Merry Christmas! Peace and blessings to you in this season of celebration.
As we approach the New Year, Matthew's Gospel takes us right back to how harsh this world can be at times. But God works even in the darkness. The life of Jesus comes as a challenge to the worldly powers. Here is the manuscript from the sermon preached on December 29, 2013 - the first Sunday after Christmas.
Matthew 2:13-23
13Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him." 14Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, 15and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, "Out of Egypt I have called my son."
16When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. 17Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
18"A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more."
19When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child's life are dead. 21Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. 23There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, "He will be called a Nazorean."
“Jesus changes things…forever”
The rage of Herod and the death of children are not the way to celebrate Christmas. Here we are just days from the wonder of the manger and the joy of the birth of Jesus - the celebratory hymns, the reflective candlelight, the peace of Christmas Eve. Today’s story from Matthew comes as a rude awakening. It arrives too soon.
Without our permission we are rushed back to reality where death and madness creep along in the shadows of life. Even small-town Fredericksburg cannot remain untouched by violence. The boarded-up windows of the shot-out Valero station on Adams street stands as sharp reminder that we are not immune to how harsh the world can be at times. We return to our newspapers and to the evening news on TV where the first segment is normally filled with bad news. Back to the grind. The soft light of Christmas seems to have faded away into another life.
Matthew does not waste any time in his Gospel returning to the brutal reality of his day. While we do not know how much time actually passes between the birth of Jesus and the visit of the Magi - Matthew estimates that it was a couple of years - the narrative time moves quickly. The magi come looking for the new born king. Herod, troubled by this news, tries to find the child by means of deceit. The gifts are given. Dreams and warnings come to Joseph and the magi. Both parties slip quietly out of town. Herod explodes in a fit of rage.
What follows is a brutal story. Matthew tells us that Herod gives an order to slaughter any male child in Bethlehem and the surrounding region who were two years old and younger. While terrible, this act is not out of character for Herod. He is known for other such despicable acts as killing three of his sons. Caesar Augustus himself is rumored to have said, “"It is safer to be a pig in a parent's household than to be a son in Herod's court.” Not very high praise. But Herod did not seem to care about this bit of bad press. Herod was interested in maintaining his control. And he did so at all costs.
Herod was a puppet king for Rome. He was given permission by the empire to rule the people of Judea. He took the title king for himself when he came into power. Though Herod practiced Judaism, he was not considered a Jew by most Jews of his day, and was an outsider to the people he ruled. Herod ruled with an iron fist and did all he could to protect his self-claimed kingship. And this is why he reacts so violently to the birth of Jesus.
When Herod catches wind of the birth of Jesus, hailed the king of the Jews, he is greatly troubled. Anyone who would dared to call themselves king was a threat to Herod’s power. It mattered not to Herod that the king was only a child, the threat was real and Herod’s power was in jeopardy. So Herod does what those in power do, he attempted to eliminate the threat. That’s how power works. Once you gain power, there is a relentless need to maintain that power. And it comes at all costs.
While this violent story may be a turn-off in this season of Christmas, it is critical for us to listen to and acknowledge. Herod is just an example of how the powers of this world react to a challenge of their power, of which Jesus is the ultimate. Here I speak of what the New Testaments writers called the “powers and principalities.” While I cannot give a full treatment of the subject here, a brief summary would help.
We can think of the powers in terms of an image or an institution. A king is an image of power. Kingship is bigger than one man. Herod was a king, but the image of king survives his reign. Once he claimed the title of King, Herod had to play by the rules of king - he had to look and act like a king - or suffer the consequences. The presidency is an image. The office of the president is bigger than one person. The office is bigger than George W. Bush, it’s bigger than Barack Obama. Once elected, one must play by the rules of the president. Our elected officials are a great example of the exhausting cycle of protecting power - they work for a few days and spend the rest of their terms campaigning for the next election. That’s why we have campaign that last three years. This is how worldly power works. And it’s fallen and broken because it does not recognize its vocation to serve God and God’s creation. This is why the life of Jesus is so important.
Matthew shows us that Jesus changes things. His life changes everything.
What unfolds in Matthew’s story of Jesus is how the life and ministry of Jesus is a challenge those in power. If the story were about the death of Jesus, solely about his death, then Matthew could have ended the story here. If the death of Jesus was all that was needed, then Herod could have saved Matthew a great deal of time and paper. He could have saved the followers of Jesus a great deal of pain and anxiety. But this story is not about the death of Jesus, it’s about how he lived - how he still lives in us. The life of Jesus, the love of God incarnate, is a challenge to the powers of this world. And his life belongs to us who follow in his footsteps.
The life of Jesus was about engaging the broken power structures of his day. His acts of healing reached beyond the corrupt temple complex and those who were in charge. Jesus dared to heal on the sabbath, eat with those labeled as unclean, and forgive sins. He was labeled as a glutton, drunkard, and a friend of tax collectors and sinners by those in power. He showed the world what following God’s call to community life really looked. A life of wholeness for all people. His life shocked those he encountered and offended those who were comfortable with the ways things were - the status quo. His life lead to the cross, to the only way that earthly power knows how to deal with a threat. The life of Jesus, ultimately leads to his death. But even in death, God’s power cannot be defeated. Jesus is raised as a statement to those in power that their unchallenged reign has ended. God’s new life for the world through Christ works in us and through us to usher in God’s kingdom of mercy and forgiveness. This is the life we are called to as followers of Jesus.
We are no strangers to the reality that Matthew points us to this morning, the violence in our world. the “new normal” of gun violence in schools is a constant reminder that the most vulnerable in our midst are still our children. Those of power in this world still argue endlessly about the proper way to govern, but when we peal back the thin veil of critical words we find Herod’s slaughter all over again. It seems that those who lead would rather kill each other with words than address the hunger, poverty, violence, and death that threaten to overwhelm us all. In a sense, not all that much has changed when it comes to power in this world. Nothing has changed except Jesus still changes everything with his love. The example of his life is still a beacon of hope to all who sojourn through this world.
The life of Jesus shows us true power. Power that loves, sacrifices, heals, and reaches beyond itself for the good of another. This way of life continually calls us into the promised future of God’s kingdom. Through Christ we are given the ultimate display of how power was and is always meant to work on the behalf of the other, and not for selfish gain.
As we approach a new year there are many possibilities that entice us from the horizon. Our call as children of God and followers of Christ point to a clear way to engage the world. Let us humbly go forward in love. Let us leave the fear of Herod where it belongs, on a broken thrown. Let us move out into the world with the power of God. The power of peace, mercy, and love.
Be assured, people of God, that God goes with us into the future. As we begin a new year let move out into our community with the confidence that God is already at work here among us. Let us be a witness to the powers of what God’s kingdom can look like in this world.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Right Where God Chooses to Be
Merry Christmas! May God continue to bless you during this season of celebration.
Here is the manuscript from the sermon I preached on Christmas Eve. The Gospel is Luke 2:1-14.
Luke 2:1-14
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”
Merry Christmas! The day of so much wonder and joy has finally arrived. We have waged through another busy season of black fridays and cyber mondays and endless commercials involving Santa Claus selling all makes and models of cars imaginable. We have made it to the eve of wonder when we finally have a chance to sing our favorite Christmas songs, light candles to “Silent Night,” and gather around the manger to hear the old familiar tale of the nativity once more.
We know this story. The story of the first Christmas - the story of the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, the savior of the world. We tell it every year. We remember it on our front lawns with plastic figurines and lights. We act it out in the back parking lot of Bethany with people and live animals through our annual Christmas journey. For those of us who look forward to it, because its a reminder of our childhoods, we get to hear Linus tell Charlie Brown and the whole world the meaning of Christmas, using the very words we got to hear again tonight. We know this story. We have been telling it for two thousand years. We’re pretty good at it by now.
We know the characters. Worn out Mary and Joseph, tired from their journey. Baby Jesus, hopefully resting peacefully, in the manger. The army of angels who come out of heaven in flash-mob style to surprise a rag tag bunch of shepherds who are out in the fields at work. They’re all there, Hallmark card perfect. The snapshot of the season.
But wait. A character is missing - or perhaps he was never invited to the party. Luke would definitely miss him if we left him out of the picture. He is the first character Luke mentions in his story of the birth of Jesus. Old Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor who dominates the first part of the story this evening. The man who calls the world to attention with an ordered census. For Luke, he is a key player in the story of Jesus’ birth. In the first movement of the story, Caesar’s call to register is mentioned four times. The birth of Jesus is pushed into the last line. This is an important part of the story because it sets the whole narrative in motion. Perhaps Caesar is worth a closer look this evening as we hear the familiar Christmas story one more time.
Caesar Augustus - son of God - savior of the world - divine high priest - that’s how Luke knew him. That was who was in charge when Jesus came screaming into this world. Caesar Augustus was the one who united a divided Rome and established a reign that was suppose to last forever. Augustus was the center of the Roman world, and his image and name were every where. Rome was the ultimate propaganda machine. As you traveled around the empire you knew exactly who was in charge. The Romans even reset the calendar for Augustus. We know the first month of their new year by the name August today. I dare say that if Rome could have reached into the heavens to reorder the stars to proclaim the divinity of Caesar Augustus - they would have.
There is an archway in Ephesus, Turkey, an ancient billboard if you will.
This billboard reads “Emperor Caesar - Divine Augustus - High Priest.” Bold words. Audacious words. Elsewhere in Roman literature Augustus is celebrated as the son of god - he was called the savior of the world. His life is told as the gospel - the good news, or good tidings - to the Roman world. Caesar Augustus was the man in charge when Jesus was born. And he ruled with an iron fist.
The time of Augustus was celebrated as a time of peace, the infamous “pax romana” - the Roman peace. But it was a peace through violence. Peace through military victory. A peace that held everything in check with the threat of death. A peace that was no peace at all to most of the Roman world. It was this peace that ordered Joseph and Mary from their home to Bethlehem to take part in a census that was meant to number people for tax and military purposes. This was a census to control the world. To remind the world that Caesar was in charge. To maintain the status quo. It was into this mess, the chaos of fallen power, that God chose to be present in our world.
The crazy thing about this story, about the missing character Caesar Augustus, is that his mighty, oppressive census becomes an avenue for the power of God. Right into our midst, right into the mess of the world, God chooses to be present. God turns Caesar’s census into an opportunity to introduce divine love into the world. In Luke’s story, woven into the fabric of the narrative, is the good news that God is the one who is actually in charge. God is in control - not Caesar. It’s a subversive claim by Luke. Right under the nose of Caesar Augustus - who is called son of god, high priest, savior, the one who brings peace and good news - comes baby Jesus. If these titles sound familiar it’s because we heard all of them in Luke’s story of the birth of Jesus. Jesus is the true son of God, high priest, and savior. Jesus is in charge - not Caesar. He is the one who brings true peace and his life is good news all people - the whole world.
That’s the radical message of the Christmas story - that Christ comes to us, not in a blaze of glory, but in the humility of a baby, born to a peasant girl in ancient Palestine. Jesus came into the world, not on a throne of power, removed from the joy and pain of everyday life, but on the margins of life, right where our lives unfold. Jesus came into the world as a bold statement that God was not ok with the way things were. He came into the world not as a quick fix, but as a game changer. He loved the world so deeply. He reached out to those in need, hung out with all the wrong people. Healing the sick. Speaking good news to the poor. Turning over the tables of a broken system of power - telling everyone up to their neck in sin that God was not out for vengeance and death but for a relationship grounded in love and forgiveness.
This is our story. The story of God’s love for the world. At its heart, the Christmas story is about God, who made the world, called it good, saw it broken, and walked right into the thick of our mess. Caesar Augustus is surely dead, we can see his great reign fading in the crumbling marble of long gone cities, but the fallen power of empire and death still runs rampant in this world. Hate and death still plague us, sometimes at a distance, sometimes within arms reach, but it’s here all the same. Last week I watched a 2013 year-in-review video on one of the morning shows. I normally don't watch such things, but I got pulled in. After five minutes I was worn out by all of the highs and lows of 2013 and was left thinking that the world needs more messages that point to God’s love. We are people capable of incredible love, and incredible destruction. And that’s right where God chooses to be. The birth of Christ does not wait until it’s safe. Jesus is born for us here and now, right in the midst of our joy and pain. He is born again for us tonight in bread and wine, gifts of God’s kingdom. A foretaste of God’s abundance. Nourishment for God’s children as we head back out to share the good news.
We know this story, this Christmas story. It’s a story so old and familiar, yet so new and surprising. It is our story. It’s a story of hope. A story of love. A reminder that God is indeed with us on our journeys through this world.
Here is the manuscript from the sermon I preached on Christmas Eve. The Gospel is Luke 2:1-14.
Luke 2:1-14
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”
Merry Christmas! The day of so much wonder and joy has finally arrived. We have waged through another busy season of black fridays and cyber mondays and endless commercials involving Santa Claus selling all makes and models of cars imaginable. We have made it to the eve of wonder when we finally have a chance to sing our favorite Christmas songs, light candles to “Silent Night,” and gather around the manger to hear the old familiar tale of the nativity once more.
We know this story. The story of the first Christmas - the story of the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, the savior of the world. We tell it every year. We remember it on our front lawns with plastic figurines and lights. We act it out in the back parking lot of Bethany with people and live animals through our annual Christmas journey. For those of us who look forward to it, because its a reminder of our childhoods, we get to hear Linus tell Charlie Brown and the whole world the meaning of Christmas, using the very words we got to hear again tonight. We know this story. We have been telling it for two thousand years. We’re pretty good at it by now.
We know the characters. Worn out Mary and Joseph, tired from their journey. Baby Jesus, hopefully resting peacefully, in the manger. The army of angels who come out of heaven in flash-mob style to surprise a rag tag bunch of shepherds who are out in the fields at work. They’re all there, Hallmark card perfect. The snapshot of the season.
But wait. A character is missing - or perhaps he was never invited to the party. Luke would definitely miss him if we left him out of the picture. He is the first character Luke mentions in his story of the birth of Jesus. Old Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor who dominates the first part of the story this evening. The man who calls the world to attention with an ordered census. For Luke, he is a key player in the story of Jesus’ birth. In the first movement of the story, Caesar’s call to register is mentioned four times. The birth of Jesus is pushed into the last line. This is an important part of the story because it sets the whole narrative in motion. Perhaps Caesar is worth a closer look this evening as we hear the familiar Christmas story one more time.
Caesar Augustus - son of God - savior of the world - divine high priest - that’s how Luke knew him. That was who was in charge when Jesus came screaming into this world. Caesar Augustus was the one who united a divided Rome and established a reign that was suppose to last forever. Augustus was the center of the Roman world, and his image and name were every where. Rome was the ultimate propaganda machine. As you traveled around the empire you knew exactly who was in charge. The Romans even reset the calendar for Augustus. We know the first month of their new year by the name August today. I dare say that if Rome could have reached into the heavens to reorder the stars to proclaim the divinity of Caesar Augustus - they would have.
There is an archway in Ephesus, Turkey, an ancient billboard if you will.
This billboard reads “Emperor Caesar - Divine Augustus - High Priest.” Bold words. Audacious words. Elsewhere in Roman literature Augustus is celebrated as the son of god - he was called the savior of the world. His life is told as the gospel - the good news, or good tidings - to the Roman world. Caesar Augustus was the man in charge when Jesus was born. And he ruled with an iron fist.
The time of Augustus was celebrated as a time of peace, the infamous “pax romana” - the Roman peace. But it was a peace through violence. Peace through military victory. A peace that held everything in check with the threat of death. A peace that was no peace at all to most of the Roman world. It was this peace that ordered Joseph and Mary from their home to Bethlehem to take part in a census that was meant to number people for tax and military purposes. This was a census to control the world. To remind the world that Caesar was in charge. To maintain the status quo. It was into this mess, the chaos of fallen power, that God chose to be present in our world.
The crazy thing about this story, about the missing character Caesar Augustus, is that his mighty, oppressive census becomes an avenue for the power of God. Right into our midst, right into the mess of the world, God chooses to be present. God turns Caesar’s census into an opportunity to introduce divine love into the world. In Luke’s story, woven into the fabric of the narrative, is the good news that God is the one who is actually in charge. God is in control - not Caesar. It’s a subversive claim by Luke. Right under the nose of Caesar Augustus - who is called son of god, high priest, savior, the one who brings peace and good news - comes baby Jesus. If these titles sound familiar it’s because we heard all of them in Luke’s story of the birth of Jesus. Jesus is the true son of God, high priest, and savior. Jesus is in charge - not Caesar. He is the one who brings true peace and his life is good news all people - the whole world.
That’s the radical message of the Christmas story - that Christ comes to us, not in a blaze of glory, but in the humility of a baby, born to a peasant girl in ancient Palestine. Jesus came into the world, not on a throne of power, removed from the joy and pain of everyday life, but on the margins of life, right where our lives unfold. Jesus came into the world as a bold statement that God was not ok with the way things were. He came into the world not as a quick fix, but as a game changer. He loved the world so deeply. He reached out to those in need, hung out with all the wrong people. Healing the sick. Speaking good news to the poor. Turning over the tables of a broken system of power - telling everyone up to their neck in sin that God was not out for vengeance and death but for a relationship grounded in love and forgiveness.
This is our story. The story of God’s love for the world. At its heart, the Christmas story is about God, who made the world, called it good, saw it broken, and walked right into the thick of our mess. Caesar Augustus is surely dead, we can see his great reign fading in the crumbling marble of long gone cities, but the fallen power of empire and death still runs rampant in this world. Hate and death still plague us, sometimes at a distance, sometimes within arms reach, but it’s here all the same. Last week I watched a 2013 year-in-review video on one of the morning shows. I normally don't watch such things, but I got pulled in. After five minutes I was worn out by all of the highs and lows of 2013 and was left thinking that the world needs more messages that point to God’s love. We are people capable of incredible love, and incredible destruction. And that’s right where God chooses to be. The birth of Christ does not wait until it’s safe. Jesus is born for us here and now, right in the midst of our joy and pain. He is born again for us tonight in bread and wine, gifts of God’s kingdom. A foretaste of God’s abundance. Nourishment for God’s children as we head back out to share the good news.
We know this story, this Christmas story. It’s a story so old and familiar, yet so new and surprising. It is our story. It’s a story of hope. A story of love. A reminder that God is indeed with us on our journeys through this world.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
An Army of Hope
Sometimes while writing a sermon I have to take a break and put words to paper (or mac screen) in order to get some ideas off the table. Too many ideas can clog the gears of thought, leaving too many options that try to force their way into my weak attempt to articulate God’s words for us. Rarely do this words ever see the light of day. But there’s a first time for everything.
These are some words that I need to get out of my mind.
There is a great deal of darkness and hate swirling around in the last week. Now perhaps is just me and the cold germs that I currently harbor in my body, but every time I turn on the TV, read the newspaper, or float around the internet and twitter, all I come across is negativity.
There is a war going on and its got many fronts.
There’s the war on Christmas….
…the war of words surrounding Phil Robertson and A&E…
… the war on Obamacare…
…the war of words over gun legislation - brought to fresh light by yet another school shooting…
…the actual wars raging in Syria, Irag, afghanistan…
…the actual wars raging in our city streets - I am reminded of the constant shadow of death on the south side of Chicago…
…the list goes on…
I do not record this list in an effort to bring more gloom to the table.
Actually my purpose is quite the opposite.
I want to talk about hope.
Specifically the hope we have in Christ.
As we draw closer to the nativity, moving through this fourth week in Advent, I want to add my voice to the conversation raging in the world around us. I want to talk about hope.
Hope comes in many forms in the Christmas narrative - too many to name - to many that still may find their way into my Christmas Eve sermon. The one I want to focus on can be found in Luke’s version, in the fields with the shepherds, as their lives were interrupted and their world turned upside down.
The shepherds could have probably come upon with a pretty gloomy list of events and issues that brought darkness to their lives - much like the list above. They were outcasts of society…oppressed by empire…poor economically…unclean religiously. They are the last folk on earth who would ever think about receiving good news - that night, or any night. And yet to them the angles appeared.
There is good news.
And here’s the cool part, at least for me. As we tell the story today, the shepherds are visited by a “host” of angels…a heavenly host. This is a very pastoral scene. Shepherds and sheep and a large group of singing angels. But I don't think this is what Luke had in mind. The word for “host” can also be translated as “army.” The shepherds are literally visited by an “army of angels.”
Now the shepherds knew about armies. So did Luke. They were familiar with Rome’s legions who spread the “pax romana” - the so called roman peace - with violence and brute force. They knew all to well the violence of an army - be it a physical force…an army of words that let them know just how outcast they were…an army of labels like unclean…an army of reminders that they did not belong.
But here Luke offers a different army - one that truly brings peace and good news for all the world and (no categories and labels here….no paperwork or hoops to jump through - All. The. World.) for all people. Here Luke presents an army of peace, sent by God to a world worn out by armies of hate - be they Roman or religious or otherwise.
The shepherds are greeted by an army of peace. This is good news. For them. And for us. But the story is not over.
The shepherds are then drafted into action. They are no longer bystanders of the story. They are drawn in by the word of peace and hope. They join the army. Excitement builds and they invade Bethlehem in peace and they get to look upon the prince of peace in wonder. And hope. And they go back out into the world to be voices of that hope. As they share the good news, the army of peace grows.
As the darkness of rhetoric, of hate, of hopelessness builds around us - as the nameless armies go through their maneuvers in our midst - I wonder if we can counter them with love. I wonder if we too can join the army of peace. The army of the angels and shepherds and the generations that have come before us who have boldly spoken words of peace and love - keeping the flame of hope alive in our world.
And it all starts with love.
Love…love…love…
I am reminded of one of my favorite Christmas songs. It’s not a traditional one by any means, but it is one that speaks of hope and love. It was penned by Dave Matthews and is simply titled “The Christmas Song.”
One of the chorus lines begs the question, “Why in all this hatred do you fill me what with love?”
It's a hard question. Why are we filled with love? And I am not here to answer it, but simply to remind. We are filled with love. This is what we need. To be reminded that we are filled with love, by God, through Jesus, to be an army of hope in this world.
My hope and prayer is that we can join the army of angels - and shepherds - in speaking words of peace, God’s peace, to our world that needs this good news so badly. That we can become an army of hope in our world.
These are some words that I need to get out of my mind.
There is a great deal of darkness and hate swirling around in the last week. Now perhaps is just me and the cold germs that I currently harbor in my body, but every time I turn on the TV, read the newspaper, or float around the internet and twitter, all I come across is negativity.
There is a war going on and its got many fronts.
There’s the war on Christmas….
…the war of words surrounding Phil Robertson and A&E…
… the war on Obamacare…
…the war of words over gun legislation - brought to fresh light by yet another school shooting…
…the actual wars raging in Syria, Irag, afghanistan…
…the actual wars raging in our city streets - I am reminded of the constant shadow of death on the south side of Chicago…
…the list goes on…
I do not record this list in an effort to bring more gloom to the table.
Actually my purpose is quite the opposite.
I want to talk about hope.
Specifically the hope we have in Christ.
As we draw closer to the nativity, moving through this fourth week in Advent, I want to add my voice to the conversation raging in the world around us. I want to talk about hope.
Hope comes in many forms in the Christmas narrative - too many to name - to many that still may find their way into my Christmas Eve sermon. The one I want to focus on can be found in Luke’s version, in the fields with the shepherds, as their lives were interrupted and their world turned upside down.
The shepherds could have probably come upon with a pretty gloomy list of events and issues that brought darkness to their lives - much like the list above. They were outcasts of society…oppressed by empire…poor economically…unclean religiously. They are the last folk on earth who would ever think about receiving good news - that night, or any night. And yet to them the angles appeared.
There is good news.
And here’s the cool part, at least for me. As we tell the story today, the shepherds are visited by a “host” of angels…a heavenly host. This is a very pastoral scene. Shepherds and sheep and a large group of singing angels. But I don't think this is what Luke had in mind. The word for “host” can also be translated as “army.” The shepherds are literally visited by an “army of angels.”
Now the shepherds knew about armies. So did Luke. They were familiar with Rome’s legions who spread the “pax romana” - the so called roman peace - with violence and brute force. They knew all to well the violence of an army - be it a physical force…an army of words that let them know just how outcast they were…an army of labels like unclean…an army of reminders that they did not belong.
But here Luke offers a different army - one that truly brings peace and good news for all the world and (no categories and labels here….no paperwork or hoops to jump through - All. The. World.) for all people. Here Luke presents an army of peace, sent by God to a world worn out by armies of hate - be they Roman or religious or otherwise.
The shepherds are greeted by an army of peace. This is good news. For them. And for us. But the story is not over.
The shepherds are then drafted into action. They are no longer bystanders of the story. They are drawn in by the word of peace and hope. They join the army. Excitement builds and they invade Bethlehem in peace and they get to look upon the prince of peace in wonder. And hope. And they go back out into the world to be voices of that hope. As they share the good news, the army of peace grows.
As the darkness of rhetoric, of hate, of hopelessness builds around us - as the nameless armies go through their maneuvers in our midst - I wonder if we can counter them with love. I wonder if we too can join the army of peace. The army of the angels and shepherds and the generations that have come before us who have boldly spoken words of peace and love - keeping the flame of hope alive in our world.
And it all starts with love.
Love…love…love…
I am reminded of one of my favorite Christmas songs. It’s not a traditional one by any means, but it is one that speaks of hope and love. It was penned by Dave Matthews and is simply titled “The Christmas Song.”
One of the chorus lines begs the question, “Why in all this hatred do you fill me what with love?”
It's a hard question. Why are we filled with love? And I am not here to answer it, but simply to remind. We are filled with love. This is what we need. To be reminded that we are filled with love, by God, through Jesus, to be an army of hope in this world.
My hope and prayer is that we can join the army of angels - and shepherds - in speaking words of peace, God’s peace, to our world that needs this good news so badly. That we can become an army of hope in our world.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Prepare; An Advent Prayer
Advent Blessings!
This week's sermon, based on Matthew 3:1-12, is the second in an Advent sermon series titled "Living As God's Hope-Filled People." The second week of this series explores how God prepares us to be kingdom people and how we, in turn, prepare the way of the Lord with our lives. May God be with you as we continue our journey to the manger.
Matthew 3:1-12
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,
"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.'"
Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
This morning we continue our Advent journey. We continue to explore what it means to live as God’s hope-filled people. Last week we heard the call from Matthew, and Pastor Casey, to remain awake. We learned what it looks like to remain awake and in-tune to what God is doing in our world. To remain awake to the reality that we live in a broken world, but that God is very much a part of our world, and that God continues to do work among us. We are called to wake up and reimagine the world as God reimagines the world, through love and forgiveness.
Today we light another candle against the cold and growing darkness of the world. We take a journey out into the wilderness as we hear the words of John the Baptist to “Prepare the Way.” As we remain awake to God’s presence in our midst, we add add another petition to our prayer; prepare. Prepare us, O Lord, to receive your kingdom. Empower us, O Lord, to prepare your way in this world. This morning we encounter the story of how to prepare the way for God’s coming into our midst. This story spans generations. Our faith journey is filled with many witnesses that teach us how to prepare God’s way in this world.
John the baptist appears rather suddenly on the scene, in the wilderness of Judea. It’s as if he rises out of the harsh landscape with his scathing critiques and message of the kingdom of heaven drawing near. In no time at all he is surrounded by people. The historian Josephus tells us that up to 50,000 people came to hear John speak. John is a spectacle. He is cut from the same rock as the prophets of old. Those versed in the legends recognize the image of Elijah in John’s camel’s hair suit and leather belt. He is a commanding figure then and now. And he is not afraid to speak his mind.
John speaks words of change. He points back to the words of Isaiah. “Prepare the way of the LORD, make his paths straight.” Isaiah spoke in the dark time of exile in Babylon. He spoke words of hope to a people who lived in fear. Isaiah knew God’s time would come again. He gave the people something to hold on to during long years of being scattered from their homes. God was preparing a way out of exile, so the way of the LORD must be made straight. In the wilderness, God’s time is coming. It is this torch that John picks up through his preaching. John knows what’s to come.
He calls for people to repent. He proclaims that the kingdom of heaven is drawing near. He does not beat around the bush as they say. John is direct and focused. “Repent!” It’s not a question or a polite request, it’s a command. Repent! It’s urgent. The kingdom of God is drawing near. Repent! That’s how the way of the LORD is prepared. John offers the people an opportunity to confess. He brings them to the waters of cleansing and healing. John proclaims God’s time.
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The call from John in the wilderness reaches out to us today. And this word may come to us worn out and tired. The word repent has been co-opted by side walk preachers and T.V. pastors to instill the fear of God into people. Repent! Jesus is coming back and boy is he mad. Repent! Or experience the flames of hell. Repent! Before it’s too late. So we may come to this word tired this morning, because all this talk of hell and damnation wears us out. For us, there may be no hope, no love, no chance of God in this word. And yet we hear it from John. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
Repent. This word that now bears the baggage of being used as the only way to get to heaven, actually meant something quite different for John. For John, repent has nothing to with the afterlife. With his call to repent, John is pointing to a change that is breaking into the world. His call to repent is filled with hope. The world is broken, God knows it, and God does something about it. With his call to repent, John is pointing to Jesus. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” John stands in the wilderness of the world, preparing the way for the one who will change everything. John proclaims a word of hope in the wilderness of the world.
As we move through the generations we encounter another who is a voice of hope in the wilderness. One who prepares the way of the Lord. On Friday, we commemorated Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra. Nicholas was a 4th century bishop of the church in the country we now know as Turkey. One of the legends that accompanies Saint Nicholas is his gracious offering to a family in need. It seems that a man in 4th century Patara had fallen on hard times and, in the midst of great troubles, was at his wit’s end. He had lost all of his money and had no means of supporting his three daughters. He was on the verge of selling them into prostitution. He was lost in the wilderness of poverty. Stranded among the sand and thorns of saving his family and surviving. It seemed he had no way in the wilderness. Until Nicholas came along.
It started with a bag of gold through an open window, perhaps, as legend holds, finding its way into an empty stocking, hanging by the chimney with care. The first daughter was set free from her grim fate of being sold into slavery. In turn, the other two daughters were also set free. Nicholas became a beckon of hope, a symbol of God’s redeeming love and new life for all through Jesus Christ. In the wilderness of poverty, Saint Nicholas prepared the way of the Lord by providing resources for a family in dire straits.
As we move further down the generations we encounter another who is a voice of hope in the wilderness. One who prepares the way of the Lord. On Thursday, the world mourned the death of Nelson Mandela. Mandela was a catalyst in helping to put an end to apartheid in South Africa. He was known the world over for being a voice for peace and beacon of hope in one of the most segregated and violent periods of time the world has known. He was a liberator and a champion for a people that had been kept in the wilderness for far too long.
Mandela spend over 10,000 days in prison for his early work against the apartheid government. He was labeled as traitor and put away for his acts of treason. In the darkness of prison, Mandela took the time to learn Afrikaans, the language of those in power, and in an early speech after his release, he delivered the speech in Afrikaans, attempting to reach out in peace, not violence. Mandela, while not perfect, helped to prepare the way for peace for a country so torn by violence and hatred. Through the wilderness of prison and segregation, Mandela was a beacon of hope, preparing the way of the Lord through the call for peace and harmony.
As we move even further down the generations, we arrive at ourselves. We are the ones who have received these stories. Today we hear the call to repent. And for us who follow Jesus, repentance is the act of preparing the way for God’s kingdom in the world. As we wander through the wilderness that creeps up during our lives, we are called to repent, to turn away from all that keeps us from following the way of Jesus.
The call to repent is more than a change of mind, it is a change of heart. To repent is to change the way we engage the world. No longer through the selfishness of sin, but through the grace of Gods love. The call to repent has a continual aspect to it. John’s call is to continue to repent. Or “keep on repenting.” Keep on turning away for all that holds you back from God. To repent is to hope in what God has promised. To repent is to act upon the trust that we have in God’s presence in our world. We turn away from the old ways of sin and selfishness, from all that keeps us from being fully alive. Repentance sets us free to live for God and for one another. In the wilderness of this world, God prepares a way through us as we reach out to others. This repentance comes through ordinary acts of love and mercy. Our Angel Trees prepare God’s way in the world as we share our resources with those in need. Our gifts are a beacon of hope against the dark wilderness of this world. The Christmas Journey prepares God’s way in the world by sharing the counter-cultural message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As we share the story of Jesus Christ, we spark a flame that burns bright in the wilderness of this world.
Prepare us, that is our prayer this morning. Prepare us, O Lord, to receive your kingdom. Empower us, O Lord, to prepare your way in this world. We are God’s hope-filled people. As we continue our Advent your, may you be filled with God’s Spirit, the warm flame that shines bright as a beacon of God’s love in this world.
This week's sermon, based on Matthew 3:1-12, is the second in an Advent sermon series titled "Living As God's Hope-Filled People." The second week of this series explores how God prepares us to be kingdom people and how we, in turn, prepare the way of the Lord with our lives. May God be with you as we continue our journey to the manger.
Matthew 3:1-12
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,
"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.'"
Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
This morning we continue our Advent journey. We continue to explore what it means to live as God’s hope-filled people. Last week we heard the call from Matthew, and Pastor Casey, to remain awake. We learned what it looks like to remain awake and in-tune to what God is doing in our world. To remain awake to the reality that we live in a broken world, but that God is very much a part of our world, and that God continues to do work among us. We are called to wake up and reimagine the world as God reimagines the world, through love and forgiveness.
Today we light another candle against the cold and growing darkness of the world. We take a journey out into the wilderness as we hear the words of John the Baptist to “Prepare the Way.” As we remain awake to God’s presence in our midst, we add add another petition to our prayer; prepare. Prepare us, O Lord, to receive your kingdom. Empower us, O Lord, to prepare your way in this world. This morning we encounter the story of how to prepare the way for God’s coming into our midst. This story spans generations. Our faith journey is filled with many witnesses that teach us how to prepare God’s way in this world.
I. John the Baptist
John the baptist appears rather suddenly on the scene, in the wilderness of Judea. It’s as if he rises out of the harsh landscape with his scathing critiques and message of the kingdom of heaven drawing near. In no time at all he is surrounded by people. The historian Josephus tells us that up to 50,000 people came to hear John speak. John is a spectacle. He is cut from the same rock as the prophets of old. Those versed in the legends recognize the image of Elijah in John’s camel’s hair suit and leather belt. He is a commanding figure then and now. And he is not afraid to speak his mind.
John speaks words of change. He points back to the words of Isaiah. “Prepare the way of the LORD, make his paths straight.” Isaiah spoke in the dark time of exile in Babylon. He spoke words of hope to a people who lived in fear. Isaiah knew God’s time would come again. He gave the people something to hold on to during long years of being scattered from their homes. God was preparing a way out of exile, so the way of the LORD must be made straight. In the wilderness, God’s time is coming. It is this torch that John picks up through his preaching. John knows what’s to come.
He calls for people to repent. He proclaims that the kingdom of heaven is drawing near. He does not beat around the bush as they say. John is direct and focused. “Repent!” It’s not a question or a polite request, it’s a command. Repent! It’s urgent. The kingdom of God is drawing near. Repent! That’s how the way of the LORD is prepared. John offers the people an opportunity to confess. He brings them to the waters of cleansing and healing. John proclaims God’s time.
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The call from John in the wilderness reaches out to us today. And this word may come to us worn out and tired. The word repent has been co-opted by side walk preachers and T.V. pastors to instill the fear of God into people. Repent! Jesus is coming back and boy is he mad. Repent! Or experience the flames of hell. Repent! Before it’s too late. So we may come to this word tired this morning, because all this talk of hell and damnation wears us out. For us, there may be no hope, no love, no chance of God in this word. And yet we hear it from John. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
Repent. This word that now bears the baggage of being used as the only way to get to heaven, actually meant something quite different for John. For John, repent has nothing to with the afterlife. With his call to repent, John is pointing to a change that is breaking into the world. His call to repent is filled with hope. The world is broken, God knows it, and God does something about it. With his call to repent, John is pointing to Jesus. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” John stands in the wilderness of the world, preparing the way for the one who will change everything. John proclaims a word of hope in the wilderness of the world.
II. Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra
As we move through the generations we encounter another who is a voice of hope in the wilderness. One who prepares the way of the Lord. On Friday, we commemorated Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra. Nicholas was a 4th century bishop of the church in the country we now know as Turkey. One of the legends that accompanies Saint Nicholas is his gracious offering to a family in need. It seems that a man in 4th century Patara had fallen on hard times and, in the midst of great troubles, was at his wit’s end. He had lost all of his money and had no means of supporting his three daughters. He was on the verge of selling them into prostitution. He was lost in the wilderness of poverty. Stranded among the sand and thorns of saving his family and surviving. It seemed he had no way in the wilderness. Until Nicholas came along.
It started with a bag of gold through an open window, perhaps, as legend holds, finding its way into an empty stocking, hanging by the chimney with care. The first daughter was set free from her grim fate of being sold into slavery. In turn, the other two daughters were also set free. Nicholas became a beckon of hope, a symbol of God’s redeeming love and new life for all through Jesus Christ. In the wilderness of poverty, Saint Nicholas prepared the way of the Lord by providing resources for a family in dire straits.
III. Nelson Mandela
As we move further down the generations we encounter another who is a voice of hope in the wilderness. One who prepares the way of the Lord. On Thursday, the world mourned the death of Nelson Mandela. Mandela was a catalyst in helping to put an end to apartheid in South Africa. He was known the world over for being a voice for peace and beacon of hope in one of the most segregated and violent periods of time the world has known. He was a liberator and a champion for a people that had been kept in the wilderness for far too long.
Mandela spend over 10,000 days in prison for his early work against the apartheid government. He was labeled as traitor and put away for his acts of treason. In the darkness of prison, Mandela took the time to learn Afrikaans, the language of those in power, and in an early speech after his release, he delivered the speech in Afrikaans, attempting to reach out in peace, not violence. Mandela, while not perfect, helped to prepare the way for peace for a country so torn by violence and hatred. Through the wilderness of prison and segregation, Mandela was a beacon of hope, preparing the way of the Lord through the call for peace and harmony.
IV. Us
As we move even further down the generations, we arrive at ourselves. We are the ones who have received these stories. Today we hear the call to repent. And for us who follow Jesus, repentance is the act of preparing the way for God’s kingdom in the world. As we wander through the wilderness that creeps up during our lives, we are called to repent, to turn away from all that keeps us from following the way of Jesus.
The call to repent is more than a change of mind, it is a change of heart. To repent is to change the way we engage the world. No longer through the selfishness of sin, but through the grace of Gods love. The call to repent has a continual aspect to it. John’s call is to continue to repent. Or “keep on repenting.” Keep on turning away for all that holds you back from God. To repent is to hope in what God has promised. To repent is to act upon the trust that we have in God’s presence in our world. We turn away from the old ways of sin and selfishness, from all that keeps us from being fully alive. Repentance sets us free to live for God and for one another. In the wilderness of this world, God prepares a way through us as we reach out to others. This repentance comes through ordinary acts of love and mercy. Our Angel Trees prepare God’s way in the world as we share our resources with those in need. Our gifts are a beacon of hope against the dark wilderness of this world. The Christmas Journey prepares God’s way in the world by sharing the counter-cultural message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As we share the story of Jesus Christ, we spark a flame that burns bright in the wilderness of this world.
Prepare us, that is our prayer this morning. Prepare us, O Lord, to receive your kingdom. Empower us, O Lord, to prepare your way in this world. We are God’s hope-filled people. As we continue our Advent your, may you be filled with God’s Spirit, the warm flame that shines bright as a beacon of God’s love in this world.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Christ the King
A
Sermon from November 24, 2013 - The Festival of "Christ the King" - based on Luke 23:33-49. The audio
recording was taken at the Praise and Worship service at Bethany.
Luke 23:33-49
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
The cross is our theology. This simple statement points to the heart of how Martin Luther understood our relationship with God. The cross stands at the center of what Luther taught and preached during his life and ministry. The cross is written into what we confess and how we live out our faith. We have inherited this focus from the generations before us and we pass it down to our children. A cross is the center point of our sanctuary. When you walk in you can’t help but see it suspended behind the alter. It is so prevalent in our midst that I wonder sometimes if we even notice. Hidden in plain sight is the cross, the heart of our theology. We encounter it on jewelry and t-shirts so much that perhaps we look past it. And yet we are faced with it’s reality this morning.
And it may seem odd to find the cross in the cold winds of November. We left the cross back in April, on Good Friday. We left it standing empty on a hill outside of Jerusalem. We celebrated the empty tomb and the Easter miracle of Christ’s resurrection. As the church year flows, the cross is behind us. Among the Christmas lights and trees popping up around town and on TV, the cross makes an interesting contrast. Next to the mangers of the nativity the cross may seem like a harsh reality - let us celebrate his birth before his death. But here the cross stands. And its at the feet of the crucified Christ that we find ourselves this morning.
Today we celebrate Christ the King, also known as the Reign of Christ; the final festival of the church year. We adorn the church in gold and white and festival before we enter into the blue and waiting of Advent. Today is the day we celebrate the lordship of Christ in our midst.
It’s actually a rather late aspect of the church’s life on this earth. The festival of “Christ the King,” or the “Reign of Christ,” does not get introduced into the church’s calendar until 1925. Pope Pius XI introduces this festival to the world in order to combat the rise of nationalism and secularism. This festival was born in the shadow of the first world war. The victors were celebrating, the pride of victory spilling over into the rise of a more secular society. Humanity had won a hard fought victory through weapons, not God. It was into this environment that the Pope pointed to Christ. The world needed to be reminded of God’s gift for all people. Nationalism and secularism needed to be kept at bay so the pope pointed to Christ. And still to this day we celebrate the reign of Christ.
But today we find Christ on the cross and not on a throne. Today we hear the story of Christ’s crucifixion and death. If we are celebrating lordship and the festival of a king, perhaps we chose the wrong one. The figure hanging on the cross does not resemble a king. He does not resemble a person of power. In the context of the story, which is to say the context of Rome, he is a criminal, and is receiving his state approved sentence. Jesus is labeled as a threat to the state and so he must be dealt with accordingly. The cross was used by Rome to send a clear message; we control life and death. The empire controlled life under it’s watch. It set the boundaries of what as acceptable and if you threatened these rules or broke them, you paid the price. The cross was a statement of control. Left in public spaces, at crossroads, and along major highways, the crosses of crucified rebels send a clear message to steer clear of questioning Rome’s power as if to say, “Do not defy us or we will crush you.” A loud and clear statement with a cross. And this is where we find Jesus.
But the picture Luke’s paints of Jesus on the cross does not look like a broken, humbled Jesus. If the goal was to destroy Jesus’ sense of self and mission, the cross has not worked. Luke shows Jesus in control of himself and the circumstances. Though he is indeed crucified by Rome, Jesus is still ministering to those in need.
From the cross Jesus forgives those who are crucifying him. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The ministry of Jesus was about reaching out and healing those on the margins, and this ministry continues from the cross. He reaches out to those on the margins once more, speaking a word of forgiveness to those whose job it is to kill and silence the detractors of the empire. Those who deal in death live farthest from the fruits of life, but not from the mercy of Jesus. Jesus remains the healer. Jesus releases them from their captivity to death, and in the face of death speakers words of healing and forgiveness.
From the cross Jesus speakers words of new life to the criminal who defends him. In the face of jeers from the crowd, the calls for Jesus to save himself in a display of divine power, Jesus chooses to reach out to one in need with a more subtle display of power. The second criminal, hanging on his own cross, dares to ask Jesus to remember him when he reaches his kingdom. It is a treasonous statement. The criminal, crucified for his defiance of Rome, has not gotten the message. He looks to Jesus and sees one who is bringing a new kingdom into the world. A kingdom that belongs to God. A kingdom that brings hope and healing to a people crushed under the weight of death. “Jesus, remember me when you come into you kingdom.” And Jesus extends a hand of welcome. Even from the cross the boundaries of God’s kingdom has no limits.
From the cross Jesus displays his trust in God, who has sent him into the world to preach and heal. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Jesus has remained faithful to his ministry for the sake of God’s kingdom, even through the humiliating work of the cross. Jesus trusts that God can bring healing, even through the most unimaginable events. And God does bring healing, and new life through the cross.
Today we celebrate Jesus Christ, a king enthroned on a cross. It is a paradox. It does not make sense to a world that expects a king to rule from a throne. It was unexpected at the time of Jesus and I dare say things have not changed all that much. And so for us who follow Jesus, the message of the crucified Christ is still an imperative for our lives.
“We preach Christ, and him crucified,” as Paul wrote in his first letter to the church in Corinth. And this remains our calling today. The world needs to be reminded of the healing power of God’s kingdom. A kingdom that does not conform to the world’s standard’s of power, but to God’s boundless mercy and love. This world needs the good news of the cross.
We live in a nation that spends more annually on weapons and war than it does on education. In the face of this reality of death we preach Christ crucified, God’s love poured out for the world. This bold statement points to the reality that’s God’s kingdom is more powerful than death. That through the love of God poured out on the cross we can come together in peace and build a better world.
We are taught to fear our boarders and those who cross them. We are taught to fear our neighbors and the strangers in our midst. To this broken image of community we preach Christ crucified and the power of God that tears down boarders and teaches us to love. Even our enemies. This is a powerful witness to the community of God’s kingdom where all have a place at the table.
The cross, the symbol of absolute power for an earthly empire, is turned into a life giving symbol through the death and resurrection of Christ. Through the cross God draws all things to himself. There is no evil or sin too great for the power of God. Jesus displayed this radical power by enduring the cross. And we celebrate this victory today.
Christ is our King. The cross is our theology. This is our way of faith. This is our story.
Luke 23:33-49
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
The cross is our theology. This simple statement points to the heart of how Martin Luther understood our relationship with God. The cross stands at the center of what Luther taught and preached during his life and ministry. The cross is written into what we confess and how we live out our faith. We have inherited this focus from the generations before us and we pass it down to our children. A cross is the center point of our sanctuary. When you walk in you can’t help but see it suspended behind the alter. It is so prevalent in our midst that I wonder sometimes if we even notice. Hidden in plain sight is the cross, the heart of our theology. We encounter it on jewelry and t-shirts so much that perhaps we look past it. And yet we are faced with it’s reality this morning.
And it may seem odd to find the cross in the cold winds of November. We left the cross back in April, on Good Friday. We left it standing empty on a hill outside of Jerusalem. We celebrated the empty tomb and the Easter miracle of Christ’s resurrection. As the church year flows, the cross is behind us. Among the Christmas lights and trees popping up around town and on TV, the cross makes an interesting contrast. Next to the mangers of the nativity the cross may seem like a harsh reality - let us celebrate his birth before his death. But here the cross stands. And its at the feet of the crucified Christ that we find ourselves this morning.
Today we celebrate Christ the King, also known as the Reign of Christ; the final festival of the church year. We adorn the church in gold and white and festival before we enter into the blue and waiting of Advent. Today is the day we celebrate the lordship of Christ in our midst.
It’s actually a rather late aspect of the church’s life on this earth. The festival of “Christ the King,” or the “Reign of Christ,” does not get introduced into the church’s calendar until 1925. Pope Pius XI introduces this festival to the world in order to combat the rise of nationalism and secularism. This festival was born in the shadow of the first world war. The victors were celebrating, the pride of victory spilling over into the rise of a more secular society. Humanity had won a hard fought victory through weapons, not God. It was into this environment that the Pope pointed to Christ. The world needed to be reminded of God’s gift for all people. Nationalism and secularism needed to be kept at bay so the pope pointed to Christ. And still to this day we celebrate the reign of Christ.
But today we find Christ on the cross and not on a throne. Today we hear the story of Christ’s crucifixion and death. If we are celebrating lordship and the festival of a king, perhaps we chose the wrong one. The figure hanging on the cross does not resemble a king. He does not resemble a person of power. In the context of the story, which is to say the context of Rome, he is a criminal, and is receiving his state approved sentence. Jesus is labeled as a threat to the state and so he must be dealt with accordingly. The cross was used by Rome to send a clear message; we control life and death. The empire controlled life under it’s watch. It set the boundaries of what as acceptable and if you threatened these rules or broke them, you paid the price. The cross was a statement of control. Left in public spaces, at crossroads, and along major highways, the crosses of crucified rebels send a clear message to steer clear of questioning Rome’s power as if to say, “Do not defy us or we will crush you.” A loud and clear statement with a cross. And this is where we find Jesus.
But the picture Luke’s paints of Jesus on the cross does not look like a broken, humbled Jesus. If the goal was to destroy Jesus’ sense of self and mission, the cross has not worked. Luke shows Jesus in control of himself and the circumstances. Though he is indeed crucified by Rome, Jesus is still ministering to those in need.
From the cross Jesus forgives those who are crucifying him. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The ministry of Jesus was about reaching out and healing those on the margins, and this ministry continues from the cross. He reaches out to those on the margins once more, speaking a word of forgiveness to those whose job it is to kill and silence the detractors of the empire. Those who deal in death live farthest from the fruits of life, but not from the mercy of Jesus. Jesus remains the healer. Jesus releases them from their captivity to death, and in the face of death speakers words of healing and forgiveness.
From the cross Jesus speakers words of new life to the criminal who defends him. In the face of jeers from the crowd, the calls for Jesus to save himself in a display of divine power, Jesus chooses to reach out to one in need with a more subtle display of power. The second criminal, hanging on his own cross, dares to ask Jesus to remember him when he reaches his kingdom. It is a treasonous statement. The criminal, crucified for his defiance of Rome, has not gotten the message. He looks to Jesus and sees one who is bringing a new kingdom into the world. A kingdom that belongs to God. A kingdom that brings hope and healing to a people crushed under the weight of death. “Jesus, remember me when you come into you kingdom.” And Jesus extends a hand of welcome. Even from the cross the boundaries of God’s kingdom has no limits.
From the cross Jesus displays his trust in God, who has sent him into the world to preach and heal. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Jesus has remained faithful to his ministry for the sake of God’s kingdom, even through the humiliating work of the cross. Jesus trusts that God can bring healing, even through the most unimaginable events. And God does bring healing, and new life through the cross.
Today we celebrate Jesus Christ, a king enthroned on a cross. It is a paradox. It does not make sense to a world that expects a king to rule from a throne. It was unexpected at the time of Jesus and I dare say things have not changed all that much. And so for us who follow Jesus, the message of the crucified Christ is still an imperative for our lives.
“We preach Christ, and him crucified,” as Paul wrote in his first letter to the church in Corinth. And this remains our calling today. The world needs to be reminded of the healing power of God’s kingdom. A kingdom that does not conform to the world’s standard’s of power, but to God’s boundless mercy and love. This world needs the good news of the cross.
We live in a nation that spends more annually on weapons and war than it does on education. In the face of this reality of death we preach Christ crucified, God’s love poured out for the world. This bold statement points to the reality that’s God’s kingdom is more powerful than death. That through the love of God poured out on the cross we can come together in peace and build a better world.
We are taught to fear our boarders and those who cross them. We are taught to fear our neighbors and the strangers in our midst. To this broken image of community we preach Christ crucified and the power of God that tears down boarders and teaches us to love. Even our enemies. This is a powerful witness to the community of God’s kingdom where all have a place at the table.
The cross, the symbol of absolute power for an earthly empire, is turned into a life giving symbol through the death and resurrection of Christ. Through the cross God draws all things to himself. There is no evil or sin too great for the power of God. Jesus displayed this radical power by enduring the cross. And we celebrate this victory today.
Christ is our King. The cross is our theology. This is our way of faith. This is our story.
Monday, November 11, 2013
God of the Living
A Sermon from November 10, 2013 - based on Luke 20:27-38. The audio recording was taken at the Praise and Worship service at Bethany.
Luke 20:27-38
Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, "Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her."
Jesus said to them, "Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive."
Jesus knew that his death was approaching. He could see the writing on the wall. After months on the road, Jesus finally arrives in Jerusalem and he immediately begins to stir things up. His first act upon arrival was to drive out those who were selling things in the temple. The chief priests and the scribes and the leaders of the people rally together to try and find away to kill Jesus. The stage is set for the trial and the cross. His passion has already begun. A trap is being set for Jesus. And the Pharisees and scribes seem to be closing in. In wave after wave of clever arguments, these religious leaders try to catch Jesus off guard while he is teaching in the temple. They try to trap him in his own words. And today it’s the Sadducees turn.
We know very little about the Sadducees historically. They left no writings for us to study, so all we have is furnished by other historians and the brief encounters we have in the Gospels and the book of Acts. What we do know is that the Sadducees were a wealthy group of aristocrats who operated the Temple and wielded their power as religious leaders. They led comfortable lives. They did not believe in the resurrection. And why would they? They had it made on earth so why should they look for what’s next? And it is on this topic that they try to snare Jesus.
The Sadducees approach Jesus with a rather long story about a woman and seven brothers. They are wondering how exactly it’s all going to work out in the resurrection. What we have is a rather ridiculous story of a group of brothers with extremely bad luck and a worn out woman who outlives all of them. How is this suppose to work out Jesus? It’s a twisted spin on modern on-line dating sites if you will. Matched-up by Moses dot com - if your husband dies, we’ll hook you up with your brother-in-law. No questions asked. This scenario almost needs a flow chart. Jesus, she married all seven, that’s how the system works, that’s what Moses taught us - how is this going to pan out in the resurrection?
The Sadducees, who do not believe in the resurrection, have the trap set. For them the key lies in a rather complicated rule called levirate marriage. This rule focuses on making sure their is an heir to keep the family land in the family. The family legacy is held up by keeping the family name alive. If a man dies with no heir, his wife is to marry his brother, thus ensuring the family name continues. For the Sadducees, that’s the closest to the after life as you’re going to get. Death has the final word. Death always wins. This life is all we get. The afterlife is meaningless. It’s all about what happens now. So what happens Jesus? How does this shake out?
It’s a cold and calculated question. They have Moses to back them up. Jesus looks caught for sure. But he knows there is a deeper truth about Moses. He knows that he Sadducees left part of the story out. They forgot the moment at the burning bush. So Jesus will tell the rest of the story.
For at the bush death looked like it was winning. The people cried out in Egypt, longing for release. Longing for their promised land. Longing for life. Death had moved among them for too long, four hundred years, and God had heard the cries. And so it was Moses at the bush, caught while tending sheep, who heard the call from God. It was Moses who was unsure; “Who am I to go back to Egypt? Who am I to haggle with Pharaoh? And who I am suppose to tell them who send me?” All of this in the face of fear and death for Moses. But God spoke from the bush. And God spoke life.
“I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob,” God says at the bush. God spoke of the ancestors as if they were living, for they were indeed living in the eyes of God. God speaks life at the bush. God who sets this world into being and is creator of all time - “I am who I am, I am who I was, I will be who I will be” - speaks life in the face of death. And this is what Jesus tells the Sadducees. Jesus dismisses the issue of marriage, the false trap set by those who only sought to destroy him. Jesus dismisses the hollow plot and speaks life in the face of death. “God is not God of the dead, but of the living.”
And this is good news for us today. For we journey in the midst of world that seems to spin out of control with the news of death. And here I move into the realm of metaphor. I am speaking here of death as a social reality. Folks can have a heart beat and a pulse, can be physically alive, and yet dead to the world. To be denied the gifts of community is to be denied life. The poor, the lame, the blind, the outcast, the oppressed, those to whom Jesus ministered, are the socially dead, cut off from the benefits of life in the community. Death as a social reality runs rampant in our midst. We are stilling feeling the shock waves of a government shut-down where privileged leaders debated and delayed at the expense of the poor and needy. We up to our necks in an argument over healthcare that ignores the most vulnerable in our society. We are hearing rumors and stories of a football team that supported racist and bullying actions by a teammate. Make no mistake friends. Death is all around us where we see life taken away from our brothers and sisters. All this talk of death seems to snuff out the fire at the bush, and silence the words of God to Moses. Death seems to close around us like the cold stone of a tomb, fading the light of hope in our lives. But the God who spoke at the bush also speaks at the tomb.
It was Mary, full of tears and questions, who went to the tomb to discover it empty. The women had gone to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus with spices, as was their custom, but they were met by emptiness, death all over again. But two messengers had a different word; “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has been raised.” At the tomb, God continues to turn death into life. At the tomb God enters into our lives and draws us back from the clutches of death, breathing new life into us who grow weary in the face of death.
It is in the face of death that God does God’s work. It is in this world, so over run by death, that Jesus Christ did his work and ministry. In the face of death Jesus taught, healed, and brought new life. And the tomb was not the end of the road, but the beginning. The beginning of a new way of life for those who follow Jesus. The beginning of new life for you and me here and now.
To a world trapped under the weight of death, we who follow Jesus bear the word of new life for all people. We are witnesses to the one who defeated the power of death once and for all. We share the good news of the living God who entered into our reality of death and transformed our hopelessness into new life. God speaks life in the face of death here and now in our lives.
The living God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob moves among us now. Our living God gives us nourishment for parched relationships, providing the strength to even burn the midnight oil in an effort to mend strained and broken relationships - reminding us what it means to love.
Our living God, who came into our broken world through Jesus, moves among us now, teaching us how to confront the reality of death in out midst. Last week our youth collected canned goods in a neighborhood of our community. This act was a living testament to God who says no to the reality of death we witness in the hunger of others. Stirred up by the power of Christ, our youth learned that we can confront the power of death with the blessings we receive as the sons and daughters of God. In this event we are witnesses once again to the power of our living God.
We have a God of life, not of death. May the living God of Abraham, and the ancestors, the living God present in Jesus, the living God who moves in us through the power of the Spirit be with you on the journey.
Luke 20:27-38
Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, "Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her."
Jesus said to them, "Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive."
Jesus knew that his death was approaching. He could see the writing on the wall. After months on the road, Jesus finally arrives in Jerusalem and he immediately begins to stir things up. His first act upon arrival was to drive out those who were selling things in the temple. The chief priests and the scribes and the leaders of the people rally together to try and find away to kill Jesus. The stage is set for the trial and the cross. His passion has already begun. A trap is being set for Jesus. And the Pharisees and scribes seem to be closing in. In wave after wave of clever arguments, these religious leaders try to catch Jesus off guard while he is teaching in the temple. They try to trap him in his own words. And today it’s the Sadducees turn.
We know very little about the Sadducees historically. They left no writings for us to study, so all we have is furnished by other historians and the brief encounters we have in the Gospels and the book of Acts. What we do know is that the Sadducees were a wealthy group of aristocrats who operated the Temple and wielded their power as religious leaders. They led comfortable lives. They did not believe in the resurrection. And why would they? They had it made on earth so why should they look for what’s next? And it is on this topic that they try to snare Jesus.
The Sadducees approach Jesus with a rather long story about a woman and seven brothers. They are wondering how exactly it’s all going to work out in the resurrection. What we have is a rather ridiculous story of a group of brothers with extremely bad luck and a worn out woman who outlives all of them. How is this suppose to work out Jesus? It’s a twisted spin on modern on-line dating sites if you will. Matched-up by Moses dot com - if your husband dies, we’ll hook you up with your brother-in-law. No questions asked. This scenario almost needs a flow chart. Jesus, she married all seven, that’s how the system works, that’s what Moses taught us - how is this going to pan out in the resurrection?
The Sadducees, who do not believe in the resurrection, have the trap set. For them the key lies in a rather complicated rule called levirate marriage. This rule focuses on making sure their is an heir to keep the family land in the family. The family legacy is held up by keeping the family name alive. If a man dies with no heir, his wife is to marry his brother, thus ensuring the family name continues. For the Sadducees, that’s the closest to the after life as you’re going to get. Death has the final word. Death always wins. This life is all we get. The afterlife is meaningless. It’s all about what happens now. So what happens Jesus? How does this shake out?
It’s a cold and calculated question. They have Moses to back them up. Jesus looks caught for sure. But he knows there is a deeper truth about Moses. He knows that he Sadducees left part of the story out. They forgot the moment at the burning bush. So Jesus will tell the rest of the story.
For at the bush death looked like it was winning. The people cried out in Egypt, longing for release. Longing for their promised land. Longing for life. Death had moved among them for too long, four hundred years, and God had heard the cries. And so it was Moses at the bush, caught while tending sheep, who heard the call from God. It was Moses who was unsure; “Who am I to go back to Egypt? Who am I to haggle with Pharaoh? And who I am suppose to tell them who send me?” All of this in the face of fear and death for Moses. But God spoke from the bush. And God spoke life.
“I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob,” God says at the bush. God spoke of the ancestors as if they were living, for they were indeed living in the eyes of God. God speaks life at the bush. God who sets this world into being and is creator of all time - “I am who I am, I am who I was, I will be who I will be” - speaks life in the face of death. And this is what Jesus tells the Sadducees. Jesus dismisses the issue of marriage, the false trap set by those who only sought to destroy him. Jesus dismisses the hollow plot and speaks life in the face of death. “God is not God of the dead, but of the living.”
And this is good news for us today. For we journey in the midst of world that seems to spin out of control with the news of death. And here I move into the realm of metaphor. I am speaking here of death as a social reality. Folks can have a heart beat and a pulse, can be physically alive, and yet dead to the world. To be denied the gifts of community is to be denied life. The poor, the lame, the blind, the outcast, the oppressed, those to whom Jesus ministered, are the socially dead, cut off from the benefits of life in the community. Death as a social reality runs rampant in our midst. We are stilling feeling the shock waves of a government shut-down where privileged leaders debated and delayed at the expense of the poor and needy. We up to our necks in an argument over healthcare that ignores the most vulnerable in our society. We are hearing rumors and stories of a football team that supported racist and bullying actions by a teammate. Make no mistake friends. Death is all around us where we see life taken away from our brothers and sisters. All this talk of death seems to snuff out the fire at the bush, and silence the words of God to Moses. Death seems to close around us like the cold stone of a tomb, fading the light of hope in our lives. But the God who spoke at the bush also speaks at the tomb.
It was Mary, full of tears and questions, who went to the tomb to discover it empty. The women had gone to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus with spices, as was their custom, but they were met by emptiness, death all over again. But two messengers had a different word; “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has been raised.” At the tomb, God continues to turn death into life. At the tomb God enters into our lives and draws us back from the clutches of death, breathing new life into us who grow weary in the face of death.
It is in the face of death that God does God’s work. It is in this world, so over run by death, that Jesus Christ did his work and ministry. In the face of death Jesus taught, healed, and brought new life. And the tomb was not the end of the road, but the beginning. The beginning of a new way of life for those who follow Jesus. The beginning of new life for you and me here and now.
To a world trapped under the weight of death, we who follow Jesus bear the word of new life for all people. We are witnesses to the one who defeated the power of death once and for all. We share the good news of the living God who entered into our reality of death and transformed our hopelessness into new life. God speaks life in the face of death here and now in our lives.
The living God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob moves among us now. Our living God gives us nourishment for parched relationships, providing the strength to even burn the midnight oil in an effort to mend strained and broken relationships - reminding us what it means to love.
Our living God, who came into our broken world through Jesus, moves among us now, teaching us how to confront the reality of death in out midst. Last week our youth collected canned goods in a neighborhood of our community. This act was a living testament to God who says no to the reality of death we witness in the hunger of others. Stirred up by the power of Christ, our youth learned that we can confront the power of death with the blessings we receive as the sons and daughters of God. In this event we are witnesses once again to the power of our living God.
We have a God of life, not of death. May the living God of Abraham, and the ancestors, the living God present in Jesus, the living God who moves in us through the power of the Spirit be with you on the journey.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Christ Remembers; A Sermon for Reformation Sunday
We celebrated Reformation Sunday at Bethany this weekend. Here is the audio recording and the manuscript from the sermon I preached based on the selected text from Paul's letter to the Romans.
Blessings,
Travis
Romans 3:19-28
Now we know that whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For “no human being will be justified in his sight” by deeds prescribed by the law, for through the law comes the knowledge of sin.
But now, apart from law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. He did this to show his righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; it was to prove at the present time that he himself is righteous and that he justifies the one who has faith in Jesus.
Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded. By what law? By that of works? No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.
About this time 496 years ago, a young German theologian was in the midst of changing the world. We cannot say for sure, but in the days leading up to October 31, 1517, we can image a young Martin Luther bent over his desk, scratching on a piece of parchment furiously by candle-light, composing his now famous 95 theses. Through his study and teaching as a professor at the University of Wittenberg, Luther had discovered cracks in the church’s theology, its very understanding of God. Luther, a monk who had spent years fearing an angry and unmerciful God, had stumbled upon words in scripture that painted a much different picture of God. Words that pointed to a loving and merciful God. Words that pointed to the work of Jesus Christ whose death and resurrection is good news for the whole world.
Some of those words that set Luther’s theological imagination on fire are the very same words we just heard in our midst this morning. I read them not five minutes ago. Words from the apostle Paul. While we have no idea of the exact date Paul wrote his letter to the Romans, we can image that almost two thousand years ago, in the very shadow of Christ’s death and resurrection, Paul sat hunched over a piece a parchment, scratching out words furiously by candle-light. Paul was composing a letter to the followers of Jesus, and those who were curious, in the city of Rome, a community he had never personally visited, but one he hoped to one day meet. Paul put together a letter, a detailed argument of his understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to persuade the good folks in Rome that his mission of spreading the Gospel was indeed valid and in line with what Jesus himself had come to earth to do. Paul was writing to a group of people he had never met with the intensity of one defending the most important case of his life. This is one of the latest letters we have from Paul, and the fullest articulation of his theology of the good news of Jesus Christ. And right at the heart of it all is the word redemption.
If we look at Paul’s writings closely we’ll see that the argument is flowing towards Paul’s statement about “God’s grace as gift.” The argument about the righteousness of God hinges on the work of Jesus Christ. And this work of Jesus Christ is articulated in one word by Paul; redemption. Now this is a fifteen dollar word. Though it may not seem like it, this word is one of the more complex ideas of the entire passage. This word [ἀπολυτρώσεως (apolutroseos)] redemption is a big theological concept for our lives of faith and in the Greek text. [This word literally means “buying back a slave or captive, making them free by payment of ransom.” It is a word that develops late in the Greek language and points to an economic arrangement that focuses on slaves and prisoners of war.] For us today it gets lost in the shuffle of big words and a dense argument. But for Paul and his audience it opens a window to the rich history of what God has been doing all along. It is not so much a word as it is a story. The story of our salvation.
[The simpler form of this fifteen dollar Greek work is λύτρov (lutron) and can mean “to set free,” to “redeem,” or to “rescue.”]
We have to go all the way back to Abraham to hear it first told. God promises old, childless Abraham that his children will out number the stars, and there is great joy. But mixed in that joy is a prophecy that points to 400 years of slavery. But in that moment, there was already the hope of redemption. The LORD had spoken.
It came to pass that the children of Israel did indeed spend 400 hundred years enslaved in Egypt. But God heard their cries and remembered the promise. The people waited. And in what must have seemed like a moment of apocalypse, God acted. The sun went dim, the waters turned to blood, and the people fled under the cover of darkness. They traveled by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. Their redemption came in an outstretched hand and the stilling of waves, sheltering a way through the sea. God redeemed the children of Israel, and the Exodus would be their hope for salvation forever more. The people would tell of it to their children, generation to generation, and the Exodus would be the promise of hope to the people. Even in the exile of Babylon, some clung to this hope. Isaiah spoke of the one who would come to fulfill the promise, the one would who execute justice and righteousness and redeem the people once and for all.
One would indeed come to redeem the whole world. God would remember the promises made to Abraham and his descendants forever. God would look with favor upon the lowly. God would fill the hungry with good things. Hope would come in the form of a baby, born to Mary. He would grow to preach and teach and minister. He would eat with sinners, dine with tax collectors, and stand toe to toe with the religious leaders, calling for life in the face of death. The powers of the world would lead him to a cross, thinking they would have the last word, that death would silence Jesus, but God remembers the promise. God brings redemption. Jesus Christ is our hope, our new life, and our salvation forever more. Jesus Christ is the one who was and who is and who is to come. He is our beacon of hope when darkness sets in and the one who guides the church in this world. And today as we celebrate the reformation, we cling to Christ, and Christ remembers.
Christ remembers. That was the message Paul was trying to communicate. Tucked away in this passage is a hotly disputed phrase. For centuries it went unnoticed, but in recent years, scholars are lifting up the phrase “faith in Jesus Christ” as a crucial part of Paul’s argument. And here the meaning of the Greek is grey to us. Even the translators of the New Revised Standard Edition of the Bible (NRSV) place the alternate rendering in a footnote. The phrase in verses 21 and 26 that we heard as “faith of Jesus Christ” can also be translated as “the faith of Jesus Christ.” And here we have a glimpse of the magnitude of God’s grace in action. The phrase is ambiguous in Greek, and perhaps Paul meant it that way. But if we render it as “the faith of Jesus Christ,” we have a image of Jesus as the one who trusted in the history of God’s redeeming acts in the world. We have a picture of Jesus who has faith in God’s plan for redeeming the whole world through his death and resurrection. And as people of the resurrection, we know that Jesus had trust in this plan until the very end, when he was hung on a cross for the world to see. The faithfulness of Jesus Christ is the most important event in this long story of God’s redeeming the world. This is our story. We come together to worship and Christ remembers.
Christ remembers. It’s a story we tell when we gather at the font. We come to these waters, these ordinary waters, clinging to the promise of God. God promises to be here. God stirs up these waters, turning them from ordinary to life giving. In these life-giving waters God gives us a new identity, one that is not bound by sin, but one that is wrapped in the love of Christ. No longer are we slaves to sin, but set free and given the name children of God. In these waters we cling to Christ and Christ remembers.
Christ Remembers. This is the story Paul was telling. This is the story that Luther discovered in the depths of his own darkness. And I am not sure he would like all the pomp and circumstance of Reformation Sunday. I think he would fear that we would loose sight of what’s most important; Christ. There is a painting that hangs behind the alter in the church where Luther was pastor in Wittenberg, Germany. I have a copy of it in my office. To me it points to the heart of Luther’s theology. On one side there is Luther, his hand firmly planted on the Bible, the story of our redemption. The other is pointing to the center of the painting. On the other side you have the people of Germany. In the middle hangs Christ on the cross. Luther’s reminder for us today is that Christ is at the center of our story. Christ is our redemption now and forever. In highs and lows of life, from this place out into the world, we cling to Christ, and Christ remembers.
Blessings,
Travis
Romans 3:19-28
Now we know that whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For “no human being will be justified in his sight” by deeds prescribed by the law, for through the law comes the knowledge of sin.
But now, apart from law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. He did this to show his righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; it was to prove at the present time that he himself is righteous and that he justifies the one who has faith in Jesus.
Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded. By what law? By that of works? No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.
About this time 496 years ago, a young German theologian was in the midst of changing the world. We cannot say for sure, but in the days leading up to October 31, 1517, we can image a young Martin Luther bent over his desk, scratching on a piece of parchment furiously by candle-light, composing his now famous 95 theses. Through his study and teaching as a professor at the University of Wittenberg, Luther had discovered cracks in the church’s theology, its very understanding of God. Luther, a monk who had spent years fearing an angry and unmerciful God, had stumbled upon words in scripture that painted a much different picture of God. Words that pointed to a loving and merciful God. Words that pointed to the work of Jesus Christ whose death and resurrection is good news for the whole world.
Some of those words that set Luther’s theological imagination on fire are the very same words we just heard in our midst this morning. I read them not five minutes ago. Words from the apostle Paul. While we have no idea of the exact date Paul wrote his letter to the Romans, we can image that almost two thousand years ago, in the very shadow of Christ’s death and resurrection, Paul sat hunched over a piece a parchment, scratching out words furiously by candle-light. Paul was composing a letter to the followers of Jesus, and those who were curious, in the city of Rome, a community he had never personally visited, but one he hoped to one day meet. Paul put together a letter, a detailed argument of his understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to persuade the good folks in Rome that his mission of spreading the Gospel was indeed valid and in line with what Jesus himself had come to earth to do. Paul was writing to a group of people he had never met with the intensity of one defending the most important case of his life. This is one of the latest letters we have from Paul, and the fullest articulation of his theology of the good news of Jesus Christ. And right at the heart of it all is the word redemption.
If we look at Paul’s writings closely we’ll see that the argument is flowing towards Paul’s statement about “God’s grace as gift.” The argument about the righteousness of God hinges on the work of Jesus Christ. And this work of Jesus Christ is articulated in one word by Paul; redemption. Now this is a fifteen dollar word. Though it may not seem like it, this word is one of the more complex ideas of the entire passage. This word [ἀπολυτρώσεως (apolutroseos)] redemption is a big theological concept for our lives of faith and in the Greek text. [This word literally means “buying back a slave or captive, making them free by payment of ransom.” It is a word that develops late in the Greek language and points to an economic arrangement that focuses on slaves and prisoners of war.] For us today it gets lost in the shuffle of big words and a dense argument. But for Paul and his audience it opens a window to the rich history of what God has been doing all along. It is not so much a word as it is a story. The story of our salvation.
[The simpler form of this fifteen dollar Greek work is λύτρov (lutron) and can mean “to set free,” to “redeem,” or to “rescue.”]
We have to go all the way back to Abraham to hear it first told. God promises old, childless Abraham that his children will out number the stars, and there is great joy. But mixed in that joy is a prophecy that points to 400 years of slavery. But in that moment, there was already the hope of redemption. The LORD had spoken.
It came to pass that the children of Israel did indeed spend 400 hundred years enslaved in Egypt. But God heard their cries and remembered the promise. The people waited. And in what must have seemed like a moment of apocalypse, God acted. The sun went dim, the waters turned to blood, and the people fled under the cover of darkness. They traveled by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. Their redemption came in an outstretched hand and the stilling of waves, sheltering a way through the sea. God redeemed the children of Israel, and the Exodus would be their hope for salvation forever more. The people would tell of it to their children, generation to generation, and the Exodus would be the promise of hope to the people. Even in the exile of Babylon, some clung to this hope. Isaiah spoke of the one who would come to fulfill the promise, the one would who execute justice and righteousness and redeem the people once and for all.
One would indeed come to redeem the whole world. God would remember the promises made to Abraham and his descendants forever. God would look with favor upon the lowly. God would fill the hungry with good things. Hope would come in the form of a baby, born to Mary. He would grow to preach and teach and minister. He would eat with sinners, dine with tax collectors, and stand toe to toe with the religious leaders, calling for life in the face of death. The powers of the world would lead him to a cross, thinking they would have the last word, that death would silence Jesus, but God remembers the promise. God brings redemption. Jesus Christ is our hope, our new life, and our salvation forever more. Jesus Christ is the one who was and who is and who is to come. He is our beacon of hope when darkness sets in and the one who guides the church in this world. And today as we celebrate the reformation, we cling to Christ, and Christ remembers.
Christ remembers. That was the message Paul was trying to communicate. Tucked away in this passage is a hotly disputed phrase. For centuries it went unnoticed, but in recent years, scholars are lifting up the phrase “faith in Jesus Christ” as a crucial part of Paul’s argument. And here the meaning of the Greek is grey to us. Even the translators of the New Revised Standard Edition of the Bible (NRSV) place the alternate rendering in a footnote. The phrase in verses 21 and 26 that we heard as “faith of Jesus Christ” can also be translated as “the faith of Jesus Christ.” And here we have a glimpse of the magnitude of God’s grace in action. The phrase is ambiguous in Greek, and perhaps Paul meant it that way. But if we render it as “the faith of Jesus Christ,” we have a image of Jesus as the one who trusted in the history of God’s redeeming acts in the world. We have a picture of Jesus who has faith in God’s plan for redeeming the whole world through his death and resurrection. And as people of the resurrection, we know that Jesus had trust in this plan until the very end, when he was hung on a cross for the world to see. The faithfulness of Jesus Christ is the most important event in this long story of God’s redeeming the world. This is our story. We come together to worship and Christ remembers.
Christ remembers. It’s a story we tell when we gather at the font. We come to these waters, these ordinary waters, clinging to the promise of God. God promises to be here. God stirs up these waters, turning them from ordinary to life giving. In these life-giving waters God gives us a new identity, one that is not bound by sin, but one that is wrapped in the love of Christ. No longer are we slaves to sin, but set free and given the name children of God. In these waters we cling to Christ and Christ remembers.
Christ Remembers. This is the story Paul was telling. This is the story that Luther discovered in the depths of his own darkness. And I am not sure he would like all the pomp and circumstance of Reformation Sunday. I think he would fear that we would loose sight of what’s most important; Christ. There is a painting that hangs behind the alter in the church where Luther was pastor in Wittenberg, Germany. I have a copy of it in my office. To me it points to the heart of Luther’s theology. On one side there is Luther, his hand firmly planted on the Bible, the story of our redemption. The other is pointing to the center of the painting. On the other side you have the people of Germany. In the middle hangs Christ on the cross. Luther’s reminder for us today is that Christ is at the center of our story. Christ is our redemption now and forever. In highs and lows of life, from this place out into the world, we cling to Christ, and Christ remembers.
Monday, October 14, 2013
On Being Resurrected and Following Jesus
Here is the manuscript from the sermon preached on October 13, 2013, the 21st Sunday after Pentecost. We had our annual picnic here at Bethany this weekend and there sermon was not recorded. Hopefully I will have audio again on the next one. Blessings on your journey.
Luke 17:11-19
On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. 12 And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance 13 and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; 16 and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? 18 Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”
Growing up I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America. It is an experience that I still treasure today, an experience from which I still glean valuable wisdom. My father and my scout masters, hard working men of faith every one of them, gave freely of their time to try to teach junior high and high schools boy how to tie knots, start fires, do basic first aid, and, now an unfortunately dying art, how to read maps. I like to boast that I have a good sense of direction. Growing up I could travel to a place once and remember how to get back, and how to get home. I was good with a map. And so even today I like to look at maps. I still have a road atlas in my car. Sometimes the iPhone map just doesn’t tell the whole story. Sometimes I like the bigger picture that only a physical, paper map, can provide.
When I encounter the names of places in scripture, I like to see where they are on a map. In the long travel narratives, like the journeys of Paul, its helpful to look at a map to gain more perspective on what the author is trying to communicate. The journey that we are currently on with Jesus is no different. Sometimes a little perspective on our whereabouts helps.
Our story from Luke this morning takes place in the space between Samaria and Galilee. We hear that Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem, passes through this borderland, and if we were to take out a map, it wouldn’t make much sense. This journey to Jerusalem, that started all the way back in chapter nine, is still going on, and the current path just does not make much sense in the flow of the Gospel story. So perhaps the physical details do not matter and Luke is trying to get us to think deeper. Perhaps the physical places on a map are not the focus.
This morning we again find ourselves in permeable space. Two weeks ago we heard the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, a story that gives us a glimpse of how God comes to us in this world. We lifted up the voices of Moses and the prophets, reminding ourselves of the witness of scripture and of great narrative of God’s love, a love that comes to us in permeable spaces. The reminder from the prophet Amos was that justice is done at the gate. Mercy is enacted at the gate. The love of God for the world and our love for one another breaks into the world through permeable spaces.
Today, we again have a story that takes place in permeable space. We are somewhere between Samaria and Galilee. We might as well be somewhere between Eagle Pass and San Antonio, or Fredericksburg and Austin, or Bethany and main street. This story could have taken place in any of the permeable spaces that we know, so the focus is not upon the place, but upon what Jesus does and the witness of how God’s love happens in our midst.
The cast of characters is simply ten leprous men and Jesus. It would be easy to be sidetracked by the disease of leprosy, but I am not sure that is what Luke is talking about. The term leper, λεπροs in Greek, can refer to any number of skin diseases, so to focus on the disease would be to miss the point. It’s the result of the disease that is actually crippling to these persons. Because of the status of leper, they are outside of the community. They are labeled “unclean” and denied access to the privileges of the community. In reality, they are dead men walking, cut off from the life of the community. They are socially dead to the world. And what’s more, they are held in this status of unclean by the priests, the gatekeepers of status and privilege. The priests deem these people unclean and literally take their lives away. It is this broken system of death and power that Jesus confronts and dismantles with his act of healing.
So, as the story goes, the lepers follow the rules of the day and shout at Jesus from far off, “Jesus, one of authority, have mercy on us!” Jesus responds by sending them to the priests, and on the way they discover that they are indeed “made clean” by Jesus. In an act of healing, Jesus has given these men status, he has labeled them clean and has restored their lives. This is an instance of social healing. And then the story gets really interesting.
On his way to the priest, one of the men realizes that he is cured and turns back to enthusiastically thank Jesus. And then the punch line comes. Luke lets us know that this man was a Samaritan, a person Jesus will later label as a foreigner, and the real trouble begins. This man, a leper, now outed as a foreigner, would not have been able to see the priest at all. If we spend any time in the Gospels, even in the Old Testament, we come to find that the Jews and the Samaritans do not exactly get along. They really hated each other in reality. So here we have a leprous Samaritan being healed by Jesus. In the social ranks of the day, he is a double outcast. He is labeled unclean with no way to be named clean. It was forbidden for foreigners to even enter the temple in Jerusalem, so we can bet that a local priest would refuse his services.
But Jesus, in his radical embodiment of God’s love, declares, “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well.” Jesus, in a moment of grace, restores this man to life in a community that is not divided by racial or ethic or social or economic barriers. Jesus gives this man new life in God’s kingdom. The Greek word for “get up,” Ἀναστὰς (anastas), is a word that is connected to resurrection in Luke’s Gospel, and in much of the New Testament. In just a few chapters, an angel will remind the women at the tomb that Jesus told them he would rise (Ἀναστὰς) on the third day This man is resurrected, given the new life that only God’s love can grant. A love that is freely given to all people. A love that is present in this life.
The word that we translate as “made you well,” is a complex word in Greek that often gets translated as saved, thus rendering a picture of some future life to come, ignoring the present realities that this word communicates. The word σῴζω (sode'-zo) carries with it the overtones of being made whole to receive the gifts of God’s kingdom in the here and now. It is a present reality into which the man is received. It’s a new life in the kingdom of God, the kingdom that we are baptized into....a kingdom that will never pass away.
The bottom line is that this is a story of privilege and access; it’s about who has access to the resources that make one a member of the community. Jesus redraws the lines based on God’s love and mercy, and not on our fallen rubrics of power. All are welcome and loved in the kingdom of God. We don’t get to draw the lines. We are loved and invited to follow. To follow God into the permeable spaces of life.
God is moving and working in the permeable spaces in our lives. God works in the space between Samaria and Galilee just as God works in the space between Eagle Pass and San Antonio. God is working in the permeable space between work/school/church and home. God is working in the permeable space between Bethany and main street. God is working in the permeable space between life and death. This is where we are given new life and called to follow. And here is where the map comes into play.
I am not talking about physical maps with place names, but the map of scripture, the Gospel, that points us to the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. Following Jesus is not about places, but about being open to the movement of God’s love in our world. The Gospel points to where God’s love is working in the world and is our map to following Jesus and living into that love.
Our story is another reminder of God’s radical grace and a challenging call to follow Jesus. As we continue to learn how to follow Jesus, this is a bold reminder that we follow Jesus into the expansive kingdom of God where all people are included in the community. We have been empowered to live into this kingdom here and now. We do this through love. We do this through how we encounter others. We do this as we gain a new perspective in following Jesus.
So rise, friends of Christ, and go on your way. Your faith has made you whole. That is our reminder, and our call today. Rise, be resurrected, and go on you way following Jesus out into the world. Your faith, your trust, has made you whole.
Luke 17:11-19
On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. 12 And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance 13 and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; 16 and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? 18 Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”
Growing up I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America. It is an experience that I still treasure today, an experience from which I still glean valuable wisdom. My father and my scout masters, hard working men of faith every one of them, gave freely of their time to try to teach junior high and high schools boy how to tie knots, start fires, do basic first aid, and, now an unfortunately dying art, how to read maps. I like to boast that I have a good sense of direction. Growing up I could travel to a place once and remember how to get back, and how to get home. I was good with a map. And so even today I like to look at maps. I still have a road atlas in my car. Sometimes the iPhone map just doesn’t tell the whole story. Sometimes I like the bigger picture that only a physical, paper map, can provide.
When I encounter the names of places in scripture, I like to see where they are on a map. In the long travel narratives, like the journeys of Paul, its helpful to look at a map to gain more perspective on what the author is trying to communicate. The journey that we are currently on with Jesus is no different. Sometimes a little perspective on our whereabouts helps.
Our story from Luke this morning takes place in the space between Samaria and Galilee. We hear that Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem, passes through this borderland, and if we were to take out a map, it wouldn’t make much sense. This journey to Jerusalem, that started all the way back in chapter nine, is still going on, and the current path just does not make much sense in the flow of the Gospel story. So perhaps the physical details do not matter and Luke is trying to get us to think deeper. Perhaps the physical places on a map are not the focus.
This morning we again find ourselves in permeable space. Two weeks ago we heard the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, a story that gives us a glimpse of how God comes to us in this world. We lifted up the voices of Moses and the prophets, reminding ourselves of the witness of scripture and of great narrative of God’s love, a love that comes to us in permeable spaces. The reminder from the prophet Amos was that justice is done at the gate. Mercy is enacted at the gate. The love of God for the world and our love for one another breaks into the world through permeable spaces.
Today, we again have a story that takes place in permeable space. We are somewhere between Samaria and Galilee. We might as well be somewhere between Eagle Pass and San Antonio, or Fredericksburg and Austin, or Bethany and main street. This story could have taken place in any of the permeable spaces that we know, so the focus is not upon the place, but upon what Jesus does and the witness of how God’s love happens in our midst.
The cast of characters is simply ten leprous men and Jesus. It would be easy to be sidetracked by the disease of leprosy, but I am not sure that is what Luke is talking about. The term leper, λεπροs in Greek, can refer to any number of skin diseases, so to focus on the disease would be to miss the point. It’s the result of the disease that is actually crippling to these persons. Because of the status of leper, they are outside of the community. They are labeled “unclean” and denied access to the privileges of the community. In reality, they are dead men walking, cut off from the life of the community. They are socially dead to the world. And what’s more, they are held in this status of unclean by the priests, the gatekeepers of status and privilege. The priests deem these people unclean and literally take their lives away. It is this broken system of death and power that Jesus confronts and dismantles with his act of healing.
So, as the story goes, the lepers follow the rules of the day and shout at Jesus from far off, “Jesus, one of authority, have mercy on us!” Jesus responds by sending them to the priests, and on the way they discover that they are indeed “made clean” by Jesus. In an act of healing, Jesus has given these men status, he has labeled them clean and has restored their lives. This is an instance of social healing. And then the story gets really interesting.
On his way to the priest, one of the men realizes that he is cured and turns back to enthusiastically thank Jesus. And then the punch line comes. Luke lets us know that this man was a Samaritan, a person Jesus will later label as a foreigner, and the real trouble begins. This man, a leper, now outed as a foreigner, would not have been able to see the priest at all. If we spend any time in the Gospels, even in the Old Testament, we come to find that the Jews and the Samaritans do not exactly get along. They really hated each other in reality. So here we have a leprous Samaritan being healed by Jesus. In the social ranks of the day, he is a double outcast. He is labeled unclean with no way to be named clean. It was forbidden for foreigners to even enter the temple in Jerusalem, so we can bet that a local priest would refuse his services.
But Jesus, in his radical embodiment of God’s love, declares, “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well.” Jesus, in a moment of grace, restores this man to life in a community that is not divided by racial or ethic or social or economic barriers. Jesus gives this man new life in God’s kingdom. The Greek word for “get up,” Ἀναστὰς (anastas), is a word that is connected to resurrection in Luke’s Gospel, and in much of the New Testament. In just a few chapters, an angel will remind the women at the tomb that Jesus told them he would rise (Ἀναστὰς) on the third day This man is resurrected, given the new life that only God’s love can grant. A love that is freely given to all people. A love that is present in this life.
The word that we translate as “made you well,” is a complex word in Greek that often gets translated as saved, thus rendering a picture of some future life to come, ignoring the present realities that this word communicates. The word σῴζω (sode'-zo) carries with it the overtones of being made whole to receive the gifts of God’s kingdom in the here and now. It is a present reality into which the man is received. It’s a new life in the kingdom of God, the kingdom that we are baptized into....a kingdom that will never pass away.
The bottom line is that this is a story of privilege and access; it’s about who has access to the resources that make one a member of the community. Jesus redraws the lines based on God’s love and mercy, and not on our fallen rubrics of power. All are welcome and loved in the kingdom of God. We don’t get to draw the lines. We are loved and invited to follow. To follow God into the permeable spaces of life.
God is moving and working in the permeable spaces in our lives. God works in the space between Samaria and Galilee just as God works in the space between Eagle Pass and San Antonio. God is working in the permeable space between work/school/church and home. God is working in the permeable space between Bethany and main street. God is working in the permeable space between life and death. This is where we are given new life and called to follow. And here is where the map comes into play.
I am not talking about physical maps with place names, but the map of scripture, the Gospel, that points us to the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. Following Jesus is not about places, but about being open to the movement of God’s love in our world. The Gospel points to where God’s love is working in the world and is our map to following Jesus and living into that love.
Our story is another reminder of God’s radical grace and a challenging call to follow Jesus. As we continue to learn how to follow Jesus, this is a bold reminder that we follow Jesus into the expansive kingdom of God where all people are included in the community. We have been empowered to live into this kingdom here and now. We do this through love. We do this through how we encounter others. We do this as we gain a new perspective in following Jesus.
So rise, friends of Christ, and go on your way. Your faith has made you whole. That is our reminder, and our call today. Rise, be resurrected, and go on you way following Jesus out into the world. Your faith, your trust, has made you whole.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
The Parable of the Ten Lepers - Re-imagined
The idea at the heart of the Bartimaeus Effect is to gain a new perspective by following Jesus Christ. One aspect of gaining a new perspective is to engage scripture. And by engage, I want to focus on re-imagining the intersection of our world and scripture. Where do our lives, the current realities of our world (and particularly our culture), intersect the witness of Jesus Christ? Where do our lives cross paths with the life and ministry of Jesus Christ? Or perhaps more honestly; where does Jesus encounter us?
For example.
This week the revised common lectionary has Luke 17:11-19 as the Gospel text for the day. Luke 17 contains the story of ten lepers, who upon encountering Jesus, are made clean. One of lepers, who we learn is a Samaritan, returns rejoicing to Jesus and falls at his feet. Jesus tells him to rise and that his faith has made him well. That’s the story in a nut-shell. But where does it intersect us today?
Below is my rough translation of the story. I have tried to bring current images into the story and contextualize it to fit my understanding of what is going on in our midst.
So here it is...
The Parable of the Ten Without Access to Healthcare
And it happened, journeying to Austin, Jesus was going through the middle of Eagle Pass and San Antonio. As he entered a village, ten social outcasts without access to healthcare approached him. Keeping their distance, they raised a voice saying, “Jesus, one of authority, have mercy on us.” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the healthcare brokers (congress). And as they went, they were given access to healthcare (they had credible coverage). Then one of them, when he saw that he had health insurance, turned back, glorifying God with a loud voice. He fell on his face a Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Mexican. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this immigrant (undocumented one)?” Then he said to him, “Having risen up (as from death), be going on your journey. Your trust has made you whole (you have a place in the community and the kingdom).”
In this short story, Luke uses three words to describe the healing;
14 & 17 - “cleansed” (καθαρίζω)
15 - “cured” (ἰάομαι)
19 - “made whole/saved (σῴζω)
Each word points to a different level of healing within the community. The first, καθαρίζω, to be cleansed, is a word that points to ritual, access, and identity in the community. To be clean was a position of status and privilege within the community. The second, ἰάομαι, points to a state of being. It acknowledges one’s current status. The third, σῴζω, signifies a new state of being. This word has theological depth and has often been translated as “saved,” pointing to some future status. But the nuances of this word point us to much more. This word σῴζω carries with it the overtones of being made whole to receive the gifts of God’s kingdom in the here and now. It points to a new future in the kingdom of God, a very present reality in our midst. The translation choices I have made wade into the murky waters of metaphor and try to capture the subtle nuances of these words and what they could point to in our context.
As for translating “lepers” as “social outcasts without access to healthcare,” I think that this captures the statement and description that Luke is attempting to capture in this story. The term leper in antiquity, for Luke and Jesus, did not point to a specific disease, but to any number of skin conditions. The ultimate reality is that being a leper made one unclean and thus outside of the community. A leper had no access to the privileges of society.
I took the image of priest and turned it into “healthcare broker” or potentially “congress,” because they are the current gatekeepers of privilege in our context. The priests were the gatekeepers of status in the story from Luke, they controlled who was in and who was out. Healthcare brokers, and yes congress, are a fitting metaphor for what is happening in our context. They have the power to decide who’s in and who’s out.
I struggled with translating the Samaritan in the story as “Mexican” in my rendition. This is not a social comment on our Mexican/Latino/Latina brothers and sisters, it’s more of a contextual understanding of the story based on the setting I chose.
Is this translation perfect?
NO!
But no translations can claim perfection. What we have from Luke is an opportunity to re-imagine the world through the eyes of God, through the life and ministry of Jesus, through the love that has raised us all new life.
Is Luke’s story political?
Absolutely!
To separate the religion and politics in this story would be to strip it of its power. Luke had no concept of the partisan politics of our day. Neither does God’s kingdom. This story is about following Jesus and it does not does not conform to the broken power structures and struggles of our world. Following Jesus means that we will be at odds with worldly power and we are called to be critical of that power, but not based on its rubrics. As members of the kingdom of God we are called to engage the world with political actions demonstrated by Jesus Christ, namely speaking truth to power and embodying God’s radical love for all people.
The bottom line is that this is a story of privilege and access; it’s about who has access to the resources that make one a member of the community. Jesus redraws the lines based on God’s love and mercy, and not on our fallen rubrics of power. All are welcome and loved in the kingdom of God. We don’t get to draw the lines. We are loved and invited to follow.
This story contains radical grace and a challenging call to follow Jesus. As we continue to learn how to follow Jesus, this is a bold reminder that we follow Jesus into the expansive kingdom of God where all people are included in the community. We have been empowered to live into this kingdom here and now. We do this through love. We does this through how we encounter others. We does this as we gain a new perspective in following Jesus.
May God continue to bless you on the journey!
Peace,
Travis
For example.
This week the revised common lectionary has Luke 17:11-19 as the Gospel text for the day. Luke 17 contains the story of ten lepers, who upon encountering Jesus, are made clean. One of lepers, who we learn is a Samaritan, returns rejoicing to Jesus and falls at his feet. Jesus tells him to rise and that his faith has made him well. That’s the story in a nut-shell. But where does it intersect us today?
Below is my rough translation of the story. I have tried to bring current images into the story and contextualize it to fit my understanding of what is going on in our midst.
So here it is...
The Parable of the Ten Without Access to Healthcare
And it happened, journeying to Austin, Jesus was going through the middle of Eagle Pass and San Antonio. As he entered a village, ten social outcasts without access to healthcare approached him. Keeping their distance, they raised a voice saying, “Jesus, one of authority, have mercy on us.” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the healthcare brokers (congress). And as they went, they were given access to healthcare (they had credible coverage). Then one of them, when he saw that he had health insurance, turned back, glorifying God with a loud voice. He fell on his face a Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Mexican. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this immigrant (undocumented one)?” Then he said to him, “Having risen up (as from death), be going on your journey. Your trust has made you whole (you have a place in the community and the kingdom).”
In this short story, Luke uses three words to describe the healing;
14 & 17 - “cleansed” (καθαρίζω)
15 - “cured” (ἰάομαι)
19 - “made whole/saved (σῴζω)
Each word points to a different level of healing within the community. The first, καθαρίζω, to be cleansed, is a word that points to ritual, access, and identity in the community. To be clean was a position of status and privilege within the community. The second, ἰάομαι, points to a state of being. It acknowledges one’s current status. The third, σῴζω, signifies a new state of being. This word has theological depth and has often been translated as “saved,” pointing to some future status. But the nuances of this word point us to much more. This word σῴζω carries with it the overtones of being made whole to receive the gifts of God’s kingdom in the here and now. It points to a new future in the kingdom of God, a very present reality in our midst. The translation choices I have made wade into the murky waters of metaphor and try to capture the subtle nuances of these words and what they could point to in our context.
As for translating “lepers” as “social outcasts without access to healthcare,” I think that this captures the statement and description that Luke is attempting to capture in this story. The term leper in antiquity, for Luke and Jesus, did not point to a specific disease, but to any number of skin conditions. The ultimate reality is that being a leper made one unclean and thus outside of the community. A leper had no access to the privileges of society.
I took the image of priest and turned it into “healthcare broker” or potentially “congress,” because they are the current gatekeepers of privilege in our context. The priests were the gatekeepers of status in the story from Luke, they controlled who was in and who was out. Healthcare brokers, and yes congress, are a fitting metaphor for what is happening in our context. They have the power to decide who’s in and who’s out.
I struggled with translating the Samaritan in the story as “Mexican” in my rendition. This is not a social comment on our Mexican/Latino/Latina brothers and sisters, it’s more of a contextual understanding of the story based on the setting I chose.
Is this translation perfect?
NO!
But no translations can claim perfection. What we have from Luke is an opportunity to re-imagine the world through the eyes of God, through the life and ministry of Jesus, through the love that has raised us all new life.
Is Luke’s story political?
Absolutely!
To separate the religion and politics in this story would be to strip it of its power. Luke had no concept of the partisan politics of our day. Neither does God’s kingdom. This story is about following Jesus and it does not does not conform to the broken power structures and struggles of our world. Following Jesus means that we will be at odds with worldly power and we are called to be critical of that power, but not based on its rubrics. As members of the kingdom of God we are called to engage the world with political actions demonstrated by Jesus Christ, namely speaking truth to power and embodying God’s radical love for all people.
The bottom line is that this is a story of privilege and access; it’s about who has access to the resources that make one a member of the community. Jesus redraws the lines based on God’s love and mercy, and not on our fallen rubrics of power. All are welcome and loved in the kingdom of God. We don’t get to draw the lines. We are loved and invited to follow.
This story contains radical grace and a challenging call to follow Jesus. As we continue to learn how to follow Jesus, this is a bold reminder that we follow Jesus into the expansive kingdom of God where all people are included in the community. We have been empowered to live into this kingdom here and now. We do this through love. We does this through how we encounter others. We does this as we gain a new perspective in following Jesus.
May God continue to bless you on the journey!
Peace,
Travis
Sunday, September 29, 2013
The Kingdom of God and Permeable Spaces
There is a new addition to the blog this week. We have worked out the ability to record sermons during our contemporary praise and worship service at Bethany, so this week there is audio to go along with the manuscript. I have intentionally not altered the manuscript beyond my final edits. I have not adjusted it to match the text so there will be some differences between the two.
Peace,
Travis
The sermon this week is based on Luke 16:19-31.
“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us.’ And he said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.’ But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’ And he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.’”
One of the most difficult aspects of life that I experienced during my time in Chicago was the poverty. I did not see a great deal of poverty growing up in Brenham. I know that it is there, just as there is poverty here in Fredericksburg, but I did not come across it much as a child. While I was not shocked at what I encountered, the amount of poverty I witnessed in Chicago was staggering. And the worst part was the panhandlers.
Now I know there is real need, but I learned very quickly that not all who beg for change are actually in need. I was told by my ethics professor during new student orientation not to give money to anyone in the neighborhood because, as he put it, “some of them have worked here longer than I have.” Some of those begging had houses in the suburbs and acted the part of a beggar, making tens of thousands of dollars in a year based on the good will of others. Needless to say, I was jaded to the act of handing out money. But I still saw the poverty. In doorways, outside of restaurants, in the alleyways, I saw the hungry faces of the poor and needy. And it broke my heart. I was safe from it in my apartment and at school, but in the permeable spaces of life, in the space between comforts, I saw the need. And I struggled with it. I wonder if that’s how we are to understand the rich man in this parable. I wonder if he struggled with the need of Lazarus.
On the surface, this parable starts out in a rather simple manner. A rich man dresses well and dines lavishly every evening in what we can assume is a large, well-decorated house. A poor man named Lazarus lays at his gate hungry and desiring the scrapes that fall from the table. This is an accurate picture from the time of Jesus, and if we are honest, in our own times as well. The rich are well dressed and fed, the poor lie in squalor. We get no other details from Jesus. No list of merits. No reasons for the status of either man. Just a picture of wealth and poverty.
Then then Jesus moves away from the expected. The poor man, Lazarus, dies and is taken by the angels to the bosom of Abraham and the rich man, still un-named dies and is buried and wakes up in Hades, the Greek concept of the afterlife. This reverses what the crowd would have expected and I think it catches us off guard as well. The rich man would have been seen as someone blessed by God, to find him separated from God is shocking. Lazarus, ridiculously poor, is assumed to have gotten what he deserved from some sin he committed on earth. But the roles are reversed by Jesus. And the parable moves on into a chat between the rich man and Abraham. But let’s remain here for a moment.
While it seems like a minor detail, it is important to notice how and where Lazarus enters the story. He is literally tossed by the gate of the rich man. Our reading this morning said that he was “laid” the rich man’s gate, but the Greek rendering is not so passive. The word used by Luke paints a picture of Lazarus being tossed at the gate of the rich man, left for dead by someone who didn’t know what to do with him. Lazarus is literally tossed out, a throw away, potentially to be collected with the Monday morning trash. He is a nobody. And there he lays at the gate.
Now the gate may seem like a minor detail, a descriptive clue to set the scene, but we should not move too quickly and dismiss the place as not important. The gate tells us a great deal about the story. We can imagine that the rich man lives in a lavish compound. A Mediterranean villa complete with high walls, palms trees, and a swimming pool. It is a house built to display wealth and I am sure it has a fence to keep all of the undesirables out. So the gate is an access point. A place of entrance for the rich man and his guests. A hole in the wall. A permeable space. And its where we find Lazarus. Lazarus is tossed into the in-between space, a potential place of contact between him and the rich man. The gate is important for us to notice because it is how God encounters us in the journey of faith and it is where we encounter others (neighbor and stranger) in this world.
Our God has always encountered the world through permeable space. That’s why the call to hear Moses and the prophets is so important in the final verses of the parable. The witness of Moses and the prophets points us to the truth that God encounters the world through permeable space. If we dig back into Moses and the prophets we are immersed in God’s mercy to those in need. God calls the people to acts of justice and mercy in the permeable spaces in our world. God calls to the people through Moses to leave the edges of the field unharvested, to leave some grain on the stalks and grapes on the vine for the poor and immigrant passing through the land. It is on the edges of the fields, in the permeable space, that nourishment is provided for those in need.
God calls the people to look out for the orphan and the widow, those who were pushed to the margins over and over again because they were left out of the social hierarchy. The orphans and widows existed in permeable space, not sure who would take care of them, so the people are called to rally together to their aid.
God calls through the prophets for the people to be lovers of justice. The prophet Amos reminds the people that the gates of the city were to be places of justice. “Hate evil and love good, and establish justice at the gate,” cries Amos. The permeable space of the city is where justice is done because that’s where people encounter one another. The permeable spaces are where life happens, where forgiveness is acted out, and where love is embodied in the encounter with the neighbor and stranger.
And then there’s Jesus himself. Jesus, God incarnate in the world, comes to us in the permeable space of life. Jesus teaches us how to live in the here and now, in permeable space, the space between the world as it is in it’s fallen state, and the kingdom God that is coming into the world. Jesus’ ministry takes place in everyday life, Jesus reaches out to those in need, lifting them out of brokenness and restoring them to life. And it is this life that leads to the cross. Even here in chapter 16, Jesus‘ face is set towards Jerusalem and perhaps he knows the cross is coming.
It is on the cross, the ultimate permeable space between life and death, that God’s love is poured out for the world. God transcends the space between the world as it is and the kingdom that is to come, and in the process, gives new life to all people through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. God encounters us in permeable space and gives us new life. And Jesus calls us to follow this example.
So today let’s think about our permeable spaces. The front door, the parking lot, main street, the high school hallway. The very streets of our neighborhood. We are set free to live into these spaces. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes we judge and put up boundaries. We set rules in place to keep others away. For me it was trying to control the permeable spaces in Chicago – I tried to set limits on the kingdom of God. I keep what I thought was mine with tight fists. I was unwilling to share. And the more I think about it, the more I come to realize that it was not even about my stuff, but about how I would rarely acknowledged the other as a child of God. I would not try to learn their name or build a relationship. And that’s where the rubber hits the road, in building relationships.
When we recognize the child of God in the neighbor and in the stranger, we learn how to use our blessings to meet their needs. Encountering the neighbor and the stranger in the permeable spaces of our lives is about building relationships and sharing the wealth that God has blessed us with, be it money, or possessions, or time. When we remember that we are blessed, we realize that we are called to be a blessing to others.
Friends in Christ, every day is an opportunity to live into the new life we have in Christ. Over and over again we travel through permeable spaces on a journey of faith. And it’s in these fluid spaces that we have a chance to live out the grace and mercy of God. In living out God’s love and mercy we continue the story of Moses the prophets and Jesus. We establish relationships. We extend grace. We embody the kingdom of God in this world.
Friends, we are a blessed people and we are blessed in this place. As you go back out into the permeable spaces of your lives this week, remember that your are a beloved child of God and that you are blessed. And in being blessed, you have the opportunity to be a blessing to others.
Peace,
Travis
The sermon this week is based on Luke 16:19-31.
“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us.’ And he said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.’ But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’ And he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.’”
One of the most difficult aspects of life that I experienced during my time in Chicago was the poverty. I did not see a great deal of poverty growing up in Brenham. I know that it is there, just as there is poverty here in Fredericksburg, but I did not come across it much as a child. While I was not shocked at what I encountered, the amount of poverty I witnessed in Chicago was staggering. And the worst part was the panhandlers.
Now I know there is real need, but I learned very quickly that not all who beg for change are actually in need. I was told by my ethics professor during new student orientation not to give money to anyone in the neighborhood because, as he put it, “some of them have worked here longer than I have.” Some of those begging had houses in the suburbs and acted the part of a beggar, making tens of thousands of dollars in a year based on the good will of others. Needless to say, I was jaded to the act of handing out money. But I still saw the poverty. In doorways, outside of restaurants, in the alleyways, I saw the hungry faces of the poor and needy. And it broke my heart. I was safe from it in my apartment and at school, but in the permeable spaces of life, in the space between comforts, I saw the need. And I struggled with it. I wonder if that’s how we are to understand the rich man in this parable. I wonder if he struggled with the need of Lazarus.
On the surface, this parable starts out in a rather simple manner. A rich man dresses well and dines lavishly every evening in what we can assume is a large, well-decorated house. A poor man named Lazarus lays at his gate hungry and desiring the scrapes that fall from the table. This is an accurate picture from the time of Jesus, and if we are honest, in our own times as well. The rich are well dressed and fed, the poor lie in squalor. We get no other details from Jesus. No list of merits. No reasons for the status of either man. Just a picture of wealth and poverty.
Then then Jesus moves away from the expected. The poor man, Lazarus, dies and is taken by the angels to the bosom of Abraham and the rich man, still un-named dies and is buried and wakes up in Hades, the Greek concept of the afterlife. This reverses what the crowd would have expected and I think it catches us off guard as well. The rich man would have been seen as someone blessed by God, to find him separated from God is shocking. Lazarus, ridiculously poor, is assumed to have gotten what he deserved from some sin he committed on earth. But the roles are reversed by Jesus. And the parable moves on into a chat between the rich man and Abraham. But let’s remain here for a moment.
While it seems like a minor detail, it is important to notice how and where Lazarus enters the story. He is literally tossed by the gate of the rich man. Our reading this morning said that he was “laid” the rich man’s gate, but the Greek rendering is not so passive. The word used by Luke paints a picture of Lazarus being tossed at the gate of the rich man, left for dead by someone who didn’t know what to do with him. Lazarus is literally tossed out, a throw away, potentially to be collected with the Monday morning trash. He is a nobody. And there he lays at the gate.
Now the gate may seem like a minor detail, a descriptive clue to set the scene, but we should not move too quickly and dismiss the place as not important. The gate tells us a great deal about the story. We can imagine that the rich man lives in a lavish compound. A Mediterranean villa complete with high walls, palms trees, and a swimming pool. It is a house built to display wealth and I am sure it has a fence to keep all of the undesirables out. So the gate is an access point. A place of entrance for the rich man and his guests. A hole in the wall. A permeable space. And its where we find Lazarus. Lazarus is tossed into the in-between space, a potential place of contact between him and the rich man. The gate is important for us to notice because it is how God encounters us in the journey of faith and it is where we encounter others (neighbor and stranger) in this world.
Our God has always encountered the world through permeable space. That’s why the call to hear Moses and the prophets is so important in the final verses of the parable. The witness of Moses and the prophets points us to the truth that God encounters the world through permeable space. If we dig back into Moses and the prophets we are immersed in God’s mercy to those in need. God calls the people to acts of justice and mercy in the permeable spaces in our world. God calls to the people through Moses to leave the edges of the field unharvested, to leave some grain on the stalks and grapes on the vine for the poor and immigrant passing through the land. It is on the edges of the fields, in the permeable space, that nourishment is provided for those in need.
God calls the people to look out for the orphan and the widow, those who were pushed to the margins over and over again because they were left out of the social hierarchy. The orphans and widows existed in permeable space, not sure who would take care of them, so the people are called to rally together to their aid.
God calls through the prophets for the people to be lovers of justice. The prophet Amos reminds the people that the gates of the city were to be places of justice. “Hate evil and love good, and establish justice at the gate,” cries Amos. The permeable space of the city is where justice is done because that’s where people encounter one another. The permeable spaces are where life happens, where forgiveness is acted out, and where love is embodied in the encounter with the neighbor and stranger.
And then there’s Jesus himself. Jesus, God incarnate in the world, comes to us in the permeable space of life. Jesus teaches us how to live in the here and now, in permeable space, the space between the world as it is in it’s fallen state, and the kingdom God that is coming into the world. Jesus’ ministry takes place in everyday life, Jesus reaches out to those in need, lifting them out of brokenness and restoring them to life. And it is this life that leads to the cross. Even here in chapter 16, Jesus‘ face is set towards Jerusalem and perhaps he knows the cross is coming.
It is on the cross, the ultimate permeable space between life and death, that God’s love is poured out for the world. God transcends the space between the world as it is and the kingdom that is to come, and in the process, gives new life to all people through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. God encounters us in permeable space and gives us new life. And Jesus calls us to follow this example.
So today let’s think about our permeable spaces. The front door, the parking lot, main street, the high school hallway. The very streets of our neighborhood. We are set free to live into these spaces. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes we judge and put up boundaries. We set rules in place to keep others away. For me it was trying to control the permeable spaces in Chicago – I tried to set limits on the kingdom of God. I keep what I thought was mine with tight fists. I was unwilling to share. And the more I think about it, the more I come to realize that it was not even about my stuff, but about how I would rarely acknowledged the other as a child of God. I would not try to learn their name or build a relationship. And that’s where the rubber hits the road, in building relationships.
When we recognize the child of God in the neighbor and in the stranger, we learn how to use our blessings to meet their needs. Encountering the neighbor and the stranger in the permeable spaces of our lives is about building relationships and sharing the wealth that God has blessed us with, be it money, or possessions, or time. When we remember that we are blessed, we realize that we are called to be a blessing to others.
Friends in Christ, every day is an opportunity to live into the new life we have in Christ. Over and over again we travel through permeable spaces on a journey of faith. And it’s in these fluid spaces that we have a chance to live out the grace and mercy of God. In living out God’s love and mercy we continue the story of Moses the prophets and Jesus. We establish relationships. We extend grace. We embody the kingdom of God in this world.
Friends, we are a blessed people and we are blessed in this place. As you go back out into the permeable spaces of your lives this week, remember that your are a beloved child of God and that you are blessed. And in being blessed, you have the opportunity to be a blessing to others.
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