Jonah 3:10-4:11; Matthew 20: 1-16
MP3 File
I’ve entitled this sermon, “rejecting grace.” The more Presbyterian version would be “resisting grace” because one of John Calvin’s core teachings is that grace is “irresistible.” Rejecting is a stronger word, and I think today’s Scriptures warrant that word. Have you ever rejected grace? Why would you? We all love grace – at least when it applies to us. Who doesn’t like getting free stuff – whether it’s winning the lottery, finding a $10 bill on the ground, or receiving a gift totally out of the blue? We may eventually get uncomfortable being on the dole too long, but most of us think we could get used to it. We also love stories of grace in which someone helps out another person in need without any conditions – maybe not as much as the first kind, but we like them. We’re not bad people. We’re actually quite compassionate. Of course, when we hear a story like the one about the laborers in the vineyard we’re not so sure grace hasn’t gotten a little out of hand. And when the bill comes to $700 billion, the recipients are large corporations, and we’re actually the ones securing the loan, our feelings are also more mixed. But, as Willam Baxa likes to say, “That’s another story.”
The bottom line is we do struggle with grace. On the one hand we’re attracted to it – it feels good, life seems to be better when grace abounds, and we know that sometimes we couldn’t live without it. On the other hand it offends our sense of righteousness – it doesn’t seem fair, it doesn’t seem responsible, and it doesn’t work as public policy. How do we hold the two together? That was Jonah’s issue and that was the issue for the workers who had worked all day in the parable.
Jesus revealed in his life and his teaching how God holds all of this together and it got him into big trouble. The religious leaders of his day had allowed their pride to make them defend orthodoxy more than God does. When that happens, we actually twist orthodoxy into what it is not. The lessons in Jonah’s story and that of the laborers in the vineyard, offer a way to hold truth that allows us to experience grace ourselves, permit others to receive it as well, and live with the ambiguity it exposes in our belief system. We don’t know if Jonah ever got it, because the story ends with an accusation and a question: “You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night. Should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?” We don’t know about Jonah, but we are left with the opportunity to get it right.
I’ve observed something for years at Immanuel I think Jonah’s story can help us deal with. Immanuel has a reputation for being a community of grace. Some people who know that have taken advantage of us. Certain members see that happen and resent it; they wish we’d be more careful about whom we help and whom we include. At the same time, most folks have come to be very grateful for what they have received here. But I’ve also known a number of people over the years that have initially been drawn into this community because they are attracted to the grace they find here. They’ve told me that they had never experienced such welcome, such acceptance in a church.
But after a while some folks struggle or even end up leaving because they discover that we accept a particular group of people that they disapprove of – some left ten years ago when they realized that Hispanics were now a permanent part of the congregation; others disapproved of our welcoming illegal immigrants because they were breaking the law; still others could not accept that we refused to insist that people learn English in order to be members here; others couldn’t believe we welcome gays and lesbians, or Catholics, or some other group. Sometimes people are actually okay with the fact that we welcome these groups; the real struggle comes when they come to understand that we don’t just accept them because we’re nice people but because our theology – what we believe the Bible teaches – says that those groups may even have a special place in God’s heart precisely because they are so often rejected by religious people. So, like Jonah and Jesus’ contemporaries, we need to learn how to hold our righteousness more like God does.
Jonah got angry at God for being so indiscriminate in spreading grace around. Like Jonah, we need to understand why we can both love and reject grace at the same time, and how we might unify these different reactions in our bodies. Today’s passage is the tail end of Jonah’s story. The first three chapters tell the rest of the story. God called Jonah to go tell the Ninevites that their wickedness had come to God’s attention. Jonah responded by going in the exact opposite direction to Tarshish. A storm arose that almost capsized the boat he was on. He was thrown overboard when it was determined that he was the reason for the storm. He was swallowed by a big fish, in whose belly he spent three days and nights. The fish spewed him onto the beach, and Jonah heard God call him once again. Hmmm. This time he decided maybe he would go to Nineveh after all. Imagine that. In fact, imagine this foreigner walking up and down the city streets shouting, “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” To his dismay and utter disgust, the people actually repented. So God decided not to overthrow the city. Jonah was furious. That’s why he hadn’t wanted to go to Nineveh in the first place. He knew God was like that. Jonah was a righteous man and he hated unrighteousness. He loved God except for that annoying overly permissive part of God’s nature.
It turns out this is fairly common among religious people. We love God, and we’re rightly motivated to try to live according to God’s ways. But sometimes it infuriates us when that doesn’t seem to make any difference. The lives of people who reject God seem to go as well as ours. What’s going on here? The story of Jonah helps us see that what we often fail to see is that God’s way of holding righteousness is not the same as our way of holding it. If you’ll permit me to say it, religious people have an amazing tendency to make an idol out of the law against idolatry. An idol is anything that we make more important than God and God’s freedom. Jonah’s aversion to the idolatry of the Ninevites caused him to idolize his own attitude toward them, leaving no room for the freedom of God to be compassionate. He would rather die than see God seemingly break God's own law against idolatry. Jonah's idolatry of the law against idolatry blinded him to the fact that God can still hold firm against idolatry while having compassion on the idolaters. (Sandor Goodhart, Sacrificing Commentary, ch. 5, "'Out of the Fish's Belly': Prophecy, Sacrifice, and Repentance in the Book of Jonah," pp. 139-167)
The two parts come together when we realize that the greatest danger of idolatrous behavior is that in condemning others we end up condemning ourselves. Jonah states this himself, though he doesn’t know it: "for it is better for me to die than to live." We must have compassion first not upon others but upon ourselves, or, more accurately, upon others precisely as we recognize ourselves in those others. We must give up judging & condemning ourselves and engage in forgiving ourselves.
James Alison has pointed out that what controls all of this in us are pride and shame. He quotes Andrew Sullivan in a line that catches it exactly: "Shame forces you prematurely to run away from yourself; pride forces you prematurely to expose yourself." (Love Undetectable, London: Chatto & Windus, 1998, p. 92) In Jonah’s case, faced with the prospect of shouting at an uncomprehending Nineveh with the hollow pride of those who love neither themselves nor those whom they must convince, Jonah, who knew at the root of his heart that he had been given something to say, went into exile. Shame forced him prematurely to run away from the presence of God. He didn't yet know that the presence of God is where he is as someone loved: in fleeing the presence of God, he was running away from himself. But thank God Jonah fled! Think how much more damage is caused by those who are not vulnerable to their own shame, who really do manage to fool themselves that their righteousness and God's are cut from the same cloth.
We see Jonah’s pride at work in his interaction with the sailors on the boat in the storm. He has the sense of superiority of being God’s man amongst a bunch of pagan sailors. When the worried sailors accuse him, Jonah draws himself up with all the superiority of his birthright and tells them, “I am a Hebrew; I know what is really going on.” After all, in his view, it is the Hebrew God who is in charge of all that surrounds them. The shouts of the panicking sailors summon up in him the "pride" part of his being -- the knowledge of his faith and his privilege in having been addressed by God. He has yet to allow the word of God to get to the deeper part of him, his shame, where he might be loved, and so stop causing all this chaos. At that level he is still running away; he can't act out of the calm of one who is loved. So pride and shame were the conflicting facets of Jonah's soul as he pitched over the side of the vessel, and into death. "And the Lord appointed a great fish to swallow up Jonah; and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights."
Maybe the great fish is nothing other than God holding Jonah in the midst of the darkness and fear. It is as if, in the midst of a suicidal depression, there where even a person of faith can find no foothold, where there is no remedy, where ones very being is disintegrating and there is no light, nor even a tunnel at the end of which a light might be, just a downward sucking whirlpool which drags you out of being, even yet you are held in being by a force which is not your own.
Jonah could see and feel the darkness, and yet he was not aware that, in the midst of that, he was being stitched together, reached, held at a depth which he had been unable to imagine.
What has to happen to eventually get it right? Jonah is called the son of Amittai, which means "My Truth." The whole story is set up as one in which someone who is wedded to his own truth comes to learn God's truth the hard way. He knows what’s wrong with the gentile world, but he could only hear half of God’s word: a stern word of rebuke that he was to pass on to others.
Luckily, Jonah knew that were he to obey God, God would certainly break through his ordered adhesion to true religion, and he would come into contact with a much more turbulent, stormy world, the world of shame and pride and fear and hatred that is the underside of all ordered righteousness. That is exactly what happened. Jonah found that he had been reached, that there was a real "he" that could be held and put together, so for the first time he finds himself able to do something utterly new: "Then Jonah prayed to the Lord his God from the belly of the fish" (Jon 2:1)
When we allow ourselves to be broken by the confusion between God’s righteousness and God’s compassion, we are on the road from being wedded to our own truth to learning God’s way of holding these two qualities together. Believe me, I wish there were some other way. But as I read the Scriptures, and as I read my own life, I’m pretty sure there isn’t. It may not sound like good news to say, “let yourself be broken.” But I can assure you that there is Life with a capital L on the other side.
September 23, 2008
September 21, 2008
September 17, 2008 + Be prepared when the call comes + Hayward Fong
Matthew 25:1-13
In order to better understand this parable, we need first to look at the several steps that lead to a marriage in this Jewish culture. There were three stages.
First, there was the engagement. This was carried out by the parents or by professional match-makers. At this stage the couple could be mere children and probably had never even seen each other. This custom still exists among the Jews and other cultures. This step was taken to obtain an untainted heritage for their children since pure blooded Jews were becoming increasingly rare. The strange thing is that this way has in practice produced happy marriages.
Second, there is the betrothal. This happens when the couple near marriageable age. It is carried out with feasting and ceremony almost as elaborate as the marriage itself. This stage was absolutely binding and could not be broken except by divorce. If the man died, the woman was technically a widow.
The third stage, the formal marriage takes place one year later. It is a time of great joy and celebration. Everyone joins in the festival and in the marriage procession to the home of the newly weds. The Jews have a saying, “Everyone from six to sixty will follow the marriage drum.” Even the Rabbis would leave their studies to which they were devoted because marriage was something given by God.
The point of this parable depends on the marriage custom which may seem strange to us. The couple did not go away but stayed at home for what we would call the honeymoon. The week following the marriage was one continuous feast when the couple held court. They were actually called and treated like king and queen. It was the opportunity to share in that week of glad festivity that the foolish virgins lost.
The picture of the girls waiting for the bridegroom was the kind of thing that happened and still happens. If the groom came from any distance there was no telling when he could come and since he was a supremely honored guest, not to welcome him when he arrived, would be a serious breach of manners.
While the groom is on his way, the bridesmaids would keep the bride company with dance and music till he arrived. One of the tricks was to catch the bridal party “napping” by arriving at an unexpected hour such as the middle of the night. The only warning the bridal party may get is an announcement by a groomsman, “Behold! the bridegroom is coming!” Since this may happen at any time the bridal party has to be ready to go out into the street to meet him whenever he chooses to come. Other important points are that no one is allowed in the streets after dark without a lighted lamp, and, when the bridegroom has arrived, and the door has been shut, late-comers to the ceremony are not admitted.
This ancient custom still exists. In the parable the ten virgins were awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom. They did not know when he would come. Those who were wise were prepared for his coming no matter when it happened. Those who were foolish let their oil run down and were caught unprepared. The lamps were rags soaked in oil and the oil needed to be replenished. While they sought to remedy their oversight the door was shut and they were shut out.
It may well be that when we first heard this story, there is an element of cruelty in it to our western ears; but it relates an incident which must have been a commonplace and which simply reflects the everyday life and customs of the people among whom Jesus lived and taught.
To the Jews who heard this parable for the first time it must have had special significance. They were a people ready for a full display of God’s truth. For centuries God had been preparing them as His people; and yet when His Son came they refused Him and in the end crucified Him. Because they did that, they shut themselves out from the Kingdom. Now, it was nobody’s fault but their own. God had done everything to open the door to them and they had shut it on themselves.
What are the lessons to be learned from this parable?
First and foremost, the parable teaches the necessity of being prepared. There are certain things that are not possible of preparing at the last minute. Unless they have been prepared well in advance they cannot be prepared at all. You cannot get the knowledge needed for a test when you enter the examination room. It is that way with all the skills of life.
I remember an incident involving one of my engineering professors in college. He was called in to fix a complex piece of equipment at a plant engaged in producing weapons in World War II. The people at the plant weren’t able to figure out what was wrong. The professor was there a short time, made a few minor adjustments with his tools and got the equipment back on line. He sent them a bill for two hundred fifty dollars which was a tidy sum in those days. The company wrote back asking for a detailed breakdown of his billing since it seemed excessive. He sent back a detailed statement: Time to repair machine $10, how to do it $240.
The important thing is knowing how to do it and that knowledge is not something that can be acquired at the last minute. It has to be stored up over time. That is why the time to start learning begins with youth. The golden age of memory is from seven to eleven; the younger we are, the more easily we learn. There are things that we may never learn at all unless we learned them when we were young. That is not to say we should stop learning in the golden years of life. We have both the need and capacity to learn even in our retirement years. What we don’t use, we’ll lose.
The parable teaches us to be ready to seize the opportunity when it comes. Sometimes we read of an understudy who went on the stage, when the star was unable to perform, and gain success. Last week, Tom Brady, quarterback of the New England Patriots, who had led his team to two Super Bowl championships, collapsed on the playing field in the first quarter with a broken knee. His replacement, Matt Cassell, who last started a game at quarterback in high school, rushed onto the field. He led his team to victory because he was prepared to take over when needed. By diligent preparation he was ready to seize the opportunity when it came.
If that is true of the ordinary things of life how much more so of the greater things. The most important event of all is that some day we will stand in the presence of God. For that we must make ourselves ready. There is a Scottish expression, “Thatch the house when the weather is warm.” So when the weather of life is calm, we should be studying the word of God so we can be ready when the storms of life strike. We will then be firmly anchored to weather what ever befalls us. It is the sensible thing to have things ready for foreseeable emergencies and for the greatest emergency of all.
This parable lays down a principle that certain things cannot be borrowed. The oil could not be borrowed in time of necessity. There are two things of supreme importance which cannot be borrowed. Faith cannot be borrowed. A common charge is laid upon our generation, that we are living on the spiritual investment of our progenitors. What do we mean by this? We want the world to be a place where human life is respected, where virtue is honored, where women and children are safe, where men obey the law of God.
This gives rise to two points. What are we doing to keep it so? We cannot have a world like that without, for instance, a strong church. Are we pulling our weight within the church? We cannot have a world like that without people of prayer who live close to God. Are we making ourselves into such men and women? We owe the good in the world to our forefathers; we live on their spiritual investment, but it is our duty to maintain that heritage and not simply live on it.
But there is something more personal than that. It may be that the heritage our generation has received will go far to keep the world in the right way. But there is a more personal problem. When we are faced with some overmastering temptation, or some difficult task, we cannot conquer that temptation or shoulder that task in someone else’s strength. We must do so on our own. It is therefore incumbent upon us to build up a faith which is our own faith and which cannot be shaken.
For another thing, we cannot borrow character. It is pleasant to depend on others. But some things that cannot be borrowed. When it comes to living life, we have to live it by ourselves as we are. What makes this doubly important is that in the end, character is all we can take with us from this world; and the only character we can take is our own.
The Jews had a proverb, “A door that is shut is not so easily opened.” We must take care that we do not shut doors upon ourselves. John Greenleaf wrote:
“For all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest words are these: ‘It might have been.’”
We must ever be alert lest we let slip the opportunities to win the things we ought to have and to be the people we ought to be.
In order to better understand this parable, we need first to look at the several steps that lead to a marriage in this Jewish culture. There were three stages.
First, there was the engagement. This was carried out by the parents or by professional match-makers. At this stage the couple could be mere children and probably had never even seen each other. This custom still exists among the Jews and other cultures. This step was taken to obtain an untainted heritage for their children since pure blooded Jews were becoming increasingly rare. The strange thing is that this way has in practice produced happy marriages.
Second, there is the betrothal. This happens when the couple near marriageable age. It is carried out with feasting and ceremony almost as elaborate as the marriage itself. This stage was absolutely binding and could not be broken except by divorce. If the man died, the woman was technically a widow.
The third stage, the formal marriage takes place one year later. It is a time of great joy and celebration. Everyone joins in the festival and in the marriage procession to the home of the newly weds. The Jews have a saying, “Everyone from six to sixty will follow the marriage drum.” Even the Rabbis would leave their studies to which they were devoted because marriage was something given by God.
The point of this parable depends on the marriage custom which may seem strange to us. The couple did not go away but stayed at home for what we would call the honeymoon. The week following the marriage was one continuous feast when the couple held court. They were actually called and treated like king and queen. It was the opportunity to share in that week of glad festivity that the foolish virgins lost.
The picture of the girls waiting for the bridegroom was the kind of thing that happened and still happens. If the groom came from any distance there was no telling when he could come and since he was a supremely honored guest, not to welcome him when he arrived, would be a serious breach of manners.
While the groom is on his way, the bridesmaids would keep the bride company with dance and music till he arrived. One of the tricks was to catch the bridal party “napping” by arriving at an unexpected hour such as the middle of the night. The only warning the bridal party may get is an announcement by a groomsman, “Behold! the bridegroom is coming!” Since this may happen at any time the bridal party has to be ready to go out into the street to meet him whenever he chooses to come. Other important points are that no one is allowed in the streets after dark without a lighted lamp, and, when the bridegroom has arrived, and the door has been shut, late-comers to the ceremony are not admitted.
This ancient custom still exists. In the parable the ten virgins were awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom. They did not know when he would come. Those who were wise were prepared for his coming no matter when it happened. Those who were foolish let their oil run down and were caught unprepared. The lamps were rags soaked in oil and the oil needed to be replenished. While they sought to remedy their oversight the door was shut and they were shut out.
It may well be that when we first heard this story, there is an element of cruelty in it to our western ears; but it relates an incident which must have been a commonplace and which simply reflects the everyday life and customs of the people among whom Jesus lived and taught.
To the Jews who heard this parable for the first time it must have had special significance. They were a people ready for a full display of God’s truth. For centuries God had been preparing them as His people; and yet when His Son came they refused Him and in the end crucified Him. Because they did that, they shut themselves out from the Kingdom. Now, it was nobody’s fault but their own. God had done everything to open the door to them and they had shut it on themselves.
What are the lessons to be learned from this parable?
First and foremost, the parable teaches the necessity of being prepared. There are certain things that are not possible of preparing at the last minute. Unless they have been prepared well in advance they cannot be prepared at all. You cannot get the knowledge needed for a test when you enter the examination room. It is that way with all the skills of life.
I remember an incident involving one of my engineering professors in college. He was called in to fix a complex piece of equipment at a plant engaged in producing weapons in World War II. The people at the plant weren’t able to figure out what was wrong. The professor was there a short time, made a few minor adjustments with his tools and got the equipment back on line. He sent them a bill for two hundred fifty dollars which was a tidy sum in those days. The company wrote back asking for a detailed breakdown of his billing since it seemed excessive. He sent back a detailed statement: Time to repair machine $10, how to do it $240.
The important thing is knowing how to do it and that knowledge is not something that can be acquired at the last minute. It has to be stored up over time. That is why the time to start learning begins with youth. The golden age of memory is from seven to eleven; the younger we are, the more easily we learn. There are things that we may never learn at all unless we learned them when we were young. That is not to say we should stop learning in the golden years of life. We have both the need and capacity to learn even in our retirement years. What we don’t use, we’ll lose.
The parable teaches us to be ready to seize the opportunity when it comes. Sometimes we read of an understudy who went on the stage, when the star was unable to perform, and gain success. Last week, Tom Brady, quarterback of the New England Patriots, who had led his team to two Super Bowl championships, collapsed on the playing field in the first quarter with a broken knee. His replacement, Matt Cassell, who last started a game at quarterback in high school, rushed onto the field. He led his team to victory because he was prepared to take over when needed. By diligent preparation he was ready to seize the opportunity when it came.
If that is true of the ordinary things of life how much more so of the greater things. The most important event of all is that some day we will stand in the presence of God. For that we must make ourselves ready. There is a Scottish expression, “Thatch the house when the weather is warm.” So when the weather of life is calm, we should be studying the word of God so we can be ready when the storms of life strike. We will then be firmly anchored to weather what ever befalls us. It is the sensible thing to have things ready for foreseeable emergencies and for the greatest emergency of all.
This parable lays down a principle that certain things cannot be borrowed. The oil could not be borrowed in time of necessity. There are two things of supreme importance which cannot be borrowed. Faith cannot be borrowed. A common charge is laid upon our generation, that we are living on the spiritual investment of our progenitors. What do we mean by this? We want the world to be a place where human life is respected, where virtue is honored, where women and children are safe, where men obey the law of God.
This gives rise to two points. What are we doing to keep it so? We cannot have a world like that without, for instance, a strong church. Are we pulling our weight within the church? We cannot have a world like that without people of prayer who live close to God. Are we making ourselves into such men and women? We owe the good in the world to our forefathers; we live on their spiritual investment, but it is our duty to maintain that heritage and not simply live on it.
But there is something more personal than that. It may be that the heritage our generation has received will go far to keep the world in the right way. But there is a more personal problem. When we are faced with some overmastering temptation, or some difficult task, we cannot conquer that temptation or shoulder that task in someone else’s strength. We must do so on our own. It is therefore incumbent upon us to build up a faith which is our own faith and which cannot be shaken.
For another thing, we cannot borrow character. It is pleasant to depend on others. But some things that cannot be borrowed. When it comes to living life, we have to live it by ourselves as we are. What makes this doubly important is that in the end, character is all we can take with us from this world; and the only character we can take is our own.
The Jews had a proverb, “A door that is shut is not so easily opened.” We must take care that we do not shut doors upon ourselves. John Greenleaf wrote:
“For all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest words are these: ‘It might have been.’”
We must ever be alert lest we let slip the opportunities to win the things we ought to have and to be the people we ought to be.
September 14, 2008 + Generations Bound by Forgiveness + Frank Alton
Genesis 50:15-21, Romans 14:1-12
MP3 File
I want to begin this sermon with a confession. Last July when I first looked at the lectionary texts assigned for this morning, one by one I decided I couldn’t preach on any of them. The subject matter of each passage was too closely tied to what our community has been dealing with around my disclosure regarding my sexual identity. I figured people would think I was that my choice of texts was an attempt to manipulate things in my self interest. I shared that thought with one of our elders a couple of weeks ago. The response was that maybe it would be manipulation not to preach on the lectionary texts and that we as a congregation need to let the Scriptures speak to what we are dealing with. So there it is. I’ve chosen two of the four lectionary texts. At this evening’s congregational meeting I will share more thoughts about what has been going on these last two months.
This morning we’re celebrating 120 years of ministry at Immanuel. Ten years ago when we celebrated the 110th anniversary members offered blessings from one generation to another. Today we are again focusing on the generations of Immanuel. The two passages deal with two aspects of the word generations. The Genesis passage calls to mind the generations that have passed away and the generations to come. During our All Together Worship we remembered the generations of Immanuel that brought us to where we are today, but have now passed away.
The Romans passage speaks of generations that overlap each other at the same time. For example, Immanuel today has members who are part of what is called the Builders Generation, the Baby Boomer Generation, Generation X, Y and Z. Paul in Romans is dealing with differences between contemporary generations in the church, and their different cultural values, which tend to get moral values attached to them.
What binds together the generations in both senses of the word is forgiveness. Forgiveness is one of the most difficult tasks that human beings encounter throughout their lives. It’s made even more difficult by confusion about who needs to forgive whom, when forgiveness is appropriate, and the relationship between power and forgiveness. Sometimes the wrong party is manipulated into doing the forgiving, when the other party actually bears more responsibility because of the power differential. We don’t have time to develop that this morning but I want us to be aware of those dynamics. Instead I want to examine the dynamics of forgiveness across generations in these two senses of the word.
Let’s start with the Genesis story. In case you forget or don’t know that story, Joseph was the golden boy of Jacob’s twelve sons. Jacob made no secret of the fact that Joseph was his favorite child. That doesn’t usually make for great relationships among siblings. Joseph didn’t help matters either. At one point Joseph had a dream that all of his siblings bowed down to him. Now some of us might have dreams like that; but we’re usually relationally wise enough to keep them to ourselves. Joseph decided to share his dream with his brothers – and that after tattling on them to their father. They already didn’t like him; now they were furious. One day they decided to take their revenge by throwing him in a pit and selling him as a slave. Joseph managed to get noticed by the King of Egypt and ended up being the Minister of Finance. As a result he was in a position to save Egypt as well as his own family.
In this morning’s passage their father Jacob has just died. The brothers realize that their father might have been the only one who kept Joseph from taking revenge on them. They are consumed by guilt, which leads them to focus on the past and on the generation that just passed with the death of their father. Joseph, on the other hand, is focused on the dream that has now become clearer to him. The dream is not about people bowing down to him but about preserving numerous people, and providing for “you and your little ones.”
The enduring power of guilt and its resultant fear is a matter which every family knows all too well. Like other families, this one knows that the only one who can break the cycle and banish the guilt is the wronged party, the one whom they most fear. We are told they “came and fell down before Joseph and said, ‘Behold we are your servants.’” The dream that Joseph shared with them way back in Chapter 37 is now unwittingly fulfilled by the brothers. They are guilty and afraid, majoring in the minor. The politics of the family are not the major concern of the storyteller. They are subordinated to the power of the dream. Joseph’s siblings are preoccupied with guilt and fear in part because they don’t know about the larger agenda of the dream, but also because they are busy with their betrayals which have such destructive staying power.
The storyteller is helping us understand that the dream has been at work all along, and hasn’t been diminished by the moral issues of the brothers or of anyone else. Joseph finally understood the centrality of the dream, even though he hadn’t understood much about family dynamics around golden boys. Walter Breuggemann points out that the storyteller is showing that one of the conversions we need is from guilt which restricts on the one hand to dreams which liberate on the other. As we think about the subject of forgiveness, one of the ways to make it more possible is to make guilt less important. If we focus less on guilt and more on God’s dream and call on our lives to serve the future, perhaps our eyes will be opened to notice how God accomplishes her purpose in ways that surprise us. It doesn’t eliminate the need for forgiveness, but puts it in a different perspective.
The church hasn’t always understood this. We’ve often wasted our birthright of grace by trying to make sure people feel guilty enough about their sins so they will turn away from them. The Gospel – whether in the Hebrew Scriptures or the Greek – invites us to focus on the promise and dream of the reign of God more than on the guilt.
What does this mean for us at Immanuel? Past generations made many mistakes. We have heard stories about how racist they were about membership and how sexist they were about women in leadership. From a scriptural perspective what matters is that they carried the dream forward so that we could inherit it from them and take it to the next stage. We also know that we have made mistakes. Sometimes we’ve squandered the inheritance prior generations left us. We could wallow in guilt around that and become fearful about the call of God to develop the dream. Or we can follow in Joseph’s foot steps and focus on the centrality of the dream. That means we focus on our work for justice and inclusion, on our ministries of compassion and service, and on the task of peacemaking and reconciliation. One very small way we are engaging that truth today is with our mugs. We are expressing our commitment to the future of the earth by finally reducing our contribution to landfills with all the Styrofoam cups we use. It’s not a perfect solution, but it matters, and it moves in the right direction.
I’ve focused on the life of Immanuel so far because we are celebrating our anniversary. But each of us needs to figure out what this means in other parts of our lives. What does it mean for your family? What does it mean for other communities of which you are a part? What does it mean for your own life? Do you allow guilt to distract you from the call of your unique life?
The Romans passage addresses the other dimension of forgiveness – generations that have to live together in the same community. Perhaps more than in any previous generation being a multi-generational church is challenging. We don’t like the same music. We don’t like the same length of sermons. We don’t dress the same. We care more or less about different things that the church does. And the tendency throughout history has been to judge those who are different. For some reason, differences awaken our fears and insecurities and our defense mechanism is judgment. “I can’t understand how those old fuddy duddies can like that music.” “Those kids are going to go deaf listening to that loud music.” “Why do they always want to change things – like the way we do communion? Why can’t they leave good enough alone?” “Why do they make such a big deal about the way we dress? Isn’t what really matters how we practice justice once we leave?
Back in the 80s people started creating single generation churches. There were boomer churches and generation x churches. And they grew into huge megachurches. They could go ahead and choose the music everyone would like. They could dress up or dress down. They could have long sermons or no sermons. But at what cost? The New Testament is all about churches figuring out how to be multicultural and multigenerational. Certainly it’s easier to be a single generation church. But does it really allow us to grow in the ways we need to grow? I don’t think so. Being a multigenerational church is one of the beautiful things about Immanuel.
Change the examples and this is precisely what Paul is addressing in Romans 14. Some people believe it’s okay to eat anything, whereas others are vegetarian. Some people like to keep a special day for worship, whereas others think one day is as good as the next. Those who have a good meal have regard for Jesus by saying thank you to God before eating. Those who make a special point of going without food also do it out of regard for Jesus. They could have created vegetarian churches. They could have made churches for those who worship on Saturday and those who worship on Sundays. (Oh, I guess we’ve done that, haven’t we?) Paul’s point is relevant for us: “Those who eat meat shouldn’t sneer at vegetarians; vegetarians, you shouldn’t adopt a superior attitude. Why do you criticize your Christian brother? Why do you look down on your Christian sister? We’ll all have to answer to God.” We’ve got to figure out how to be church together.
That is the challenge the Presbyterian Church is facing right now (Along with the Anglican Church and the Lutheran Church, among others). One of the commissioners who spoke up at last June’s General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the discussion about ordination named the issue of fear: “I stand to speak in favor of faith and in opposition to fear. We have all seen how a national climate and a culture of fear has led us into war, talked us into building walls and told us that letting go of cherished civil liberties and looking at strangers as the enemy is not only ok, not only necessary, but our duty. The things that we have allowed to happen because of our fear of what might happen are a source of shame for us as American citizens. As citizens of the kindom of Christ we ought to be even more ashamed of how we have allowed our fear of what might happen to trump our faith in the One who indeed makes all things happen, makes all things new, and brings life out of death and hope out of despair. But we are afraid. We are so afraid we cannot even hear the Gospel proclamation to “Fear Not!” For too long we have allowed fear to trump our faith. Our conversations are heavy with fear. We see others operating out of fear and we allow it to erode our confidence and trust in God alone. Our willingness to maintain an unjust system is an offense to the Gospel of grace we proclaim. I, for one, am tired of being afraid. Our constitutional safeguards have not saved us. They have only oppressed all of us and allowed many of us to be comfortable with our condemnation of others.” (David Young, quoted in the Covenant Network Newsletter, September 2008).
Well said, David Young. The apostle Paul couldn’t have said it any better. Friends, we need to put the dream ahead of our guilt, and our faith ahead of our fear. Only then we will be able to forgive each other across generations and cultures and accomplish the mission to which we have been called – moving the dream forward just a little. Can we do that here at Immanuel? I certainly hope so.
MP3 File
I want to begin this sermon with a confession. Last July when I first looked at the lectionary texts assigned for this morning, one by one I decided I couldn’t preach on any of them. The subject matter of each passage was too closely tied to what our community has been dealing with around my disclosure regarding my sexual identity. I figured people would think I was that my choice of texts was an attempt to manipulate things in my self interest. I shared that thought with one of our elders a couple of weeks ago. The response was that maybe it would be manipulation not to preach on the lectionary texts and that we as a congregation need to let the Scriptures speak to what we are dealing with. So there it is. I’ve chosen two of the four lectionary texts. At this evening’s congregational meeting I will share more thoughts about what has been going on these last two months.
This morning we’re celebrating 120 years of ministry at Immanuel. Ten years ago when we celebrated the 110th anniversary members offered blessings from one generation to another. Today we are again focusing on the generations of Immanuel. The two passages deal with two aspects of the word generations. The Genesis passage calls to mind the generations that have passed away and the generations to come. During our All Together Worship we remembered the generations of Immanuel that brought us to where we are today, but have now passed away.
The Romans passage speaks of generations that overlap each other at the same time. For example, Immanuel today has members who are part of what is called the Builders Generation, the Baby Boomer Generation, Generation X, Y and Z. Paul in Romans is dealing with differences between contemporary generations in the church, and their different cultural values, which tend to get moral values attached to them.
What binds together the generations in both senses of the word is forgiveness. Forgiveness is one of the most difficult tasks that human beings encounter throughout their lives. It’s made even more difficult by confusion about who needs to forgive whom, when forgiveness is appropriate, and the relationship between power and forgiveness. Sometimes the wrong party is manipulated into doing the forgiving, when the other party actually bears more responsibility because of the power differential. We don’t have time to develop that this morning but I want us to be aware of those dynamics. Instead I want to examine the dynamics of forgiveness across generations in these two senses of the word.
Let’s start with the Genesis story. In case you forget or don’t know that story, Joseph was the golden boy of Jacob’s twelve sons. Jacob made no secret of the fact that Joseph was his favorite child. That doesn’t usually make for great relationships among siblings. Joseph didn’t help matters either. At one point Joseph had a dream that all of his siblings bowed down to him. Now some of us might have dreams like that; but we’re usually relationally wise enough to keep them to ourselves. Joseph decided to share his dream with his brothers – and that after tattling on them to their father. They already didn’t like him; now they were furious. One day they decided to take their revenge by throwing him in a pit and selling him as a slave. Joseph managed to get noticed by the King of Egypt and ended up being the Minister of Finance. As a result he was in a position to save Egypt as well as his own family.
In this morning’s passage their father Jacob has just died. The brothers realize that their father might have been the only one who kept Joseph from taking revenge on them. They are consumed by guilt, which leads them to focus on the past and on the generation that just passed with the death of their father. Joseph, on the other hand, is focused on the dream that has now become clearer to him. The dream is not about people bowing down to him but about preserving numerous people, and providing for “you and your little ones.”
The enduring power of guilt and its resultant fear is a matter which every family knows all too well. Like other families, this one knows that the only one who can break the cycle and banish the guilt is the wronged party, the one whom they most fear. We are told they “came and fell down before Joseph and said, ‘Behold we are your servants.’” The dream that Joseph shared with them way back in Chapter 37 is now unwittingly fulfilled by the brothers. They are guilty and afraid, majoring in the minor. The politics of the family are not the major concern of the storyteller. They are subordinated to the power of the dream. Joseph’s siblings are preoccupied with guilt and fear in part because they don’t know about the larger agenda of the dream, but also because they are busy with their betrayals which have such destructive staying power.
The storyteller is helping us understand that the dream has been at work all along, and hasn’t been diminished by the moral issues of the brothers or of anyone else. Joseph finally understood the centrality of the dream, even though he hadn’t understood much about family dynamics around golden boys. Walter Breuggemann points out that the storyteller is showing that one of the conversions we need is from guilt which restricts on the one hand to dreams which liberate on the other. As we think about the subject of forgiveness, one of the ways to make it more possible is to make guilt less important. If we focus less on guilt and more on God’s dream and call on our lives to serve the future, perhaps our eyes will be opened to notice how God accomplishes her purpose in ways that surprise us. It doesn’t eliminate the need for forgiveness, but puts it in a different perspective.
The church hasn’t always understood this. We’ve often wasted our birthright of grace by trying to make sure people feel guilty enough about their sins so they will turn away from them. The Gospel – whether in the Hebrew Scriptures or the Greek – invites us to focus on the promise and dream of the reign of God more than on the guilt.
What does this mean for us at Immanuel? Past generations made many mistakes. We have heard stories about how racist they were about membership and how sexist they were about women in leadership. From a scriptural perspective what matters is that they carried the dream forward so that we could inherit it from them and take it to the next stage. We also know that we have made mistakes. Sometimes we’ve squandered the inheritance prior generations left us. We could wallow in guilt around that and become fearful about the call of God to develop the dream. Or we can follow in Joseph’s foot steps and focus on the centrality of the dream. That means we focus on our work for justice and inclusion, on our ministries of compassion and service, and on the task of peacemaking and reconciliation. One very small way we are engaging that truth today is with our mugs. We are expressing our commitment to the future of the earth by finally reducing our contribution to landfills with all the Styrofoam cups we use. It’s not a perfect solution, but it matters, and it moves in the right direction.
I’ve focused on the life of Immanuel so far because we are celebrating our anniversary. But each of us needs to figure out what this means in other parts of our lives. What does it mean for your family? What does it mean for other communities of which you are a part? What does it mean for your own life? Do you allow guilt to distract you from the call of your unique life?
The Romans passage addresses the other dimension of forgiveness – generations that have to live together in the same community. Perhaps more than in any previous generation being a multi-generational church is challenging. We don’t like the same music. We don’t like the same length of sermons. We don’t dress the same. We care more or less about different things that the church does. And the tendency throughout history has been to judge those who are different. For some reason, differences awaken our fears and insecurities and our defense mechanism is judgment. “I can’t understand how those old fuddy duddies can like that music.” “Those kids are going to go deaf listening to that loud music.” “Why do they always want to change things – like the way we do communion? Why can’t they leave good enough alone?” “Why do they make such a big deal about the way we dress? Isn’t what really matters how we practice justice once we leave?
Back in the 80s people started creating single generation churches. There were boomer churches and generation x churches. And they grew into huge megachurches. They could go ahead and choose the music everyone would like. They could dress up or dress down. They could have long sermons or no sermons. But at what cost? The New Testament is all about churches figuring out how to be multicultural and multigenerational. Certainly it’s easier to be a single generation church. But does it really allow us to grow in the ways we need to grow? I don’t think so. Being a multigenerational church is one of the beautiful things about Immanuel.
Change the examples and this is precisely what Paul is addressing in Romans 14. Some people believe it’s okay to eat anything, whereas others are vegetarian. Some people like to keep a special day for worship, whereas others think one day is as good as the next. Those who have a good meal have regard for Jesus by saying thank you to God before eating. Those who make a special point of going without food also do it out of regard for Jesus. They could have created vegetarian churches. They could have made churches for those who worship on Saturday and those who worship on Sundays. (Oh, I guess we’ve done that, haven’t we?) Paul’s point is relevant for us: “Those who eat meat shouldn’t sneer at vegetarians; vegetarians, you shouldn’t adopt a superior attitude. Why do you criticize your Christian brother? Why do you look down on your Christian sister? We’ll all have to answer to God.” We’ve got to figure out how to be church together.
That is the challenge the Presbyterian Church is facing right now (Along with the Anglican Church and the Lutheran Church, among others). One of the commissioners who spoke up at last June’s General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the discussion about ordination named the issue of fear: “I stand to speak in favor of faith and in opposition to fear. We have all seen how a national climate and a culture of fear has led us into war, talked us into building walls and told us that letting go of cherished civil liberties and looking at strangers as the enemy is not only ok, not only necessary, but our duty. The things that we have allowed to happen because of our fear of what might happen are a source of shame for us as American citizens. As citizens of the kindom of Christ we ought to be even more ashamed of how we have allowed our fear of what might happen to trump our faith in the One who indeed makes all things happen, makes all things new, and brings life out of death and hope out of despair. But we are afraid. We are so afraid we cannot even hear the Gospel proclamation to “Fear Not!” For too long we have allowed fear to trump our faith. Our conversations are heavy with fear. We see others operating out of fear and we allow it to erode our confidence and trust in God alone. Our willingness to maintain an unjust system is an offense to the Gospel of grace we proclaim. I, for one, am tired of being afraid. Our constitutional safeguards have not saved us. They have only oppressed all of us and allowed many of us to be comfortable with our condemnation of others.” (David Young, quoted in the Covenant Network Newsletter, September 2008).
Well said, David Young. The apostle Paul couldn’t have said it any better. Friends, we need to put the dream ahead of our guilt, and our faith ahead of our fear. Only then we will be able to forgive each other across generations and cultures and accomplish the mission to which we have been called – moving the dream forward just a little. Can we do that here at Immanuel? I certainly hope so.
September 10, 2008 + The agent for a Christian revolution + Hayward Fong
Matthew 13:33, 34; Luke 13:20, 21
Off and on for the past several years, we have been reflecting on the Kingdom of Heaven as recorded in the Gospels. Today, we reflect on the last parable on the Kingdom of Heaven, recorded in both Matthew and Luke in one sentence.
To understand this parable, we need to return with Jesus to his home village. In villages and small towns, baking was a household activity. There was no Van de Kamp or La Brea Bakery, or a super market where you could get a loaf of Oro-Wheat bread. I am sure that Jesus, as He was growing up, had seen His mother Mary baking bread. In home making bread, one takes leaven, dough left over from a previous baking which has fermented and inserts it into the dough as a rising agent. This changes the character of the dough. So Jesus is saying, “Just as leaven changes the character of the dough into which it is inserted, so the Kingdom changes all things.”
This raises a theological dichotomy in that leaven in Hebrew thought and language was a synonym for evil influence. In preparing for Passover, every scrap of leaven had to be swept out of the house. At the same time, there is a Rabbinical saying, “Great is peace in that peace is to the earth as is the leaven to the dough.” We also find this allusion to evil in the New Testament. In Mark 8:15, Jesus warned His disciples to be aware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod. Paul in 1 Corinthians 5:6, uses the phrase, “…a little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough,” and a similar phrase in Galatians 5:9 when he was admonishing people to have nothing to do with evil influences. This negative reference probably had to do with the fact that leaven introduced decay into that which it was placed.
Bible scholars seem to feel that Jesus was telling His followers of the disturbing influence of His teachings. Even though at first, the leaven is hidden and nothing appears to happen, the reality is it is not a slow imperceptible process. Soon the whole mass swells and bubbles as fermentation rapidly advances. As the leaven turned the dough into a seething mass, so the influence of Christianity is profoundly disturbing. When Christianity first came to Thessalonica the cry was, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also,…” (Acts 17:6). In Phillipi the accusation against Paul and his associates was, “These men are Jews and they are disturbing our city…” (Acts 16:20). Real religion is always disturbing. We should always remember that true Christianity is always revolutionary.
E. Stanley Jones, the great missionary to India, points out that one of the most revolutionary documents is found in the Magnificat (Luke 1: 46-55). Take a look at these three verses (v. 51-53): “He has shown strength with his arm, he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, he has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away.” In these three verses are three revolutions which true Christianity is called to carry out.
There is first a moral revolution. The proud are brought down. Christianity works a revolution within a man’s own heart. It does that by making him see who he really is. When a man meets Jesus Christ he cannot help but compare his life with the life of Jesus and the comparison speaks for itself. When we set our lives beside the life of the Lord of all good life we know how far we have fallen short. When a man realizes the love of God in Christ and the lengths to which that love went, he cannot help but be amazed that this was done for him. And he must then be filled with a desire to change himself until somehow he becomes worthy of a sacrifice like that.
Secondly, there is the social revolution. The mighty are brought low and those of low degree are exalted. Christianity has no respect for the labels that the world attaches to man. It rates a man by the service that he renders to his fellow men. “…whoever would be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:44). The bottom line is that the man whom the world deems great may well be worthless in the Kingdom of God, while the man who appears of no standing in the world may be the greatest.
There is told the story of a Russian nobleman who kept open house. Everyone was welcome. When each guest arrived, the nobleman would say, “Show me your hands.” If the hands were worn and calloused, the guest received a high place; but if the hands were soft and flabby, he was directed to the lowest seat. So, the test in the Kingdom is the test of service.
Then there is the economic revolution. The hungry are filled with the good things and the rich are sent away empty. In the true Christian society there would be such a feeling of responsibility that no one could bear to have too much while others had too little. Businesses would run not for the owners only but to support the needs of the community; farmers would till not only for financial gain, but also to feed a hungry world. Doctors and lawyers would serve to heal and help those in distress. Every activity would be directed to the healing, the helping and supplying of the spiritual and physical needs of mankind. This would crown every task its glory. He would be greatest who was the greatest servant of all. An economic revolution is a Christian mission.
If you take the leaven as a disturbing influence in the dough, this parable teaches the disturbing influence of Christianity on the life of an individual and the life of the world.
It may be argued that the parable also stands for the imperceptible influence of the Kingdom. In a near term observation, we can no more see the leaven working than we can see a flower growing, but we know it is working all the time. When we look at the day-to-day changes, we may not see much, or for that matter, even year-to-year. But if we look at the world as a matter of historical record, the world is better. Despite the abuses in the name of Christianity, it is better because of the positive Christian influence. The cruel and merciless customs of the world two thousand years ago have been eradicated or significantly reduced because of Christianity. Christian ideals have so permeated society that certain things can no longer be entertained in civilized society. Imperceptibly but surely, the influence of the Kingdom is there.
Like leaven, the influence for change must come from within. Before the leaven can have any effect, it must be inserted into the dough mass. We live in an age where we place emphasis on external change as primary. We believe that better housing and working conditions will make better men. Granted these are desirable objectives, everything would be lost if we do not change the heart of man. The primary function of Christianity is to make new men and women. If that is done, then new and better conditions will follow. To do otherwise is to put the cart before the horse.
The dough has no power to change itself. The power to change it, the leaven, had to come from the outside. In like manner, men have no power to change themselves. Our new year’s resolutions and other pie in the sky plans attest to the futility of man’s sole effort. If we are to be changed that change must come from a power that is greater than ours, the power of Christ. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17). The risen Christ said, “Behold, I make all things new” (Rev. 21:5).
For the past two weeks, the two major political parties have held conventions to select their nominees for the office of President and Vice-president of the United States. In a mere two months, you and I along with millions of other citizens of the United States will have an opportunity to effect the executive and legislative leadership for our government by electing men and women who will not blinded by the lure of big money …men and women who will place the welfare of the public before that of special interests…men and women who can be entrusted to be good stewards of all God’s creation. If you are entitled to vote, then you as a Christian have the responsibility and the duty to study the issues and vote as the Spirit leads you.
Amen.
Off and on for the past several years, we have been reflecting on the Kingdom of Heaven as recorded in the Gospels. Today, we reflect on the last parable on the Kingdom of Heaven, recorded in both Matthew and Luke in one sentence.
To understand this parable, we need to return with Jesus to his home village. In villages and small towns, baking was a household activity. There was no Van de Kamp or La Brea Bakery, or a super market where you could get a loaf of Oro-Wheat bread. I am sure that Jesus, as He was growing up, had seen His mother Mary baking bread. In home making bread, one takes leaven, dough left over from a previous baking which has fermented and inserts it into the dough as a rising agent. This changes the character of the dough. So Jesus is saying, “Just as leaven changes the character of the dough into which it is inserted, so the Kingdom changes all things.”
This raises a theological dichotomy in that leaven in Hebrew thought and language was a synonym for evil influence. In preparing for Passover, every scrap of leaven had to be swept out of the house. At the same time, there is a Rabbinical saying, “Great is peace in that peace is to the earth as is the leaven to the dough.” We also find this allusion to evil in the New Testament. In Mark 8:15, Jesus warned His disciples to be aware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod. Paul in 1 Corinthians 5:6, uses the phrase, “…a little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough,” and a similar phrase in Galatians 5:9 when he was admonishing people to have nothing to do with evil influences. This negative reference probably had to do with the fact that leaven introduced decay into that which it was placed.
Bible scholars seem to feel that Jesus was telling His followers of the disturbing influence of His teachings. Even though at first, the leaven is hidden and nothing appears to happen, the reality is it is not a slow imperceptible process. Soon the whole mass swells and bubbles as fermentation rapidly advances. As the leaven turned the dough into a seething mass, so the influence of Christianity is profoundly disturbing. When Christianity first came to Thessalonica the cry was, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also,…” (Acts 17:6). In Phillipi the accusation against Paul and his associates was, “These men are Jews and they are disturbing our city…” (Acts 16:20). Real religion is always disturbing. We should always remember that true Christianity is always revolutionary.
E. Stanley Jones, the great missionary to India, points out that one of the most revolutionary documents is found in the Magnificat (Luke 1: 46-55). Take a look at these three verses (v. 51-53): “He has shown strength with his arm, he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, he has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away.” In these three verses are three revolutions which true Christianity is called to carry out.
There is first a moral revolution. The proud are brought down. Christianity works a revolution within a man’s own heart. It does that by making him see who he really is. When a man meets Jesus Christ he cannot help but compare his life with the life of Jesus and the comparison speaks for itself. When we set our lives beside the life of the Lord of all good life we know how far we have fallen short. When a man realizes the love of God in Christ and the lengths to which that love went, he cannot help but be amazed that this was done for him. And he must then be filled with a desire to change himself until somehow he becomes worthy of a sacrifice like that.
Secondly, there is the social revolution. The mighty are brought low and those of low degree are exalted. Christianity has no respect for the labels that the world attaches to man. It rates a man by the service that he renders to his fellow men. “…whoever would be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:44). The bottom line is that the man whom the world deems great may well be worthless in the Kingdom of God, while the man who appears of no standing in the world may be the greatest.
There is told the story of a Russian nobleman who kept open house. Everyone was welcome. When each guest arrived, the nobleman would say, “Show me your hands.” If the hands were worn and calloused, the guest received a high place; but if the hands were soft and flabby, he was directed to the lowest seat. So, the test in the Kingdom is the test of service.
Then there is the economic revolution. The hungry are filled with the good things and the rich are sent away empty. In the true Christian society there would be such a feeling of responsibility that no one could bear to have too much while others had too little. Businesses would run not for the owners only but to support the needs of the community; farmers would till not only for financial gain, but also to feed a hungry world. Doctors and lawyers would serve to heal and help those in distress. Every activity would be directed to the healing, the helping and supplying of the spiritual and physical needs of mankind. This would crown every task its glory. He would be greatest who was the greatest servant of all. An economic revolution is a Christian mission.
If you take the leaven as a disturbing influence in the dough, this parable teaches the disturbing influence of Christianity on the life of an individual and the life of the world.
It may be argued that the parable also stands for the imperceptible influence of the Kingdom. In a near term observation, we can no more see the leaven working than we can see a flower growing, but we know it is working all the time. When we look at the day-to-day changes, we may not see much, or for that matter, even year-to-year. But if we look at the world as a matter of historical record, the world is better. Despite the abuses in the name of Christianity, it is better because of the positive Christian influence. The cruel and merciless customs of the world two thousand years ago have been eradicated or significantly reduced because of Christianity. Christian ideals have so permeated society that certain things can no longer be entertained in civilized society. Imperceptibly but surely, the influence of the Kingdom is there.
Like leaven, the influence for change must come from within. Before the leaven can have any effect, it must be inserted into the dough mass. We live in an age where we place emphasis on external change as primary. We believe that better housing and working conditions will make better men. Granted these are desirable objectives, everything would be lost if we do not change the heart of man. The primary function of Christianity is to make new men and women. If that is done, then new and better conditions will follow. To do otherwise is to put the cart before the horse.
The dough has no power to change itself. The power to change it, the leaven, had to come from the outside. In like manner, men have no power to change themselves. Our new year’s resolutions and other pie in the sky plans attest to the futility of man’s sole effort. If we are to be changed that change must come from a power that is greater than ours, the power of Christ. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17). The risen Christ said, “Behold, I make all things new” (Rev. 21:5).
For the past two weeks, the two major political parties have held conventions to select their nominees for the office of President and Vice-president of the United States. In a mere two months, you and I along with millions of other citizens of the United States will have an opportunity to effect the executive and legislative leadership for our government by electing men and women who will not blinded by the lure of big money …men and women who will place the welfare of the public before that of special interests…men and women who can be entrusted to be good stewards of all God’s creation. If you are entitled to vote, then you as a Christian have the responsibility and the duty to study the issues and vote as the Spirit leads you.
Amen.
September 3, 2008 + Yesterday's challenges — today's opportunities + Hayward Fong
Isaiah 5:1-7; Matthew 21:33-44; Mark 12:1-11;
Luke 20:9-18; Hebrews 1:1, 2
For the Gospel reading this morning, I only read from the record according to St. Matthew. This parable appears almost identically in all three Synoptic gospels, showing the deep and lasting impression it must have made on the writers. When you go home, read the other two versions as recorded in Mark and Luke.
Our reading today is a parable of defiance. In it, Jesus faces His own fate and at the same time challenges those who would kill Him with a threat that they could not help but understand. Too often we fail to recognize His reckless defiance as He came to Jerusalem for the last time. Throughout those final days, he shunned security and seemed to deliberately focus attention upon Himself challenging his adversaries to take their best shots.
The first evidence of this is the Triumphant Entry (Luke 19:28-40). We of the western mind lose the significance of His arriving on an ass. In Palestine, the ass is not a despised animal, but rather a noble one. Kings only rode horses in battle; when they came in peace, they rode an ass. So Jesus’ Entry was a dramatic claim to be a king. When He entered the city, He proceeded to do something that would shock the ecclesiastical powers; He cleansed the Temple, drove out the money changers and seller of doves (Luke 19:45, 46). It is small wonder the priests and scribes came to Him wanting to know who gave Him the authority to do these things (Luke 20:1, 2). It was this challenge that gave rise to this parable. By this time, it was clear that Jesus was going to die. He was not going to go like a hunted criminal but like a king.
He turned to the prophet Isaiah in setting the stage for this parable, using one of the most ancient symbols for the nation of Israel, the vineyard of God (Isaiah 5:1-7). No one who heard the parable would have any doubt as to what Jesus was talking about.
Because Palestine was a troubled nation at this time in history, absentee landlords were a common occurrence. It was not unusual for a man to let out his property and take off for a more comfortable country. When this was done, the rent was paid in three ways (1) a fixed amount of money, (2) an agreed portion of the crop, or (3) a definite amount of the produce whatever the yield may be. Palestine was experiencing all types of political unrest coupled with labor troubles. So the incidents told in the parable were common occurrences and easily recognized by His listeners.
In this parable every detail has a meaning. The vineyard denotes the people of Israel; the master of the vineyard is God; the husbandmen represent the priests and the rulers who controlled the affairs of Israel; the servants who were sent and ill-treated are cast in the roles of the prophets whom God sent in every age and who were often ignored and sometimes martyred; the Son is Jesus Himself. So then this parable gives a vivid picture of God’s care for Israel. His long patient pleading with His people, Israel’s continual rejection of God’s way, the coming of Jesus, the death of Jesus, and finally His ultimate triumph and final discomfiture of His enemies, who thought they had eliminated Him.
Certain points stand out clearly in this parable. First, it stresses human privilege. It is clear that everything possible was done for the vineyard. It was hedged so marauding animals could not get in. The wine press, a great stone-lined pit in the ground had been dug so that the grapes could be pressed and the juice extracted. A watch tower had been built so the watchmen could keep guard against robbers (Matthew 21:33). All through history everything had been done for the nation of Israel so they might be ready to recognize God’s Son when He came. In spite of all their privileges they failed entirely.
One of the supreme tests of life is, “How did we use our privileges?” Oscar Wilde has this parable in answer to that rhetorical question. “Jesus was walking through the streets of a city. In an open courtyard, He saw a young man feasting gluttonously and growing drunk with wine. ‘Young man,’ said Jesus, ‘why do you live like that?’ ‘I was a leper,’ said the young man, ‘and you cleansed me. How else should I live?’ Jesus went on, and He saw a young girl clad in tawdry finery, a girl of the streets, and after her came a young man with eyes like a hunter. ‘Young man,’ said Jesus, ‘why do you look at the girl like that?’ ‘I was blind,’ said the young man, ‘and you opened my eyes. How else should I look?’ ‘Daughter,’ said Jesus to the girl, ‘why do you live like that?’ ‘I was a sinner,’ she replied, ‘and you forgave me. How else should I live?’ Here were three people who had received priceless gifts from Jesus and who used them like that.
You and I live in an age which has had every privilege. We have good homes, freedom of worship, a sanctuary to be our mother in the faith, parents who have given us every opportunity. We live in an age which has discovered more of the secrets of power than any other age. How then are we using our privileges? Lest we forget, we are answerable on that final day for the privileges we have received.
This parable stresses human freedom. It is significant that after the master had let out the vineyard he went away into another country (Matthew 21:33; Mark 12:1; Luke 20:9). It was as though he said, “I’ve given you this job and this responsibility; I’m not going to interfere; run it your own way.”
This parable raises the old argument regarding fate and freewill. On strictly logical grounds, it may be insoluble, but the fact remains that the instinct of man is that he is free. Every time we criticize someone, we assume he might have acted otherwise. Every time we feel regret or remorse, it is because we feel that we might have taken a kinder course of action. There can be no such thing as goodness if we are not free. Goodness lies in the choice between the higher and the lower thing.
Someone once said the difference between fate and destiny is that “fate is what we are compelled to do; destiny is what we are meant to do.” We have a destiny but we are not fated. What we are meant to do is to put ourselves on God’s side in the world. There is this story told about Arturo Toscanini rehearsing an orchestra that was not trying. Quietly he laid aside his baton and said, “Gentlemen, God has told me how He wants this piece of music played; and you—you hinder God.” So you and I have the freedom of being for or against God.
All of this leads us to the conclusion that sin is deliberate. There are three theories of sin which try to refute the deliberate element.
The first is that sin is merely traces of our ancestry. Man has evolved up from the time when he was nearer the beasts of the field and has therefore taken certain attributes of the lower things. So if we sin we are not really responsible for it. Give men time, says this theory, and they will outgrow their sins as a child outgrows bad habits. The unfortunate thing for that theory is that it collapses against the facts, for the evidence is that the higher man reaches in knowledge and power the more terrible his sins and their consequences become.
The second theory is that sin is undeveloped good. This theory would argue that man’s sins are either under developed good or good things which somehow have gone wrong. A weed is a flower which has gone astray. The knowledge and skill of a computer hacker are good qualities misused. It is then argued that sin can be eradicated by the process of education. But facts refute this theory also. At a time when education is stressed as never before, crime is as rampant as never before. Education alone cannot change the base nature of man, although it may succeed in changing him from being merely a devil into being a clever devil, which is worse.
The last theory is that sin is a physical matter of genes and constitution. Under this theory, man is not responsible for sin because, if he happens to be made that way, he cannot do anything about it. This theory clashes with the Christian concept of man, for man is not a body only. Man is body, mind and spirit, and the greatness of Christianity often lies precisely in the fact that it enables a man to conquer the things of the body by the power of the things of the soul.
This parable lays down the principle that sin is the deliberate action of man in disobedience to the known will of God.
This parable lays down still more…the patience of God. The master of the vineyard was not content with one invitation. He gave the husbandmen time and again the opportunity to mend their ways. The patience of God is the most wonderful of His attributes. When I consider the matter from the human perspective, I can’t help but wonder why God didn’t destroy the world long ago. If God had been a man with human reactions, He would undoubtedly have smashed the universe to pieces in sheer despair at the sins and follies of men. It is not the peace of God, but the pain of God that passes understanding.
The parable stresses the claim of Jesus. He deliberately sets Himself above the level of those who had gone before. The prophets who had gone before are servants but He is the well loved son. The message of the prophets was partial and fragmentary (Hebrews1:1). He is the fullness of God’s revelation to men. It is never enough to think of Jesus as only a man, not even the greatest of men. When we come face to face with the claims of Jesus our reaction must be unquestioning obedience to the one person who has the right o speak.
This parable sets forth the grim possibility of final rejection. As we have seen again and again, after entering the world Himself in the person of Jesus, God can do nothing more. If people remain unmoved by the life and death of Jesus there is no further appeal. Jesus is, as it were, the touchstone of God, and by our reaction to Him we are finally judged.
There is one final lesson. All three accounts agree that the vineyard was to be taken away from those who had it and given to others (Matthews 21:41; Mark 12:9; Luke 20:16). Behind this lies the warning that the great task which should have belonged to the Jews had been taken from them and given to the Gentiles. The Jews should have been the nation to lead all men to God. Instead they rejected God’s Son when He came; and so the task of evangelizing the world had to pass to the Gentiles whom they despised. One of the most humiliating things in the world is to be given a real task by someone whom we respect and love and then to find that, due to our weakness and foolishness, we have failed in our task and let down the person who trusted us with it. We will live well if the only thing we fear in this world is to fail God and let Him down.
Luke 20:9-18; Hebrews 1:1, 2
For the Gospel reading this morning, I only read from the record according to St. Matthew. This parable appears almost identically in all three Synoptic gospels, showing the deep and lasting impression it must have made on the writers. When you go home, read the other two versions as recorded in Mark and Luke.
Our reading today is a parable of defiance. In it, Jesus faces His own fate and at the same time challenges those who would kill Him with a threat that they could not help but understand. Too often we fail to recognize His reckless defiance as He came to Jerusalem for the last time. Throughout those final days, he shunned security and seemed to deliberately focus attention upon Himself challenging his adversaries to take their best shots.
The first evidence of this is the Triumphant Entry (Luke 19:28-40). We of the western mind lose the significance of His arriving on an ass. In Palestine, the ass is not a despised animal, but rather a noble one. Kings only rode horses in battle; when they came in peace, they rode an ass. So Jesus’ Entry was a dramatic claim to be a king. When He entered the city, He proceeded to do something that would shock the ecclesiastical powers; He cleansed the Temple, drove out the money changers and seller of doves (Luke 19:45, 46). It is small wonder the priests and scribes came to Him wanting to know who gave Him the authority to do these things (Luke 20:1, 2). It was this challenge that gave rise to this parable. By this time, it was clear that Jesus was going to die. He was not going to go like a hunted criminal but like a king.
He turned to the prophet Isaiah in setting the stage for this parable, using one of the most ancient symbols for the nation of Israel, the vineyard of God (Isaiah 5:1-7). No one who heard the parable would have any doubt as to what Jesus was talking about.
Because Palestine was a troubled nation at this time in history, absentee landlords were a common occurrence. It was not unusual for a man to let out his property and take off for a more comfortable country. When this was done, the rent was paid in three ways (1) a fixed amount of money, (2) an agreed portion of the crop, or (3) a definite amount of the produce whatever the yield may be. Palestine was experiencing all types of political unrest coupled with labor troubles. So the incidents told in the parable were common occurrences and easily recognized by His listeners.
In this parable every detail has a meaning. The vineyard denotes the people of Israel; the master of the vineyard is God; the husbandmen represent the priests and the rulers who controlled the affairs of Israel; the servants who were sent and ill-treated are cast in the roles of the prophets whom God sent in every age and who were often ignored and sometimes martyred; the Son is Jesus Himself. So then this parable gives a vivid picture of God’s care for Israel. His long patient pleading with His people, Israel’s continual rejection of God’s way, the coming of Jesus, the death of Jesus, and finally His ultimate triumph and final discomfiture of His enemies, who thought they had eliminated Him.
Certain points stand out clearly in this parable. First, it stresses human privilege. It is clear that everything possible was done for the vineyard. It was hedged so marauding animals could not get in. The wine press, a great stone-lined pit in the ground had been dug so that the grapes could be pressed and the juice extracted. A watch tower had been built so the watchmen could keep guard against robbers (Matthew 21:33). All through history everything had been done for the nation of Israel so they might be ready to recognize God’s Son when He came. In spite of all their privileges they failed entirely.
One of the supreme tests of life is, “How did we use our privileges?” Oscar Wilde has this parable in answer to that rhetorical question. “Jesus was walking through the streets of a city. In an open courtyard, He saw a young man feasting gluttonously and growing drunk with wine. ‘Young man,’ said Jesus, ‘why do you live like that?’ ‘I was a leper,’ said the young man, ‘and you cleansed me. How else should I live?’ Jesus went on, and He saw a young girl clad in tawdry finery, a girl of the streets, and after her came a young man with eyes like a hunter. ‘Young man,’ said Jesus, ‘why do you look at the girl like that?’ ‘I was blind,’ said the young man, ‘and you opened my eyes. How else should I look?’ ‘Daughter,’ said Jesus to the girl, ‘why do you live like that?’ ‘I was a sinner,’ she replied, ‘and you forgave me. How else should I live?’ Here were three people who had received priceless gifts from Jesus and who used them like that.
You and I live in an age which has had every privilege. We have good homes, freedom of worship, a sanctuary to be our mother in the faith, parents who have given us every opportunity. We live in an age which has discovered more of the secrets of power than any other age. How then are we using our privileges? Lest we forget, we are answerable on that final day for the privileges we have received.
This parable stresses human freedom. It is significant that after the master had let out the vineyard he went away into another country (Matthew 21:33; Mark 12:1; Luke 20:9). It was as though he said, “I’ve given you this job and this responsibility; I’m not going to interfere; run it your own way.”
This parable raises the old argument regarding fate and freewill. On strictly logical grounds, it may be insoluble, but the fact remains that the instinct of man is that he is free. Every time we criticize someone, we assume he might have acted otherwise. Every time we feel regret or remorse, it is because we feel that we might have taken a kinder course of action. There can be no such thing as goodness if we are not free. Goodness lies in the choice between the higher and the lower thing.
Someone once said the difference between fate and destiny is that “fate is what we are compelled to do; destiny is what we are meant to do.” We have a destiny but we are not fated. What we are meant to do is to put ourselves on God’s side in the world. There is this story told about Arturo Toscanini rehearsing an orchestra that was not trying. Quietly he laid aside his baton and said, “Gentlemen, God has told me how He wants this piece of music played; and you—you hinder God.” So you and I have the freedom of being for or against God.
All of this leads us to the conclusion that sin is deliberate. There are three theories of sin which try to refute the deliberate element.
The first is that sin is merely traces of our ancestry. Man has evolved up from the time when he was nearer the beasts of the field and has therefore taken certain attributes of the lower things. So if we sin we are not really responsible for it. Give men time, says this theory, and they will outgrow their sins as a child outgrows bad habits. The unfortunate thing for that theory is that it collapses against the facts, for the evidence is that the higher man reaches in knowledge and power the more terrible his sins and their consequences become.
The second theory is that sin is undeveloped good. This theory would argue that man’s sins are either under developed good or good things which somehow have gone wrong. A weed is a flower which has gone astray. The knowledge and skill of a computer hacker are good qualities misused. It is then argued that sin can be eradicated by the process of education. But facts refute this theory also. At a time when education is stressed as never before, crime is as rampant as never before. Education alone cannot change the base nature of man, although it may succeed in changing him from being merely a devil into being a clever devil, which is worse.
The last theory is that sin is a physical matter of genes and constitution. Under this theory, man is not responsible for sin because, if he happens to be made that way, he cannot do anything about it. This theory clashes with the Christian concept of man, for man is not a body only. Man is body, mind and spirit, and the greatness of Christianity often lies precisely in the fact that it enables a man to conquer the things of the body by the power of the things of the soul.
This parable lays down the principle that sin is the deliberate action of man in disobedience to the known will of God.
This parable lays down still more…the patience of God. The master of the vineyard was not content with one invitation. He gave the husbandmen time and again the opportunity to mend their ways. The patience of God is the most wonderful of His attributes. When I consider the matter from the human perspective, I can’t help but wonder why God didn’t destroy the world long ago. If God had been a man with human reactions, He would undoubtedly have smashed the universe to pieces in sheer despair at the sins and follies of men. It is not the peace of God, but the pain of God that passes understanding.
The parable stresses the claim of Jesus. He deliberately sets Himself above the level of those who had gone before. The prophets who had gone before are servants but He is the well loved son. The message of the prophets was partial and fragmentary (Hebrews1:1). He is the fullness of God’s revelation to men. It is never enough to think of Jesus as only a man, not even the greatest of men. When we come face to face with the claims of Jesus our reaction must be unquestioning obedience to the one person who has the right o speak.
This parable sets forth the grim possibility of final rejection. As we have seen again and again, after entering the world Himself in the person of Jesus, God can do nothing more. If people remain unmoved by the life and death of Jesus there is no further appeal. Jesus is, as it were, the touchstone of God, and by our reaction to Him we are finally judged.
There is one final lesson. All three accounts agree that the vineyard was to be taken away from those who had it and given to others (Matthews 21:41; Mark 12:9; Luke 20:16). Behind this lies the warning that the great task which should have belonged to the Jews had been taken from them and given to the Gentiles. The Jews should have been the nation to lead all men to God. Instead they rejected God’s Son when He came; and so the task of evangelizing the world had to pass to the Gentiles whom they despised. One of the most humiliating things in the world is to be given a real task by someone whom we respect and love and then to find that, due to our weakness and foolishness, we have failed in our task and let down the person who trusted us with it. We will live well if the only thing we fear in this world is to fail God and let Him down.
August 27, 2008 + A lesson for today's employers + Hayward Fong
Matthew 19:27-30; 20:1-16
In a few days, we will observe a national holiday set aside to honor our working people – Labor Day. I can recall when the day called for parades and speeches in behalf of the labor movement. Today, you can hardly find any evidence of the reason for the holiday. It has become another three day weekend with barbeques and trips to the beach or one of the major amusement parks. AAA believes that trips will be shorter this year because of the price of gasoline but the number of trips will be about normal for a three day holiday weekend. Labor Day marks the end of summer for the school age children, except for those on a year-round schedule. Though our society has essentially ignored the labor movement, when something like a major strike hits our community, we feel the impact both directly and indirectly.
It was only a couple a years ago that our community was hit with a rolling strike by Union Local 660 in support of hotel employees, adversely impacting the entire travel/tourist industry, a major source of our state’s economy. And there has been a major demonstration by a half-million people in support of the numerous employees in transportation, hotel, restaurant and other service industries, which literally brought the community to a halt.
Something else hit the headlines of our newspapers this past week. Los Angeles Times investigators reported that Tyrone Freeman, the president of the 160,000 member Local of the powerful Service Employees International Union, had been engaged in questionable financial practices involving payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars to firms and charities owned or operated by his relatives, money paid to the Local by its membership in the form of dues. The president stepped down while the national office was investigating the charges and at the same time all the local officers were removed and the Local placed under a trusteeship. The Local, United Long Term Care Workers, is made up mostly of people who make about $9 an hour tending to patients in their residences and in nursing homes.
This type of alleged conduct by labor leaders tears down the best effort of people who are striving to improve working conditions for those least able to help themselves. Corruption has no class distinction. It has permeated all segments of our society like a cancer.
Mega corporate profits in the oil industry is creating a crisis of unimaginable proportions from the farm land to heavy industry. On a national basis, the airlines are facing a recession. They are increasing fares and eliminating “freebies”to offset the increase cost of fuel. This in turn has reduced dramatically passenger ridership, fewer flights, loss of jobs, corporate bankruptcy.
In the political arena, the two major political parties are facing budget deficits that seem to have no solution. They are playing a “shell game” with the public by hiding the cost of the war in the Middle East and borrowing from the Social Security fund with paper IOUs that may never be redeemed. Instead of facing the reality of the IOUs all the proposed solutions end up putting the liability on the backs of hourly wage earners. Low wages are at the heart of the illegal immigration issue, though corporate America with elected officials tied to their coattails refuse to acknowledge this.
Strikes hurt all segments of society. In government, social services, transportation, public works, public health, the judicial system, public safety to name but a few areas are affected when strikes take place, not only in the public sector but the private sector as well. Locally, we have been fortunate in not having any protracted periods of labor strife. This may be attributable in part to the decline in our economic situation, notwithstanding the glowing reports that have emanated from the White House even as inflation has poked its nose into the family budget.
This parable as told by Jesus reminds us that labor issues are not the product of an industrial revolution peculiar to our present day society, but has been with us for centuries.
Back in the days of the parable, hired hands were always engaged by the day and paid at day’s end. The Jewish law is very precise in this respect and is set forth in Leviticus 19:13 and Deuteronomy 24:15. Hired hands, or as we refer to them today, day laborers, lived on the edge of destitution and the Jewish law provided for the safeguarding of their rights.
In Palestine fig trees were often planted among the vines to hedge against a poor grape harvest brought about by September rains. There, as in other places where grapes are a major crop, all available men are pressed into service to harvest the crop. So, if there is a threat of rain, it is possible that an owner would employ someone as late as 5 o’clock in the evening to save a harvest. The denarius was a normal day’s pay for the working man. But why was the man who had worked all day paid the same amount as the man who only worked one hour? That doesn’t seem fair! If that happened today, there would be a union representative knocking at the door of management.
Different meanings have been attached to this parable. It has been suggested that quality and not quantity counts. That is true, but there is nothing in the parable to suggest that the last man employed was better than the first, though in Jewish teachings, the importance of quality is a common lesson. Whether it applies here or not, it is nevertheless an important lesson. A small piece of work done with care may indeed be worth more than a greater amount of work done in a haphazard manner. We measure literature and music by quality and not by the numbers written or composed.
It is possible that this parable carried a message of rebuke to the Jews, who had always regarded themselves as the chosen people of God and as such entitled to special privileges. Now we have this Jesus carrying the message that these privileges are open to Gentiles as well and that the Jewish precept of God as a Judge, a Task-master, a Law-giver, overlooks His most important role that of a loving Father. A father doesn’t love his oldest more than his youngest. All members of his family are loved equally because they are all his sons and daughter. So in like manner, all God’s children are equally dear in His sight. There is no distinction in the love of God.
Other truths, as modern as today’s economics, pop out of this parable. The first is the right of every person to gainful employment. In those days, it was the custom for men to come to the village square and stand there until someone hired him. In this parable, the master came at various hours of the day and made hires. At 5 o’clock he found men still standing there waiting for someone to hire them. No one had given them any work to do. If they didn’t get hired, they would have to go home to a hungry family. Doesn’t that paint a similar picture we find around Los Angeles? Go down to La Brea and Pico or the Home Depot on Sunset west of Western and you will see people standing on the sidewalk hailing passing autos hoping that someone is looking for a day laborer.
Perhaps it was the owner’s compassion that led him to make the hires, or it may have been a real last minute need to get the grapes harvested.
The second economic point is the right of every man to a living wage. The master might be justified to cut the wage of the late hires, but he knew full well that were he to do so, there would be some hungry homes that night. So, perhaps recognizing the plight of the late-comers, he paid them a full day’s wages.
This parable points out Jesus’ concern with the nitty-gritty of life. He did not bring a theology that had it head in the clouds. This is a most important message to our Christian society. We cannot stand by idly with too much when others have so little.
Everything aside, the key point of this parable is that it is in the spirit in which work is done which makes the difference. Let us look at the hiring episodes in their context. The details of the hirings take place right after Peter says to Jesus, “Master, we have left everything and followed you,” and then quite bluntly added, “What do we get out of it?”
We are told that the first hires came to an agreement with the master. I doubt that they had a union rep at the negotiations, but the spirit was pretty much, “We’ll work if you pay us so much.” In the case of the later hires, there were no such negotiations, merely that the master would pay as he deemed right. As to the last hires, there were no protests; they were happy to get the job. Their feelings would be characterized as, “I need work – pay me what you will.” I’m sure that all of us have experienced people whose attitudes characterize these three groups of hires.
There are two real motives for work. One is service of our fellow men. The other is service to God. God wants people to be happy and healthy. Any task which is useful to the world is done for God … the doctor, the nurse, the farmer, the baker, the tailor, the delivery man, the janitor, the gas station attendant, the homemaker, the school teacher. When we see it that way, a new thrill will enter the work; we will work not merely for pay, but for men and God; and the reward we will get in the end will be beyond price.
In a few days, we will observe a national holiday set aside to honor our working people – Labor Day. I can recall when the day called for parades and speeches in behalf of the labor movement. Today, you can hardly find any evidence of the reason for the holiday. It has become another three day weekend with barbeques and trips to the beach or one of the major amusement parks. AAA believes that trips will be shorter this year because of the price of gasoline but the number of trips will be about normal for a three day holiday weekend. Labor Day marks the end of summer for the school age children, except for those on a year-round schedule. Though our society has essentially ignored the labor movement, when something like a major strike hits our community, we feel the impact both directly and indirectly.
It was only a couple a years ago that our community was hit with a rolling strike by Union Local 660 in support of hotel employees, adversely impacting the entire travel/tourist industry, a major source of our state’s economy. And there has been a major demonstration by a half-million people in support of the numerous employees in transportation, hotel, restaurant and other service industries, which literally brought the community to a halt.
Something else hit the headlines of our newspapers this past week. Los Angeles Times investigators reported that Tyrone Freeman, the president of the 160,000 member Local of the powerful Service Employees International Union, had been engaged in questionable financial practices involving payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars to firms and charities owned or operated by his relatives, money paid to the Local by its membership in the form of dues. The president stepped down while the national office was investigating the charges and at the same time all the local officers were removed and the Local placed under a trusteeship. The Local, United Long Term Care Workers, is made up mostly of people who make about $9 an hour tending to patients in their residences and in nursing homes.
This type of alleged conduct by labor leaders tears down the best effort of people who are striving to improve working conditions for those least able to help themselves. Corruption has no class distinction. It has permeated all segments of our society like a cancer.
Mega corporate profits in the oil industry is creating a crisis of unimaginable proportions from the farm land to heavy industry. On a national basis, the airlines are facing a recession. They are increasing fares and eliminating “freebies”to offset the increase cost of fuel. This in turn has reduced dramatically passenger ridership, fewer flights, loss of jobs, corporate bankruptcy.
In the political arena, the two major political parties are facing budget deficits that seem to have no solution. They are playing a “shell game” with the public by hiding the cost of the war in the Middle East and borrowing from the Social Security fund with paper IOUs that may never be redeemed. Instead of facing the reality of the IOUs all the proposed solutions end up putting the liability on the backs of hourly wage earners. Low wages are at the heart of the illegal immigration issue, though corporate America with elected officials tied to their coattails refuse to acknowledge this.
Strikes hurt all segments of society. In government, social services, transportation, public works, public health, the judicial system, public safety to name but a few areas are affected when strikes take place, not only in the public sector but the private sector as well. Locally, we have been fortunate in not having any protracted periods of labor strife. This may be attributable in part to the decline in our economic situation, notwithstanding the glowing reports that have emanated from the White House even as inflation has poked its nose into the family budget.
This parable as told by Jesus reminds us that labor issues are not the product of an industrial revolution peculiar to our present day society, but has been with us for centuries.
Back in the days of the parable, hired hands were always engaged by the day and paid at day’s end. The Jewish law is very precise in this respect and is set forth in Leviticus 19:13 and Deuteronomy 24:15. Hired hands, or as we refer to them today, day laborers, lived on the edge of destitution and the Jewish law provided for the safeguarding of their rights.
In Palestine fig trees were often planted among the vines to hedge against a poor grape harvest brought about by September rains. There, as in other places where grapes are a major crop, all available men are pressed into service to harvest the crop. So, if there is a threat of rain, it is possible that an owner would employ someone as late as 5 o’clock in the evening to save a harvest. The denarius was a normal day’s pay for the working man. But why was the man who had worked all day paid the same amount as the man who only worked one hour? That doesn’t seem fair! If that happened today, there would be a union representative knocking at the door of management.
Different meanings have been attached to this parable. It has been suggested that quality and not quantity counts. That is true, but there is nothing in the parable to suggest that the last man employed was better than the first, though in Jewish teachings, the importance of quality is a common lesson. Whether it applies here or not, it is nevertheless an important lesson. A small piece of work done with care may indeed be worth more than a greater amount of work done in a haphazard manner. We measure literature and music by quality and not by the numbers written or composed.
It is possible that this parable carried a message of rebuke to the Jews, who had always regarded themselves as the chosen people of God and as such entitled to special privileges. Now we have this Jesus carrying the message that these privileges are open to Gentiles as well and that the Jewish precept of God as a Judge, a Task-master, a Law-giver, overlooks His most important role that of a loving Father. A father doesn’t love his oldest more than his youngest. All members of his family are loved equally because they are all his sons and daughter. So in like manner, all God’s children are equally dear in His sight. There is no distinction in the love of God.
Other truths, as modern as today’s economics, pop out of this parable. The first is the right of every person to gainful employment. In those days, it was the custom for men to come to the village square and stand there until someone hired him. In this parable, the master came at various hours of the day and made hires. At 5 o’clock he found men still standing there waiting for someone to hire them. No one had given them any work to do. If they didn’t get hired, they would have to go home to a hungry family. Doesn’t that paint a similar picture we find around Los Angeles? Go down to La Brea and Pico or the Home Depot on Sunset west of Western and you will see people standing on the sidewalk hailing passing autos hoping that someone is looking for a day laborer.
Perhaps it was the owner’s compassion that led him to make the hires, or it may have been a real last minute need to get the grapes harvested.
The second economic point is the right of every man to a living wage. The master might be justified to cut the wage of the late hires, but he knew full well that were he to do so, there would be some hungry homes that night. So, perhaps recognizing the plight of the late-comers, he paid them a full day’s wages.
This parable points out Jesus’ concern with the nitty-gritty of life. He did not bring a theology that had it head in the clouds. This is a most important message to our Christian society. We cannot stand by idly with too much when others have so little.
Everything aside, the key point of this parable is that it is in the spirit in which work is done which makes the difference. Let us look at the hiring episodes in their context. The details of the hirings take place right after Peter says to Jesus, “Master, we have left everything and followed you,” and then quite bluntly added, “What do we get out of it?”
We are told that the first hires came to an agreement with the master. I doubt that they had a union rep at the negotiations, but the spirit was pretty much, “We’ll work if you pay us so much.” In the case of the later hires, there were no such negotiations, merely that the master would pay as he deemed right. As to the last hires, there were no protests; they were happy to get the job. Their feelings would be characterized as, “I need work – pay me what you will.” I’m sure that all of us have experienced people whose attitudes characterize these three groups of hires.
There are two real motives for work. One is service of our fellow men. The other is service to God. God wants people to be happy and healthy. Any task which is useful to the world is done for God … the doctor, the nurse, the farmer, the baker, the tailor, the delivery man, the janitor, the gas station attendant, the homemaker, the school teacher. When we see it that way, a new thrill will enter the work; we will work not merely for pay, but for men and God; and the reward we will get in the end will be beyond price.
August 24, 2008 + Elizabeth Gibbs Zehnder
Matthew 16:13-20
MP3 File
Since the third grade I have wrestled with allergies. Every time the Santa Ana winds blow my eyes turn red and swell, my throat itches and my chest tightens. I feel like my symptoms have been well documented and I know most of what triggers my allergies, but my search for relief has taken me into uncharted territory.
I’ve taken all kinds of medication – Allerest, Sudafed, Claritin. I’ve swallowed handsfull of horsepills at prescribed intervals, eaten raw horseradish with lemon, drank evil smelling juices. I’ve done yoga, acupressure, sputtered through endless attempts at neti pot washes. Each potential cure has its own point of view on the root of my symptoms and the treatment I need.
I find myself guarded when people ask me about them. I feel vulnerable wrapping words around my search for a healing that has proved to be so elusive. I’d rather not stumble through explaining myself why I think Claritin has failed me and why I’m exploring my blocked energy channels. I’d rather wait until its over, until I can assess privately my success or failure.
I think the disciples were in a similar position. They were living out a hope by following Jesus that had never been successfully done before. Sure there had been other itinerant teachers and prophets anointed by God with sizeable followings, but there had also been hustlers and frauds and who was to say which group Jesus belonged to. Every time it seemed clear that Jesus was sent from God, he would break outside the bounds of religious decorum and his identity was again questionable.
The disciples struggled to keep up with Jesus – to understand what was really going on. Of course they are not going to understand everything the first time around. The Bible gives us many instances of the disciples asking for clarification, in private, for what exactly Jesus meant by a particular parable. Sometimes it seems ridiculous, like in the verses before today’s reading in Matthew, Jesus gives an extended discourse on warning the disciples to beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and they walk away thinking that Jesus was frustrated because someone forgot to bring the bread.
So I imagine that the disciples were relieved in this particular Q & A time with Jesus that he is just requesting the latest results from the polls – Who do people say that I am?
You can hear the collective sigh of relief, this is easy. The disciples were eager and perky, glad to contribute what they had heard – the answers came like popcorn popping - some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, one of the prophets….the disciples didn’t have to analyze what was being said, they only were being called upon to report it. This is a good thing, because, as I read it, I don’t think that the disciples really knew who Jesus was – of course they were committed to Jesus, they had left home, work, families to follow him. And I imagine what had transpired during the course of their three years together was the closest thing to God that they had ever experienced – and yet, Jesus was so outside any categories that had ever been created – how can you put words to that? It was too soon for a systematic messianic Christology.
Just about every culture yearns for a Messiah. We long for someone to rescue us from the human condition. We pin our hopes on so many disappointing characters. There isn’t much reliable information about how exactly to identify a true Messiah. There is no bank of Messiah fingerprints to match, no DNA samples to compare.
In his book the Yiddish Policemans Union, Michael Chabon plays with a Jewish concept of messiah –the tzaddik Ha-Dor. The idea is that in each generation God sends a potential messiah – a righteous one, but it is a function of the fullness of time, whether or not that person is called out to fulfill the job description. Mendel, the alleged messiah character leads a life of contradiction – intellectually brilliant, addicted to heroin, able to heal others, but not himself. The other characters in the book see in Mendel what they are looking for – the sick see a healer, politicians see a leader the people will embrace. People project onto the messiah the ability to save them from what they fear the most. Messiah is an illusive category, easily hijacked by those with misdirected agendas.
So the disciples are all about giving the latest poll results and Jesus turns the tables on them – and in verse 15 asks - “so who do you say that I am?”
– Now there is a small space before verse 16 starts with Simon Peter’s answer, but in the actual moment, I feel certain that there was a long, tension filled silence. Eyes scanned the floor for lost paper clips, shoes are inspected for scuffs and signs of wear.
Who do you say that I am?
Jesus always set the bar high for the disciples, and with all of his being, Simon Peter wanted to meet Jesus’ expectations. He knew that there were many wrong answers to Jesus’ question and very few correct ones. He desperately wanted to say the right thing and yet he didn’t know how to put words around what he knew to be true.
How do you condense this life time of living he had experienced in the short months he had been with Jesus ?– the twisted limbs miraculously straightened, his heart so burning with life in those conversations that trailed late into the night under the canopy of stars, the tense encounters with religious leaders and the way Jesus had of making a way when nothing seemed to be possible, bread multiplied to feed a crowd of hungry people – how do you boil that down into a simple answer – who do you say that I am? Its not like the air conditioned calm of choosing between "a" or "c" on the SAT exam.
Its more like Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. That scene when he’s in the cave with all of the chalices and the challenge is that he has to choose the true “holy grail”, the cup that Jesus had used in the last supper (go with me, I know that this is fiction –but this really gets at the emotional truth). The stakes are high, If he chooses wrong, he dies, if he chooses right he will live forever. So his eyes are drawn to the bejeweled cups, the elaborate ones fit for a King, God’s anointed one, the messiah …but he’s unsure and a the wrong choice will cost him is life...and then at the last minute he remembers Jesus’ humble roots and he guesses the unlikely common cup and in the same instant he reaches for it and lives.
So that’s where Peter is, in that small space between verse 15 and verse 16. He’s on the edge of the precipice, his sandals scattering small stones tumbling into nothingness. His heart pounding. The vacant wind sweeping across the blank canvass of his mind as he desperately searches for words. And then the response comes to him, the wild hope takes on flesh, dry scattered bones leap from the valley floor alive and well. – Who do you say that I am? you are the Messiah!
In that moment an eternity of joy and understanding opened up between Peter and Jesus and the Kingdom of God broke in and Peter could see the exquisite fullness of God’s love and sorrow.
"Blessed are you Simon Peter! You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church."
We need a little help to get in on the play on words that Matthew renders in the Greek. Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book The Seeds of Heaven, lays it out quite nicely. You are Petros and on this petra I will build my church. It’s the same word that he uses twice, the masculine and then the feminine form of the word for “rock” – but there is a subtle difference in the two – Petros – the name that Jesus gives Peter, means stone or pebble, a small piece of a larger rock, while petra means a boulder, a great big rock. So that makes Peter a chip off the old block, a piece of the rock, against which the powers of death shall not prevail.
What good news! I love that Jesus says that he will build the church on that earnest, big hearted, bumbling, impulsive disciple. Reading snatches of the bible each Sunday its easy to miss out on the character development within the text. Peter is a piece of work – what ever he does he does with gusto, but he gets it right about half the time …
Remember he’s the one that when the disciples were adrift in the stormy sea and Jesus comes walking on the water, Peter’s the one who steps out of the boat to walk toward Jesus – notice he’s the only disciple willing to leave the boat. Then he takes his eyes off of Jesus and then falters and starts to sink.
Peter’s the one who later boasts that he would never deny Jesus and then finds himself by the fire trying to stay close to Jesus (again we need to note that the other disciples are long gone) but there he is saying he doesn’t know the first thing about this man Jesus.
One thing you can say about Peter is that he is in the game; granted his execution of the details is sketchy, but his heart is 100% engaged. That is the person Jesus calls out as the foundation of the church; now if you read ahead to next week's text, you’ll find Peter going off in the wrong direction and Jesus calling him a stumbling block (a nickname can really turn against a person!). But even for his inconsistency, Peter is not discarded. He has pushed past what he knows for sure and is willing to step into the hope that Jesus has ignited in his heart.
We should take note that Jesus celebrates Peter for his response, but Jesus names the fact that it didn’t come out of Peter, but that it was “revealed by God in heaven”. Jesus knows that Peter didn’t give his answer out of what he knew for sure – like me filling out the forms in the doctor's office. Allergies? Well that is easy to answer from my experience, I know that list by heart - cats, dogs, pollen dust mold… Peter didn’t say – “You are the messiah” because that was what he had learned to say in Sunday School. No, when he said “you’re the Messiah", Peter, beyond what he knew for certain, was giving voice to the hope that he held, he gave voice to the truth he had received in his spirit.
As a church, Peter’s response to Jesus is our heritage, its our faith community’s DNA. And yet, sitting in this cathedral dripping of established religion, gathered in this space where the architecture suggested that faith in God is manageable and that the ways to God are well charted and known – look around at the stories of our faith laid out in tidy outlines of colored glass, what could be more predictable and knowable? Here in this place Peter’s legacy strikes a dissonant chord.
Ironically, today’s passage in Matthew is in a similar juxtaposition. Its preceded by Matthew’s account of Jesus railing against the Sadducees and Pharisees, the religious leaders of the day. In Luke, Jesus had said that these religious leaders were actually hindering people who were seeking to enter the Kingdom of God because of the way that they taught God’s laws. Jesus was accusing them of being gatekeepers who were mis-using the law to keep people out.
So after critiquing the religious establishment, Jesus says that Peter is now going to be holding the keys to the kingdom. That’s the kind of gatekeeper that I would hope for. Some one who has tried and gotten it all wrong and tried again would certainly be the one I would want to meet at the pearly gates.
Jesus’ declaration that Peter will be living out heaven’s desire speaks volumes. It underscores that Jesus’s church is built on a foundation of a willingness to push past what is known for certain and reach out to what is hoped for.
Before living in LA, I was working in youth ministry with Young Life. Each summer we would take teens to camp and there would always be a ropes course, (Launa Prince knows all about these). This particular one at a camp called Windy Gap, was set about 30 feet up in the air, a series of platforms attached to the tall trunks of pine trees, connected by a variety of rope webs, tight ropes, rope ladders. The hardest part for me was always the exit – you come to the last platform, 30 feet up and there was no apparent way down. Just a trapeze hanging about 6 feet away from the platform. The idea was to jump, catch the trapeze with your hands and then hanging from the trapeze you’d get lowered to the ground (before anyone calls Young Life to protest, it wasn’t possible to free fall to the ground, there was a safety rope on each person’s harness that would keep them from falling) Somehow that safety line information was not helpful as I would stand, year after year on that platform, terrified. Knowing in my head the way down was to leap out over the emptiness to grab the bar, all the while my feet craving contact with the platform. It was terrifying.
Being a fairly short person, I never was able to reach the trapeze. Year after year, my fingertips would brush the bar and I’d fall a few feet before the safety line jerked me to a stop. I’d bask in the rush of grace of that safety line as they slowly let me down to the forest floor.
Fifteen years later, its not so much the leap that I’ve taken away as my faith lesson, but the safety line. That’s where I know God’s grace with all of my being – and there are plenty of times, aside from the foolish proposition of jumping off of platforms 30 feet up in trees, times when I stumble, or am tackled, or when I try to do too much at once, there are plenty of times when I fall, but that safety line of grace is always there. And just like Peter, who was never rejected for his mis-steps, but always, that line of grace came through for him. Remember, how the Gospel of John tells us about Jesus and Peter, in that morning on the other side of the resurrection, sharing breakfast on the beach, Peter saturated with the shame of his denial and Jesus offering restoration and grace?
That’s the foundation that Jesus declares the church will have.
Not the foundation of the Sadducees and Pharisees, with a multiplicity of rules and laws that keep people out of the kingdom.
Rather a foundation of living out of a center of love, of action, of falling short, of receiving instruction and guidance, of trying again and again and again. A foundation that doesn’t require having all the answers, but does require a willingness to receive an unexpected answer.
So as we take our inheritance and try to live out the fullness of our DNA – as we seek to be the gathered people of God, a chip off the old block – how do we make sure that we have it right? How do we make sure that we aren’t so busy trying to find a messiah that fits our need of the moment that we follow the wrong one? How do leave enough room for God’s spirit to guide us in our uncertainty without opening ourselves up to the possibility that we get it all wrong? How do we keep an open mind without having our brain fall out?
We are right up on that platform, 30 feet up. Six feet of open space and that trapeze bar swinging gently in the breeze. Our body craves the solid platform, we crave the clear delineation of the stained glass – right and wrong, holy and profane, messiah and false prophet. And yet….
Our heart knows what Peter felt that day, we feel the surge of God’s truth, but it's never manageable enough to put in categories, it's never solid enough to grab onto. We know that the only way to keep going is to leap off the platform, to receive the spirit’s prompt, to act on what we hope for. Maybe we’ll miss the bar, well, we’ll probably miss the bar. But hear the Good News, God’s grace abounds, God’s grace will catch us, nourish us, and guide us. Like Peter we need to keep our hearts 100% in the game, guided by the hope and the love that walking with Jesus has kindled in our hearts. Amen.
MP3 File
Since the third grade I have wrestled with allergies. Every time the Santa Ana winds blow my eyes turn red and swell, my throat itches and my chest tightens. I feel like my symptoms have been well documented and I know most of what triggers my allergies, but my search for relief has taken me into uncharted territory.
I’ve taken all kinds of medication – Allerest, Sudafed, Claritin. I’ve swallowed handsfull of horsepills at prescribed intervals, eaten raw horseradish with lemon, drank evil smelling juices. I’ve done yoga, acupressure, sputtered through endless attempts at neti pot washes. Each potential cure has its own point of view on the root of my symptoms and the treatment I need.
I find myself guarded when people ask me about them. I feel vulnerable wrapping words around my search for a healing that has proved to be so elusive. I’d rather not stumble through explaining myself why I think Claritin has failed me and why I’m exploring my blocked energy channels. I’d rather wait until its over, until I can assess privately my success or failure.
I think the disciples were in a similar position. They were living out a hope by following Jesus that had never been successfully done before. Sure there had been other itinerant teachers and prophets anointed by God with sizeable followings, but there had also been hustlers and frauds and who was to say which group Jesus belonged to. Every time it seemed clear that Jesus was sent from God, he would break outside the bounds of religious decorum and his identity was again questionable.
The disciples struggled to keep up with Jesus – to understand what was really going on. Of course they are not going to understand everything the first time around. The Bible gives us many instances of the disciples asking for clarification, in private, for what exactly Jesus meant by a particular parable. Sometimes it seems ridiculous, like in the verses before today’s reading in Matthew, Jesus gives an extended discourse on warning the disciples to beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and they walk away thinking that Jesus was frustrated because someone forgot to bring the bread.
So I imagine that the disciples were relieved in this particular Q & A time with Jesus that he is just requesting the latest results from the polls – Who do people say that I am?
You can hear the collective sigh of relief, this is easy. The disciples were eager and perky, glad to contribute what they had heard – the answers came like popcorn popping - some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, one of the prophets….the disciples didn’t have to analyze what was being said, they only were being called upon to report it. This is a good thing, because, as I read it, I don’t think that the disciples really knew who Jesus was – of course they were committed to Jesus, they had left home, work, families to follow him. And I imagine what had transpired during the course of their three years together was the closest thing to God that they had ever experienced – and yet, Jesus was so outside any categories that had ever been created – how can you put words to that? It was too soon for a systematic messianic Christology.
Just about every culture yearns for a Messiah. We long for someone to rescue us from the human condition. We pin our hopes on so many disappointing characters. There isn’t much reliable information about how exactly to identify a true Messiah. There is no bank of Messiah fingerprints to match, no DNA samples to compare.
In his book the Yiddish Policemans Union, Michael Chabon plays with a Jewish concept of messiah –the tzaddik Ha-Dor. The idea is that in each generation God sends a potential messiah – a righteous one, but it is a function of the fullness of time, whether or not that person is called out to fulfill the job description. Mendel, the alleged messiah character leads a life of contradiction – intellectually brilliant, addicted to heroin, able to heal others, but not himself. The other characters in the book see in Mendel what they are looking for – the sick see a healer, politicians see a leader the people will embrace. People project onto the messiah the ability to save them from what they fear the most. Messiah is an illusive category, easily hijacked by those with misdirected agendas.
So the disciples are all about giving the latest poll results and Jesus turns the tables on them – and in verse 15 asks - “so who do you say that I am?”
– Now there is a small space before verse 16 starts with Simon Peter’s answer, but in the actual moment, I feel certain that there was a long, tension filled silence. Eyes scanned the floor for lost paper clips, shoes are inspected for scuffs and signs of wear.
Who do you say that I am?
Jesus always set the bar high for the disciples, and with all of his being, Simon Peter wanted to meet Jesus’ expectations. He knew that there were many wrong answers to Jesus’ question and very few correct ones. He desperately wanted to say the right thing and yet he didn’t know how to put words around what he knew to be true.
How do you condense this life time of living he had experienced in the short months he had been with Jesus ?– the twisted limbs miraculously straightened, his heart so burning with life in those conversations that trailed late into the night under the canopy of stars, the tense encounters with religious leaders and the way Jesus had of making a way when nothing seemed to be possible, bread multiplied to feed a crowd of hungry people – how do you boil that down into a simple answer – who do you say that I am? Its not like the air conditioned calm of choosing between "a" or "c" on the SAT exam.
Its more like Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. That scene when he’s in the cave with all of the chalices and the challenge is that he has to choose the true “holy grail”, the cup that Jesus had used in the last supper (go with me, I know that this is fiction –but this really gets at the emotional truth). The stakes are high, If he chooses wrong, he dies, if he chooses right he will live forever. So his eyes are drawn to the bejeweled cups, the elaborate ones fit for a King, God’s anointed one, the messiah …but he’s unsure and a the wrong choice will cost him is life...and then at the last minute he remembers Jesus’ humble roots and he guesses the unlikely common cup and in the same instant he reaches for it and lives.
So that’s where Peter is, in that small space between verse 15 and verse 16. He’s on the edge of the precipice, his sandals scattering small stones tumbling into nothingness. His heart pounding. The vacant wind sweeping across the blank canvass of his mind as he desperately searches for words. And then the response comes to him, the wild hope takes on flesh, dry scattered bones leap from the valley floor alive and well. – Who do you say that I am? you are the Messiah!
In that moment an eternity of joy and understanding opened up between Peter and Jesus and the Kingdom of God broke in and Peter could see the exquisite fullness of God’s love and sorrow.
"Blessed are you Simon Peter! You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church."
We need a little help to get in on the play on words that Matthew renders in the Greek. Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book The Seeds of Heaven, lays it out quite nicely. You are Petros and on this petra I will build my church. It’s the same word that he uses twice, the masculine and then the feminine form of the word for “rock” – but there is a subtle difference in the two – Petros – the name that Jesus gives Peter, means stone or pebble, a small piece of a larger rock, while petra means a boulder, a great big rock. So that makes Peter a chip off the old block, a piece of the rock, against which the powers of death shall not prevail.
What good news! I love that Jesus says that he will build the church on that earnest, big hearted, bumbling, impulsive disciple. Reading snatches of the bible each Sunday its easy to miss out on the character development within the text. Peter is a piece of work – what ever he does he does with gusto, but he gets it right about half the time …
Remember he’s the one that when the disciples were adrift in the stormy sea and Jesus comes walking on the water, Peter’s the one who steps out of the boat to walk toward Jesus – notice he’s the only disciple willing to leave the boat. Then he takes his eyes off of Jesus and then falters and starts to sink.
Peter’s the one who later boasts that he would never deny Jesus and then finds himself by the fire trying to stay close to Jesus (again we need to note that the other disciples are long gone) but there he is saying he doesn’t know the first thing about this man Jesus.
One thing you can say about Peter is that he is in the game; granted his execution of the details is sketchy, but his heart is 100% engaged. That is the person Jesus calls out as the foundation of the church; now if you read ahead to next week's text, you’ll find Peter going off in the wrong direction and Jesus calling him a stumbling block (a nickname can really turn against a person!). But even for his inconsistency, Peter is not discarded. He has pushed past what he knows for sure and is willing to step into the hope that Jesus has ignited in his heart.
We should take note that Jesus celebrates Peter for his response, but Jesus names the fact that it didn’t come out of Peter, but that it was “revealed by God in heaven”. Jesus knows that Peter didn’t give his answer out of what he knew for sure – like me filling out the forms in the doctor's office. Allergies? Well that is easy to answer from my experience, I know that list by heart - cats, dogs, pollen dust mold… Peter didn’t say – “You are the messiah” because that was what he had learned to say in Sunday School. No, when he said “you’re the Messiah", Peter, beyond what he knew for certain, was giving voice to the hope that he held, he gave voice to the truth he had received in his spirit.
As a church, Peter’s response to Jesus is our heritage, its our faith community’s DNA. And yet, sitting in this cathedral dripping of established religion, gathered in this space where the architecture suggested that faith in God is manageable and that the ways to God are well charted and known – look around at the stories of our faith laid out in tidy outlines of colored glass, what could be more predictable and knowable? Here in this place Peter’s legacy strikes a dissonant chord.
Ironically, today’s passage in Matthew is in a similar juxtaposition. Its preceded by Matthew’s account of Jesus railing against the Sadducees and Pharisees, the religious leaders of the day. In Luke, Jesus had said that these religious leaders were actually hindering people who were seeking to enter the Kingdom of God because of the way that they taught God’s laws. Jesus was accusing them of being gatekeepers who were mis-using the law to keep people out.
So after critiquing the religious establishment, Jesus says that Peter is now going to be holding the keys to the kingdom. That’s the kind of gatekeeper that I would hope for. Some one who has tried and gotten it all wrong and tried again would certainly be the one I would want to meet at the pearly gates.
Jesus’ declaration that Peter will be living out heaven’s desire speaks volumes. It underscores that Jesus’s church is built on a foundation of a willingness to push past what is known for certain and reach out to what is hoped for.
Before living in LA, I was working in youth ministry with Young Life. Each summer we would take teens to camp and there would always be a ropes course, (Launa Prince knows all about these). This particular one at a camp called Windy Gap, was set about 30 feet up in the air, a series of platforms attached to the tall trunks of pine trees, connected by a variety of rope webs, tight ropes, rope ladders. The hardest part for me was always the exit – you come to the last platform, 30 feet up and there was no apparent way down. Just a trapeze hanging about 6 feet away from the platform. The idea was to jump, catch the trapeze with your hands and then hanging from the trapeze you’d get lowered to the ground (before anyone calls Young Life to protest, it wasn’t possible to free fall to the ground, there was a safety rope on each person’s harness that would keep them from falling) Somehow that safety line information was not helpful as I would stand, year after year on that platform, terrified. Knowing in my head the way down was to leap out over the emptiness to grab the bar, all the while my feet craving contact with the platform. It was terrifying.
Being a fairly short person, I never was able to reach the trapeze. Year after year, my fingertips would brush the bar and I’d fall a few feet before the safety line jerked me to a stop. I’d bask in the rush of grace of that safety line as they slowly let me down to the forest floor.
Fifteen years later, its not so much the leap that I’ve taken away as my faith lesson, but the safety line. That’s where I know God’s grace with all of my being – and there are plenty of times, aside from the foolish proposition of jumping off of platforms 30 feet up in trees, times when I stumble, or am tackled, or when I try to do too much at once, there are plenty of times when I fall, but that safety line of grace is always there. And just like Peter, who was never rejected for his mis-steps, but always, that line of grace came through for him. Remember, how the Gospel of John tells us about Jesus and Peter, in that morning on the other side of the resurrection, sharing breakfast on the beach, Peter saturated with the shame of his denial and Jesus offering restoration and grace?
That’s the foundation that Jesus declares the church will have.
Not the foundation of the Sadducees and Pharisees, with a multiplicity of rules and laws that keep people out of the kingdom.
Rather a foundation of living out of a center of love, of action, of falling short, of receiving instruction and guidance, of trying again and again and again. A foundation that doesn’t require having all the answers, but does require a willingness to receive an unexpected answer.
So as we take our inheritance and try to live out the fullness of our DNA – as we seek to be the gathered people of God, a chip off the old block – how do we make sure that we have it right? How do we make sure that we aren’t so busy trying to find a messiah that fits our need of the moment that we follow the wrong one? How do leave enough room for God’s spirit to guide us in our uncertainty without opening ourselves up to the possibility that we get it all wrong? How do we keep an open mind without having our brain fall out?
We are right up on that platform, 30 feet up. Six feet of open space and that trapeze bar swinging gently in the breeze. Our body craves the solid platform, we crave the clear delineation of the stained glass – right and wrong, holy and profane, messiah and false prophet. And yet….
Our heart knows what Peter felt that day, we feel the surge of God’s truth, but it's never manageable enough to put in categories, it's never solid enough to grab onto. We know that the only way to keep going is to leap off the platform, to receive the spirit’s prompt, to act on what we hope for. Maybe we’ll miss the bar, well, we’ll probably miss the bar. But hear the Good News, God’s grace abounds, God’s grace will catch us, nourish us, and guide us. Like Peter we need to keep our hearts 100% in the game, guided by the hope and the love that walking with Jesus has kindled in our hearts. Amen.
September 10, 2008
August 20, 2008 + No carry-on luggage allowed + Hayward Fong
Luke 12: 13-21
The story told by Jesus is as old as time and as new as today. It’s about a man whose life was one long success story. He made his plans to enjoy himself in his own way and, suddenly, when everything seem to be all set, the grim reaper came on the scene with other plans. It is the kind of a story that occurs in all literature.
From the Arabian Nights, there is this startling parallel story. “A king had gathered together a vast store of gold and other treasures and had built for himself a great palace reaching the sky. One day he ordered a feast to be prepared for his court, and sitting on his throne he communed with himself saying, ‘O soul, thou hast heaped up for thyself all the good things of the world; now give thyself up to them and enjoy these treasures in a long and happy life.’ Scarce had he finished when the angel of death came to him.” When Jesus told this story, he told of something which happens in every age and generation.
This is one of the parables which spring directly from their context. It was the usual thing that people came to respected Rabbis with their problems. The fact that the man in the crowd came to Jesus with his problem is an indication that Jesus was regarded as a Rabbi and held in respect.
But the fact is, this man had no real problem. His request was that Jesus should speak to his brother about the division of the estate, presumably of his father. Jewish law was quite definite. The law was that the eldest son got two-thirds and the remaining one-third was given to the younger or divided among the younger sons. Therefore there was no question about the division of the estate. This man knew the law well enough but he was not satisfied with his share. He was a covetous individual who sought to inveigle Jesus into being an ally of his covetousness. That is why Jesus begins with his warning about covetousness and then goes on to tell his vivid story.
This parable is usually referred as The Parable of the Rich Fool. Here was this man who had enjoyed a run of unbroken prosperity, so prosperous that his barns could not hold his crops. He tore down barn after barn and built larger ones in their place. Now he was ready to sit back and enjoy himself for years to come. But God had other plans. God told him that his soul would be required of him that night. His plans of enjoyment were shattered forever.
The rich fool is held up as a warning to all of us. Where did this man go awry. What were the things of life this man remembered and what did he forget?
First, he remembered the wrong things. He remembered only himself. Note that this story is full of the first person singular. He asks himself, “What shall I do because I have no room to bestow my fruits? He goes on to say to himself, “This will I do; I will pull down my barns and build greater ones and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.” From that he goes on to plan a life which apparently has not even the remotest thought for anything else except his own ease and enjoyment. To himself, he was by far the most important person in all the world.
It has been said that Jesus came to banish the words “I” and “mine” from life and to substitute “we” and “ours.” It is certainly significant that in the Lord’s Prayer the first person singular never appears; it is always the first person plural. Self is banished and man is taught to think of himself as one of a community of brothers and sisters.
The ancient monks of the middle east may have made many mistakes in their outlook on life, but they had one custom worthy of emulation. It was laid down that no monk might ever speak of “my” book, “my” pen, “my” cell, and to use the word was regarded as a fault demanding rebuke and discipline.
This parable is the final condemnation of the man to whom the most important word is “I.”
The second thing this man remembered was this world. He never had a thought for anything except the world in which he was living. He was so enthralled with it that as far as he was concerned no other world existed. There is such a thing as an other-worldly Christianity which despises the world. For that nothing is to be said. But it is possible to swing around 180-degrees to the other direction and to worship the world. There is the story told of a person who after having been shown through a beautiful estate and castle, remarked, “These are things which make it difficult to die.”
The idea of such a person is to amass things which, he believes, can insure happiness and security. That is a hopeless task. The Jews have a saying, “He who so craves wealth is like a man who drinks sea water. The more he drinks the more he increases his thirst and he ceases not to drink until he perishes.” There is this unwritten saying attributed to Jesus, “The world is a bridge. The wise man will pass over it but will not build his house upon it.” He meant that the world is of first rate importance but that it is a stage to another world, and that he who forgets that has really forgotten the main object of life.
Now that we have looked at what the rich fool remembered, let us look at what he forgot.
He forgot his neighbors. If his barns were too small, there must have been many who would have been glad to share in some of his surplus. Had he looked around he wouldn’t have had much trouble finding others in need. All he thought about was his enjoyment. His notion of happiness was to take his ease, to eat, to drink. His one thought was to have a good time. One of the greatest tests of a person is – Where does that person find his enjoyment? or Does he connect enjoyment with making other people happy? If he seeks solely selfish enjoyment he will not get it. There is a saying, “Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others cannot keep it from their own.”
Second, he forgot time. The whole attitude of this man was that he had unlimited time. One of the features of all great men is that they have been impressed, sometimes even obsessed, with the shortness of time. They hear “time’s” winged chariot hurrying near.
John Keats (1795-1821), one of England’s greatest poets said, “fears that I may cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain.”
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote these haunting words,
“The morning drum-call on my eager ear
Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew
Lies yet undried along the field of noon.
“But now I pause at whiles in what I do,
And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear
(My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.”
C.E. Montague (1867-1928), noted British journalist, author, told how many years ago he first realized the urgency of time. He heard a sermon by the great Anglican preacher Dr. Benjamin Jowett (1817-1893), the Master of Balliol. In it, Dr. Jowett said, “I find it set down in tables that the average duration of human life at the end of 21 years is 36 years. We may hope for a little more; we may fear a little less, but speaking generally 36 years or about 13,000 days is the term in which our task must be accomplished.” It was the reduction of the matter to days which struck Montague; and there came to him the utter certainty that not one of these days could be wasted by an honorable man.
Rev. Dr. Thomas Chalmers, (1780-1847), a Scottish clergyman and Professor of Mathematics and Moral Philosophy at the University of St. Andrews, after admitting that a statement he had made in the early days of his ministry was in error and made in ignorance, said, “What is the object of mathematical science? magnitude and proportion of magnitudes. (Back) then, sir, I had forgotten two magnitudes. I thought not of the littleness of time; I recklessly thought not of the greatness of eternity.” Here we have a man who when he discovered the real essence of Christianity, discovered also the shortness of time.
It may well be said that the most dangerous word is the word, “tomorrow.” It may be a grim thought but a necessary one. We have no bond on time. No one knows if tomorrow will ever come. There is an old story of three apprentice devils that were coming from hell to earth to serve their time. They were telling Satan before they left what they proposed to do. The first said, “I will tell men that there is no God.” “That,” Satan said, “will not do because in their hearts they know there is.” The second said, “I will tell them that there is no hell.” That,” Satan said, “is still more hopeless for even in life they have experienced the remorse of hell.” The third said, I will tell them that there is no hurry.” “Go,” said Satan, “tell them that and you will ruin them by the million.”
The rich fool forgot time. It is said that Alexander the Great kept a little model of a skeleton on the table before him to remind him that, even at the happiest, time was short and death must come. It is a thing that all of us must remember, not simply as a grim and frightening thing, but as a challenge to prepare ourselves for taking a step to a greater work and a higher world and a life in the presence of God.
This man forgot God. As the proverb states, “Man proposes; but God disposes.” James writes, “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and get gain’; whereas you do not know about tomorrow. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we shall live and we shall do this or that’” (James 4:13-15). The man who makes plans and leaves out God has left out the most important factor of all.
Finally, he forgot that a man is what he is and not what he has. He concentrated on a pursuit of the things he was bound to leave behind and forgot the things he could take with him. As the Spanish proverb puts it, “There are no pockets in a shroud.” Or as a Scottish saying goes, “Sow a deed, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.” In the last analysis the one thing a man can take with him when he leaves this world is himself. Alexander the Great gave instructions that when he died his body should be placed in the coffin in such a way that it could be seen that his hands were empty. The conqueror of the world was well aware that he could take none of his conquests with him. The supreme aim of life should not be the acquisition of temporary things but the formation of a character which some day we may take without shame to God.
Amen.
The story told by Jesus is as old as time and as new as today. It’s about a man whose life was one long success story. He made his plans to enjoy himself in his own way and, suddenly, when everything seem to be all set, the grim reaper came on the scene with other plans. It is the kind of a story that occurs in all literature.
From the Arabian Nights, there is this startling parallel story. “A king had gathered together a vast store of gold and other treasures and had built for himself a great palace reaching the sky. One day he ordered a feast to be prepared for his court, and sitting on his throne he communed with himself saying, ‘O soul, thou hast heaped up for thyself all the good things of the world; now give thyself up to them and enjoy these treasures in a long and happy life.’ Scarce had he finished when the angel of death came to him.” When Jesus told this story, he told of something which happens in every age and generation.
This is one of the parables which spring directly from their context. It was the usual thing that people came to respected Rabbis with their problems. The fact that the man in the crowd came to Jesus with his problem is an indication that Jesus was regarded as a Rabbi and held in respect.
But the fact is, this man had no real problem. His request was that Jesus should speak to his brother about the division of the estate, presumably of his father. Jewish law was quite definite. The law was that the eldest son got two-thirds and the remaining one-third was given to the younger or divided among the younger sons. Therefore there was no question about the division of the estate. This man knew the law well enough but he was not satisfied with his share. He was a covetous individual who sought to inveigle Jesus into being an ally of his covetousness. That is why Jesus begins with his warning about covetousness and then goes on to tell his vivid story.
This parable is usually referred as The Parable of the Rich Fool. Here was this man who had enjoyed a run of unbroken prosperity, so prosperous that his barns could not hold his crops. He tore down barn after barn and built larger ones in their place. Now he was ready to sit back and enjoy himself for years to come. But God had other plans. God told him that his soul would be required of him that night. His plans of enjoyment were shattered forever.
The rich fool is held up as a warning to all of us. Where did this man go awry. What were the things of life this man remembered and what did he forget?
First, he remembered the wrong things. He remembered only himself. Note that this story is full of the first person singular. He asks himself, “What shall I do because I have no room to bestow my fruits? He goes on to say to himself, “This will I do; I will pull down my barns and build greater ones and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.” From that he goes on to plan a life which apparently has not even the remotest thought for anything else except his own ease and enjoyment. To himself, he was by far the most important person in all the world.
It has been said that Jesus came to banish the words “I” and “mine” from life and to substitute “we” and “ours.” It is certainly significant that in the Lord’s Prayer the first person singular never appears; it is always the first person plural. Self is banished and man is taught to think of himself as one of a community of brothers and sisters.
The ancient monks of the middle east may have made many mistakes in their outlook on life, but they had one custom worthy of emulation. It was laid down that no monk might ever speak of “my” book, “my” pen, “my” cell, and to use the word was regarded as a fault demanding rebuke and discipline.
This parable is the final condemnation of the man to whom the most important word is “I.”
The second thing this man remembered was this world. He never had a thought for anything except the world in which he was living. He was so enthralled with it that as far as he was concerned no other world existed. There is such a thing as an other-worldly Christianity which despises the world. For that nothing is to be said. But it is possible to swing around 180-degrees to the other direction and to worship the world. There is the story told of a person who after having been shown through a beautiful estate and castle, remarked, “These are things which make it difficult to die.”
The idea of such a person is to amass things which, he believes, can insure happiness and security. That is a hopeless task. The Jews have a saying, “He who so craves wealth is like a man who drinks sea water. The more he drinks the more he increases his thirst and he ceases not to drink until he perishes.” There is this unwritten saying attributed to Jesus, “The world is a bridge. The wise man will pass over it but will not build his house upon it.” He meant that the world is of first rate importance but that it is a stage to another world, and that he who forgets that has really forgotten the main object of life.
Now that we have looked at what the rich fool remembered, let us look at what he forgot.
He forgot his neighbors. If his barns were too small, there must have been many who would have been glad to share in some of his surplus. Had he looked around he wouldn’t have had much trouble finding others in need. All he thought about was his enjoyment. His notion of happiness was to take his ease, to eat, to drink. His one thought was to have a good time. One of the greatest tests of a person is – Where does that person find his enjoyment? or Does he connect enjoyment with making other people happy? If he seeks solely selfish enjoyment he will not get it. There is a saying, “Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others cannot keep it from their own.”
Second, he forgot time. The whole attitude of this man was that he had unlimited time. One of the features of all great men is that they have been impressed, sometimes even obsessed, with the shortness of time. They hear “time’s” winged chariot hurrying near.
John Keats (1795-1821), one of England’s greatest poets said, “fears that I may cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain.”
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote these haunting words,
“The morning drum-call on my eager ear
Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew
Lies yet undried along the field of noon.
“But now I pause at whiles in what I do,
And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear
(My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.”
C.E. Montague (1867-1928), noted British journalist, author, told how many years ago he first realized the urgency of time. He heard a sermon by the great Anglican preacher Dr. Benjamin Jowett (1817-1893), the Master of Balliol. In it, Dr. Jowett said, “I find it set down in tables that the average duration of human life at the end of 21 years is 36 years. We may hope for a little more; we may fear a little less, but speaking generally 36 years or about 13,000 days is the term in which our task must be accomplished.” It was the reduction of the matter to days which struck Montague; and there came to him the utter certainty that not one of these days could be wasted by an honorable man.
Rev. Dr. Thomas Chalmers, (1780-1847), a Scottish clergyman and Professor of Mathematics and Moral Philosophy at the University of St. Andrews, after admitting that a statement he had made in the early days of his ministry was in error and made in ignorance, said, “What is the object of mathematical science? magnitude and proportion of magnitudes. (Back) then, sir, I had forgotten two magnitudes. I thought not of the littleness of time; I recklessly thought not of the greatness of eternity.” Here we have a man who when he discovered the real essence of Christianity, discovered also the shortness of time.
It may well be said that the most dangerous word is the word, “tomorrow.” It may be a grim thought but a necessary one. We have no bond on time. No one knows if tomorrow will ever come. There is an old story of three apprentice devils that were coming from hell to earth to serve their time. They were telling Satan before they left what they proposed to do. The first said, “I will tell men that there is no God.” “That,” Satan said, “will not do because in their hearts they know there is.” The second said, “I will tell them that there is no hell.” That,” Satan said, “is still more hopeless for even in life they have experienced the remorse of hell.” The third said, I will tell them that there is no hurry.” “Go,” said Satan, “tell them that and you will ruin them by the million.”
The rich fool forgot time. It is said that Alexander the Great kept a little model of a skeleton on the table before him to remind him that, even at the happiest, time was short and death must come. It is a thing that all of us must remember, not simply as a grim and frightening thing, but as a challenge to prepare ourselves for taking a step to a greater work and a higher world and a life in the presence of God.
This man forgot God. As the proverb states, “Man proposes; but God disposes.” James writes, “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and get gain’; whereas you do not know about tomorrow. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we shall live and we shall do this or that’” (James 4:13-15). The man who makes plans and leaves out God has left out the most important factor of all.
Finally, he forgot that a man is what he is and not what he has. He concentrated on a pursuit of the things he was bound to leave behind and forgot the things he could take with him. As the Spanish proverb puts it, “There are no pockets in a shroud.” Or as a Scottish saying goes, “Sow a deed, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.” In the last analysis the one thing a man can take with him when he leaves this world is himself. Alexander the Great gave instructions that when he died his body should be placed in the coffin in such a way that it could be seen that his hands were empty. The conqueror of the world was well aware that he could take none of his conquests with him. The supreme aim of life should not be the acquisition of temporary things but the formation of a character which some day we may take without shame to God.
Amen.
August 13, 2008 + Helping hands wanted + Hayward Fong
Luke 10: 25-37
The story we read is one that happened often on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. This road was a dangerous one for travelers and one well suited for robbers. Jerusalem is a city on a hill at elevation 2,300; Jericho on the other hand is near the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is 1,300 feet below sea level, so the road between Jerusalem and Jericho has a change in elevation of 3,600 feet in a little more than 20 miles. With its sharp turns and narrow passes, it was an ideal place for bandits to ambush travelers. In the 19th Century, travelers had to pay local Sheiks for safe passage, and up until the early 1930’s highway robberies were still taking place. With the turmoil in the region, I suspect that it has become once again a road of dubious safety.
As we have done in earlier studies of Jesus’ parables, let us look at the characters in this story.
First there is the traveler. He was either careless or stupid to travel this road alone. People in his day and age always traveled in convoys for security reasons.
Second there was the priest. Because there were so many priests they were divided into classes, each class to serve in the Temple for two separate weeks in the year. When they were not on duty, many would stay in Jericho. As the story went, this priest took one look at the man and passed on the other side. He didn’t want to risk being unclean for touching a dead man and not being able to share in the religious service. Their time of service in the Temple was the great event in their lives and he didn’t want to risk losing his two weeks. He could well have been sorry for the man, but the risk was too great. The priest set the service in the Temple above the claim of humanity.
Then there was the Levite. He evidently came over, took a look and hurried past on the other side. It might be that he was afraid that the body was a setup for other bandits hiding in the area. He would have liked to help, but the risk was too great.
Then there is the Samaritan, a people hated by the Jews. This enmity had lasted for some 450 years. When the Northern Kingdom, with its capital in Samaria, was destroyed around 720 B.C. the inhabitants were deported to Assyria and foreigners had been brought in. Since it was impossible to deport an entire nation, there were some who were left behind. In the course of time, some of them intermarried with the foreigners. And in so doing, they lost the racial purity, unforgivable in the eyes of the Southern Jews.
About 140 years later the same fate befell the Southern Kingdom, whose capital was at Jerusalem. But these Jews kept the faith even in exile to Babylon. They kept their nationality and religion and around 440 B.C. they were allowed to return to Jerusalem under Ezra and Nehemiah to rebuild the city and Temple. Immediately the Jews of the Northern Kingdom offered their help, but were contemptuously refused. Because of their foreign marriages, they were no longer considered as Jews by the Southern Jews. This bitterness carried on through the ages. Therefore if this man is a Samaritan, the listeners to Jesus would identify him as the villain.
However, there are some problems in regarding him as a racial Samaritan. He was clearly something of a commercial traveler. The inn keeper seemed to know him and trusted him to return. There is an implication that he had two animals, one of which he rode and the other to carry his packs. Now if he was racially a Samaritan, what was he doing going between Jerusalem and Jericho? The Jews had no dealing with Samaritans so it would be safe to say that he couldn’t possibly have any business in Jerusalem and could be persona non grata to a Jewish inn keeper.
A possible and a simple explanation can be found in John 8:48. The orthodox Jews shocked and fed up with Jesus said to him, “Are we not right in saying that you are a Samaritan and have a demon?” The name Samaritan was used as a term of loathing and contempt for those who were law breakers from the orthodox Jewish religion. So most probably, this commercial traveler was one of those people who did not keep the ceremonial law and was disliked by the orthodox good people of the day. And so the parable paints a picture of the orthodox passing on the other side, while the despised heretic and sinner is the one man who helps his fellow man.
Of Jesus’ parables, this is probably the most practical, in dealing with the most practical of problems in the most practical way. It answers two questions.
The question of the scribe was, “Who is my neighbor?” and the answer of the parable is, “Anyone who needs your help.” To the Jew this was startling, He felt a definite responsibility for his fellow Jew but none at all for the Gentile. How often do we pass by people in suffering and in need because, as we say, they have nothing to do with us. It is only when need comes to someone in our circle that we become active. There are some people whose instinct is to keep to themselves; there are others whose instinct it is to help, and these have the spirit of Christ in them.
This parable answers the question, “What is my duty to my neighbor in trouble?” and the answer is “Pity which brings about help.” Pity which remains an emotion is not really pity. Both the priest and Levite probably felt a pang of pity for the traveler but did nothing to translate pity into action.
The pity which remains an emotion is actually a sin because it is always sin to experience high emotion and do nothing to turn it into action. Our duty to our neighbor is to reproduce the attitude of Christ, the attitude of an active pity whose hand is ever stretched out to help.
This parable says that practical service must take precedence in religion. The priest was so pre-occupied with the correct carrying out of the Temple services that he failed to respond to a fellow-creature’s need. A Church may have all the dignity in the world and be quite dead, because true religion comes forth not in ritual and ceremony but in practical help for those in need.
The parable says that there is duty to help a man even when the trouble he is in is his own fault. This traveler was careless and didn’t exercise common sense in traveling alone. Yet the Samaritan, for all that, helped him. Quite often we say of someone in trouble, “He has no one to blame but himself.” That may be true but God helped men in spite of their foolishness. So must we.
The parable says we must help even at risk to ourselves. The Levite was not willing to take the risk; nor was the priest. The true Christian counts risk as less that nothing in comparison with the duty of helpfulness.
Whether we take the Samaritan as racially a Samaritan or as a heretic branded with that name of contempt, the fact emerges that there may be more real Christianity in someone with a hot heart and a stained record than in someone who is cold and correctly orthodox. This parable lays it down that the standard of judgment is not ours to make.
The story we read is one that happened often on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. This road was a dangerous one for travelers and one well suited for robbers. Jerusalem is a city on a hill at elevation 2,300; Jericho on the other hand is near the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is 1,300 feet below sea level, so the road between Jerusalem and Jericho has a change in elevation of 3,600 feet in a little more than 20 miles. With its sharp turns and narrow passes, it was an ideal place for bandits to ambush travelers. In the 19th Century, travelers had to pay local Sheiks for safe passage, and up until the early 1930’s highway robberies were still taking place. With the turmoil in the region, I suspect that it has become once again a road of dubious safety.
As we have done in earlier studies of Jesus’ parables, let us look at the characters in this story.
First there is the traveler. He was either careless or stupid to travel this road alone. People in his day and age always traveled in convoys for security reasons.
Second there was the priest. Because there were so many priests they were divided into classes, each class to serve in the Temple for two separate weeks in the year. When they were not on duty, many would stay in Jericho. As the story went, this priest took one look at the man and passed on the other side. He didn’t want to risk being unclean for touching a dead man and not being able to share in the religious service. Their time of service in the Temple was the great event in their lives and he didn’t want to risk losing his two weeks. He could well have been sorry for the man, but the risk was too great. The priest set the service in the Temple above the claim of humanity.
Then there was the Levite. He evidently came over, took a look and hurried past on the other side. It might be that he was afraid that the body was a setup for other bandits hiding in the area. He would have liked to help, but the risk was too great.
Then there is the Samaritan, a people hated by the Jews. This enmity had lasted for some 450 years. When the Northern Kingdom, with its capital in Samaria, was destroyed around 720 B.C. the inhabitants were deported to Assyria and foreigners had been brought in. Since it was impossible to deport an entire nation, there were some who were left behind. In the course of time, some of them intermarried with the foreigners. And in so doing, they lost the racial purity, unforgivable in the eyes of the Southern Jews.
About 140 years later the same fate befell the Southern Kingdom, whose capital was at Jerusalem. But these Jews kept the faith even in exile to Babylon. They kept their nationality and religion and around 440 B.C. they were allowed to return to Jerusalem under Ezra and Nehemiah to rebuild the city and Temple. Immediately the Jews of the Northern Kingdom offered their help, but were contemptuously refused. Because of their foreign marriages, they were no longer considered as Jews by the Southern Jews. This bitterness carried on through the ages. Therefore if this man is a Samaritan, the listeners to Jesus would identify him as the villain.
However, there are some problems in regarding him as a racial Samaritan. He was clearly something of a commercial traveler. The inn keeper seemed to know him and trusted him to return. There is an implication that he had two animals, one of which he rode and the other to carry his packs. Now if he was racially a Samaritan, what was he doing going between Jerusalem and Jericho? The Jews had no dealing with Samaritans so it would be safe to say that he couldn’t possibly have any business in Jerusalem and could be persona non grata to a Jewish inn keeper.
A possible and a simple explanation can be found in John 8:48. The orthodox Jews shocked and fed up with Jesus said to him, “Are we not right in saying that you are a Samaritan and have a demon?” The name Samaritan was used as a term of loathing and contempt for those who were law breakers from the orthodox Jewish religion. So most probably, this commercial traveler was one of those people who did not keep the ceremonial law and was disliked by the orthodox good people of the day. And so the parable paints a picture of the orthodox passing on the other side, while the despised heretic and sinner is the one man who helps his fellow man.
Of Jesus’ parables, this is probably the most practical, in dealing with the most practical of problems in the most practical way. It answers two questions.
The question of the scribe was, “Who is my neighbor?” and the answer of the parable is, “Anyone who needs your help.” To the Jew this was startling, He felt a definite responsibility for his fellow Jew but none at all for the Gentile. How often do we pass by people in suffering and in need because, as we say, they have nothing to do with us. It is only when need comes to someone in our circle that we become active. There are some people whose instinct is to keep to themselves; there are others whose instinct it is to help, and these have the spirit of Christ in them.
This parable answers the question, “What is my duty to my neighbor in trouble?” and the answer is “Pity which brings about help.” Pity which remains an emotion is not really pity. Both the priest and Levite probably felt a pang of pity for the traveler but did nothing to translate pity into action.
The pity which remains an emotion is actually a sin because it is always sin to experience high emotion and do nothing to turn it into action. Our duty to our neighbor is to reproduce the attitude of Christ, the attitude of an active pity whose hand is ever stretched out to help.
This parable says that practical service must take precedence in religion. The priest was so pre-occupied with the correct carrying out of the Temple services that he failed to respond to a fellow-creature’s need. A Church may have all the dignity in the world and be quite dead, because true religion comes forth not in ritual and ceremony but in practical help for those in need.
The parable says that there is duty to help a man even when the trouble he is in is his own fault. This traveler was careless and didn’t exercise common sense in traveling alone. Yet the Samaritan, for all that, helped him. Quite often we say of someone in trouble, “He has no one to blame but himself.” That may be true but God helped men in spite of their foolishness. So must we.
The parable says we must help even at risk to ourselves. The Levite was not willing to take the risk; nor was the priest. The true Christian counts risk as less that nothing in comparison with the duty of helpfulness.
Whether we take the Samaritan as racially a Samaritan or as a heretic branded with that name of contempt, the fact emerges that there may be more real Christianity in someone with a hot heart and a stained record than in someone who is cold and correctly orthodox. This parable lays it down that the standard of judgment is not ours to make.
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