Philemon 1-21
Don’t you love to get letters? I don’t mean junk mail and bills. I mean real mail: hand-addressed envelopes, a note inside from a loved one, words penned just to you. Of course, with email and the telephone so prominent these days, mail such as that has decreased. Now, I’m the last person who’s going to complain about email, so this sermon isn’t a complaint against modern communication methods. But I must say, there is something about going to the mailbox and finding a letter, a card, a note there that’s addressed to you.
Of course, for most of our human history, written letters were modern communication. For centuries, that’s how people at a distance communicated. Letters conveyed everything from negotiations between kingdoms to people expressing their love for each other. But even letter-writing was a luxury during certain periods of our history. Paper, ink and writing utensils were not as common as they are now. So letters, during these eras, were something extremely special.
And so it was during the first century, c.e. But spreading the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ was fortunately considered important enough. Thus we have a catalog of letters, mostly from Paul, to others about what it means to be Christian.
Today’s letter, which morphed into a book of the Bible, one of my favorite books, in fact, is no different. Corey read it pretty much in its entirety; there’s only a few closing verses missing. Paul wrote his letter to an important person, Philemon, about Onesimus. Onesimus is Philemon’s slave. Slavery was a common condition in the Greco-Roman world. In fact, it probably saved many people from starvation. But don’t get me wrong; for any positives of slavery, the negatives far outweighed them. Oddly, enough, this book, which deals with the slave Onesimus, was used by both sides of the slavery debate in our country’s history. Both pro- and anti-slavery proponents prior to and during the Civil War found it useful in their attempts to move good Christian folks to their side. But that’s getting ahead of my story.
Paul is in prison as he writes this letter. He has come in contact with Onesimus there. We don’t know how or why. Is Onesimus also a prisoner in jail with Paul? Or has he come to visit Paul in prison knowing Paul from Paul’s stopovers at Philemon’s house? Has Onesimus run away from Philemon’s household? We’ll never know the circumstances of their being together. But clearly Paul has a fond admiration of the slave, even going so far as to say Onesimus is his son.
Paul’s letter to Philemon is very personal. It’s a request that Philemon accept Onesimus back as a Christian brother. It’s that simple. There is disagreement among scholars and others though as to whether Paul is asking Philemon to free Onesimus. It’s a tricky thing, either way. But Paul is pointing out that Onesimus, as a fellow Christian, should have a special status with Philemon.
As I said, slavery was very common during this time. It was accepted as an economic fact of life. But there were roots of differences in the Jewish community, as Paul would have known. There were evidently rules that a Jew could not have another Jewish slave for life. There were conditions under which a Jewish slave would have to be released into freedom.
But in the Greco-Roman world, there were no such prohibitions. People, rich people, had slaves. It was a fact of life. Paul’s request, if indeed he was requesting that Philemon release Onesimus, was first of all rooted in Jewish law and secondly an odd request in the Roman world. But he made it nonetheless.
It may have been a bit of a surprise to Philemon when he read the letter. Is Paul meddling? Is he going where he shouldn’t go? Of course, Paul wouldn’t think so, because this is a matter of faith; of faith in Jesus Christ. Paul famously writes elsewhere that there is no more slave or free but all are equal under Jesus Christ. But to Philemon, a church leader, it created at the least undoubtedly some discomfort.
Because here was slavery, the status quo, on one hand,. And on the other hand was this new Christian way of being that may have been calling Philemon to a doing things a different way. Philemon was caught between two worlds; the old Roman way of being and the really new Christian behaviors, still a world that was being explored. Philemon probably never gave a thought about owning slaves until Paul’s letter arrived in his 1st century mailbox. Paul’s letter put a new perspective on everything in his world. The blinders came off and Philemon had to look anew at how things were done.
What in our culture might come under the same scrutiny if we stopped and looked at it through the lenses of our Christian faith? What might change if we actually took our faith completely seriously and applied it to our culture? What letter is going to arrive in our spiritual mailboxes that will change the way we look at things?
The place of women in the church and in our culture is one such example. Some of us believe that the Bible calls us to new understandings of the equality of the sexes. Now it’s not much of an issue for us in our congregation, perhaps. But there are plenty of congregations and entire denominations which still struggle with this issue. We’ve been called to pull off the blinders of sexism and recognize that women and men are equal under Jesus Christ. Just as Philemon was called to do with slavery in the person of Onesimus.
Perhaps we can count the struggle for the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered people in this. Perhaps that’s something we have cultural blinders on and can’t see what we are called to do. It’s more difficult, for sure, but is it possible that Jesus Christ, through our Christian faith, is calling for a new way of being that explodes cultural understanding? Is it possible that the marriage issue, allowing people of the same gender who love each other to marry one another, is an issue for which our cultural blinders need to come off and we need to come to an new understanding of?
What other issues might we be blinded to? Of course, we can’t tell, because we are blinded by our culture. But what we have to be observant for are those letters—letters of and from our faith—that will guide us away from our culture and into a new faithful way of understanding. Once those letters arrive, in whatever form they might come, we must pay attention to them and heed them as if they were from Jesus himself.
Don’t you love to get mail—real letters that are for you—just for you? Watch for epistles of love that change the way you act, the way you behave. Watch for signs that the blinders need to come off and that the new is about to begin. Check your mailboxes.
2 September 2007
Luke 14:1, 7-14
The theme, this past July, of the General Assembly of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), was “Share the Feast.” Picking up on that theme, the Gay/Lesbian and Affirming Disciples Alliance (GLAD) selected their own theme of “Jesus’ Diner.” “Jesus’ Diner—Always Open, All God’s Children Served” was the slogan. Of course, the GLAD booth didn’t serve any meals but the theme was carried through. “Jesus Diner” reminded us that Jesus would serve anyone. No need for those “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone” signs that you see everywhere. No indeed not. Jesus is not going to exclude anyone from his diner. That’s what we believe at least.
And it’s supported by today’s gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus gives some etiquette lessons in our reading today; some thoughts about how to behave when you’re both a guest and a host at a dinner. Jesus knows that things are really awry when it comes to meals in his time and works to set that aright.
The scriptures are full of meals and rules about eating. Jesus’ proclamations just add to them. From the wandering Israelites receiving manna in the desert, to the Jewish dietary laws, to Jesus’ many meals described in the gospels, to what we call the Last Supper through to the urging of Paul to share meals with the poor in the epistles, we find food throughout the Bible. It’s clearly an important topic. And Jesus just adds to that importance today.
Jesus is invited to a meal with a leader of the Pharisees in today’s passage. And he was being watched closely as they already had it in for him, it seems. He got to the meal and saw the guests all jockeying for positions of honor at the table. Jesus told them that It’s better to aim low, sitting at a position of less honor and be brought up than aim high and be shot down. Jesus turns this into a life lesson at the end by saying, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
As he was giving these instructions to the guests, no doubt the host was there glad that he had escaped notice and wasn’t included in Jesus’ teachings this day. But then Jesus turned to him and gave out a lesson that is for all hosts. Don’t make your meals a cause for return and repayment. Don’t invite over people who will repay you in kind for your meals. Instead invite in “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” In other words, invite people who don’t have the ability to repay you. Invite in those whose resources are less than yours. Don’t do it necessarily as an act of charity, but because you will be repaid at the resurrection, according to Jesus.
Do we take this hosting advice seriously today? I know in our household, we do so little hosting, that when we do, repayment is the last thing on our minds. But we don’t exactly go out to Haight Street and invite in the homeless who throng that thoroughfare. I doubt most of us would do so either though.
But I’m actually more concerned about another time of hosting. What about that meal that is served here every week, week after week? We don’t technically host it, but we certainly control the guest list to this meal. Of course, I’m talking about the meal in which we’re about to partake: the holy meal that sums up everything about eating that’s in the Bible; communion; the lord’s supper; the eucharist.
What does our communion meal look like? Is it set up for those who can repay us? Or do we invite in those who don’t have the resources to return in kind to us? We proclaim that we celebrate an open table; anyone can participate in this meal with us. Nothing will bar someone who wishes to sup with us; not economic status, nor class, nor race, nor age, nor gender, nor sexual orientation, nor physical ability, nor mental capacity nor anything else. Nothing, we proclaim is a bar to this table.
That’s all well and good but do we actually invite others to dine with us? Do we actually take the time to say to someone who may have been rejected elsewhere, “Come, dine with us at this holy meal.”? “Come to this meal, where you will find God’s love and Jesus’ companionship.” Are we open and invitational when it comes to others, not like ourselves perhaps?
A few weeks ago, when our visioning committee met, we spoke of being a bridge; a bridge between the haves and have-nots of this community, of the peninsula. We could see ourselves reaching out on both sides: to those without resources who have great need and to those who have those very resources that others lack.
We have to be more than just open to others joining us. We have to be an invitational church. We have to go out and bid people in. We have to find those who don’t know how hungry they are for this meal and request their presence in our midst.
And we do so not expecting repayment. We aren’t called to do so to swell our worship attendance, a reason I very well could be guilty of wanting. We aren’t called to do so so our budget will balance. We aren’t called to do so for any earthly reason. But we are called to do so for heavenly reasons.
Because Jesus himself invites those we might pass by to this meal. We are called to ask others who aren’t like us to come to this holy repast as Jesus’ voice. We must do so because it is Jesus’ meal and we are merely the conduits through which the invitation is expressed.
We are given opportunities to know God’s love and welcome acceptance each and every week. We can’t keep it to ourselves. We must invite others to know this love and acceptance. It is our call. It is our responsibility.
We have to be “Jesus’ Diner—Always open, All God’s Children Served.”
The theme, this past July, of the General Assembly of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), was “Share the Feast.” Picking up on that theme, the Gay/Lesbian and Affirming Disciples Alliance (GLAD) selected their own theme of “Jesus’ Diner.” “Jesus’ Diner—Always Open, All God’s Children Served” was the slogan. Of course, the GLAD booth didn’t serve any meals but the theme was carried through. “Jesus Diner” reminded us that Jesus would serve anyone. No need for those “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone” signs that you see everywhere. No indeed not. Jesus is not going to exclude anyone from his diner. That’s what we believe at least.
And it’s supported by today’s gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus gives some etiquette lessons in our reading today; some thoughts about how to behave when you’re both a guest and a host at a dinner. Jesus knows that things are really awry when it comes to meals in his time and works to set that aright.
The scriptures are full of meals and rules about eating. Jesus’ proclamations just add to them. From the wandering Israelites receiving manna in the desert, to the Jewish dietary laws, to Jesus’ many meals described in the gospels, to what we call the Last Supper through to the urging of Paul to share meals with the poor in the epistles, we find food throughout the Bible. It’s clearly an important topic. And Jesus just adds to that importance today.
Jesus is invited to a meal with a leader of the Pharisees in today’s passage. And he was being watched closely as they already had it in for him, it seems. He got to the meal and saw the guests all jockeying for positions of honor at the table. Jesus told them that It’s better to aim low, sitting at a position of less honor and be brought up than aim high and be shot down. Jesus turns this into a life lesson at the end by saying, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
As he was giving these instructions to the guests, no doubt the host was there glad that he had escaped notice and wasn’t included in Jesus’ teachings this day. But then Jesus turned to him and gave out a lesson that is for all hosts. Don’t make your meals a cause for return and repayment. Don’t invite over people who will repay you in kind for your meals. Instead invite in “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” In other words, invite people who don’t have the ability to repay you. Invite in those whose resources are less than yours. Don’t do it necessarily as an act of charity, but because you will be repaid at the resurrection, according to Jesus.
Do we take this hosting advice seriously today? I know in our household, we do so little hosting, that when we do, repayment is the last thing on our minds. But we don’t exactly go out to Haight Street and invite in the homeless who throng that thoroughfare. I doubt most of us would do so either though.
But I’m actually more concerned about another time of hosting. What about that meal that is served here every week, week after week? We don’t technically host it, but we certainly control the guest list to this meal. Of course, I’m talking about the meal in which we’re about to partake: the holy meal that sums up everything about eating that’s in the Bible; communion; the lord’s supper; the eucharist.
What does our communion meal look like? Is it set up for those who can repay us? Or do we invite in those who don’t have the resources to return in kind to us? We proclaim that we celebrate an open table; anyone can participate in this meal with us. Nothing will bar someone who wishes to sup with us; not economic status, nor class, nor race, nor age, nor gender, nor sexual orientation, nor physical ability, nor mental capacity nor anything else. Nothing, we proclaim is a bar to this table.
That’s all well and good but do we actually invite others to dine with us? Do we actually take the time to say to someone who may have been rejected elsewhere, “Come, dine with us at this holy meal.”? “Come to this meal, where you will find God’s love and Jesus’ companionship.” Are we open and invitational when it comes to others, not like ourselves perhaps?
A few weeks ago, when our visioning committee met, we spoke of being a bridge; a bridge between the haves and have-nots of this community, of the peninsula. We could see ourselves reaching out on both sides: to those without resources who have great need and to those who have those very resources that others lack.
We have to be more than just open to others joining us. We have to be an invitational church. We have to go out and bid people in. We have to find those who don’t know how hungry they are for this meal and request their presence in our midst.
And we do so not expecting repayment. We aren’t called to do so to swell our worship attendance, a reason I very well could be guilty of wanting. We aren’t called to do so so our budget will balance. We aren’t called to do so for any earthly reason. But we are called to do so for heavenly reasons.
Because Jesus himself invites those we might pass by to this meal. We are called to ask others who aren’t like us to come to this holy repast as Jesus’ voice. We must do so because it is Jesus’ meal and we are merely the conduits through which the invitation is expressed.
We are given opportunities to know God’s love and welcome acceptance each and every week. We can’t keep it to ourselves. We must invite others to know this love and acceptance. It is our call. It is our responsibility.
We have to be “Jesus’ Diner—Always open, All God’s Children Served.”
26 August 2007
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Jeremiah, that old crusty prophet, was a boy once. Of course, every crusty old guy was a boy at some point. And today, we find crusty, old Jeremiah as a boy, receiving his call. It’s quite a moment for sure. We usually think of Jeremiah in his later years. Pictures of him throughout the centuries abound—he is old and has a beard. And that’s how we likely think of him. But there in chapter one that we heard this morning, he’s a boy. And that’s how the picture on the front of your bulletin depicts him; as a boy in wonder at all that’s happening to him.
He’s somewhat timid about this call thing. He protests immediately once God called him to the prophecy biz. And I can’t blame him. Being a prophet is no easy task. And here’s Jeremiah, boy Jeremiah, being told he has to point out the wrongs of nations to those very nations and their leaders. Yikes. I would have likely run in the other direction. But Jeremiah sticks around long enough to complain. And that’s when God gets him.
Jeremiah stays and puts up useless argument after useless argument only to have God touch him on the lips and say, “There; now you have my words to speak.” Once that was done, it was no use complaining. There was no getting out of it. Jeremiah was God’s for sure.
It’s funny who God calls and to what God calls them. Jeremiah: the boy who can’t speak is turned into one of the greatest prophets humanity has ever seen or heard. It’s a simple matter really: God calls and someone responds. How often is the response like Jeremiah’s though? How often does God call and the response God hears is filled with excuses and reasons the callee shouldn’t be called? It’s no different today than it was in the last quarter of the 7th century bce when Jeremiah received his call, all those centuries ago.
We tend to think of pastors and those who lead a professional religious life (such as nuns and monks) as being called. But clearly God calls beyond those who aren’t clergy. God calls everyone into ministry. Yes, each of us here today is called; not just Jeremiah, not just me.
There are a couple ways that you might feel called. You might be called to a profession, or vocation. You may feel God’s hand to have led you into that work you do on a daily basis. Certainly this is a valid call from God. Thanks heavens God doesn’t call everyone to be a clergyperson. What a mess this world would be if God did! But there are faithfilled vocations outside the clergy to which God calls.
What difference does it make if you perform your work as if you were called to it? Well, hopefully a large difference. Those called to their vocation will do their work intentionally, as if God were leading them throughout the workday. Now this doesn’t mean that those who claim and recognize that God has called them to their vocation always do their work cheerfully and with a contented smile on their face. No, indeed not. There are bad days and rough times; even for those who see their work as their call.
But there’s an intentionality about the called person’s work. Those who prayerfully listen for God’s call and follow it as closely as they can, find some degree of satisfaction and fulfillment that those who don’t feel called to their work feel.
Several years ago, when we were in New York City, before I was ordained, I was in a position from which I took no joy and felt no satisfaction. As I was talking about this to the mentor of a friend of mine, she simply said, “Well, you aren’t called to it.” I suddenly felt a realization about this job that I had never been able to define. I soon left that job and moved on to other places where I felt my gifts and talents more closely fit with my call.
But there is another way to be called that I want to mention today: that of being called to an avocation; called outside your vocation to work that needs to be done. Many of us are called this way. Our avocations are those things we do outside of our everyday work, beyond our so-called professions. Many of us answer those calls through church.
Tutoring at Homework Central may be one such call. Serving on the church board or as an officer may be yet another call. (I say this with some trepidation, since the nominating committee met just yesterday and some may respond now to our requests for leadership with “I don’t feel called.”) But God clearly calls us to labor outside of our vocations to work that furthers God’s realm here on earth.
We are an active congregation, there’s no doubt about that. And if we examine ourselves, we may find that this activity comes out of a sense of call from God; both individually and corporately. We need people in this world to feel called to do the ministry of work beyond our walls so that as a congregation we can still respond to God’s call to us.
How do you tell if your call is real? Well one indication is that your gifts and talents will align with the need that is part of the call. And each call that God issues involves a need. There is much need in our world today. God knows it and recognizes it but only has us to do the work; us and other faithful people throughout the world. We know our call is real when we see the need that is out there and realize that we can do something to change it. We know our call is real when the abilities we have been given match up with some need. We know our call is real when God provides us with what we need to get the work done.
You may not be called to be a prophet like Jeremiah. You may not be called to speak out against the powers and principalities. But then again you might. You just might find yourself using gifts you never knew you had. But God calls you. There is no doubt of that. Because God calls each one of us since there is such a great need in our world.
Prayerfully examine where God is calling you. And don’t think that if you’re retired you’re exempt from being called. God calls at all ages and expects a response. Let God touch your lips as God touched Jeremiah’s lips all those years ago. Let God touch your life and reach in and pull out the best in you. Follow your call, wherever it might lead you. God will go with you.
Jeremiah, that old crusty prophet, was a boy once. Of course, every crusty old guy was a boy at some point. And today, we find crusty, old Jeremiah as a boy, receiving his call. It’s quite a moment for sure. We usually think of Jeremiah in his later years. Pictures of him throughout the centuries abound—he is old and has a beard. And that’s how we likely think of him. But there in chapter one that we heard this morning, he’s a boy. And that’s how the picture on the front of your bulletin depicts him; as a boy in wonder at all that’s happening to him.
He’s somewhat timid about this call thing. He protests immediately once God called him to the prophecy biz. And I can’t blame him. Being a prophet is no easy task. And here’s Jeremiah, boy Jeremiah, being told he has to point out the wrongs of nations to those very nations and their leaders. Yikes. I would have likely run in the other direction. But Jeremiah sticks around long enough to complain. And that’s when God gets him.
Jeremiah stays and puts up useless argument after useless argument only to have God touch him on the lips and say, “There; now you have my words to speak.” Once that was done, it was no use complaining. There was no getting out of it. Jeremiah was God’s for sure.
It’s funny who God calls and to what God calls them. Jeremiah: the boy who can’t speak is turned into one of the greatest prophets humanity has ever seen or heard. It’s a simple matter really: God calls and someone responds. How often is the response like Jeremiah’s though? How often does God call and the response God hears is filled with excuses and reasons the callee shouldn’t be called? It’s no different today than it was in the last quarter of the 7th century bce when Jeremiah received his call, all those centuries ago.
We tend to think of pastors and those who lead a professional religious life (such as nuns and monks) as being called. But clearly God calls beyond those who aren’t clergy. God calls everyone into ministry. Yes, each of us here today is called; not just Jeremiah, not just me.
There are a couple ways that you might feel called. You might be called to a profession, or vocation. You may feel God’s hand to have led you into that work you do on a daily basis. Certainly this is a valid call from God. Thanks heavens God doesn’t call everyone to be a clergyperson. What a mess this world would be if God did! But there are faithfilled vocations outside the clergy to which God calls.
What difference does it make if you perform your work as if you were called to it? Well, hopefully a large difference. Those called to their vocation will do their work intentionally, as if God were leading them throughout the workday. Now this doesn’t mean that those who claim and recognize that God has called them to their vocation always do their work cheerfully and with a contented smile on their face. No, indeed not. There are bad days and rough times; even for those who see their work as their call.
But there’s an intentionality about the called person’s work. Those who prayerfully listen for God’s call and follow it as closely as they can, find some degree of satisfaction and fulfillment that those who don’t feel called to their work feel.
Several years ago, when we were in New York City, before I was ordained, I was in a position from which I took no joy and felt no satisfaction. As I was talking about this to the mentor of a friend of mine, she simply said, “Well, you aren’t called to it.” I suddenly felt a realization about this job that I had never been able to define. I soon left that job and moved on to other places where I felt my gifts and talents more closely fit with my call.
But there is another way to be called that I want to mention today: that of being called to an avocation; called outside your vocation to work that needs to be done. Many of us are called this way. Our avocations are those things we do outside of our everyday work, beyond our so-called professions. Many of us answer those calls through church.
Tutoring at Homework Central may be one such call. Serving on the church board or as an officer may be yet another call. (I say this with some trepidation, since the nominating committee met just yesterday and some may respond now to our requests for leadership with “I don’t feel called.”) But God clearly calls us to labor outside of our vocations to work that furthers God’s realm here on earth.
We are an active congregation, there’s no doubt about that. And if we examine ourselves, we may find that this activity comes out of a sense of call from God; both individually and corporately. We need people in this world to feel called to do the ministry of work beyond our walls so that as a congregation we can still respond to God’s call to us.
How do you tell if your call is real? Well one indication is that your gifts and talents will align with the need that is part of the call. And each call that God issues involves a need. There is much need in our world today. God knows it and recognizes it but only has us to do the work; us and other faithful people throughout the world. We know our call is real when we see the need that is out there and realize that we can do something to change it. We know our call is real when the abilities we have been given match up with some need. We know our call is real when God provides us with what we need to get the work done.
You may not be called to be a prophet like Jeremiah. You may not be called to speak out against the powers and principalities. But then again you might. You just might find yourself using gifts you never knew you had. But God calls you. There is no doubt of that. Because God calls each one of us since there is such a great need in our world.
Prayerfully examine where God is calling you. And don’t think that if you’re retired you’re exempt from being called. God calls at all ages and expects a response. Let God touch your lips as God touched Jeremiah’s lips all those years ago. Let God touch your life and reach in and pull out the best in you. Follow your call, wherever it might lead you. God will go with you.
12 August 2007
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
What do you think about when you hear the word “faith?” What comes first to mind?
Faith is a slippery thing. It doesn’t define easily. You have faith, keep the faith, are faithful, and faithfully do something. It’s sort of over and against theology, which we’re used to struggling with. In fact, Frederick Buechner says, “Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises…Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting" (Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons).
Faith is a funny thing. We each in this room, I’m presuming, profess to have one. But ask us to define it and we might end up squirming a little. And how many people we have here is how many different expressions and understandings of faith there would be. Especially since we are Disciples of Christ; no one is going to tell us what our faith is! “No creed but Christ” is nice for allowing us to struggle with our faith, but isn’t very useful when it comes to defining who we are.
The author of the book of Hebrews puts faith in a succinct way: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith, according to this author, involves assurance, hope, conviction and things not seen. Let’s look at this more closely.
Assurance; what does that involve and who is doing the assuring? Well, we would say that God is doing the assuring. Assuring us that God is there and knows about our faith. Assurance is a calming presence. It allows us to relax a little. Assurance provides a base for us to stand on and not worry. It is a promise; a promise that we are God’s and God hears us.
Hope is a little more difficult. We tend to mix up hope. We think of hope as wishing for a parking space or a cure for a disease, though those can be important hopes. But I think the author of Hebrews was going deeper; talking about a hope that transcends these worldly cares. The hope the author was talking about is more along the lines of hoping for better things than this world; hoping for God’s realm to come in; hoping for justice and peace to fill the world. The hope that helps to define faith is deep and lasting and brings us to a better place.
Conviction. That’s the next element in this author’s definition of faith; conviction of things not seen. We are convinced about our faith. We have to be. Now don’t get me wrong; there is room for doubt and struggling with our faith. Jesus makes that clear throughout the gospels. But deep down, faith leads us to being convinced about Truth, with a capital T. We know there is a Truth out there that is bigger than we are. We know, deep down, perhaps so deep down that we can barely recognize it, that we are God’s and God claims us as God’s own. The conviction of which this author writes is one of a willingness to believe and hold something to be true.
And that brings us to the final element: things not seen. It’s a faith that doesn’t have visual confirmations. We’d like those at times, of course, but we don’t get them. Our faith is filled with unseen things. We can’t see our God; though he walked the earth at one point, Christ is unseen as is the Holy Spirit. A lot of our life is unseen. And our faith is no different. We can’t have visual proof.
So we deal with a faith that relies on our conviction of unseen things, while being assured of those things we hope for.
How often do you or this church do things out of faith? Do we step out in faith knowing that God will be there? That unseen, assured of God will see us through whatever actions we take in faith.
I have a bunch of quotes on my computer. I collect them there for the end of the weekly email newsletter. One of them deals directly with this. It is from Barbara J. Winter, who appears, from her website, to be an entrepreneur guru. She says: “When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness ... faith is knowing... there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly. “
Faith, our faith, is believing in a God who will be there to stand on or will teach us how to fly. We can’t see into the darkness of faith all the time. Sometimes we go forth into the unknown with only our faith to lead us on. We grope and stretch our arms out in an effort to get our bearings. But we use faith to know where we are. We use faith to locate ourselves in the darkness. We use faith to know that eventually the darkness will lift and we will be in the light of God once again.
It’s faith that allows us to operate amidst the swirling craziness of our world. In the midst of the oppression, racism, sexism, homophobia, the fear, the longing and the desires of a culture driven by greed and denial, we have this unseen faith to cling onto. We know that our faith will be the rock on which we can cling in the middle of the roaring sea of our society.
As I prepared for this sermon, I ran across an old friend; a prayer by Thomas Merton that I had learned when I was at my field education church in Boston 20 years ago. The prayer is a fitting conclusion not only to this sermon but also to this passage from Hebrews. Though it doesn’t mention faith directly, it clearly states the principles of faith we’ve talked about today. The prayer goes like this:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." (Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton)
What do you think about when you hear the word “faith?” What comes first to mind?
Faith is a slippery thing. It doesn’t define easily. You have faith, keep the faith, are faithful, and faithfully do something. It’s sort of over and against theology, which we’re used to struggling with. In fact, Frederick Buechner says, “Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises…Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting" (Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons).
Faith is a funny thing. We each in this room, I’m presuming, profess to have one. But ask us to define it and we might end up squirming a little. And how many people we have here is how many different expressions and understandings of faith there would be. Especially since we are Disciples of Christ; no one is going to tell us what our faith is! “No creed but Christ” is nice for allowing us to struggle with our faith, but isn’t very useful when it comes to defining who we are.
The author of the book of Hebrews puts faith in a succinct way: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith, according to this author, involves assurance, hope, conviction and things not seen. Let’s look at this more closely.
Assurance; what does that involve and who is doing the assuring? Well, we would say that God is doing the assuring. Assuring us that God is there and knows about our faith. Assurance is a calming presence. It allows us to relax a little. Assurance provides a base for us to stand on and not worry. It is a promise; a promise that we are God’s and God hears us.
Hope is a little more difficult. We tend to mix up hope. We think of hope as wishing for a parking space or a cure for a disease, though those can be important hopes. But I think the author of Hebrews was going deeper; talking about a hope that transcends these worldly cares. The hope the author was talking about is more along the lines of hoping for better things than this world; hoping for God’s realm to come in; hoping for justice and peace to fill the world. The hope that helps to define faith is deep and lasting and brings us to a better place.
Conviction. That’s the next element in this author’s definition of faith; conviction of things not seen. We are convinced about our faith. We have to be. Now don’t get me wrong; there is room for doubt and struggling with our faith. Jesus makes that clear throughout the gospels. But deep down, faith leads us to being convinced about Truth, with a capital T. We know there is a Truth out there that is bigger than we are. We know, deep down, perhaps so deep down that we can barely recognize it, that we are God’s and God claims us as God’s own. The conviction of which this author writes is one of a willingness to believe and hold something to be true.
And that brings us to the final element: things not seen. It’s a faith that doesn’t have visual confirmations. We’d like those at times, of course, but we don’t get them. Our faith is filled with unseen things. We can’t see our God; though he walked the earth at one point, Christ is unseen as is the Holy Spirit. A lot of our life is unseen. And our faith is no different. We can’t have visual proof.
So we deal with a faith that relies on our conviction of unseen things, while being assured of those things we hope for.
How often do you or this church do things out of faith? Do we step out in faith knowing that God will be there? That unseen, assured of God will see us through whatever actions we take in faith.
I have a bunch of quotes on my computer. I collect them there for the end of the weekly email newsletter. One of them deals directly with this. It is from Barbara J. Winter, who appears, from her website, to be an entrepreneur guru. She says: “When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness ... faith is knowing... there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly. “
Faith, our faith, is believing in a God who will be there to stand on or will teach us how to fly. We can’t see into the darkness of faith all the time. Sometimes we go forth into the unknown with only our faith to lead us on. We grope and stretch our arms out in an effort to get our bearings. But we use faith to know where we are. We use faith to locate ourselves in the darkness. We use faith to know that eventually the darkness will lift and we will be in the light of God once again.
It’s faith that allows us to operate amidst the swirling craziness of our world. In the midst of the oppression, racism, sexism, homophobia, the fear, the longing and the desires of a culture driven by greed and denial, we have this unseen faith to cling onto. We know that our faith will be the rock on which we can cling in the middle of the roaring sea of our society.
As I prepared for this sermon, I ran across an old friend; a prayer by Thomas Merton that I had learned when I was at my field education church in Boston 20 years ago. The prayer is a fitting conclusion not only to this sermon but also to this passage from Hebrews. Though it doesn’t mention faith directly, it clearly states the principles of faith we’ve talked about today. The prayer goes like this:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." (Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton)
29 July 2007
Luke 11:1-13
The Presbyterians, as is their wont, tend to make things more complicated than they need to be. Back when I was a Presbyterian seminarian, I learned, all those years ago, that, in order to pass my ordination exams, there was a standard for prayer. I memorized it in case it came up during the worship portion of the exams. A good prayer, according to the Presbyterians, involves six elements: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication, intercession and communion with the saints. I remembered it by the acronym formed by putting the first letters of each word together: ACTSIC. It worked.
Jesus’ disciples in today’s passage want to know how to pray. And they didn’t have the Presbyterian Church to tell them how to do it in those days. So they did what they could do; they went to Jesus. Now the disciples, being good, faithful Jews of their time, no doubt already prayed and knew how to pray. But they probably sensed in Jesus what we would call a deeper spirituality and wanted that connection to God for themselves. And who wouldn’t? I imagine all of us in this room today yearn for a deeper spirituality with God. And that is attainable through a deeper and richer prayer life.
So how is your prayer life? Are you satisfied with your connection with God? Don’t be discouraged if you answered in the negative. Most of us aren’t completely satisfied with our spirituality and need to work on our ongoing struggles with connecting with God. I know I need to, for certain.
So we find the disciples in the reading from Luke asking Jesus how to pray. They want to go deeper too. They want to be more like their teacher; connecting with God and finding God more often through their prayers.
Jesus response to the disciples’ question about prayer actually comes in three parts: a formula, a story and then some advice. Let’s look at them in order.
Jesus comes up with a formula, as it were. We’ve turned it into a prayer itself but if you look closely, it’s more like a template for a prayer than an actual prayer itself. It can guide you in your own prayer life if you use it as such. So let’s see what Jesus says about prayer.
The formula for praying in Luke is very short, shorter than it even is in Matthew’s version of this passage. It begins with an address to God which Jesus used often: Father. Naturally our address may vary; some of us have moved to different ways to address God. I believe that God not only accepts our varying addresses but embraces them. Whatever brings us closest to God is how God wants us to address God.
This prayer that Jesus teaches is both outward looking and inward looking. It is outward in that it asks for God’s reign to be fulfilled in the “your kingdom come” line. We seek the justice and mercy of God’s commonwealth on our earth and pray earnestly for it to happen.
It is inward focused in that we ask for God to be apart of our lives: give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins. Each supplication is a request for God to enter in daily and to take care of us. We seek what we need in this prayer: we ask for bread and forgiveness. And we promise to forgive other’s indebtedness to us.
Finally in his example prayer, Jesus says to ask that we not be brought into the time of trial. I admit that I have the most problem with the prayer at this point. Is God going to bring me to a time of trial? Do I worship a God who would purposefully test me? I don’t like to believe that my God is actually like that. I don’t like to think that God is going to test me. But I think the meaning of this phrase is more along the lines of “keep me from facing hard times, God.” That’s the only way I can make sense of this line.
The story that Jesus tells in response to this question is one of persistence. It’s a story of approaching a friend, a neighbor, at midnight and asking for bread for visiting guests. Though the neighbor doesn’t want to get up and unlock his door, the supplicant is persistent. And that’s how we are to be with God; persistent. Seeking God time after time after time. Coming to God again and again and again.
It is important to note that the request for bread is not for the one who is asking for it. It’s for a traveler; a sojourner who needs care. The bread is for someone else. It is an intercession asking for God to take care of someone else’s needs. And so should our prayers include our requests, over and over, for God to care for others.
Finally, we come to the advice. It’s simply knock and the door will be opened; search and you will find. In other words, we have to actually do prayer in order to get results. It’s not going to happen without us doing our part. And once we do, we’re assured that God will listen.
And God will listen kindly. By using the metaphor of parenting and knowing what it is that is good for our children, Jesus reminds us that our heavenly parent, our creator is not going to do us wrong. Who would give a snake to a child when she asked for fish? Who would put a scorpion on the plate of a child expecting an egg? Certainly none of us would do that and certainly not God. Though we may not know what we actually need, God will not do us wrong. God will treat us as a parent would a child, knowing what is good and bad for us.
Prayer is our way of connecting with God. It’s an important part of our spiritual life. We not only speak to God through prayer but also seek to hear God through prayer. Prayer is two-way. Too often we think of it as one-way. But if we are truly serious about prayer, we wait to hear God’s voice to us. That voice may come in any number of ways, but we have to remain attentive in prayer.
I recommend that you follow your urgings for a closer relationship with God. Prayer is certainly one way that you will come closer to the divine. And we all can use a stronger connection to God. Don’t make it complicated like the Presbyterians try to do. Just remember to turn to God with the cares and concerns that you carry with you.
The Presbyterians, as is their wont, tend to make things more complicated than they need to be. Back when I was a Presbyterian seminarian, I learned, all those years ago, that, in order to pass my ordination exams, there was a standard for prayer. I memorized it in case it came up during the worship portion of the exams. A good prayer, according to the Presbyterians, involves six elements: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication, intercession and communion with the saints. I remembered it by the acronym formed by putting the first letters of each word together: ACTSIC. It worked.
Jesus’ disciples in today’s passage want to know how to pray. And they didn’t have the Presbyterian Church to tell them how to do it in those days. So they did what they could do; they went to Jesus. Now the disciples, being good, faithful Jews of their time, no doubt already prayed and knew how to pray. But they probably sensed in Jesus what we would call a deeper spirituality and wanted that connection to God for themselves. And who wouldn’t? I imagine all of us in this room today yearn for a deeper spirituality with God. And that is attainable through a deeper and richer prayer life.
So how is your prayer life? Are you satisfied with your connection with God? Don’t be discouraged if you answered in the negative. Most of us aren’t completely satisfied with our spirituality and need to work on our ongoing struggles with connecting with God. I know I need to, for certain.
So we find the disciples in the reading from Luke asking Jesus how to pray. They want to go deeper too. They want to be more like their teacher; connecting with God and finding God more often through their prayers.
Jesus response to the disciples’ question about prayer actually comes in three parts: a formula, a story and then some advice. Let’s look at them in order.
Jesus comes up with a formula, as it were. We’ve turned it into a prayer itself but if you look closely, it’s more like a template for a prayer than an actual prayer itself. It can guide you in your own prayer life if you use it as such. So let’s see what Jesus says about prayer.
The formula for praying in Luke is very short, shorter than it even is in Matthew’s version of this passage. It begins with an address to God which Jesus used often: Father. Naturally our address may vary; some of us have moved to different ways to address God. I believe that God not only accepts our varying addresses but embraces them. Whatever brings us closest to God is how God wants us to address God.
This prayer that Jesus teaches is both outward looking and inward looking. It is outward in that it asks for God’s reign to be fulfilled in the “your kingdom come” line. We seek the justice and mercy of God’s commonwealth on our earth and pray earnestly for it to happen.
It is inward focused in that we ask for God to be apart of our lives: give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins. Each supplication is a request for God to enter in daily and to take care of us. We seek what we need in this prayer: we ask for bread and forgiveness. And we promise to forgive other’s indebtedness to us.
Finally in his example prayer, Jesus says to ask that we not be brought into the time of trial. I admit that I have the most problem with the prayer at this point. Is God going to bring me to a time of trial? Do I worship a God who would purposefully test me? I don’t like to believe that my God is actually like that. I don’t like to think that God is going to test me. But I think the meaning of this phrase is more along the lines of “keep me from facing hard times, God.” That’s the only way I can make sense of this line.
The story that Jesus tells in response to this question is one of persistence. It’s a story of approaching a friend, a neighbor, at midnight and asking for bread for visiting guests. Though the neighbor doesn’t want to get up and unlock his door, the supplicant is persistent. And that’s how we are to be with God; persistent. Seeking God time after time after time. Coming to God again and again and again.
It is important to note that the request for bread is not for the one who is asking for it. It’s for a traveler; a sojourner who needs care. The bread is for someone else. It is an intercession asking for God to take care of someone else’s needs. And so should our prayers include our requests, over and over, for God to care for others.
Finally, we come to the advice. It’s simply knock and the door will be opened; search and you will find. In other words, we have to actually do prayer in order to get results. It’s not going to happen without us doing our part. And once we do, we’re assured that God will listen.
And God will listen kindly. By using the metaphor of parenting and knowing what it is that is good for our children, Jesus reminds us that our heavenly parent, our creator is not going to do us wrong. Who would give a snake to a child when she asked for fish? Who would put a scorpion on the plate of a child expecting an egg? Certainly none of us would do that and certainly not God. Though we may not know what we actually need, God will not do us wrong. God will treat us as a parent would a child, knowing what is good and bad for us.
Prayer is our way of connecting with God. It’s an important part of our spiritual life. We not only speak to God through prayer but also seek to hear God through prayer. Prayer is two-way. Too often we think of it as one-way. But if we are truly serious about prayer, we wait to hear God’s voice to us. That voice may come in any number of ways, but we have to remain attentive in prayer.
I recommend that you follow your urgings for a closer relationship with God. Prayer is certainly one way that you will come closer to the divine. And we all can use a stronger connection to God. Don’t make it complicated like the Presbyterians try to do. Just remember to turn to God with the cares and concerns that you carry with you.
8 July 2007
2 Kings 5:1-14
The story from 2nd Kings which Grace read for us this morning is one of power and powerlessness. It is filled with people of power: kings, generals & prophets. But if you listen carefully you’ll hear the voices of powerless people too.
It’s the story of a powerful general, Naaman, a general of the army of the king of Aram. Naaman was one of the favorite generals of the king of Aram, we’re told. This would indicate that he was successful in his field of…generaling. Possibly he was a brilliant strategist who knew what his enemies were doing before they did and responded accordingly. He likely had the ear of the king by this point and was well-respected throughout his kingdom.
But Naaman had a problem. He had leprosy. Now we don’t know exactly what it meant when the Bible says that someone had leprosy. It was likely a skin condition of some kind; not necessarily the debilitating disease that we’ve called leprosy over the past few centuries. But though we don’t know exactly what it was that was called leprosy, we do know a few things about it: it was incurable and it made you an untouchable in society.
So here was this powerful general, respected and admired by all around him, suffering from this dreaded disease; a disease that would preclude societal contact; a disease that would leave him on the outside. It was a mix of power and powerlessness on the part of Naaman.
But true powerlessness comes next into the picture, when the very lowest of the kingdom speaks up. A slave girl speaks to Naaman’s wife; a slave girl from Israel, taken no doubt in some military campaigns. She is not named in our scriptures; in fact neither the slave girl nor Naaman’s wife are named as is too often the case with women in the bible. But they are actors in this drama with consequences for all concerned.
How much powerless can you be than a slave girl? First off, you’re a foreigner, someone from outside the dominant culture. Our own 21st century struggles with immigration indicate the human propensity to be afraid of the other. It was no different during this era recounted in our scripture. Plus you’re a slave; an unpaid servant whose life is one of service and doing the bidding of others. And finally you’re a girl, indicating you’re young and you’re, worst of all, female. It’s the lowest of the low; the one without any voice in any matter.
But this slave girl spoke up on behalf of her master to her mistress. She said that there is a prophet back home where she came from who could cure the great general Naaman. She speaks with assuredness not usually heard in the powerless so Naaman’s wife passes on the information.
Naaman then goes to his king who says, “by all means, go!” And the king writes a letter of introduction, as it were, to the king of Israel. Now the Israelite king, as often the powerful are, was a bit paranoid when he received the letter. He assumes that the king of Aram is trying to pick a fight with him; to find an excuse to go to war. For if Naaman doesn’t come back cured, then Israel isn’t as powerful as all that after all! That or else the king of Israel prevented the healing of Naaman. So the king of Israel did what people in those ages did at the hearing of bad news: he tore his clothes or rent his garments in the old language.
Elisha, whom our scripture describes as “the man of God,” finds out about the king tearing his clothes and why he did so and sends word to the king essentially saying, “don’t be so silly: send the guy to me and I’ll show him who’s a prophet around here.”
So Naaman shows up at Elisha’s door and Elisha doesn’t even come out to see him. He just sends word through one of his servants, again an unnamed powerless figure, that Naaman should go to the Jordan River and wash seven times.
And now we see another aspect of powerful people. They expect things to be done in a certain way, because Naaman becomes enraged. He’s angry that Elisha himself didn’t come out to see him himself. He’s infuriated that he has to wash in the Jordan, that dumpy little river of Israel; why, he could have washed in one of the great rivers of Aram. Who does this so-called prophet think he is? And to whom does he think he’s talking? Naaman’s a powerful general, not to be dealt with by servants. He was, as the author of 2nd Kings says, in a rage.
Imagine that, enraged because the cure for your disease is beneath you. Naaman expected Elisha himself to come out and use his special powers right then and there, invoking God’s name before him.
Well, again the powerless come too the rescue. Naaman’s servants go to him and suggest he’s overreacting a just a wee bit. They know their boss because they say if you had been told to do something more difficult you would have gladly done it. Why not give this Jordan a try? Huh?
Of course, the exciting finale, which is only one verse long, tells us that Naaman swallowed his pride and washed in the Jordan River 7 times and came out with skin like a newborn babe. The cure worked.
The powerless in this story, servants all and without name, are the true heroes. God acts through them as much as God acts through any king or general. In fact, their voices are those that save the day and bring about the cure. Without them, Naaman would have never found his way to Israel and never would have bathed in the Jordan.
The true power of the story though, of course, is God’s power. Though Elisha comes through as the hero by coming up with the cure for Naaman, it is God’s actions that cure Naaman.
We need to listen to the voices of the powerless in our culture if we are to find the cures for our culture from God. We need to seek out and really listen to those who are disenfranchised and on the margins. The powerless of our culture, and I don’t have to name them. we all know who they are, the ones without voices need to be endued with their voice to point out to the powerful what we need to do for a cure.
The powerful, as we saw, can be vain and paranoid. Those in power are likely to ignore the voices of the powerless and seek out cures that are not of God. Fortunately Naaman listened to the voice of the powerless slave girl in his household and ended up cured of his incurable disease.
We have powerful people in our culture; many people who hold power and rule with firm hands, including in our country. We need to urge them to hear the voices of the powerless of our country and follow the leads the present for the cures of our culture. And our society is deeply in need of cures. There are wide gaps between the haves and the have-nots. Racism is still rampant. And our environment is under attack. And these are just a few examples. Certainly we could each think of other ways our culture needs God’s curing power. But we won’t find out what they are without stopping long enough to listen to the voices of the powerless. May we seek them out and join our voices with theirs.
The story from 2nd Kings which Grace read for us this morning is one of power and powerlessness. It is filled with people of power: kings, generals & prophets. But if you listen carefully you’ll hear the voices of powerless people too.
It’s the story of a powerful general, Naaman, a general of the army of the king of Aram. Naaman was one of the favorite generals of the king of Aram, we’re told. This would indicate that he was successful in his field of…generaling. Possibly he was a brilliant strategist who knew what his enemies were doing before they did and responded accordingly. He likely had the ear of the king by this point and was well-respected throughout his kingdom.
But Naaman had a problem. He had leprosy. Now we don’t know exactly what it meant when the Bible says that someone had leprosy. It was likely a skin condition of some kind; not necessarily the debilitating disease that we’ve called leprosy over the past few centuries. But though we don’t know exactly what it was that was called leprosy, we do know a few things about it: it was incurable and it made you an untouchable in society.
So here was this powerful general, respected and admired by all around him, suffering from this dreaded disease; a disease that would preclude societal contact; a disease that would leave him on the outside. It was a mix of power and powerlessness on the part of Naaman.
But true powerlessness comes next into the picture, when the very lowest of the kingdom speaks up. A slave girl speaks to Naaman’s wife; a slave girl from Israel, taken no doubt in some military campaigns. She is not named in our scriptures; in fact neither the slave girl nor Naaman’s wife are named as is too often the case with women in the bible. But they are actors in this drama with consequences for all concerned.
How much powerless can you be than a slave girl? First off, you’re a foreigner, someone from outside the dominant culture. Our own 21st century struggles with immigration indicate the human propensity to be afraid of the other. It was no different during this era recounted in our scripture. Plus you’re a slave; an unpaid servant whose life is one of service and doing the bidding of others. And finally you’re a girl, indicating you’re young and you’re, worst of all, female. It’s the lowest of the low; the one without any voice in any matter.
But this slave girl spoke up on behalf of her master to her mistress. She said that there is a prophet back home where she came from who could cure the great general Naaman. She speaks with assuredness not usually heard in the powerless so Naaman’s wife passes on the information.
Naaman then goes to his king who says, “by all means, go!” And the king writes a letter of introduction, as it were, to the king of Israel. Now the Israelite king, as often the powerful are, was a bit paranoid when he received the letter. He assumes that the king of Aram is trying to pick a fight with him; to find an excuse to go to war. For if Naaman doesn’t come back cured, then Israel isn’t as powerful as all that after all! That or else the king of Israel prevented the healing of Naaman. So the king of Israel did what people in those ages did at the hearing of bad news: he tore his clothes or rent his garments in the old language.
Elisha, whom our scripture describes as “the man of God,” finds out about the king tearing his clothes and why he did so and sends word to the king essentially saying, “don’t be so silly: send the guy to me and I’ll show him who’s a prophet around here.”
So Naaman shows up at Elisha’s door and Elisha doesn’t even come out to see him. He just sends word through one of his servants, again an unnamed powerless figure, that Naaman should go to the Jordan River and wash seven times.
And now we see another aspect of powerful people. They expect things to be done in a certain way, because Naaman becomes enraged. He’s angry that Elisha himself didn’t come out to see him himself. He’s infuriated that he has to wash in the Jordan, that dumpy little river of Israel; why, he could have washed in one of the great rivers of Aram. Who does this so-called prophet think he is? And to whom does he think he’s talking? Naaman’s a powerful general, not to be dealt with by servants. He was, as the author of 2nd Kings says, in a rage.
Imagine that, enraged because the cure for your disease is beneath you. Naaman expected Elisha himself to come out and use his special powers right then and there, invoking God’s name before him.
Well, again the powerless come too the rescue. Naaman’s servants go to him and suggest he’s overreacting a just a wee bit. They know their boss because they say if you had been told to do something more difficult you would have gladly done it. Why not give this Jordan a try? Huh?
Of course, the exciting finale, which is only one verse long, tells us that Naaman swallowed his pride and washed in the Jordan River 7 times and came out with skin like a newborn babe. The cure worked.
The powerless in this story, servants all and without name, are the true heroes. God acts through them as much as God acts through any king or general. In fact, their voices are those that save the day and bring about the cure. Without them, Naaman would have never found his way to Israel and never would have bathed in the Jordan.
The true power of the story though, of course, is God’s power. Though Elisha comes through as the hero by coming up with the cure for Naaman, it is God’s actions that cure Naaman.
We need to listen to the voices of the powerless in our culture if we are to find the cures for our culture from God. We need to seek out and really listen to those who are disenfranchised and on the margins. The powerless of our culture, and I don’t have to name them. we all know who they are, the ones without voices need to be endued with their voice to point out to the powerful what we need to do for a cure.
The powerful, as we saw, can be vain and paranoid. Those in power are likely to ignore the voices of the powerless and seek out cures that are not of God. Fortunately Naaman listened to the voice of the powerless slave girl in his household and ended up cured of his incurable disease.
We have powerful people in our culture; many people who hold power and rule with firm hands, including in our country. We need to urge them to hear the voices of the powerless of our country and follow the leads the present for the cures of our culture. And our society is deeply in need of cures. There are wide gaps between the haves and the have-nots. Racism is still rampant. And our environment is under attack. And these are just a few examples. Certainly we could each think of other ways our culture needs God’s curing power. But we won’t find out what they are without stopping long enough to listen to the voices of the powerless. May we seek them out and join our voices with theirs.
1 July 2007
Luke 9:51-62
It’s like Jesus didn’t want disciples. This passage from Luke is one of those occasions where Jesus comes across as petulant; even nasty. We read passages such as this one and think to ourselves, “is this the Lord that I follow?” Jesus, I admit does not come across all that well today.
Jesus has already set his face to Jerusalem, we’re told at the beginning of this passage, and we all know where that will lead. He is resolute in his journey. He knows how this trip to Jerusalem will end up too, I’m sure.
First they enter a village of the Samaritans. There’s no surprise that they don’t get a good reception there; the Samaritans and the Jews were hated enemies of each other. So they move on to another village.
On the way, Jesus talks to three people; three potential followers. And this is where we get into trouble. Jesus’ responses to these three would-be disciples are not what we expect. We expect Jesus to be chipper and say, “Sure, c’mon, join in. There’s room for all who want to follow me.” We want Jesus to be a Lord of politeness, making room for all.
But that’s not what we get. We get these somewhat cryptic, somewhat outright answers that put limits and conditions on being a follower. But let’s take a closer look at each of the three potential followers of Jesus and Jesus’ reply to each of them and think about what the consequences for us today are.
First, we have one follower say, “I will follow you wherever you go.” That sounds pretty straight forward, doesn’t it? Anywhere you go in your wanderings, any place, I shall be there with you. Sounds like a good follower to me, doesn’t it to you?
What is Jesus’ response? “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Okay, at first this sounds like a warning to the would-be follower that things may not be easy. We’re not talking about staying at Marriots and sending out for meals. We’re talking about a hard life.
But there’s more to it than that, it appears. You know how we associate certain animals with certain countries? Like the eagle with the US and the bear with Russia? Well, it was no different in the first century. “Birds of the air” was evidently how the Jews referred to Gentiles, including the hated Romans who ruled the land. And remember at one point Jesus refers to Herod, the puppet king of Israel, as a fox? Well, Jesus is making the point to this potential follower that outsiders have places to rest in Israel but the one who is truly Israel, the Son of God, the Human One, really has no where in the land that is his. He’s not a ruler like these other rulers and anyone who is going to follow him had just better get used to that idea.
The second conversation is harder for us to grasp because it goes against our grain so much. Jesus says “follow me” to someone. The would-be follower says, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” This sounds like a reasonable request, especially when you consider that Jews had strict laws about burial of the dead. Jesus’ reply, about letting the dead bury their own and telling him to go and proclaim the kingdom of God instead seems downright abrupt and even cruel to someone who is in mourning.
But there’s something going on that we don’t realize in this passage; something we miss in our cross-cultural misunderstanding. At this point in history, in the Jewish culture, a son was expected to stay at home with his father until the father died. This is likely what the would-be follower was referring to; not that his father had died, but that he had to wait until the father had died before he could follow Jesus. That could be years or decades, of course. And Jesus was saying he can’t wait that long. The follower must make a choice between family obligations and his obligation to God. He must make a choice between cultural expectations and a new way of doing things. Jesus expected this follower to begin proclaiming the good news of God’s commonwealth here and now; not in some distant future time.
The final would-be follower simply wants to say goodbye to his loved ones before taking off with this itinerant preacher. This sounds like a reasonable request, doesn’t it? The words we heard this morning were, “let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Actually, it should read something more like, “let me take my leave of those at home.” There’s a slight difference between the two. In the first case, saying farewell, the leave-taker is in charge and goes off on his or her own. In the second case, that of taking one’s leave, there is an implied consent from those who are being left behind. Taking one’s leave entails asking for permission and receiving a blessing to go.
Now what family is going to give permission for a young person to go off with this hare-brained, itinerant teacher who just goes around stirring things up and making the religious authorities angry at him? No, Jesus knows that he doesn’t fit in with the status quo and knows also that no parent in his/her right mind is going to give leave to an offspring to go with Jesus. Now, Jesus’ response is cryptic…to us. But to someone in an agricultural society it makes perfect sense. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
When you’re plowing a field, you put a marker at the opposite end of the field as a place to aim for as you plow. Looking back or taking your eyes off that goal will end up with crooked furrows and an embarrassing field. No, following Jesus means keeping your eyes straight ahead and not varying from the goal of bringing in God’s commonwealth.
We are followers of Jesus, or so we claim to be. These verses, as difficult as they are to comprehend and take into our system, are as valid today as they were when Jesus first spoke them. We simply have to keep them in mind as we go about our business each and every day of our life.
The message is clear once this passage is cleared up. Following Jesus is neither popular nor easy and Jesus is not going to be the ruler that we assume him to be. Jesus expects you to make God your number one priority, over and against all other obligations including your family and the society in which you live. And it requires concentration and an unswerving allegiance to God and God’s commonwealth.
We’ve lost some of these concepts in our culture. With Christianity the majority culture in our society, we may not realize the radicalness of following Jesus and what it requires. But if we are to be true followers, we must remember the lessons of these three would-be disciples of Jesus.
It’s like Jesus didn’t want disciples. This passage from Luke is one of those occasions where Jesus comes across as petulant; even nasty. We read passages such as this one and think to ourselves, “is this the Lord that I follow?” Jesus, I admit does not come across all that well today.
Jesus has already set his face to Jerusalem, we’re told at the beginning of this passage, and we all know where that will lead. He is resolute in his journey. He knows how this trip to Jerusalem will end up too, I’m sure.
First they enter a village of the Samaritans. There’s no surprise that they don’t get a good reception there; the Samaritans and the Jews were hated enemies of each other. So they move on to another village.
On the way, Jesus talks to three people; three potential followers. And this is where we get into trouble. Jesus’ responses to these three would-be disciples are not what we expect. We expect Jesus to be chipper and say, “Sure, c’mon, join in. There’s room for all who want to follow me.” We want Jesus to be a Lord of politeness, making room for all.
But that’s not what we get. We get these somewhat cryptic, somewhat outright answers that put limits and conditions on being a follower. But let’s take a closer look at each of the three potential followers of Jesus and Jesus’ reply to each of them and think about what the consequences for us today are.
First, we have one follower say, “I will follow you wherever you go.” That sounds pretty straight forward, doesn’t it? Anywhere you go in your wanderings, any place, I shall be there with you. Sounds like a good follower to me, doesn’t it to you?
What is Jesus’ response? “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Okay, at first this sounds like a warning to the would-be follower that things may not be easy. We’re not talking about staying at Marriots and sending out for meals. We’re talking about a hard life.
But there’s more to it than that, it appears. You know how we associate certain animals with certain countries? Like the eagle with the US and the bear with Russia? Well, it was no different in the first century. “Birds of the air” was evidently how the Jews referred to Gentiles, including the hated Romans who ruled the land. And remember at one point Jesus refers to Herod, the puppet king of Israel, as a fox? Well, Jesus is making the point to this potential follower that outsiders have places to rest in Israel but the one who is truly Israel, the Son of God, the Human One, really has no where in the land that is his. He’s not a ruler like these other rulers and anyone who is going to follow him had just better get used to that idea.
The second conversation is harder for us to grasp because it goes against our grain so much. Jesus says “follow me” to someone. The would-be follower says, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” This sounds like a reasonable request, especially when you consider that Jews had strict laws about burial of the dead. Jesus’ reply, about letting the dead bury their own and telling him to go and proclaim the kingdom of God instead seems downright abrupt and even cruel to someone who is in mourning.
But there’s something going on that we don’t realize in this passage; something we miss in our cross-cultural misunderstanding. At this point in history, in the Jewish culture, a son was expected to stay at home with his father until the father died. This is likely what the would-be follower was referring to; not that his father had died, but that he had to wait until the father had died before he could follow Jesus. That could be years or decades, of course. And Jesus was saying he can’t wait that long. The follower must make a choice between family obligations and his obligation to God. He must make a choice between cultural expectations and a new way of doing things. Jesus expected this follower to begin proclaiming the good news of God’s commonwealth here and now; not in some distant future time.
The final would-be follower simply wants to say goodbye to his loved ones before taking off with this itinerant preacher. This sounds like a reasonable request, doesn’t it? The words we heard this morning were, “let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Actually, it should read something more like, “let me take my leave of those at home.” There’s a slight difference between the two. In the first case, saying farewell, the leave-taker is in charge and goes off on his or her own. In the second case, that of taking one’s leave, there is an implied consent from those who are being left behind. Taking one’s leave entails asking for permission and receiving a blessing to go.
Now what family is going to give permission for a young person to go off with this hare-brained, itinerant teacher who just goes around stirring things up and making the religious authorities angry at him? No, Jesus knows that he doesn’t fit in with the status quo and knows also that no parent in his/her right mind is going to give leave to an offspring to go with Jesus. Now, Jesus’ response is cryptic…to us. But to someone in an agricultural society it makes perfect sense. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
When you’re plowing a field, you put a marker at the opposite end of the field as a place to aim for as you plow. Looking back or taking your eyes off that goal will end up with crooked furrows and an embarrassing field. No, following Jesus means keeping your eyes straight ahead and not varying from the goal of bringing in God’s commonwealth.
We are followers of Jesus, or so we claim to be. These verses, as difficult as they are to comprehend and take into our system, are as valid today as they were when Jesus first spoke them. We simply have to keep them in mind as we go about our business each and every day of our life.
The message is clear once this passage is cleared up. Following Jesus is neither popular nor easy and Jesus is not going to be the ruler that we assume him to be. Jesus expects you to make God your number one priority, over and against all other obligations including your family and the society in which you live. And it requires concentration and an unswerving allegiance to God and God’s commonwealth.
We’ve lost some of these concepts in our culture. With Christianity the majority culture in our society, we may not realize the radicalness of following Jesus and what it requires. But if we are to be true followers, we must remember the lessons of these three would-be disciples of Jesus.
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