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.
Monday, October 14, 2013
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.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Rejoicing with God
This is the sermon manuscript from September 15, 2013, the 17th Sunday after Pentecost. The Gospel text is Luke 15:1-10. This sermon also celebrates the life and witness of Johnny Cash.
Luke 15:1-10
Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”
So he told them this parable: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
“Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
In case you missed it, Thursday was the tenth anniversary of the death of Johnny Cash. And while he may never be sainted by the church, we can at least celebrate a feast day for the man in black. We can celebrate his life and his witness. We can remember the message he shared through his music.
Now, Johnny Cash was not perfect. A look at his early life and career paints the picture of ragged sinner. A broken marriage, the abuse of drugs and alcohol, time in prison all point to a broken man, lost in the wilderness of this world. Cash was far from perfect, and so lifting him up in church can be tricky business. But I think he is a great example of what Luther would name a “simul justus et peccator,” a person who is in the state of being simultaneously a saint and a sinner. And that’s you and me friends, sinners and saints every one of us. And when I think of the table that God sets before us, I have to think that Johnny Cash would be there. And that in the midst of the meal he would get up from his seat, someone would hand him a guitar, and he would start picking music and telling stories, putting a smile on the face of Jesus.
Later in his life Johnny started to recognize his unique place in the world. He understood the place of power he occupied as a performer and he began to speak up for those who could not speak for themselves. And so this morning I would like to listen with you as we experince Johnny Cash’s “Man in Black”
The song “Man in Black” is a litany of the lost of this world, people Cash knew well. The poor, the beaten down, the sick, the lonely, the prisoner, the reckless. People he had met along the way. People he knew were lost in this world.
This litany of folks could have been lifted out of Luke’s Gospel. The folks Cash names in his song are the same folks we have encountered as the dinner guests of Jesus in our journey through the Gospel in the past few weeks; the poor, the cripple, the lame, the blind, the captive, and the oppressed. They are the people that Jesus hangs out with. They are the people Jesus invites to dinner. And it’s scandalous. Had there been a local paper in Jesus’ day I am sure it would be filled with letters to the editor from angry Pharisees and church leaders, publicly shaming Jesus for his table manners. And I am sure Jesus would have kept on doing what he was doing, reaching out to those in need.
The story we have from Luke this morning follows a familiar pattern. Again we find Jesus at the table. Again we find the Pharisees and scribes grumbling at what Jesus is doing. And again we find Jesus teaching and turning the world upside-down. As much as the Pharisees seem not to get what Jesus is trying to say, Jesus does not loose his patience and continues to teach them. Perhaps it will sink in eventually.
Today Jesus tells two parables that follow the same story line. Both a shepherd and a woman realize that they have lost something and drop everything they are doing to go find it, whether it be a sheep or coin. And this act does not make sense to us. Why leave the 99 to find the one? Why turn the house inside out to find one lost coin? We live in a culture of acceptable loss. Things going missing, that’s just the way it is. We just have to look as far as our refrigerators. If you are anything like me you love taking leftovers home from a restaurant. The joy of having another meal and not needing to cook is great. But sometimes the leftovers get pushed to the back and forgotten, only to be tossed when they start to smell or turn colors. On the surface they are just leftovers, extras. But in reality, there may be $3 or $4 worth of food sacrificed to the almighty landfill. There may be a plate of food that could have feed a hungry soul. And as simple as this may seem, as innocent as this may seen, it is an acceptable loss. And 9 times out of 10 we don’t even think about it. But this is not how our God works.
Jesus starts both of these parables with a clever word play. Basically he is asking, “which of you would not do this,” assuming that leaving the 99 to find the one, or turning the house inside out to find one coin is an accepted practice. That it is the norm. But you and I know that it is not. No one does this. No one leaves the 99 for the sake of the 1. No one takes all day cleaning the house to find the lost coin, regardless of its value. Our culture does not teach us to put everything on hold to find what is lost. No one. Except God.
Perhaps that’s why the Pharisees are grumbling. The Pharisees, the ultimate rule keepers and the ones who exhaust themselves to fit into the culture and the power structure of the world, do not fully understand a God who will give up everything to find the lost. They do not understand the shepherd who is right in front of them who has been wandering in the wilderness of this world, finding those who are broken and alone and in need of being found. Jesus, the love of God incarnate in the world, has been sent to find the lost, and to remind them that they are loved by God. And upon finding the lost, God throws a party. Our God does not understand acceptable loss. Our God puts it all on the line for those who are lost.
I would imagine that some of you are probably feeling lost today...buried under the weight of working or financial troubles, dealing with health issues, perhaps straining to figure out schools schedules and finding time for family. We put on good faces when we come to church, hoping that no one will catch a chink in the armor, hoping we come off put together, but feeling exhausted at the juggling act of smiling through the lostness. We feel the eyes of the righteous burning upon us. Or perhaps we are the righteous, drawing lines of who is in and who is out, grumbling about the folks who wander in, perhaps trying to find the love of God.
Today’s parables from Jesus are not about us versus them, the righteously found versus the sinfully lost. Today’s word from Jesus is not about a divide that we must over come. It’s about a radically foolish God who will wander into the wilderness and turn the house inside out to find what has been lost. These parables are about a loving God who will run down the drive way trying to strap on a pair of sandals with a mile-wide smile to greet the one thought lost. This is a love story about God who does not leave us to our own devices but wraps us in a love that is always with us, even in the lost moments. This is a love that gathers up all of us saints and sinners in the world and loves us regardless of who we are. This is a love worth rejoicing. It is a love worth celebrating.
Friends, there is rejoicing in heaven. And the punch line of these parables directed at grumbling Pharisees is “will you join in?!” Will you join in the joy of a radical God who loves all peoples. Will you join in the grace of a God who, upon finding someone who was lost, drops everything and throws a party to celebrate? Will you loosen your grip on the rules of the world, stop complaining about sinners, and pull up a chair and join in the meal? God is already at the table with sinners, saints, lost, found, broken, and righteous. God is waiting for us to join in.
Today is a day to celebrate. In fact, everyday is a day to celebrate with God. While Johnny Cash’s song may sound melancholy and leave us with little hope and feeling like there is more to be done, there is hope in his words. He knew, perhaps better than most, the life of the lost and the joy in being found. The life of a sinner and saint. He became a voice for those who could not speak for themselves and lifted up those whom we may ignore. And he wanted to rejoice in their being found. “How I’d love to wear a rainbow everyday...” He wanted to celebrate with them and with God.
Friends, this is our call, to rejoice with God. To break some bread and raise a glass in celebration of God’s grace, a grace and love that knows no boundaries. This community of faith is called and empowered to join in with heaven as God rejoices over those who are found. So let us rejoice. There is a party going on is heaven and it is our turn to join in. Let us rejoice with a God whose love knows no boundaries. Let us rejoice with a God who is seeking tirelessly for the lost in this world. Let us rejoice with a God who loves us so deeply that there are parties thrown on heaven and on earth as the kingdom of God breaks into this world.
Luke 15:1-10
Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”
So he told them this parable: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
“Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
In case you missed it, Thursday was the tenth anniversary of the death of Johnny Cash. And while he may never be sainted by the church, we can at least celebrate a feast day for the man in black. We can celebrate his life and his witness. We can remember the message he shared through his music.
Now, Johnny Cash was not perfect. A look at his early life and career paints the picture of ragged sinner. A broken marriage, the abuse of drugs and alcohol, time in prison all point to a broken man, lost in the wilderness of this world. Cash was far from perfect, and so lifting him up in church can be tricky business. But I think he is a great example of what Luther would name a “simul justus et peccator,” a person who is in the state of being simultaneously a saint and a sinner. And that’s you and me friends, sinners and saints every one of us. And when I think of the table that God sets before us, I have to think that Johnny Cash would be there. And that in the midst of the meal he would get up from his seat, someone would hand him a guitar, and he would start picking music and telling stories, putting a smile on the face of Jesus.
Later in his life Johnny started to recognize his unique place in the world. He understood the place of power he occupied as a performer and he began to speak up for those who could not speak for themselves. And so this morning I would like to listen with you as we experince Johnny Cash’s “Man in Black”
The song “Man in Black” is a litany of the lost of this world, people Cash knew well. The poor, the beaten down, the sick, the lonely, the prisoner, the reckless. People he had met along the way. People he knew were lost in this world.
This litany of folks could have been lifted out of Luke’s Gospel. The folks Cash names in his song are the same folks we have encountered as the dinner guests of Jesus in our journey through the Gospel in the past few weeks; the poor, the cripple, the lame, the blind, the captive, and the oppressed. They are the people that Jesus hangs out with. They are the people Jesus invites to dinner. And it’s scandalous. Had there been a local paper in Jesus’ day I am sure it would be filled with letters to the editor from angry Pharisees and church leaders, publicly shaming Jesus for his table manners. And I am sure Jesus would have kept on doing what he was doing, reaching out to those in need.
The story we have from Luke this morning follows a familiar pattern. Again we find Jesus at the table. Again we find the Pharisees and scribes grumbling at what Jesus is doing. And again we find Jesus teaching and turning the world upside-down. As much as the Pharisees seem not to get what Jesus is trying to say, Jesus does not loose his patience and continues to teach them. Perhaps it will sink in eventually.
Today Jesus tells two parables that follow the same story line. Both a shepherd and a woman realize that they have lost something and drop everything they are doing to go find it, whether it be a sheep or coin. And this act does not make sense to us. Why leave the 99 to find the one? Why turn the house inside out to find one lost coin? We live in a culture of acceptable loss. Things going missing, that’s just the way it is. We just have to look as far as our refrigerators. If you are anything like me you love taking leftovers home from a restaurant. The joy of having another meal and not needing to cook is great. But sometimes the leftovers get pushed to the back and forgotten, only to be tossed when they start to smell or turn colors. On the surface they are just leftovers, extras. But in reality, there may be $3 or $4 worth of food sacrificed to the almighty landfill. There may be a plate of food that could have feed a hungry soul. And as simple as this may seem, as innocent as this may seen, it is an acceptable loss. And 9 times out of 10 we don’t even think about it. But this is not how our God works.
Jesus starts both of these parables with a clever word play. Basically he is asking, “which of you would not do this,” assuming that leaving the 99 to find the one, or turning the house inside out to find one coin is an accepted practice. That it is the norm. But you and I know that it is not. No one does this. No one leaves the 99 for the sake of the 1. No one takes all day cleaning the house to find the lost coin, regardless of its value. Our culture does not teach us to put everything on hold to find what is lost. No one. Except God.
Perhaps that’s why the Pharisees are grumbling. The Pharisees, the ultimate rule keepers and the ones who exhaust themselves to fit into the culture and the power structure of the world, do not fully understand a God who will give up everything to find the lost. They do not understand the shepherd who is right in front of them who has been wandering in the wilderness of this world, finding those who are broken and alone and in need of being found. Jesus, the love of God incarnate in the world, has been sent to find the lost, and to remind them that they are loved by God. And upon finding the lost, God throws a party. Our God does not understand acceptable loss. Our God puts it all on the line for those who are lost.
I would imagine that some of you are probably feeling lost today...buried under the weight of working or financial troubles, dealing with health issues, perhaps straining to figure out schools schedules and finding time for family. We put on good faces when we come to church, hoping that no one will catch a chink in the armor, hoping we come off put together, but feeling exhausted at the juggling act of smiling through the lostness. We feel the eyes of the righteous burning upon us. Or perhaps we are the righteous, drawing lines of who is in and who is out, grumbling about the folks who wander in, perhaps trying to find the love of God.
Today’s parables from Jesus are not about us versus them, the righteously found versus the sinfully lost. Today’s word from Jesus is not about a divide that we must over come. It’s about a radically foolish God who will wander into the wilderness and turn the house inside out to find what has been lost. These parables are about a loving God who will run down the drive way trying to strap on a pair of sandals with a mile-wide smile to greet the one thought lost. This is a love story about God who does not leave us to our own devices but wraps us in a love that is always with us, even in the lost moments. This is a love that gathers up all of us saints and sinners in the world and loves us regardless of who we are. This is a love worth rejoicing. It is a love worth celebrating.
Friends, there is rejoicing in heaven. And the punch line of these parables directed at grumbling Pharisees is “will you join in?!” Will you join in the joy of a radical God who loves all peoples. Will you join in the grace of a God who, upon finding someone who was lost, drops everything and throws a party to celebrate? Will you loosen your grip on the rules of the world, stop complaining about sinners, and pull up a chair and join in the meal? God is already at the table with sinners, saints, lost, found, broken, and righteous. God is waiting for us to join in.
Today is a day to celebrate. In fact, everyday is a day to celebrate with God. While Johnny Cash’s song may sound melancholy and leave us with little hope and feeling like there is more to be done, there is hope in his words. He knew, perhaps better than most, the life of the lost and the joy in being found. The life of a sinner and saint. He became a voice for those who could not speak for themselves and lifted up those whom we may ignore. And he wanted to rejoice in their being found. “How I’d love to wear a rainbow everyday...” He wanted to celebrate with them and with God.
Friends, this is our call, to rejoice with God. To break some bread and raise a glass in celebration of God’s grace, a grace and love that knows no boundaries. This community of faith is called and empowered to join in with heaven as God rejoices over those who are found. So let us rejoice. There is a party going on is heaven and it is our turn to join in. Let us rejoice with a God whose love knows no boundaries. Let us rejoice with a God who is seeking tirelessly for the lost in this world. Let us rejoice with a God who loves us so deeply that there are parties thrown on heaven and on earth as the kingdom of God breaks into this world.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Kingdom Hospitality
This is the sermon manuscript from the sermon preached on Sunday, September 1, 2013, the 15th Sunday after Pentecost.
Luke 14:1, 7-14
One Sabbath, when he went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully.
Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
He said also to the man who had invited him, “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.
Jesus gets invited to a dinner party. On the surface this seems like an innocuous event. But if we were to spend any amount of time with Luke’s Gospel beyond the sometimes jarring journey that the lectionary takes us on, we would discover that to encounter a story of Jesus at dinner would be a rather common occurrence. In Luke’s Gospel, it seems that to follow Jesus is to follow the food. Jesus seems to be at the table quite a bit in Luke’s story. So on the surface the story we encounter today seems like a common event. But this common event holds an uncommon calling for us who dare to look close.
Jesus, invited to this dinner party, by a Pharisees no less, seems to be out of place. Last week we heard a story of Jesus correcting a leader of the synagogue, perhaps a Pharisees, over the law and what it means to heal on the Sabbath. Two weeks ago we heard about how Jesus came into the world to bring “fire” and conflict. Jesus does not seem to be smart choice for a dinner guest. He does not seem to be one for polite chit-chat over a nice meal. Earlier in Luke’s tale he is accused, and correctly, for dinning with “tax collectors and sinners.” So it seems odd that a ruler of the Pharisees would have Jesus over as a dinner guest. But we do not have to get too far into the story to understand why. And there it is, right there in verse one, “they were watching him closely.”
This is not surprising on multiple levels once we understand the flow of the Luke’s story and its context. Jesus has not been quiet about his ministry and he has not been averse to butting heads with the Pharisees and other religious leaders over their lifestyle and understanding of the law. So far in Luke’s story, Jesus has not received any death threats, but he is being watched very closely. He has caught the eyes of those in power. He is upsetting the balance and must be monitored. And that’s not an uncommon reality. Those who upset the status quo are watched closely. Martin Luther was watched closely by Rome and the German princes. Martin Luther King Jr. had his phone tapped by the F.B.I.. So take heed, if your are going to speak out against those in power. Be prepared to be watched.
The historical context of this story is also important. Luke’s world was different than ours on some level. While on the surface this dinner party seems to be a rather unremarkable event to us (its just supper), meals were a complex web of social rules and realities in the ancient world. Meals were an opportunity to demonstrate power and privilege. The guest list and the seating chart were statements of who was in power. The Roman world in which Jesus lived was dictated by patronage and reciprocity. Everyone from the emperor in Rome to the lowest peasant in the farthest village of the empire were bound in the same system of gift and obligation. If someone gave you a gift or invited you to a meal, you were bound by cultural ethics to return the favor. Where you sat at the table had everything to do with your status and influence. Meals in the ancient world were extremely political events. So this simple dinner party came with large strings attached. And it makes the story that Luke tells even more radical.
This morning we get two stories from Jesus, two bits of social advice that he offers to those gathered around the table. The first one deals with how you pick your seat at a banquet. It is on the surface a rather simple reminder; “don’t overstep your status.” It seems to play right into the cultural context of his time. If you over step your status, you will be shamed into taking a lower seat and your influence will take a hit. Better to be safe than sorry. Better to take a lower seat in hopes that you will be called forward, and thus honored, in front of the other guests. It seems simple. But remember, Jesus is in a room full of Pharisees, a group of whom he has been very critical in the past.
Just a few chapters ago Jesus very publicly decried the Pharisees, stating “Woe to you Pharisees! For you love the best seat in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces.” This call to take a lower seat is about humility and not exploiting your power. The Pharisees seemed to be notorious in Luke’s Gospel for overstepping their call, playing into the cultural script and forgetting whom they have been empowered to serve. This call to humility is a critical reminder to those whom Jesus is reclining at the table with to not play into the social constructs of the day and to remember the humble role to which they are called. Do not play to the honor rules of the culture for you are already honored by God as a member of God’s kingdom.
The second story turns the tables on another complex of power that Jesus knew very well. This is known as the patronage system. The patronage system of the ancient world was a gift-obligation construct that governed the lives of all in Jesus’ day and it was a corrupt display of power. This was a system that benefited only those in power, yet was the norm for everyday life. By the rules you only invited those who could return the favor. To risk inviting someone who could not would be to invite a potential lose of status. These are the rules of the world, but this is not how God’s kingdom operates. God’s kingdom turns this way of life upside down.
In God’s kingdom, God is the ultimate benefactor(patron). All gifts flow from God and are given freely to all people. We are all connected through God’s gifts. The ultimate gift is the new life we have in Jesus Christ. We are joined into this kingdom through Christ’s death and given new life to fully participate. The story from Luke this morning invites us to a radical reversal of the table hospitality we demonstrate in this world. If God has invited all to the table, who are we to set limits of our own? This story invites us to take risks in our lives as disciples. The guest list includes those who cannot repay us. This list invites us to dream of what the world could look like if we embodied God’s kingdom.
Our brother Martin Luther was a dreamer. He saw a broken world and a broken church that had pushed the poor and marginalized away from the table. Luther, inspired by what he found in scripture and by the radical love of God’s kingdom, used his life to re-imagine the world around him. He was a risk-taker for the sake of the Gospel and for the sake of God’s love for the world.
Our brother Martin King was a dreamer. This week we commemorated the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and Dr. King’s famous “I Have A Dream Speech.” King saw the broken world and imagined what it could look like if we embodied God’s kingdom. We have inherited the torch of imagining what the world could look like if we embodied the radical hospitality of God.
If we clutch with tight fists to old rubrics of power and control we will never see the potential of God’s kingdom realized. This radical display of kingdom hospitality was put on show for the world to see on the cross when God turned an instrument of state sanctioned death into a symbol of new life for all people. The cross is the beginning of God’s kingdom realized in the world. The cross symbolizes new life, given freely to all people. This is the hospitality of God’s kingdom; new life given freely for all people. A kingdom where the table is set for all people regardless of status or privilege. A kingdom where we turn our buildings inside out on a weekly basis as we seek to embody the cruciform life of Christ in our lives. A kingdom where walls that divide are turned into life giving tables where cultures intersect to share a meal.
I have heard stories of communities of faith tossing bread over the walls at the boarder between Texas and Mexico in an international display of solidarity and an embodiment of the table of God’s kingdom. The table fellowship that Jesus calls us to does not know or understand boarders. As Bishop Hanson said in his Sunday sermon last July at the national youth gathering “you don’t need a green card to come to this table.” This kingdom hospitality calls us to be dreamers and to image a world that looks like God’s kingdom. This radical kingdom hospitality calls us to take risks for the sake of the Gospel.
Friends in Christ, I have a dream. I have a dream that every time we gathered for worship we would spend time gathered around God’s table to be refreshed and renewed for our kingdom work in the world. I have a dream that this faith community, that we, the people of Bethany, would be a church of risk-takers for the sake of the Gospel. That we would be risk-takers for the sake of love. I have a dream that our time spent around God’s table would help us to re-imagine the world around us as God’s kingdom. I have a dream that we would be dreamers open to the movement of the spirit and the radical hospitality of God’s kingdom.
Luke 14:1, 7-14
One Sabbath, when he went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully.
Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
He said also to the man who had invited him, “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.
Jesus gets invited to a dinner party. On the surface this seems like an innocuous event. But if we were to spend any amount of time with Luke’s Gospel beyond the sometimes jarring journey that the lectionary takes us on, we would discover that to encounter a story of Jesus at dinner would be a rather common occurrence. In Luke’s Gospel, it seems that to follow Jesus is to follow the food. Jesus seems to be at the table quite a bit in Luke’s story. So on the surface the story we encounter today seems like a common event. But this common event holds an uncommon calling for us who dare to look close.
Jesus, invited to this dinner party, by a Pharisees no less, seems to be out of place. Last week we heard a story of Jesus correcting a leader of the synagogue, perhaps a Pharisees, over the law and what it means to heal on the Sabbath. Two weeks ago we heard about how Jesus came into the world to bring “fire” and conflict. Jesus does not seem to be smart choice for a dinner guest. He does not seem to be one for polite chit-chat over a nice meal. Earlier in Luke’s tale he is accused, and correctly, for dinning with “tax collectors and sinners.” So it seems odd that a ruler of the Pharisees would have Jesus over as a dinner guest. But we do not have to get too far into the story to understand why. And there it is, right there in verse one, “they were watching him closely.”
This is not surprising on multiple levels once we understand the flow of the Luke’s story and its context. Jesus has not been quiet about his ministry and he has not been averse to butting heads with the Pharisees and other religious leaders over their lifestyle and understanding of the law. So far in Luke’s story, Jesus has not received any death threats, but he is being watched very closely. He has caught the eyes of those in power. He is upsetting the balance and must be monitored. And that’s not an uncommon reality. Those who upset the status quo are watched closely. Martin Luther was watched closely by Rome and the German princes. Martin Luther King Jr. had his phone tapped by the F.B.I.. So take heed, if your are going to speak out against those in power. Be prepared to be watched.
The historical context of this story is also important. Luke’s world was different than ours on some level. While on the surface this dinner party seems to be a rather unremarkable event to us (its just supper), meals were a complex web of social rules and realities in the ancient world. Meals were an opportunity to demonstrate power and privilege. The guest list and the seating chart were statements of who was in power. The Roman world in which Jesus lived was dictated by patronage and reciprocity. Everyone from the emperor in Rome to the lowest peasant in the farthest village of the empire were bound in the same system of gift and obligation. If someone gave you a gift or invited you to a meal, you were bound by cultural ethics to return the favor. Where you sat at the table had everything to do with your status and influence. Meals in the ancient world were extremely political events. So this simple dinner party came with large strings attached. And it makes the story that Luke tells even more radical.
This morning we get two stories from Jesus, two bits of social advice that he offers to those gathered around the table. The first one deals with how you pick your seat at a banquet. It is on the surface a rather simple reminder; “don’t overstep your status.” It seems to play right into the cultural context of his time. If you over step your status, you will be shamed into taking a lower seat and your influence will take a hit. Better to be safe than sorry. Better to take a lower seat in hopes that you will be called forward, and thus honored, in front of the other guests. It seems simple. But remember, Jesus is in a room full of Pharisees, a group of whom he has been very critical in the past.
Just a few chapters ago Jesus very publicly decried the Pharisees, stating “Woe to you Pharisees! For you love the best seat in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces.” This call to take a lower seat is about humility and not exploiting your power. The Pharisees seemed to be notorious in Luke’s Gospel for overstepping their call, playing into the cultural script and forgetting whom they have been empowered to serve. This call to humility is a critical reminder to those whom Jesus is reclining at the table with to not play into the social constructs of the day and to remember the humble role to which they are called. Do not play to the honor rules of the culture for you are already honored by God as a member of God’s kingdom.
The second story turns the tables on another complex of power that Jesus knew very well. This is known as the patronage system. The patronage system of the ancient world was a gift-obligation construct that governed the lives of all in Jesus’ day and it was a corrupt display of power. This was a system that benefited only those in power, yet was the norm for everyday life. By the rules you only invited those who could return the favor. To risk inviting someone who could not would be to invite a potential lose of status. These are the rules of the world, but this is not how God’s kingdom operates. God’s kingdom turns this way of life upside down.
In God’s kingdom, God is the ultimate benefactor(patron). All gifts flow from God and are given freely to all people. We are all connected through God’s gifts. The ultimate gift is the new life we have in Jesus Christ. We are joined into this kingdom through Christ’s death and given new life to fully participate. The story from Luke this morning invites us to a radical reversal of the table hospitality we demonstrate in this world. If God has invited all to the table, who are we to set limits of our own? This story invites us to take risks in our lives as disciples. The guest list includes those who cannot repay us. This list invites us to dream of what the world could look like if we embodied God’s kingdom.
Our brother Martin Luther was a dreamer. He saw a broken world and a broken church that had pushed the poor and marginalized away from the table. Luther, inspired by what he found in scripture and by the radical love of God’s kingdom, used his life to re-imagine the world around him. He was a risk-taker for the sake of the Gospel and for the sake of God’s love for the world.
Our brother Martin King was a dreamer. This week we commemorated the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and Dr. King’s famous “I Have A Dream Speech.” King saw the broken world and imagined what it could look like if we embodied God’s kingdom. We have inherited the torch of imagining what the world could look like if we embodied the radical hospitality of God.
If we clutch with tight fists to old rubrics of power and control we will never see the potential of God’s kingdom realized. This radical display of kingdom hospitality was put on show for the world to see on the cross when God turned an instrument of state sanctioned death into a symbol of new life for all people. The cross is the beginning of God’s kingdom realized in the world. The cross symbolizes new life, given freely to all people. This is the hospitality of God’s kingdom; new life given freely for all people. A kingdom where the table is set for all people regardless of status or privilege. A kingdom where we turn our buildings inside out on a weekly basis as we seek to embody the cruciform life of Christ in our lives. A kingdom where walls that divide are turned into life giving tables where cultures intersect to share a meal.
I have heard stories of communities of faith tossing bread over the walls at the boarder between Texas and Mexico in an international display of solidarity and an embodiment of the table of God’s kingdom. The table fellowship that Jesus calls us to does not know or understand boarders. As Bishop Hanson said in his Sunday sermon last July at the national youth gathering “you don’t need a green card to come to this table.” This kingdom hospitality calls us to be dreamers and to image a world that looks like God’s kingdom. This radical kingdom hospitality calls us to take risks for the sake of the Gospel.
Friends in Christ, I have a dream. I have a dream that every time we gathered for worship we would spend time gathered around God’s table to be refreshed and renewed for our kingdom work in the world. I have a dream that this faith community, that we, the people of Bethany, would be a church of risk-takers for the sake of the Gospel. That we would be risk-takers for the sake of love. I have a dream that our time spent around God’s table would help us to re-imagine the world around us as God’s kingdom. I have a dream that we would be dreamers open to the movement of the spirit and the radical hospitality of God’s kingdom.
Monday, August 19, 2013
This is God's-Season
This is the manuscript from the sermon preached on Sunday, 18 August 2013, the 13th Sunday after Pentecost.
“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”
Jesus also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?"
I remember quite clearly sitting in my preaching class in seminary, learning the rules of preaching, the ins and outs of what it is to preach. We were asked one question over and over again. We were taught how to ask ourselves this question week in and week out. I can still hear Dr. Mark Bangert, with his dry sense of humor, face marked by a rather serious grin, asking the class; “What’s the good news?” What’s the good news?
So let’s try this exercise this morning, shall we? Hear again some of the words of Jesus as we have them recorded in Luke: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled. I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed. Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” What’s the good news?
I read these words. You read these words. We just read them again, together. It would be hard to believe that they came from Jesus if Luke had not written them down for us. But here they are and we cannot ignore them this morning. “I came to bring fire to the earth. Do you think that I came to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” What’s the good news?
I do not think that we particularly like this image of Jesus, the fiery prophet who challenges all of our thoughts and images and pictures of a gentle Jesus. Of a meek and mild Jesus. Think about the stained glass windows that we have here at Bethany. I know some of you cannot see them at the moment, but up here over the alter we have two pictures of a rather peaceful and mild Jesus. In one he stands at the door, politely knocking, as if we had invited him over for a cup of afternoon coffee and a slice of peach pie. In the other he is cradling a lamb. Quite serene. I think that if we were to look at pictures of Jesus from our own context, go back into our memory banks, I would hazard a guess that most, if not all, of the images we have of Jesus are mild in nature. Perhaps the most violent images we have of Jesus are of him calming the storm on the sea; an angry Jesus (but not too violent) rebuking the winds and waves. Or maybe it’s a picture of Jesus on the cross, though PG enough for us to let it into our church building. We do not like to think of Jesus as anything but the gentle shepherd, cradling a lamb on his shoulders. Or teaching with a small child on his lap. But these are not the only images of Jesus we have.
The liturgical theologian John Bell of the Iona community calls the image of Jesus we encounter this morning the “unsung, unpreached Jesus.” Bell is a hymn writer, he’s lectured all over the world, teaching people about the rich heritage of Christian music and liturgy. He has listened to countless stories of how people understand and imagine Jesus. He has come to learn that we are missing part of the picture. One of my favorite stories that he tells is of how our hymns can paint for us a false sense of the gentleness of the Jesus story. He tells the tale of the hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” about how the words do not give us the whole story. “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.” He says that we have gotten it wrong. That we have punctuated the first line incorrectly. This is Bell’s take at the punctuation; “O little town of Bethlehem. How still we see thee? Lie!” He’s says there’s no way Bethlehem was quiet and peaceful on the night of Jesus’ birth. The town was full of Jewish folk, forced from their homes to take part in an imperial census that would probably raise taxes and increase the government presence. These people are upset. And they are seeing long lost family for the first time in years. It’s a late night. The bars are packed. And people are having no trouble sharing their complaints and family stories. It’s a noisy, unrestful scene. Very different than the song we sing. Our culture gives us a very clear picture of a gentle, mild Jesus. But this morning we encounter another side of Jesus, what Paul Harvey might call “the rest of the story.”
This morning Luke shows us how fiery Jesus can be. Jesus is dead serious about his mission and ministry (no pun intended). He knows that the kingdom he has come to preach and live out will bring conflict into the world. And he is not going to pull his punches. This morning we have a glimpse of a passion-filled Jesus being very honest about where following him might take us. And it makes us uneasy. We do not particularly like this Jesus. So what’s the good news?
Perhaps we are coming at this story from the wrong angle. As I was sitting at the deanery meeting in Marble Falls this week, as we were struggling with this particular story, this particular image of Jesus, and as we were asking ourselves “what’s the good news?” it hit me; perhaps this is not good news for privileged folk. Perhaps this is not good news for those in power. Perhaps this is not good news for people like me; I have a good job, a loving wife, a steady paycheck. I seemingly have it made. I am in control. And this message of fire and division from Jesus is not good news for my privileged way of life. I like the way things are, but this is not good news for me. But it’s still Jesus talking and teaching. So perhaps I should listen.
As I go back and dig into this story, I am struck the word peace; εἰρήνη (i-ray'-nay). I have my own thoughts and understandings of peace, but they generally mean that I am happy and in control. A lack of arguing, a life devoid of tension, no conflict to speak of...but you and I know that this is a false sense of reality. This is not the real world. And Jesus knows this too. Jesus, living under the threat of the Roman empire, in the shadow of the “pax romana,” the so called “peace of Rome,” knows that the concept of peace is complex. The “pax romana,” the “peace of Rome,” was only a peace for those in power. It was not a peace for people like Jesus, the peasants, the poor, the lame, the powerless. The “pax romana,” the “peace of rome,” was enforced with an iron fist and anyone who upset the balance of power was hung spread eagle on a cross. This is the baptism that Jesus is taking about. Jesus knows that this is where his life and ministry will lead him. So what’s the good news?
The good news is that the peace the Jesus brings, the peace of God’s kingdom, is not of this world and is not subject to the rules we place on peace. The peace of God comes to all people, to the rich and powerful, and the lowly and outcast alike. Again, these are not our rules, they are God’s rules. As Eugene Peterson, who offers us “The Message” rendering of the Bible, translates verse 56 of our reading today, “this is God’s-season.” The words from Jesus today are good news to the lowly and the outcast, the poor and the oppressed. This is good news for those on the margins because what Jesus is saying is that things are not going to remain the same. The status quo will not continue. The peace of the status quo, the peace of empire, the “pax romana” or the “pax americana” will not have the last word. What Jesus is saying is that this is God’s-season and that we live in God’s kingdom. The ultimate word of peace belongs to God.
This word of peace can be found at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel. We hear this word of peace in the Magnificat, the great song from Mary at the beginnings of Luke’s story, the words we normally only hear in the Christmas season. They have a powerful message for us today; “God has brought the powerful down from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things.” We hear this word of peace again in the words to the shepherds, the outcasts in the hills, the first ones to receive the good news; “Do not be afraid; for see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” The angel tells the shepherds that the one who will bring God’s peace is coming. God’s kingdom, God’s peace, God’s-season is breaking into the world. It is our gift to receive.
Friends in Christ, the good news is that the peace that only God can bring is already here. Jesus is here among us now, when we share his story, when we take the bread and wine, when we remember our baptism, when we are reminded that we are God’s children. A kingdom people. We are in God’s-season.
While this may not look like good news on the surface, deep within the words of Jesus is the promise of God’s peace. A peace that lifts us out of the bonds of death into a life raised anew through the love of God. A peace that rattles the cages of our complacency. A peace that convicts us of our privilege and reminds us that we are more than bystanders in God’s kingdom and in this world. We are reclaimed and remade in the image of God’s peace. We are empowered to share this peace with our neighbors and with the strangers we encounter in the journey of faith.
Friends in Christ, this is God’s-season. We have been given God’s peace. And it’s good news for all people.
Monday, August 12, 2013
We Are A Kingdom People
This is the sermon manuscript from the sermon preached on August 11, 2013, the 12th Sunday after Pentecost. The accompanying Gospel text is Luke 12:32-40.
Luke 12:32-40
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves."
"But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
One of the things I get asked over and over again as I continue to meet people here in Fredericksburg is “who are you related to?” Especially when folks learn my last name. “Are you related to any of the Meier's around here?” It’s clear that there are an abundance of Meier’s in this place. I am not sure at this point if we are related. Perhaps one day we’ll find out. I sure hope so. I don’t mind the question, it helps me to learn about you and you about me. I think that it’s a connectedness that we are seeking as we get to know one another. I think what we are really asking one another is “who are you?” It’s a question of identity.
Well what I do know for sure, and what I can tell you with clarity, is that I was born and raised in Brenham, Texas. My ancestors were farmers. They started to come over to Texas from Germany in 1848. We have had the same piece of land in Fayette County in my family since the 1880s. We farm it to this day. My grandfather’s a farmer. My dad’s a farmer. I have deep roots in that soil. It is truly my link to the world. My identity is intimately connected to that rich, Texas dirt. I know who I am because of that farm. It will continue to shape my life.
I am sure that if we were to go around this place, take the time to listen to just brief pieces of each other’s stories, we could catch a glimpse of what’s important to each of us, and in a way, begin to uncover our identities. Our family histories, our education, our preferences when we come to church, all of these factors go into forming our identities. Our journey of faith is written into the DNA of our identity, it’s written into our very bones. That’s why we come every week, sometimes multiple times a week. To hear the stories of faith. To be reminded of who we are as God’s people.
This morning we encounter Jesus teaching his disciples, who are also having their identities shaped through heeding the call and following Jesus. They have seen miracles on their journey with Jesus. They have been witness to healing, feedings, and resurrecting as Jesus lives out his mission to bring the good news to the poor, bring releases to the captives, and to let the oppressed go free. All of these events have gone into shaping the disciples identity as followers of Jesus. Their lives have been utterly changed by their journey with Jesus. They no longer encounter the world as they once did on the fishing dock or behind tax collecting table. They interact with the world through the identity of a disciple and this identity is continually being shaped. Jesus is trying to teach them how God encounters the world.
Again on the road today, we get another glimpse of how Jesus continues to shape their identity. This is not the first time the disciples have heard about the kingdom of God. This is not the first time they have heard Jesus speak about possessions and giving to those in need, but sometimes it takes more than once for a lesson to sink in. These are important lessons that need to be repeated. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out...For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Wrapped up in these lines is a humbling statement about who the disciples are, and thus who we are, as followers of Jesus.
The word at the heart of this statement from Jesus is the word possessions. We cannot look past it, we cannot ignore it, we cannot dismiss it. Instead we must take it head-on, because that is what Jesus would do. It takes the center stage in this exchange, perhaps not because of what Jesus said, but because I think we make it so. We can’t let go of this word because it strikes close to our hearts. We do love our possessions, and they are intimately connected to our identity. We are what we posses if you will. That’s what our culture tells us. We work hard to collect and keep our possessions. We do not like their status in our lives to be threatened. So let’s dig into this word for a second to unwrap its meaning and what it might hold for our identity as disciples of Jesus.
For a long time I understood this word to mean pretty plainly “what we own.” To state it simply our possessions are what we possess. As I dug deeper into this word over the course of the past week I could not ignore the Greek word used by Luke that we translate as possessions. The word in Greek, ὑπάρχοντα (hoop-ar-khonta), appears to be a compound word made up of two words meaning “under” and “rule.” The word άρχω (ar’-kho) is a word that alludes to power in New Testament Greek. It points us to a ruler, to one who dominates over another. In a literal sense, the word that Luke uses for possessions can be understood as “under the power of.” Our possessions are what hold power over us. Or to put it another way, we are under the power of what we possess. This is quite opposite of the idea that we hold power over our possessions.
It’s alarming to think that what we possess has power over us, but I think that this is true more often than not. We are defined by our possessions. We define ourselves by the cars we drive, the phones we use, the cloths we wear. Our identity gets corrupted and wrapped up into this false sense of self. This understanding of identity puts a new spin on these words from Jesus. You see, I think Jesus knows that our stuff can be a weakness to following in his footsteps. That our possessions can get caught up in our identity and lead us down unhealthy paths. But Jesus also knows our true selves. He knows who God created us to be.
Jesus knows that we have been set free by God and that God has given us the kingdom. We are born and baptized into a love that lifts us up and out of our selfish habits. A love that sets us free from the power of our possessions. A love that points us to our true identity as children of God, as members of God’s kingdom. We are a kingdom people.
At the heart of it, the call to sell our possessions and give alms is not about the poor and the needy, it’s about us who do the giving. The call to sell our possessions is a reminder that we are not a possessions people in the eyes of God. Our possessions do not define our status with the creator of existence. God knows we are more than that. God knows that we are a kingdom people, and that’s what God has given us, the kingdom. The call from Jesus is to release our possessions and to give mercy to those in need and in doing so we are set free to fully live into God’s kingdom. Again, these acts says more about the us than they do about those in need. They remind us that our true identity is that we are a people of God’s kingdom. We are not defined by what we possess, but by God, who loves us and sets us free to love others.
The radical message from Jesus is to let loose of these things that hold us back. To release ourselves from their power. We gain back our lives by releasing ourselves from our stuff. We who have been so blessed can become true blessings to others. The possibilities for this life are endless.
I have seen the kingdom at work here in the last week. Even in the quiet of summer time, we are being reminded that we are a kingdom people. The confirmation kids just got back from camp reminded that they are children of God. They released a week of summer vacation to be reminded of who they are in God’s eyes. There are folks here at the church almost daily, releasing their possession of time into the creative hands of God as they prepare this place for Sunday School and for our investment in our kids and our future. The kingdom breaks into our world on a daily basis when we remember our identity as children of God and as a kingdom people.
No longer under the power of our possessions, we are free to live for others. We are free to live into the gracious gift of God’s kingdom that is already but not yet. The kingdom that is already here and among us, but not yet fully realized. We are a kingdom people. That is our true identity. God has blessed us so that we may be a blessing to those we encounter on our journey through this world. May God continue to bless you this week and always, as you strive to live into the kingdom that God has given to all people.
Luke 12:32-40
"But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
One of the things I get asked over and over again as I continue to meet people here in Fredericksburg is “who are you related to?” Especially when folks learn my last name. “Are you related to any of the Meier's around here?” It’s clear that there are an abundance of Meier’s in this place. I am not sure at this point if we are related. Perhaps one day we’ll find out. I sure hope so. I don’t mind the question, it helps me to learn about you and you about me. I think that it’s a connectedness that we are seeking as we get to know one another. I think what we are really asking one another is “who are you?” It’s a question of identity.
Well what I do know for sure, and what I can tell you with clarity, is that I was born and raised in Brenham, Texas. My ancestors were farmers. They started to come over to Texas from Germany in 1848. We have had the same piece of land in Fayette County in my family since the 1880s. We farm it to this day. My grandfather’s a farmer. My dad’s a farmer. I have deep roots in that soil. It is truly my link to the world. My identity is intimately connected to that rich, Texas dirt. I know who I am because of that farm. It will continue to shape my life.
I am sure that if we were to go around this place, take the time to listen to just brief pieces of each other’s stories, we could catch a glimpse of what’s important to each of us, and in a way, begin to uncover our identities. Our family histories, our education, our preferences when we come to church, all of these factors go into forming our identities. Our journey of faith is written into the DNA of our identity, it’s written into our very bones. That’s why we come every week, sometimes multiple times a week. To hear the stories of faith. To be reminded of who we are as God’s people.
This morning we encounter Jesus teaching his disciples, who are also having their identities shaped through heeding the call and following Jesus. They have seen miracles on their journey with Jesus. They have been witness to healing, feedings, and resurrecting as Jesus lives out his mission to bring the good news to the poor, bring releases to the captives, and to let the oppressed go free. All of these events have gone into shaping the disciples identity as followers of Jesus. Their lives have been utterly changed by their journey with Jesus. They no longer encounter the world as they once did on the fishing dock or behind tax collecting table. They interact with the world through the identity of a disciple and this identity is continually being shaped. Jesus is trying to teach them how God encounters the world.
Again on the road today, we get another glimpse of how Jesus continues to shape their identity. This is not the first time the disciples have heard about the kingdom of God. This is not the first time they have heard Jesus speak about possessions and giving to those in need, but sometimes it takes more than once for a lesson to sink in. These are important lessons that need to be repeated. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out...For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Wrapped up in these lines is a humbling statement about who the disciples are, and thus who we are, as followers of Jesus.
The word at the heart of this statement from Jesus is the word possessions. We cannot look past it, we cannot ignore it, we cannot dismiss it. Instead we must take it head-on, because that is what Jesus would do. It takes the center stage in this exchange, perhaps not because of what Jesus said, but because I think we make it so. We can’t let go of this word because it strikes close to our hearts. We do love our possessions, and they are intimately connected to our identity. We are what we posses if you will. That’s what our culture tells us. We work hard to collect and keep our possessions. We do not like their status in our lives to be threatened. So let’s dig into this word for a second to unwrap its meaning and what it might hold for our identity as disciples of Jesus.
For a long time I understood this word to mean pretty plainly “what we own.” To state it simply our possessions are what we possess. As I dug deeper into this word over the course of the past week I could not ignore the Greek word used by Luke that we translate as possessions. The word in Greek, ὑπάρχοντα (hoop-ar-khonta), appears to be a compound word made up of two words meaning “under” and “rule.” The word άρχω (ar’-kho) is a word that alludes to power in New Testament Greek. It points us to a ruler, to one who dominates over another. In a literal sense, the word that Luke uses for possessions can be understood as “under the power of.” Our possessions are what hold power over us. Or to put it another way, we are under the power of what we possess. This is quite opposite of the idea that we hold power over our possessions.
It’s alarming to think that what we possess has power over us, but I think that this is true more often than not. We are defined by our possessions. We define ourselves by the cars we drive, the phones we use, the cloths we wear. Our identity gets corrupted and wrapped up into this false sense of self. This understanding of identity puts a new spin on these words from Jesus. You see, I think Jesus knows that our stuff can be a weakness to following in his footsteps. That our possessions can get caught up in our identity and lead us down unhealthy paths. But Jesus also knows our true selves. He knows who God created us to be.
Jesus knows that we have been set free by God and that God has given us the kingdom. We are born and baptized into a love that lifts us up and out of our selfish habits. A love that sets us free from the power of our possessions. A love that points us to our true identity as children of God, as members of God’s kingdom. We are a kingdom people.
At the heart of it, the call to sell our possessions and give alms is not about the poor and the needy, it’s about us who do the giving. The call to sell our possessions is a reminder that we are not a possessions people in the eyes of God. Our possessions do not define our status with the creator of existence. God knows we are more than that. God knows that we are a kingdom people, and that’s what God has given us, the kingdom. The call from Jesus is to release our possessions and to give mercy to those in need and in doing so we are set free to fully live into God’s kingdom. Again, these acts says more about the us than they do about those in need. They remind us that our true identity is that we are a people of God’s kingdom. We are not defined by what we possess, but by God, who loves us and sets us free to love others.
The radical message from Jesus is to let loose of these things that hold us back. To release ourselves from their power. We gain back our lives by releasing ourselves from our stuff. We who have been so blessed can become true blessings to others. The possibilities for this life are endless.
I have seen the kingdom at work here in the last week. Even in the quiet of summer time, we are being reminded that we are a kingdom people. The confirmation kids just got back from camp reminded that they are children of God. They released a week of summer vacation to be reminded of who they are in God’s eyes. There are folks here at the church almost daily, releasing their possession of time into the creative hands of God as they prepare this place for Sunday School and for our investment in our kids and our future. The kingdom breaks into our world on a daily basis when we remember our identity as children of God and as a kingdom people.
No longer under the power of our possessions, we are free to live for others. We are free to live into the gracious gift of God’s kingdom that is already but not yet. The kingdom that is already here and among us, but not yet fully realized. We are a kingdom people. That is our true identity. God has blessed us so that we may be a blessing to those we encounter on our journey through this world. May God continue to bless you this week and always, as you strive to live into the kingdom that God has given to all people.
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