Being Shrewd

Luke 16:1-13

Then Jesus said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Give me an account of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.' Then the manager said to himself, 'What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.' So, summoning his master's debtors one by one, he asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?' He answered, 'A hundred jugs of olive oil.' He said to him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.' Then he asked another, 'And how much do you owe?' He replied, 'A hundred containers of wheat.' He said to him, 'Take your bill and make it eighty.' And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

"Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth."

What a parable we’ve just heard.  It’s one of those difficult sayings of Jesus that we end up scratching our heads over and hoping that next week’s lectionary reading is easier to understand; at least I do. But we ignore this parable at our own peril, so let’s look at it and spend some time trying to comprehend what Jesus may have been talking about.

To recap:  There’s a rich man who has a manager or steward.  The rich man discovers that the manager hasn’t been dealing with his accounts in his best interests.  The manager, upon learning that he’s been found out, hatches a plan to ensure that his good fortune continues.

He realizes that he’s too old or feeble to dig ditches and I can empathize with him there.  He’s also too proud to beg so there has to be another solution.  His solution is to create a circle of friends by reducing the debt they owe to the rich man.  Then comes the twist to the story; when the rich man learns of this plan, he commends his manager.  He doesn’t condemn him but rather calls him shrewd, as truly he is.

You’ve got to imagine that Jesus is telling this story with a glimmer in his eye.  He knows that the twists don’t make sense and that’s the joke of it all.  He’s telling this story to the man on the street; those who catch the early bus to get to grinding jobs.  This is a story for the run of the mill guy or gal who knows about rich men and how unlike they are from the rest of us.

And you have to remember that Luke, the author of our gospel, is particularly interested in proclaiming God’s preference for the poor.  Luke is concerned with what we would call economics; especially the economics of the poor versus the rich. 

So the rich man is not the hero here, well, at least not at the start.  Our protagonist is the manager, who shows how shrewd he is.  The translation we heard talks about him “squandering” his master’s riches.  In actuality, the Greek word is closer to “scattering:”  the manager was strewing about the rich man’s money. 

To where was he scattering it?  Well, very likely those hearers of the parable originally, those men and women of the street, would have assumed that it was going to the poor.  The manager was being an early Robin Hood, more or less.  Then he continues this use of his boss’ riches by shrewdly reducing the amount of what some of the rich man’s debtors owe.  And who are these debtors?  Well, once again they’re people who owe to rich people, in other words, poor people.

The manager is reducing the debts of these folks, in one case by 50%, so that they would feel an obligation to him.  Jesus is clear that the manager is doing this so he’ll be welcomed into the homes of these debtors once he’s out of a job.

Then comes the twist of the story.  The rich man learns of this turn of his affairs and commends the manager.  As Tom Boomershine, who taught me in my Digital Culture Certificate program, writes:  “This is a sign that the story is about God.  God is the one who commends a shrewd steward for acting in a way that was not in the benefit of a rich man.”  Jesus’ explanation about this is that the children of this age are shrewder than the children of light in their own generation.  That is to say, they know how to act; they know how to work the system and to have it work for them.  Children of light, Jesus is saying, are often naïve, pious, nice and don’t know how to use stuff such as money in their own interest.

Jesus knew what everyone else knew:  poor people welcome those who have treated them well into their homes.  That’s the shrewdness of this parable.  In Luke’s version of the beatitudes, the very first thing that Jesus says is that the poor shall inherit the kingdom of God; not the poor in spirit...that’s Matthew’s take on it.  And in the story about Lazarus and the rich man, it’s clear that the poor are going to be the gatekeepers for God’s realm. 

Jesus, according to Luke, is here for the poor.  And this parable only drives that point home.  We may look at it with alarm but that’s because in our materialistic culture, where money is a reward from God, the rich man is the hero.  We have to turn the tables and recognize this parable as a first century story and Jesus was telling it to the poor and those run of the mill, early bus catching guys and gals.  Jesus was, as he often does, turning things upside down; turning the story head over heels with a glint in his eye as he did it.

So where does all this leave us?  Likely none of us are in a position to scatter the riches of anyone in the upper income brackets and even if we did, we’d likely get a very different reaction when we were caught and let’s face it, we’d get caught.  Any scattering of someone else’s riches would likely land us in jail rather than commended.

And the answer to that question of where this leaves us is found in the paragraph that follows the parable, the very last line that we heard:  “You cannot serve God and wealth.”  If you’re serving wealth, you’re not going to scatter the riches around to those who need it, ignoring God’s call to serve them.  This is a parable of the end times, when things are turned as topsy turvy as the parable itself does; when God’s realm enters in fully and we don’t value people based on their bank account or garage contents.

Indeed we dismiss this parable at our own risk.  It must be viewed through the lens of God’s preference for the poor.  Only then can we begin to understand the lesson that this parable provides.

Lost & Found

Luke 15:1-10

There was a popular tv show that aired for several seasons though I myself never caught it.  It’s title came to me after reading today’s gospel lesson though.  The show was called Lost, and dealt, if I remember correctly, with a plane that went down in the middle of the ocean and the survivors who were lost to civilization on a deserted island.  From what I gathered, it was a more suspense-filled, less funny Gilligan’s Island, so to speak.

We all fear being lost.  It’s built into us from our earliest days.  I remember as a very young boy getting separated from my father in a store for just a few moments.  I still recall the fear that was brought up in that brief time for me when I thought I was lost.  Fortunately, Dad was closer than I thought and found me quickly, before there were any tears or panic.

Jesus was getting a lot of flak from the religious authorities at the start of today’s lesson.  This fact sometimes gets lost when we think about the two parables he told.  Jesus was responding to the Pharisees when he told about the lost sheep and the lost coin.  This was a pointed response to quiet them down because he was hanging out, so they thought, with the wrong people.  He was actually eating with tax collectors and prostitutes. 

We don’t need to go into the feasibility of leaving ninety-nine sheep behind while you go to search for one.  And I always wondered about the practicality of throwing a party and spending the money that you had just found.  Those details really don’t apply in this situation because we’re talking about parables; stories meant to make a point and the point was made in spite of picky details.

Too often we identify ourselves in these parables with the lost items.  We’re lost and God will come searching for us.  It’s a comforting thought.  No matter how lost we are, God will seek us out.  That is true enough.

But that’s not the only way we can fit ourselves into these stories.  We very well could be among the 99 sheep who are left behind and in many ways we are.  These, along with the coins that weren’t lost, are those religious authorities to whom Jesus is directing the parables.  We don’t like to think of ourselves in the same light as the Pharisees and scribes but in many ways we are more like them than we’d like to admit.  We, like they, think we’ve got our religious ducks in a row, if you’ll allow me to mix farmland metaphors between ducks and sheep.  We may be uncomfortable with such an identification, but we can’t avoid it.  In many ways we are similar to those 1st century religious authorities as we wonder why Jesus has left us to go out after the homeless, drug-crazed junkie.

But I’d like to challenge us today to think of ourselves as the other actor in the story:  as the one who goes seeking the lost; that caring shepherd off to bring back the 1% of his flock or the persistent woman who cleans until she finds that one important coin, a tenth of her entire savings.  We are called, I believe, to seek out the lost, to put ourselves in situations that will put us closer to the lost souls in our world.

I read an article in the New York Times this week about a woman who lives in the Bronx in New York City.  [http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/10/nyregion/10muslim.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1&nl&emc=aua1] She’s a single mother of three and an immigrant from the Ivory Coast.  Every 11th of September she gathers her children and they go down to Ground Zero in lower Manhattan where the World Trade Centers once stood.  There they pray because it was there, nine years ago that Mrs. Traoré lost her husband who worked in the Windows on the World restaurant atop one of the towers.

Mrs. Traoré and her children, in their prayers, invoke the name of Allah, because they are devout Muslims.  Her husband and their father is among the lost, those 60 or so Muslims who were killed that day by the terrorists along with the thousands of others who died in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania.  Of course, the Times printed this article about Mrs. Traoré as the flap about a building that would contain a mosque two blocks from Ground Zero reaches a fevered pitch, including the ridiculous and blasphemous burning of Korans that was supposed to happen yesterday in Florida.

There is quite a bit of religious posturing these days by so-called religious authorities, including that minister in Gainesville who initiated the Koran burnings.  If they’re paying any attention at all, they might be wondering why God would be off, seeking the lost ones such as Mrs. Traoré to comfort and console rather than joining in their bonfires.

We live in a world where it seems that the figures are much higher than 1 in 100 or even 1 in 10 who are lost.  All too often the self-proclaimed “religious authorities” are too busy keeping those ducks in their proper rows to notice that their Jesus is off gathering up the lost that they’re ignoring or, worse, reviling.

If we can find it in ourselves to extricate ourselves from the position of a religious authority to walking beside Jesus as he seeks out the lost, we are then truly living into our calling.  The lost are all around us if we only open our eyes.  They are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, and of no faith.  They are of all colors and ages.  They speak all the languages of our world.  They are everywhere and we only have to seek them out to find them.

They aren’t going to find us.  We, like Jesus, have to be the actors on this occasion.  Lost items aren’t going to naturally get themselves found, nor are lost people.  It’s our effort to make and our initiative to take.  We have to break out of the crowd and find the lost to care for them and to help them back.

As I prepared for this sermon, I read another preacher’s sermon on this same passage from Luke.  In her sermon, Rev. Huey talked about a segment of a television news show that she saw.  She wrote:

This week, I watched a segment of Primetime Live in which Diane Sawyer was revisiting – eight years later – several young people she had interviewed on the streets of a city in Oregon. These kids were definitely lost children. At least two of them were gay, and one can only imagine the terrible rejection that drove them from their homes and families. One young boy was asked to describe his dream home. He answered quickly, as if he had dreamed of it often: his dream home would have a marble staircase and a big entrance hall (doesn't that sound like someone who feels the need to be welcomed?). Asked to describe his dream parents, he said "They would have their mouths taped shut so they couldn't yell at me and their hands tied so they couldn't hit me." Years later, this same young man looked back on the years he spent as a runaway; when Diane Sawyer asked him, "Is that what you wanted – for someone to come and find you?" His response: "Yes, that's what I wanted – I wanted someone to care enough to come looking for me."   [by Kathryn Matthews Huey, from sample sermon at http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/september-12-2010.html]

You know, there are times when I feel very lost myself and at those times, I want to be found.   I imagine you each have felt the same.  But I think more often we are called to be the finders in the world.  We are called to care enough to go looking for the lost.  And then when we find them, we can rejoice just like the woman with the coin in the parable.

Onesimus & Philemon

[Note:  This sermon is based on the book of Philemon.  The entire book is quoted in the sermon and is reprinted here in italics throughout.]

 

Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother,
To Philemon our dear friend and co-worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow soldier, and to the church in your house: 

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus.

Thus begins one of Paul’s most personal letters.  Throughout this sermon, I’m going to be breaking up the letter, which is only one chapter long and one entire book in the New Testament.  This will give us a chance to really look at what Paul was saying and how he goes about it.  Much of this sermon has come from a book I have been reading by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan entitled, “The First Paul.” 

Some background first.  Paul is purported to have written several books of the New Testament.  Most are letters to churches, either that Paul had had some hand in founding or, in one case, a church he was planning to visit.  The letters can be divided into three groups:  those seven books that are undisputed by scholars to be by Paul; then there are three letters that scholars agree were not written by Paul; and finally there is a group of three letters which are disputed with scholars disagreeing on whether they were written by Paul or not.  Our letter this morning falls into the first category: it was clearly written by Paul and there’s agreement about that.  Most of Paul’s undisputed letters were written sometime around the year 50 c.e., a couple of decades at least before the earliest gospels were written.  Thus Paul’s letters are the oldest of the New Testament books.

In this letter to Philemon, Paul begins in a standard way of starting a letter during that time.  What’s different is that he calls himself a “prisoner of Christ Jesus” which is unusual for him.  Normally, in his other letters, he names himself as an “apostle of Christ Jesus” but in this case he defines himself as a prisoner.  In fact, in the letter, as we’ll hear, he uses the word “prisoner” twice and the phrase “during my imprisonment” twice also.  It’s important to Paul that Philemon knows he is in prison as he writes this.

You might well be wondering who this Philemon is that he should be the recipient of a personal letter from Paul.  We know little of Philemon, only that he was a Christian and probably fairly well off, and that Paul knew him from visits to his home.  Though Paul addresses this letter to others, it is Philemon who is really the intended reader.

Paul’s letter continues:

I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.
For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus. I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced.

After the niceties of the start of the letter, Paul gets right to the heart of the matter quickly.  It appears that Onesimus, a slave belonging to Philemon, has found his way to Paul and is seeking his aid.  It was not uncommon during this era for slaves, if they find a way to do so, to appeal for mercy at the feet of those who were above their masters.  Thus Onesimus, likely in some trouble with Philemon, having fled from Philemon, appeals to his master’s superior, namely Paul.  It’s interesting to note that Paul is considered Philemon’s superior.  It seems that it’s an agreed upon situation.

It’s in this passage that Paul makes a little pun that we miss because we don’t know the original Greek.  Onesimus means “useful,” and was a common name for slaves of this era.  By saying that Onesimus was useless but is now useful, Paul is emphasizing how the formerly pagan slave has become a brother in Christ.

In fact Paul goes on to say that directly:

Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.

Onesimus, once only a pagan slave, is now a brother; a beloved brother at that.  And not just a brother to me, Paul writes, but also to you, Philemon.  Paul is being sly here and backing Philemon into a corner.  Previously he wrote how Philemon’s good deed regarding Onesimus might be voluntary and here he declares Onesimus his brother, both in the flesh and in the Lord.  What can Philemon do?

Paul begins to conclude his letter:

So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord! Refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say.  One thing more—prepare a guest room for me, for I am hoping through your prayers to be restored to you.

Poor Philemon doesn’t know what hit him.  As if Paul had an account with Philemon.  As if Paul, the itinerant preacher, could repay the cost of a freed slave.  And, oh, by the way, Paul adds, once I’m freed from this prison, I’m going to be stopping by, using your guest room, and checking up on you. 

Paul uses the word “obedience” in this passage, indicating that this isn’t a request at all, but actually a command.  One is not obedient to requests; one complies with requests.  One is obedient to a command.  Paul is pulling no punches here. 

The conclusion of the letter seems fairly formulaic:

Epaphras, my fellow-prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends greetings to you, and so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, my fellow-workers.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.

Think about this though: if this is a personal letter about a private concern between Paul and Philemon (and of course Onesimus), how private does it sound?  At least five other people know about this letter and its contents.  It may be personal but it’s not private.  Those five people will know about the plight of their Christian brother, Onesimus, and likely they, too, will be checking in on Philemon to see how all this ended.

Paul ends the letter with a blessing of grace.  Indeed, Philemon may be feeling like he needs it.  But Paul knows freedom in Christ is for everyone.  And that includes living freely.  In the third chapter of Galatians, Paul writes those famous words that  “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal 3:28)  Christ is the great equalizer in society, including a society run by imperial forces, including a society in which the gap between the rich and the poor grows increasingly.  Paul, truly believing that we are all one in Christ, sets forth to live that by bringing Onesimus to freedom.

© Gerry Brague, September 2010, San Francisco

Rules vs. Wholeness

Luke 13:10-17

Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day." But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?" When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Imagine the scene:  there in the synagogue is Jesus, the exciting teacher who has stirred things up all around, and he is there teaching and preaching.  It’s the sabbath, and therefore the synagogue is full of people, all there to fulfill their religious requirements.  All eyes are on Jesus.

All eyes, that is, except for a pair of a woman, probably hiding in the back, as she has done for the past 18 years.  Her eyes are focused downwards, toward her feet which has been the only way she’s been able to look for almost 2 decades.  Her view for all those years has been of the area around her feet and slanted glances in other directions.  She has been bent over at the waist permanently.  After 2,000 years it’s a little difficult to make a diagnosis; her condition may have been medical or it could have come from too many years of difficult labor.

Luke, the author of our gospel, was a doctor and he says that she was crippled by a spirit that kept her that way.  Luke, by the way, is the only one of the gospel writers to include this story in his account.  Luke the doctor remembers this story and includes it in his gospel.  Perhaps his training had made him more attuned to the healing stories of Jesus.  Luke also includes more women in his gospel.  So it’s natural that a healing story about a woman would catch his attention more so than the other gospel writers.

Jesus is teaching and notices the woman who likely has spent years trying not to be noticed.  Illness and crippling diseases were seen as caused by sin, so the bearer of any ills has not only to deal with the disease but also the social stigma.  So keeping a low profile was probably a part of this woman’s life: keeping out of people’s way, as best you can when you can’t see them, was standard operating procedure for her. 

Jesus, for whatever reason he chooses, decides to heal the woman.  Why this woman, we have to wonder.  Surely there must have been plenty of other people there who needed healing. Don’t we all need some sort of healing, after all?  Was she the most noticeable, hunched over as she was at the back of the room?  No friends or relatives approached Jesus about her.  He just picked her out of the crowd that was gathered there that day. 

Now we don’t notice it but Jesus stepped over the bounds of the rules of their society in two ways that day:  first, he healed on the sabbath, healing being a form of work and working on the sabbath is definitely not allowed; second, he touched the woman, which is something a man just doesn’t do, at least not a woman to whom he’s not related.  We can almost feel the shock and excitement in the air as the crowd witnesses this act that crosses boundaries and breaks open rules that have long guided their world.

Maybe this is what Jesus was talking about in some of the verses that precede this passage, which were the lectionary reading from the gospel last week.  In those verses, Jesus spoke about bringing division into the world, confusing words from the one we call the Prince of Peace.  But certainly Jesus divided the crowd that day into two parties:  the crowd who was electrified by his boundary-bursting healing and the religious leaders who could only see the laws that had to be followed…and weren’t being followed.  Division was clearly a part of Jesus’ ministry, at least it was on this day. 

In the controversy that arises, the leader of the synagogue, no doubt urged on by his fellow religious leaders, says that healings can happen any day of the other six days of the week besides the sabbath.  Following that comment, Jesus then lets loose on them.   He calls them hypocrites, which is as strong an accusation then as it is now.  He points out that the rabbis have taught that it is permissible to untie an ox or a donkey so as to give them a drink of water on the sabbath, another activity that is considered work.  Surely if God cares about donkeys and oxen that much, God will care enough about one of God’s daughters to heal her, sabbath or not.

Actually, Jesus refers to the woman as a “daughter of Abraham” which is the only time that term is used in the whole of the New Testament.  In any case, she is worthy of Jesus’ attention as a child of God.  She is worthy of Jesus’ healing ministrations whether its the sabbath or not.

Jesus breaks all bounds to unloose this woman from her own bounds; that which has bound her in her stooped condition for all these years.  She couldn’t wait another day for her healing and Jesus knew that.  The healing must come now, on the sabbath, on the day when no work is to be done.

The critics of Jesus could fume and fret all they wanted.  But Jesus was not going to give an inch.  This was an important event that needed attention right now.  Jesus chose healing, and caring, and wholeness over the rituals and rules that had governed his culture for centuries.  Jesus opted to bring that daughter of Abraham to completion over the strictures that would have bound him as tightly as that woman herself was bound by her condition.


How often do we choose rules and rituals over healing and wholeness?  How often do we opt for the status quo rather than bringing our world a little closer to God’s realm?  I think it’s more often than we’d like to admit.  I think too often we take the attitude that it’s just easier to get along than it is to stir up trouble.

Oftentimes our rules are around possessions for example and what we own being what we are.  The unspoken rules of our culture are that more is better:  the more you possess the better you are.  There’s even a movement within Christianity called the prosperity gospel which says that if God really loves you, God will reward you with greater wealth and more possessions.  And too often, we do like to think that’s true.  For many of us, in fact, it might be a comforting thought. 

Though we might disagree with the premise of this belief, we don’t often act like it.  We too often go along with the rules and rituals of our culture and work hard at accumulating rather than seeking the justice that God would have which distributes wealth among all of us, throughout all of God’s children.

Jesus healed the woman who was bent over at the waist against several proscriptions of his day.  But he saw a chance for wholeness for one of God’s children and he seized the opportunity.  May we be watchful to guard against ways that we might be more like the religious leaders of Jesus’ time, holding tightly to rules and rituals of our culture that no longer serve us.  May we be more like Jesus, bursting forth through boundaries that serve no purpose other than to keep things as they are.

Never Alone

Hebrews 11:29-12:2

By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land, but when the Egyptians attempted to do so they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell after they had been encircled for seven days. By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had received the spies in peace. 

And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets—who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received their dead by resurrection. Others were tortured, refusing to accept release, in order to obtain a better resurrection. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.
Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, without us, be made perfect. 
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. (NRSV)

We know precious little about the book of Hebrews.  We have no idea who the author was; we don’t know who the intended audience was; and we’re not exactly sure when it was written.  But on some of these points we can make guesses or good estimates based on the information within the book itself.

As Dan Clendenin, the author of a weekly website I often turn to in my sermon preparation called “Journey with Jesus,” put it,  “The recipients of the letter are second-generation believers who heard the gospel from first-generation Christians (2:3). The text's elegant Greek, its quotations from the Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament (LXX), and its distinctly Jewish themes all suggest that the readers were a community of Hellenistic Jewish believers.”

So that tells us something.  Clendenin goes on to explain that since the book doesn’t mention the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in the year 70, it was probably written sometime before then. 

But it’s clear that the original recipients were under some sort of persecution.  Given that they were second-generation hearers of the gospel, that put it later in the century, rather than nearer to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus in the thirties. 

Of course, we all know the famous story about Nero fiddling while Rome burned.  Whether that’s true or not, whether Nero actually played some musical instrument during the conflagration that devoured parts of Rome in the year 64, we do know that he sought to blame the fire on the Christians of the time.  Nero was not, we might say today, the most stable of rulers.  Mental stability doesn’t seem to go hand in hand with being a ruler, as we know from some of the rulers who held sway during the last century, such as Hitler, Stalin, Mao, and Hussein. 

Nero, though, in his attempts to pin the fire on the Christians of the time, went to great lengths to persecute them, making a sport of the manner he would kill them.  He would dress them up in animal skins to be mauled to death by dogs before cheering crowds.  They were crucified and set on fire to light the night.  To put it mildly, it wasn’t always easy being a Christian during this era.

And so the author of Hebrews needs to encourage his little flock of believers through the persecutions that they may be facing.  With the oppression of mighty Rome on one side and a distrustful Jewish leadership on the other, they indeed needed all the encouragement they could get.

So when encouragement is needed, where does one turn?  To the great cloud of witnesses that surround us.  I can’t help but wonder whether Oscar Hammerstein had this passage in mind when he wrote a particularly stirring bit of lyrics from the musical “Carousel” with his collaborator Richard Rodgers.

When you walk through a storm
keep your chin up high
and don’t be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the storm
is a golden sky
and the sweet, silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
walk on through the rain,
though your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone,
you’ll never walk alone.

Indeed, we find we are not alone when the storms buffet us and toss us about like a dried leaf.  Because the author of Hebrews, along with the more recent prophetic words of Oscar Hammerstein, reminds us that all around us are those who have been through trials and tribulations and are here for the specific purpose of cheering us on.

In “The Message” bible, Eugene Peterson translates one of our verses from Hebrews this morning in this way:  “God had a better plan for us: that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours.”  I like that image; that without the faith of those who have gone before, those who have struggled before, those who have persevered before, my faith is incomplete.  And likewise, without my faith, theirs does not attain fulfillment.  Both parts of the puzzle are necessary to complete the picture.

We don’t face the same turmoils that Christians of the first century faced, without a doubt and we thank God for that.  But the struggles of those early Christians live on in and through us.  Because of their struggles and persecutions, through their faith, we are able to be the worshipping community that we are today. 

The author of Hebrews knew his congregation and in his writing, he picked out some of the superheroes of the faith:  starting with Abraham and Moses, just prior to today’s reading and including Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, and Samuel.  These were names that the original recipients would have known quite a bit about.  And doubtless a list like that generated another list in the hearers’ minds.  Much as it does today.

We can remember Martin Luther King, Jr., Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Oscar Romero, who would have turned 93 on this very day had he not been assassinated 30 years ago.  King, Bonhoeffer, and Romero knew the cost of faith even in the 20th century.  All three paid with their lives for their faith and are martyrs of our time.  And each of them is in the cloud of witnesses that surrounds us now, urging us forward, telling us to hold on and hold tightly to what is dear.

We do not walk alone.  We are indeed surrounded by witness after witness after witness  who urge us to run the race before us with perseverance.

Impressionism as Avant Garde

Dear Friends,

Allen and I went to the de Young Museum recently to see the “Birth of Impressionism” special exhibit that is running there right now.  If you have even the slightest interest in visual arts or painting, you should find time to see this show.  It traces the beginnings of impressionism with works from the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, which is going through renovations at present.  The show runs at the de Young until 6 September. 

Impressionism, which found its home in Paris at the end of the 19th century, was a sharp departure from the classical art that had been the standard prior to this era.  Impressionist painters couldn’t get their paintings hung in the salon and had to have their own shows, for which they were derided, in order to be seen. 

These paintings that we now hold in such esteem, that are truly masters, were avant garde by the standards of the time.  Some laughed at the artists who were producing them and very few took them seriously.  What a difference a century can make. 

We have to be careful what we deride and consider foolish, and not just in the world of art.   For what we think today is impossible or too far out there for reality may soon become not only possible, but the new standard.

The ruling about Proposition 8 by Judge Walker is another such change that, not too long ago, would have been considered a foolish goal.  Marriage between two people of the same gender would have been thought of as too far out for any reasonable person to think about.  Even among gay and lesbian people, not that long ago, marriage seemed such an unattainable goal that it was deemed not worthy of putting effort into.  But here we are with a federal judge declaring that it’s a constitutional right.

Watch what you consider outré or avant garde...it may soon be the norm by which all else is measured.

Peace,
Gerry

Listening and Doing

Luke 10:38-42






Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."

I must admit to being somewhat ill at ease when it comes to today’s passage from Luke.  I thought about avoiding it entirely and preaching on one of the other lessons from the lectionary but was drawn back to it.  I do realize that the Bible isn’t there to make me feel comfortable.  It may be comforting at times but it’s not always comfortable.

To understand this passage we have to look a little more closely at the context in which the gospel writer, Luke, places it.  Jesus is on the road to Jerusalem, where of course he will be tried and executed as a criminal by the powers that be.  Immediately preceding this passage, a lawyer asks Jesus about how he can go about inheriting eternal life.

Jesus talks about loving God and loving neighbor.  In other words, Jesus talks about relationships and how important they are.  On this journey to Jerusalem, Jesus is trying to teach about what it means to be a disciple.  What it means to follow.  Then Jesus ends up telling the lawyer, and the rest of us, the parable of the good Samaritan in which a stranger, a hated stranger at that, does good toward one who is injured along the road.  It’s a tale of doing good deeds and taking action when others have not done so.

Then we reach today’s passage in which Jesus stops by at his friends’ home, the house of Mary and Martha.  We know from other passages that Mary and Martha had a brother, Lazarus, but he is not mentioned this time through.  While at their home, Mary sits at Jesus’ feet and listens to his teaching while Martha busies herself with all that goes into hosting a beloved guest.  When Martha complains to Jesus that Mary isn’t really helping out at all, Jesus takes her down a peg in telling her that Mary has made the wisest choice, which is to sit and listen to him.  He seems to belittle Martha for all her busyness in the process.

Those who make their livings commenting on the Bible have pointed out that Luke has a particular emphasis throughout his gospel on hearing AND doing.  So this passage this morning must be read in that light.  And that’s why its proximity to the story about the good Samaritan is so important.

Certainly the Samaritan is a doer.  He stops to help an injured traveler and does a lot for him: providing care there at the roadside, transporting him, paying for his continued care and so on.  It makes us wonder how that story can immediately precede this one about listening?

It precedes it because both are important.  You can’t have one without the other: it’s listening and doing.  It’s not either or.  Jesus lays it all out here one, two, three:  be in right relationship with God and neighbor, do good works, and listen with all your heart.

So why would such a story make me ill at ease?  Well, of course, what makes me uncomfortable is that door over there. [pointing at the kitchen door]  That door and thousands upon thousands like it across Christendom.  And all the hours that are wracked up behind those doors. And all the doing that happens that’s just like Martha’s busying of herself. 

No preacher in his or her right mind is going to get up this morning and, using this text, tell people to stop all their good works, whether it’s in the kitchen, at the coffee hour table, in the food pantry, at the homeless shelter or anywhere else for that matter.  Too much good comes of all the doing that goes on in churches just like this one that to misinterpret this passage would be a major mistake.  And I don’t believe that Jesus was saying that either.

But Jesus was making a point with Martha that day.  And once again, we have to look at context to understand.  A woman’s place, in that day and place, was definitely not at the feet of a teacher.  A woman did not get the benefit of a teacher, none-the-less one of Jesus’ stature. He had his disciples for that, always men.  But Jesus always made a point of speaking with women, something unheard of in his time.  And Mary, in sitting at his feet, was breaking convention along with him.

Jesus was not discounting the work that Martha was doing.  He was saying however that Mary had seen an opportunity that is rarely afforded her and took it.  And she was rewarded for her decision with Jesus’ affirmation of her choice. 

Taken together, the parable of the Samaritan who helps his fellow traveler, along with the story which took place in Mary & Martha’s home, brings us back to Luke’s emphasis on hearing and doing.  We need both. 

We need to listen: by studying scripture, by attending worship, by conversing with each other, and by all the other ways that we can listen in the broadest sense of the word.  And we need to act:  we need to be doing the good works that all that listening calls forth from us. 

And of course, all of this springs out of the right relationships that Jesus set forth with the lawyer:  to love God with all one’s heart, soul, strength, and mind and to love your neighbor as yourself.  From there we move into the listening and doing that is so important. 

Don’t think that what happens behind those doors isn’t important.  Or if you do, don’t try to use today’s passage as your excuse for the way you think.  Our calls are clearly to listen and to act.