewardship, we hold tightly to our resources, wanting to make sure that nothing is wasted. We stifle creativity and energy, resisting new ideas for fear they might not work -- as though mistakes or failure were to be avoided at all costs.
Jesus gives us freedom to take risks for the sake of the gospel. He endorses extravagant generosity in sowing the word, even in perilous places. Though we may wonder about the wisdom or efficiency of his methods, Jesus promises that the end result will be a bumper crop.
The coming of the seed and its success—when that happens—is all grace. Maybe that’s why the farmer keeps lobbing seeds at even the unlikeliest of targets. It’s not that the farmer doesn’t understand the long odds. It’s just that when you’re talking about salvation by grace, it’s not finally about the odds but about the persistence of the Holy One who won’t stop.
Ever.
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