One Book, Many Voices: Lectionary commentary from the Massachusetts Bible Society

June 8 -- The Tax Man

2008-06-05T13:33:00.001-07:00

Passages: Genesis 12:1-9, Psalm 33:1-12, Romans 4:13-25, Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Many believe St. Matthew, the tax collector in today's passage, is also the author of the Gospel of Matthew, but many scholars hold this improbable and date the Gospel forty to sixty years after the death of Jesus.

In Matthew 9.9 we have the calling of Matthew; Jesus takes the tax collector as a disciple and eats dinner at his house with other tax collectors and "sinners." When he is questioned by the Pharisees about the company he keeps, Jesus says, "For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (Mt. 9.13). Jesus is always siding with the underdogs, those who are marginalized and the oppressed, and even shows them blatant favoritism at time to other social groups. Although Jesus' teachings and sacrifice is for all people, his ministry certainly focuses on and favors the poor, needy and outcast. But this is what makes the tax collector such an interesting figure in Jesus' ministry -- they aren't "the little guy." Not only are they materially comfortable, but they also work hand-in-hand with the Roman occupation.

Nobody likes the IRS, especially when taxes are taking food off your table. But in the first century Judea, the disdain for tax collectors went far beyond economics. Tax collectors were traitors, Jews who not only accepted Roman occupation but enabled and supported it. Furthermore, the way tax collectors made money was by collecting additional money than what was required. This was not necessarily corruption -- Rome expected this from its collectors. So when John the Baptist instructs tax collectors to "collect no more than you are required to" (Lk. 3.13) he is asking them to essentially work without wages. To most Jews living under Roman rule, tax collectors were traitors and extortionists, one of the worst kinds of people.

Jesus reaches out to the tax collectors precisely because they are ostracized by their communities, especially by the religious order that saw close cooperation with Gentiles as straying from their religious identities. They are unique from lepers, prostitutes, the disabled, and other marginalized groups Jesus ministers to because tax collectors occupy a certain level of privilege and have power that these other groups do not. However, as a disciple Jesus expects Matthew to open his homes to all kinds of "sinners" and to sacrifice what privilege he has for the sake of others.

There are lots of people in the modern world who occupy comfortable positions of privilege and are active and willing participants in a system that oppresses and hurts others. The tax man serves as an archetype for the middle class who "sell out" to this system and cooperate with imperialism. It's comforting to know that there is a special place in Jesus' teachings and ministry that serve people like the tax collectors: people struggling with their conscience and own identity, and that Jesus even invites them into his closest circle.

June 8 -- Playing Favorites

2008-06-05T13:33:00.000-07:00

June 1st -- Judgment and authenticity

2008-05-26T20:21:00.000-07:00

Passages: Genesis 6:9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19, Psalm 46, Romans 1:16-17; 3:22b-28, Matthew 7:21-29

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?' Then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers!’”—Matthew 7.21-23

In this passage, Jesus predicts that in the future, many people will profess faith in him but fail in doing the will of God. Although they may self-identify as followers of Jesus, Jesus explicitly states that this is not enough. This prophesy extends to today, and I believe Jesus would maintain that it’s not enough to simply attend church, be baptized and even pray on a daily basis. Doing things in the name of the Lord, and calling yourself a “Christian” is not a guarantee of doing things in accordance with God’s will.

In this passage, Jesus is talking about judgment and authenticity of faith. Although some Christian sects debate doctrine and renounce other sects’ validity, I think this passage makes clear that authenticity is not found along denominational lines. Today’s lection is fairly unambiguous that the labels we put on things – saying “Lord, Lord!” and doing deeds of power “in your name” – are not valid indicators of an authentic Christian heart. Fundamentalist, orthodox, progressive, liberationist; the differences in these theological movements are not trivial, but authenticity isn’t to be found in the labels.

So where then is authenticity found? I see two specific things that Jesus is valuing in this passage above acts of piety and confessions of faith: doing the Lord’s will and being in relationship with him. The first is obvious and explicit: “only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” will enter the kingdom of heaven. Interestingly, Jesus does not equate the work of zealous followers – casting out demons and delivering prophesies – with doing the will of God. In fact, this quote immediately follows a warning against false prophets, who are “wolves in sheep’s clothing.” In this context, Jesus this passage can be seen as passing judgment on only those who insincerely claim to be religious leaders.

But I think this passage has implications for all followers of Christ, not just those who claim to be prophets and leaders. Jesus is making it clear that people can claim – and even believe – that they are doing things in his name when in fact those actions are in vain. Jesus emphasizes the importance of actually doing the Lord’s will as opposed to lip service, but discerning God’s will isn’t always easy, and there are many conflicting ideas about what exactly constitutes “God’s will.” In the passage, Jesus says he will declare to those who profess faith in the Lord but fail to do God’s will, “I never knew you.” While it is possible to interpret this differently, I think this statement implies a correlation between a relationship with Jesus and doing God’s will.

As a religious pluralist, I think it is possible to do God’s will and work in the world without being a Christian and professing faith in Christ. However, personally it is my understanding of the resurrected Christ who dwells in the heart of believers that I use to discern God’s will. My relationship with the living Christ is my compass for how I live out my faith, so the words “I never knew you; go away from me,” speak loudly to me. It is when I ignore this relationship with Christ that I stray most from God’s will.

However, in general I think the spirit of this passage is emphasizing sincerity and genuineness over actions and confessions. Earlier in the Sermon on the Mount (which this passage comes from) Jesus encourages the crowd to be discreet in their fasting and prayers, and avoid the public piety displayed by hypocrites who seek social approval over God’s (Mt. 6.5-18). Although a prophesy of judgment, at its heart I think this passage is a similar warning about the vice of religious posturing, which is almost always at the expense of genuinely seeking God.

God and Mammon

2008-05-18T22:27:00.000-07:00

Passages: Isaiah 49:8-16, Psalm 131, 1 Corinthians 4:1-5, Matthew 6:24-34.

Roman coin of Augustus, circulated at the turn of the 1st century AD

No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth. ²⁵ Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? … But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴ So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today. –Matthew 6:24-25, 33-34

In a modern society that demands investment for retirement, a society driven by money and wealth (mammon), these are challenging words delivered by Jesus in the Sermon of the Mount. These words represent a significant shift from the Hebrew Scripture themes of wealth, which often emphasizes wealth as a blessing from God and, through the prophets, continually called for the just distribution of that wealth. However, in the Jewish confrontation with the Roman Empire, there is a drastic shift in the way wealth is both viewed and quantified. Before the Roman occupation, wealth was conceived in terms of land, livestock and harvest, but Roman economics and currencies changed the financial landscape and, predictably, attitudes toward wealth. Jesus, in this passage and several others in all four Gospels, warns of money as an obstacle to salvation and knowing God. The two are put at odds; mammon is not a gift from God, but is antithetical to the Kingdom of God – No one can serve two masters.

Obviously people cannot survive unless their material needs are met. Globally, billions of people live on less than $2 a day and millions die every year from causes directly related to that poverty, mainly starvation, lack of sanitary water and preventable diseases. Jesus, in the tradition of the prophets, calls those with the capacity to help these neighbors to do so with care and compassion. Today’s lection is not an outright dismissal of material ministry, or a denial of material necessities.

Too often passages such as the one preceding today’s lection in the Sermon on the Mount – “store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes” (Mt. 6.20) – are used to spiritualize Jesus’ message entirely and distract from the material ministries. Here, Jesus is addressing wealth as a master, something that consumes and enslaves you. In fact, Jesus is trying to quell the anxiety about self-preservation that prevents them from being good stewards to their neighbor and therefore poor servants of God. For when you are caught up in a selfish desire for security, and do not trust God to provide for you when doing God’s work, you are serving the interest of mammon.

Matthew 6.25-33 is also found in Luke 12.22-31, almost word for word (this is the part from “do not worry about your life” to “strive for the kingdom first”). Both times it immediately follows a warning about the consuming effects of wealth and greed. In Matthew it follows the famous teaching “no one can serve two masters,” and in Luke it follows the parable of the rich fool (Lk. 12.13-21) which tells of a man whose land produced abundantly, and in this abundance decided to build a larger barn and enjoy the security of many years of ample goods. But God tells the man: “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (Lk. 12.20).

The teaching “Do not worry,” is a fitting teaching to follow the parable. The rich fool hoarded his goods and did not share his harvest with the hungry, choosing to bask in his security and “relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Lk. 12.19). He allowed his anxiety about the future to overcome his trust in God and obligation to the community to share his abundance. He literally stored up his treasure for himself, but “was not rich toward God” (Lk. 12.21). In Luke, unlike in Matthew, Jesus expands on this teaching and describes what it means to be rich toward God: “Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Lk. 12.33-34).

This is challenging to us in modern society, when investments (particularly for retirement) and saving is so heavily emphasized and encouraged. I do not think Jesus is calling for us to ignore the need to prepare for tomorrow, but rather warning of the peril of wealth. It has a consuming nature, and in putting our trust in our savings we are prevented from doing God’s work and ministry on Earth. The economy of Rome – the economy of empire – has prevailed for the past two thousand years, and the idea of wealth as currency has increased and solidified. This makes the New Testament shift in emphasis on money as “the root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6.10) even more applicable today then when first spoke. The pressure to serve mammon is even greater, and is perhaps an even more cruel and powerful master than in the first century.

2008-05-15T08:09:00.000-07:00

Passages: Genesis 1:1-2:4, Psalm 8, 2 Corinthians 13:11-13, Matthew 28:16-20

Then Jesus came to them and said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age. –Matthew 28.18-20

Historically, the Christian church has not done the Great Commission well; that is, it was not done with the love and compassion that should be expected from Christian missionaries. Particularly at the height of European imperialism, from the 15^th to 20^th century, Christianity worked hand in hand with empire and aided in the destruction of cultures and civilizations. Peoples were converted to Christianity with no respect to their current religious and cultural existence, and often the approach of a Christian missionary meant the approach of destruction for the indigenous people of the area. The historical atrocities, and mistakes, of Christian evangelism has led many denominations of Christianity to abandon the missionary institution all together. Indeed, the laundry lists of abuses in the past have revealed the problematic nature of the Great Commission. But, the Great Commission can be redeemed if done in harmony with the Great Commandment (“love your neighbor as yourself”).

There are many beautiful things about a missionary religion. Its expansive nature seeks to tear down boundaries and enter into fellowship with all people of the world. Nobody is excluded, and all people are seen as God’s children. There is a genuine concern for all people of the world and the tradition is not inwardly, self-focused but devoted to others. In its encounters with other people, religions and ideas, an open-minded faith will grow and change, being reformed by the positive elements of other cultures. If missionaries love their neighbors, and respect their hearts and ideas, then there will be a genuine exchange of ideas – a partnership – and not a one-sided imposition of religion on a people.

In many ways, Christianity is a product of the Jewish encounter with Greco-Roman ideas and culture. Hellenistic Judaism, for the most part, was a closed tradition that – for a variety of historical reasons – was intentional about resisting assimilation and maintaining a religious and ethnic identity in exile. Modern Judaism has retained these characteristics, especially since its immersion in other cultures and cultural domination grew with increasing intensity into the modern era. But, in the 1^st century, there was a great deal of Greek and Roman interest in the Jewish religion and the God of Abraham. What Christianity, and the Great Commission, did was open the religious tradition to the Greeks/Romans and embrace aspects of their culture and religion. This can be seen clearly in the fact that the Old Testament (Hebrew Scriptures) are written in Hebrew but the New Testament is written in the Greek language. In the epistles of Paul, it is easy to find places where he navigates the conflicts between Jewish tradition and law with the influx of Gentiles into the faith. This open fellowship was one of the things that distinguished the early followers of Jesus from other Jews and give it a divergent nature.

So the Great Commission is one of the defining characteristics of Christianity, and – with the obvious exception of accepting Jesus Christ as the Messiah – perhaps the thing that alters Christian practice from Jewish practice the most. If done with love, compassion and a genuine desire to share one’s faith and good news with the entire world, the Great Commission is a positive and beautiful asset to Christianity. However, it opens the door to a great deal of abuse, making it an easy partner with imperialism and the domination of other sovereign people. If the Great Commission is kept, but the Great Commandment is lost, missionary activities will quickly become missionary atrocities. Knowing and acknowledging the mistakes of its past, Christianity needs to move forward in its global mission with an extra emphasis and concern on the love, respect and care for its partners and neighbors around the world.

May 11 -- Day of Pentecost

2008-05-07T14:58:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 2:1-21, Psalm 104:24-35, 1 Corinthians 12:3-13, John 20:19-23

All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. ⁵ Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. ⁶ And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. ⁷ Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? ⁸ And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? … ¹² All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" ¹³ But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine." Acts 2:4-13 (NRSV)

² For those who speak in a tongue do not speak to other people but to God; for nobody understands them, since they are speaking mysteries in the Spirit. ³ On the other hand, those who prophesy speak to other people for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation. ⁴ Those who speak in a tongue build up themselves, but those who prophesy build up the church. ⁵ Now I would like all of you to speak in tongues, but even more to prophesy. … ⁹ So with yourselves; if in a tongue you utter speech that is not intelligible, how will anyone know what is being said? For you will be speaking into the air … ¹¹ If then I do not know the meaning of a sound, I will be a foreigner to the speaker and the speaker a foreigner to me. 1 Corinthians 14:2-11

In Acts and 1 Corinthians we are presented with two different conceptions of what it means to “speak in tongues.” Acts recounts the event of the Pentecost, when the disciples are granted the gift of tongues to empower them in their ministry of the early church and live out the Great Commission (to make disciples of all nations). In Acts, the words the disciples speak are intelligible to many people in the crowd, whereas in Corinthians, Paul is describing a practice in the early church that closely resembles the “speaking in tongues” of many modern Pentecostal and Charismatic churches (“Charismatic” is a term for non-Pentecostal Christians who speak in tongues several times a year or identify as “Pentecostal” while belonging to a non-Pentecostal denomination, like Catholicism). Paul is accepting and encouraging of the practice, but expresses reservations about it. He attempts to downplay its importance in churches and as a sign of belief. These two practices, although sharing a common name (glossolalia), have crucial differences.

Two common interpretations of Acts 2 are: 1) the Disciples were given the ability to speak in previously unknown languages intelligibly, and 2) the Disciples were given the ability to speak in mysterious tongue and many of those present were granted to the power of interpretation and each heard this tongue in their own language simultaneously. The second interpretation seems the soundest to me based on a close reading of the text – in Acts 2.8 the crowd asks “How is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?” Also, in 2.13 it is mentioned that there are people present who do not understand and mock the Disciples, saying they had too much new wine. So, to bust out a Star Trek reference here, the Holy Spirit acts as a sort of “universal translator.” In the Star Trek world, everyone is capable of speaking in their own native language and be understood in the other person’s. This bridges the vast cultural differences between the different species, and makes the mission of exploration possible. Likewise, the Pentecost bridges the cultural barriers and makes it possible for the mission of the Apostles to be accomplished. It invites all nations to hear the message and be a part of the divine discussion.

This is a sharp contrast to what Paul says in First Corinthians 14.2: “For those who speak in a tongue do not speak to other people but to God; for nobody understands them, since they are speaking mysteries in the Spirit.” Paul, although not rejecting glossolalia, complains about how the practice is unintelligible to others in the church and therefore inferior to prophesy or other spiritual gifts that are communicable. Where the Pentecost brought understanding between foreigners, the unintelligible glossolalia of the early church created separations (according to Paul): “If then I do not know the meaning of a sound, I will be a foreigner to the speaker and the speaker a foreigner to me” (14.11).

Growing up in a congregational church, where the majority of worship is spent sitting still and listening to sermons or prayers, speaking in tongues is a foreign concept to me. However, Pentecostal and Charismatic worship is spreading rapidly all around the world (especially in Latin America, where even some Catholic services have a Charismatic worship style). It is a powerful religious experience for many people, one I wish to respect. Yet, it’s interesting that the debate Paul addressed almost two thousand years ago – about the value of speaking in tongues – continues today. Often, Pentecostals and Charismatics (often jointly referred to as “Renewalists”) point to Acts, and Hebrew Scripture passages like Joel (as Peter does in today’s lection) for the Biblical basis of their practice, while some non-Renewalists, point to passages from Paul to discredit it or relegate it to a private practice outside of worship, as Paul does in 1 Corinthians 14.18-19: “I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you; nevertheless, in church I would rather speak five words with my mind, in order to instruct others also, than ten thousand words in a tongue.”

However, those who use Paul to refute glossolalia are not being fair to the argument Paul presents in 1 Corinthians, and are rather picking out a few harsh sentences. Paul does indeed argue that it doesn’t have much of a place in worship if there isn’t a translator, but he doesn’t deny the experience either or call it gibberish. He ultimately concludes with, “So, my friends, be eager to prophesy, and do not forbid speaking in tongues; but all things should be done decently and in order” (1 Corinthians 14:39-40). On the day of Pentecost, I think it’s important for us to acknowledge that the New Testament itself has different conceptions of “speaking in tongues,” and that it has been a subject of controversy for the entire history of the Christian church.

Seventh Sunday of Easter -- Humble Resistance

2008-04-29T20:13:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 1:6-14, Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35, 1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11, John 17:1-11.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. –1 Peter 5:6-10

Our lectionary continues with the theme of suffering as part of the Christian experience. But what I find most interesting about the 1 Peter lection is the author’s mixture of two Christian virtues – humility and resistance. Often sacrifice and humility is conflated with submission and docility. Critics of Christianity have frequently said that Christianity encourages obedience to oppressive structures. However, 1 Peter calls Christians to be vigilant (alert and self-controlled) in the face of evil and to resist, standing firm in faith. Humility does not equal apathy, docility or social obedience; rather it is acknowledging the sovereignty of God and your place in God’s kingdom. This place is one of unity with others, who share your common lot, suffering for following Christ’s love and finding comfort in God’s grace and promise of restoration.

In 1 Peter, the author refers to “your enemy the devil.” In Greek, the language of the letter, dia,boloj means “accuser” or “slanderer,” and is how Early Christian writers referred to the Devil. The Hebrew Scriptures, such as the Book of Job, refer to the Devil as “ha-satan” or the adversary or even obstacle. The Early Christian encounter with the Roman Empire, and their perception of the Empire as morally bankrupt, yet immensely powerful, intensified their conception of evil and Satan. The Christian “Devil” has much more agency and power in the world in the Christian worldview than in the traditional Jewish worldview, in part because of Rome’s influence during Christianity’s formative years. Importantly, this gives Christian texts a strong sense of institutional and structural evil. 1 Peter’s warning is a warning against complacency to the culture and society Christians inhabit, a landscape where evil prowls like a hungry lion.

So the humility that Peter speaks of at the beginning of the passage is not a humility that is submissive to the culture one is in. Casting aside anxiety is not succumbing to apathy. It is quite the opposite. When you humble yourself before God, and align yourself with the glory of Christ, you find yourself in conflict with the world. You find yourself vulnerable, potential prey to a hungry lion. Fortunately, as today’s Psalm reminds us, “the God of Israel give power to his people” (68.35) – God gives us the power for humble resistance.

April 27 -- Sixth Sunday in Easter

2008-04-20T17:49:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 17:22-31, Psalm 66:8-20, 1 Peter 3:13-22, John 14:15-21.

Paul preaching in Athens

I will come to your temple with burnt offerings

and fulfill my vows to you-

vows my lips promised and my mouth spoke
when I was in trouble.

I will sacrifice fat animals to you
and an offering of rams;
I will offer bulls and goats.
Selah – Psalm 66.13-15

The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. – Acts 17.24-25

In today’s Acts lection, although Paul is speaking to Athenian Greeks engaging in various forms of Hellenistic Greek religion, his words also speak to Jerusalem and Temple Mount. Most scholars date Acts several decades after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E. But during Paul’s lifetime, the Temple still stood and was the focus of Jewish religious life. Ritual offerings, as described in Psalm 66, took place there daily. The innermost sanctuary of the Temple, the Holy of the Holies, was regarded by many Jews as the physical dwelling place of the Lord. So when Paul says that God “does not live in temples (naoi/j) built by hands” he is rejecting the Temple’s central role in Early Christianity, which is beginning to distinguish itself from traditional Judaism. In addition to profound implications for the immediate historical context Paul was in, his words present a challenge to modern Christians. How often do churches get lost in the perpetuation of their own facility and institution at the expense of the Church’s wider mission? If God does not dwell in temples, then churches cannot be an end unto themselves, and must be part of a broader understanding of the Church as a body of believers.

Being relatively new to Boston, I was surprised to see so many small, struggling congregational churches so close to each other. In addition to being founded in a time of intense theological divisions, these churches were also created before modern transportation. Now they are historic churches with great sentimental value, but tiny congregations struggling to pay the bills. They have little social programming and the programming they do have is on a shoe-string budget. The ministers and the congregants of these churches may not vision their facilities as the focus of their faith, but the reality is that is where the majority of their time and money is spent.

I do not wish to diminish the importance of holy space and good church facilities. A sanctuary is something that serves the community very well. When I was doing youth ministry out of a narrow temporary trailer, if someone asked me what I needed most to improve the youth program, I’d tell them a big square room dedicated to solely to the youth. The church I used to serve is currently doing just that – they are constructing a building that contains classrooms, a youth center and a Chapel. But I had mixed feelings about the construction project: were we prioritizing our space and our individual church above our mission to the wider Church?

Paul conceived of the Church in highly theological, non-geographical terms. His epistles repeat the analogy of the Church as the body of Christ. To Paul, all believers (both Jews and Greeks, slaves and free) were united into one body and that was the location of the Church, not some centralized location like the Temple Mount or Vatican City. And the body of believers was something diverse, each person with her various skills, but harmonious. Today, parts of Christ’s body is sick with HIV/AIDS or other diseases that are running rampart, in part due to the extreme poverty faced by far too many around the world. Many brothers and sisters are starving, or struggling to put a roof over their head, when other Christians are unnecessarily upgrading their facilities or, worse yet, confined in their ministry by the burden of their own roof. Sanctuaries and churches have the ability to be civic centers that empower and enable the true Church to be more effective in manifesting God’s will and reign on Earth, and to work toward making the body healthy and full. Too often sanctuaries become the focus, not the people, and we need to be reminded – like the Athenians and Jews of Paul’s era – that God cannot be confined in sacred spaces. God is within us and around us.

Fifth Sunday of Easter: To Suffer like Stephen

2008-04-14T15:08:00.001-07:00

Passages: Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14

In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.

Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me. –Psalm 31.1-2

"While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Then he fell on his knees and cried out, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he fell asleep. –Acts 7.59

The past two entries in this blog focused on Christian counter culture and the call to carry the cross. During the season of Easter, the lectionary reminds us that the Christian life is one at opposition with the world; a life full of trials and persecution. The promise of Easter is not a promise of an easy life – Christ did not suffer so that we would not. The promise of Easter is that God will be present in your suffering, and there will be a transcendent victory. In our Acts lection, Stephen is stoned to death before Saul for publicly testifying his faith. Like Jesus, Stephen was not delivered from his execution nor did he plead with God to alter his fate – he forgave his persecutors and committed his spirit unto Jesus (echoing Luke 23.46, where Jesus calls out on the cross, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”, which echoes today’s Psalm 31).

Today’s Psalm lection, Psalm 31 prays to the Lord “to come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge.” This provides an interesting contrast to the acts. Clearly, God did not come to the physical rescue of Stephen. If the Lord was Stephen’s rock of refuge, that refuge did not provide sanctuary from the rocks hurled at his body. The Psalm also asks the Lord to “let me never be put to shame.” Yet Stephen suffers the shame of being publicly executed for heresy.

Yet Stephen and other Early Christian leaders had a radical understanding of righteousness and God’s presence in their life. The Holy Spirit gave them the strength and virtue necessary to accomplish their mission in the world; but it did not keep them safe. Stephen’s death, like Jesus’, was admired as the most fitting end for a holy man (or woman). He faced his death as Jesus did, and Christians did not see death in martyrdom, but everlasting life. Last week I spoke of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s nonviolent resistance that is based on a similar understanding of Christ’s example. King understood suffering’s role in the coming of the Kingdom of God, and recognized the transforming power of living Christ’s example of love in the face persecution. Stephen’s death also demonstrates the transformational power of braving persecution with love – it is in this passage that we are introduced to Saul – who “was there, giving approval to [Stephen’s] death” (Acts 8.1). Saul, of course, is the Apostle Paul and the most dramatic conversion story in the New Testament. Although Saul is not blinded on the road to Damascus until later, it is clear that Stephen, and other Christians Saul encountered in his persecution, were planting the seeds of righteousness in the perhaps the second most influential figure of the New Testament (after Jesus). If Jesus had come to Saul in a vision without the preceding example of Stephen, perhaps Saul never would have been transformed into Paul. The death of Stephen was something Paul surely carried with him throughout the entirety of his mission as Apostle to the Gentiles, and must have been an inspiration in his own beatings and imprisonments.

The message of inevitable suffering that will befall Christians and the power of facing that suffering with love and compassion for your tormentors is a prominent message of the Easter lectionary, but often missing from modern pulpits during the season. This Sunday I heard a great sermon from Rev. Molly Baskette on violence. It challenged the disconnect between condemning violence in the world, which is often muffled by distance from our comfortable lives in Massachusetts and our consumption of violence as entertainment. A thoughtful and intelligent preacher, Rev. Baskette, dealt with the theme in a nuanced and thorough way. However, having been reading Acts, I was waiting for her to connect the theme of violence in her sermon with the violence and brutality experienced by the first generation of our church. She spoke of how our rejection of violence as Christians – if we thoroughly answer that call in refusing to participate in the fantasy of violence everywhere in society – will alienate us from the world. But there was nothing about how it would provoke the violence of the world. The idea that many of would experience violence or brutality because of our commitment to Christ’s message of peace and justice seemed like a foreign possibility. Truthfully, times have changed so that, at least for American Christians, it is indeed a remote possibility that we will experience anything close to Stephen’s or Paul’s trials.

But all people face hard times, and times when their convictions are truly tested. And almost all people will be touched by violence at some point in their lives, and it’s important to have a solid conception of how that violence is to be met and understood. Like in the 31^st Psalm, I pray that the Lord be “a strong fortress to save me” but know that it is not necessarily physical salvation; so I commit into his hands my spirit, and hopefully I will have the strength to suffer like Stephen.

Fourth Sunday in Easter -- Taking up the Cross

2008-04-06T20:18:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 2:42-47, Psalm 23, 1 Peter 2:19-25, John 10:1-10

“But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” 1 Peter 2.20-21

1 Peter reminds that doing the right thing is not always easy or safe. In fact, as Christians we are called to a life of suffering for our convictions. This message is easily lost in comfortable congregations; many Christians come to church to lay down their burdens and to ease the suffering of their lives. They are looking for stability and an anchor in life, not adversity or challenge. The rise of prosperity theology – charismatic preachers proclaiming that God rewards the faithful in this life with good health and financial well-being – demonstrates how many people are thirsty for a faith that will lift them up and ease their sorrow. But Christian prosperity comes in an unexpected and somewhat paradoxical way: We are called to suffer for our faith, but in that sacrifice find redemption and a "more excellent way."

Peter is careful to only commend suffering when it is on behalf of good. I also think Peter avoids glorifying suffering, although this less clear. Many have criticized Christianity for its self-sacrificial and need-denying obsession with suffering. Often in history, Christian monastics would subject themselves to physical pain and emotional tumult in an attempt to come closer to God in their profound suffering. Yet that suffering was brought deliberately upon themselves. Although they were searching for a deeper faith, they were not suffering on account of good deeds that they performed in the world. Often they were punishing themselves for their own sins, thus not enduring suffering for goodness, but for penance and purification. While a Christian theology that makes sense of suffering and persecution is indeed necessary and healthy, it is important to avoid masochism or glorifying suffering.

But it equally important not to have a theology that demonizes suffering. Not all suffering, at all times, is bad. Often secular morality focuses merely on alleviating suffering and raising comfort in the world -- which generally is a very good thing -- but finds itself conflicted when the seemingly "good" action requires great sacrifice and even more suffering than the alternatives. The example of the cross gives Christians courage in pursuing what is right even when the consequences seem grim and terrible. Few things frighten me more than the thought of torture. Yet my greatest moral teacher knew his fate and did not flee. He had the power to avoid crucifixion, but because of his mission suffered for the redemption and transformation of society.

In my last post, I explored how that although the church has prominently shaped mainstream culture, Christian ideals and values still remain counter cultural. For the first Christians, following Christ did mean persecution and violent suffering. It meant challenging the injustices and norms of society. Christ preached a message of justice for the poor and the corruption of wealth, a message of healing for the sick. Although in many modern societies religious tolerance is such that professing Christ won't induce a beating, I think that living Christ's example in the world will still lead to conflict with the status quo and bring the suffering and struggles that come with it.

Forty years ago Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered for his commitment to justice and his prophetic profession in Christ. Before his murder, King had been beaten and imprisoned. But, knowing the consequences for speaking the truth and challenging his culture, he stood in the pulpit and asked men and women of all ages to join with him. He reminded Christians that the crown of our glory is made of thorns, that we are called to carry the cross like Christ. And through the torment, the jabs and insults, we are to display love and forgiveness, and be committed to peace. King understood how this process transformed society. The courage and restraint of protesters attacked by dogs or assaulted with hoses opened people's eyes and changed their hearts. It gave many others the courage to stand up for goodness, even when it means sacrifice and loss.

Because suffering was a reality of Christ's ministry in the world, it will also be a reality of the mission of the global church, the body of believers. Christ does not rescue us from suffering on the cross as a substitute -- he serves as an example of a more excellent way that transcends death. But although God calls us to endure trials on His behalf, he is always present and gives us the strength to endure. The great preacher Phillips Brooks once challenged his congregation by saying: "Pray not for easy lives -- Pray to be stronger men! Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, but powers equal to your tasks." I have faith that the strength, endurance and comfort of the Lord will guide believers through their most difficult trials and tasks. As the famous Psalm from today's lectionary praises, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

April 6 -- Third Sunday in Easter

2008-03-30T21:53:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 2:14, 36-41, Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19, I Peter 1:17-23, Luke 24:13-35

With many other words he warned them; and he pleaded with them, "Save yourselves from this corrupt generation." Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand were added to their number that day. Acts 2:40-41

For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers. 1 Peter 1:18

The New Testament is rife with passages of disapproval of “the world” and, in the case of these two passages, the specific generation of Jesus’ age. It pushed against the materialism and corruption of not only Rome, but the Jewish religious order in which many of the very first Christians were raised. Even as someone who reads these passages 2,000 years after that generation has passed, it’s not difficult to hear the implications these passages have on our own generation. In fact, Christian counterculturalism is found alive and well in a various Christian groups from Pentecostals to postmodern emergent Christians. But is it possible to simultaneously reject the “corruption” of this generation while embracing an aged Christianity from our ancestors?

There is some debate whether the first Christians really saw themselves as starting something “new” or rather continuing the Jewish tradition. To the Early Christians, Jesus was the fulfillment of the Scriptures, actualizing the ancient values and vision found in them. Their rejection of society and the religious order of their parents was the rejection of a society they saw as incapable of living up to those ideals, a society of materialism and hypocrisy that kills its own redeemer. It was a society that got it right in word but failed in deed. The Scriptures it held up were sacred, but the cultural reality was “empty.”

I am of the opinion that every generation has its corruption. It’s the nature of our fallen condition. I’m also of the opinion that our sin and shortcomings are not solely individual, but systemic; they are found in the patterns and structures of society. Because of this, we should be wary of the values we learn from society, even from our parents. However, these shortcomings are not insurmountable, and we are not such products of our environment that we have no possibility for redemption or change. Just as every generation has its corruption, they each have their potentials and faith in transcendent ideals. Jesus saw himself as the fulfillment of Scripture, living up to the Word of his faith. Because of the fallen condition of his time, this made him a revolutionary and an outcast. Ironically, living the highest ideals of his society made Jesus one of its worst criminals.

Likewise, I do not think Jesus would be received well in today’s society or religious order. As a minister, this has interesting implications for me. If Jesus’ narrative were to play out in a modern context, I’d be a member of the religious institution unable to listen to or accept the prophetic voice. As someone who is accepting and serving the religion I was raised with, passages about the corruption of the world and the unreliability of social teachings can be particularly troubling. But I’ve never really seen myself as a conformist (who does?), and to me becoming a minister was far from accepting a role as a social guardian. I saw it as a way of rejecting the materialistic society before me and choosing a life of service – not to the status quo but to the ideals of Christianity.

Christians in the first century were called by Peter and others to leave a selfish, sinful culture. Even after two thousand years, and even in many societies controlled or influenced by the Christian church, the call remains the same. The fact that the Church, in many places, is inseparable from the cultural fabric of the society and by no means immune to corruption, means that living the Word may even mean going against the Church. But this isn’t a complete rejection of the past, and everything that has come before us: Although Jesus went counter to the culture of his people, he embraced their faith and highest ideals in full.

March 30 -- Second Sunday of Easter

2008-03-26T17:47:00.000-07:00

Passages: Acts 2:14, 22-32, Psalm 16, 1 Peter 1:3-9, John 20:19-31

I think it’s easy to read John 20.29, when Jesus tells Thomas, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” as a direct message to the reader, who is presumably deciding whether to trust this account of Jesus’ life. Thomas is a historical disciple who actually got to see the Resurrected Christ – and feel his wounds – and we are those who have not. But I think we all have more in common with Thomas than is readily apparent. I know that, at times, I have felt the blessings of God very concretely in my life; there have been times when Christ’s presence has been easily recognizable. Like Thomas, at these moments – when we feel God’s presence tangibly and plainly – it is easy to put our trust in God. But, even though there have been times in my life when God’s presence was comprehensibly manifest, there have been many others that were far more mysterious and full of doubt. We are never permanently in the condition of Thomas feeling Jesus, nor are we permanently in a state of disbelief and doubt he felt before the appearance of Jesus.

This process has revealed itself to me in my life before. When I was an adolescent, a head injury sparked a muscle movement disorder. For three years – with varying degrees of intensity – my arms would jerk suddenly and my eyes would rapidly and uncontrollably blink. I had difficulty reading, writing and some days could barely perform simple tasks like getting dressed. Doctor’s struggled to find a diagnosis, and other teens at school often teased me and claimed I was faking my condition. But, as difficult and traumatic as the ordeal was, and as much as I would kick and scream if I was told I had to go back to those years, they have shaped my character and faith in a powerful and positive way. I do not look on those years with regret, wishing that I was able to have a “normal” high school experience (I have had many friends recount their high school years, and so far I’ve failed to meet someone with a “normal” adolescence – the age is almost defined by awkwardness). In the pain, and in the struggle, it was hard to see God at work. But I see it now. In fact, as I recount almost all of my trials in life, each one has its own redemption. Although they were far from crucifixions, the Easter story reminds us that great tragedy is followed by profound victory and renewal.

Yet, although I have seen this pattern in the life of Jesus – and to a smaller extent my own life – there continue to be times where I feel like Thomas; full of doubt and unable to believe in the redemption during the saddest of times. Although not as severe or debilitating as my high school head injury, this past week has also been a time of great trial and sadness (fittingly around Easter). In this situation, it is very hard for me to see what is necessary or redeeming about it – to have faith that there is a purpose to it. Friends and family of mine, whose opinions I respect and admire, have reminded me of the goodness, and indeed victory, that will come out of the situation. But part of me pushes against that, thinking I’ll only trust that good can come of this when it unambiguously reveals itself to me.

The words that Jesus tells Thomas, then, carry different meaning to me now. He says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” In a way, this can be read as blessed are those who can, in the midst of doubt, confusion and even tragedy – the times where God’s work is mysterious and difficult to see – put their faith in God and the redemption that comes through the Lord. In the Greek, the word “blessed” is also easily translated as “happy” and “fortunate.” When a person can have faith that the trial they endure – and the loss that they feel – will be transformed and Resurrected, even before this event clearly appears, they are indeed fortunate. It’s not always easy to recognize God’s work in the world. Thankfully, the alive and Resurrected Christ is willing to bare his wounds, and proclaim his victory.

Easter Sunday

2008-03-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Passages: Jeremiah 31:1-6, Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24, Acts 10:34-43 and John 20:1-18.

Hope Chapel, a large Evangelical church near my home in Manhattan Beach, California, blasts trumpets at six a.m. Easter morning. To my secular neighbors, this made Easter morning one of their least favorite mornings of the year. Although not traditionally an early riser, I definitely didn’t mind being woken up at dawn by trumpets on Easter Sunday. Even as a young child, Easter has always been my favorite holiday. It’s an odd choice for a kid, considering the splendor of Christmas and the fireworks of the Fourth. I’m not even that big on chocolate, and was always the last of my siblings to finish my Easter or Halloween candy (often I would give a lot of it away). But even when I was a child, the excess and ordeal of Christmas bothered me. Easter was festive enough to be set apart from other family gatherings, but relatively simple compared to Christmas. Although I certainly didn’t grasp the theological concepts yet, it was easy to sense the seriousness of the day and its profound importance to Christianity.

My older sister never shared the same enthusiasm for Easter as I did. I loved Easter egg hunts so much so that my mother would continue to hide empty plastic eggs around the house for a month so I could “pluck eggs” – my sister would seldom pluck eggs with me after Easter, especially since there wasn’t anything in the egg. My younger brother was way too pumped about Christmas to even consider Easter as a contender in the year’s favorite holidays. Santa brought Nintendo – the Easter Bunny left a basket with stocking stuffers. Christmas morning was spent in pajamas, playing with your newest and coolest toy. Easter morning you wore stiff, uncomfortable dress clothes on hard wooden pews, bored out of your mind.

But the trumpets and the suits, the eggs and the pews, made sense to me, even if they didn’t to my neighbors. It’s not that I truly understood Easter – I still don’t really understand Easter. But I sensed there was a substance to the day that exceeded all others. Now that I'm an adult, Easter remains my favorite holiday for some of the same reasons. It's resistant to commercialization, it's substantive and, perhaps most importantly, it's challenging. The challenge of Resurrection Sunday is best seen in the image of the Empty Tomb.

I had a professor say the other day that The Empty Tomb was the heart of the Christian faith. I wouldn’t call it the heart of our faith – I think God’s love occupies that sacred space – but I would say it is Christianity’s ultimate reality. The original ending of the Gospel of Mark, the earliest composed, ended with Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James and Salome fleeing Jesus’ tomb, where his body was not found and a messenger declared his resurrection, terrified. The earliest and most reliable manuscripts of Mark have no image of the risen Christ!

Mark is our reality as Christians 2,000 years after Jesus’ Resurrection. Unlike Thomas, we cannot feel the wounds and touch the hands of the savior. Unlike Mary Magdalene in the Gospel of John, we cannot look upon the face of our Rabboni (teacher). We don’t even get to see an empty tomb. We have an ancient account about an empty tomb, passed down through more than a hundred generations. Christ’s resurrection is a mystery – none of us can know with certainty. And that unanswerable mystery presents a challenge.

In the Gospels we see the challenge of the Empty Tomb dealt with a host of ways, but Mary’s reaction in today’s lection is particularly insightful. Instead of believing what Jesus repeatedly claimed he would do, Mary Magdalene is convinced that someone moved Jesus’ body. She laments, “They have taken my Lord away and I don’t know where they put him.” In the throws of this despair, Jesus stands before her, but she cannot even recognize him. She tells that which she seeks, “if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him.” Perhaps the doubts of Jesus’ disciples should comfort us with our own doubts in the face of the Empty Tomb, and perhaps their fears of the unknown should comfort our fears. Although this passage in John reveals to us the humanity of doubting Jesus’ victory, it also shows us how getting lost in those doubts will obfuscate how God is visibly working in our lives. After all, during her self pity and lament, Mary didn’t even recognize Jesus’ presence.

I’m not exactly sure what it says about my faith that I’m attracted such a challenging holiday, one that simultaneously mourns loss and celebrates victory. Nor am I certain about what it all “really means.” But I do believe that God is speaking to me during this time of year, and that my connection to Easter is something to be examined and reflected upon. The fact that it’s not just barbeques and fireworks, decorations and presents (not to diminish the importance of Christmas), but also serious, piercing to the foundations of our faith, makes Easter truly unique and set apart from other holidays. For the most part, Easter has resisted the consumer culture of so many other holidays precisely because its message is difficult to package, and has the mysterious image of the Empty Tomb beneath its feet. But for those of us who look into that tomb and believe in the victory and resurrection of Christ, standing on that ground is the image of transcendent life.

Have a happy and blessed Easter.

Palm Sunday -- Seeing Zechariah in the Triumphal Entry

2008-03-07T17:06:00.000-08:00

Passages: Matthew 21:1-11 and Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29. See also: Zechariah 9 and 14.

Jesus enters Jerusalem

Seeing Zechariah:

Today’s lectionary presents us with Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem in Matthew 21. In the passage, onlookers laying their cloaks and branches down in front of the donkeys shout “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” These words are found in our other lection for the day, Psalm 118. Also quoted in this passage is Zechariah 9.9: “See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” By quoting Zechariah, the Gospel of Matthew draws attention to the scripture, and close examination of the text reveals other parallels between Zechariah and the Triumphal Entry. So much so, that I would suggest adding Zechariah 9 or 14 to the lectionary for this week (today’s liturgy omits the Old Testament and Epistle lection).

Zechariah is a prophetic text written after the First Temple period, and is the main Hebrew scriptural source for Matthew’s narration of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. Zechariah means “Yahweh has remembered,” and can be seen as a reminder to continue traditions from the first Temple period into this new era. Zechariah, although presented as one text, is commonly broken up into 1 Zechariah (ch. 1-8) and 2 Zechariah (9-14). 1 Zechariah visions a future of peace and prosperity for Israel, with an emphasis on the role of the priestly order. 2 Zechariah, on the other hand, is disillusioned with this priestly order, and puts forth a vision of peace and prosperity established by Yahweh himself. It is fitting then that the Gospel of Matthew, which depicts the priestly order of the Pharisees as calculated and corrupt, quotes from the beginning of 2 Zechariah, when Yahweh rides into Jerusalem “righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey” (Zechariah 9.9 NIV).

There are two other powerful allusions to 2 Zechariah in “Triumphal Entry.” According to Matthew, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem begins in “Bethpage on the Mount of Olives” (Mt. 21.1 NIV) the same place where the Lord arrives in Zechariah 14.4:“On that day his feet shall stand on the Mount of Olives” (NIV). Although not in our lectionary, Matthew’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem climaxes with Jesus expelling traders from the temple and turning over the money-changers tables (Interestingly, in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus visits the temple but takes no action, leaving and coming back later to “cleanse” the temple). This strongly echoes the final lines of 2 Zechariah: “And on that day there will no longer be a Canaanite (or merchant) in the house of the LORD Almighty” (Zechariah 14.21).

The Gospel of Matthew goes to great lengths to demonstrate Jesus’ continuity with the Hebrew scriptures and Jewish tradition, and today’s lectionary is no exception. Perhaps most confusing – but quite interesting – is that Matthew adds another donkey to the processional. Jesus asks his disciples to bring him a donkey with her colt (offspring) and then mysteriously rides “them” into town. Mark, which was written before Matthew and most scholars agree that the author of Matthew had access to Mark when compiling the Gospel, only has one donkey. So do the Gospels of John and Luke. But Matthew adds an additional donkey, and then says that he sat on “them.” Unless Jesus was a larger man than depicted in every single painting of him ever painted, this is a physical impossibility. Why would Matthew complicate the processional like this, especially when he has a source that tells him there is only one donkey in the processional? We can’t know for sure, but the most likely answer is because Matthew interprets two donkeys present in Zechariah 9, and wants the entry to fulfill the Zechariah prophecy to the letter. While the thought of the author of Matthew “fudging” the text to make it better fit a prophecy may be somewhat distressing, it does show us exactly how important Zechariah and exhibiting Jesus’ continuity with Hebrew Scriptures is.

Some paintings of the scene based on Matthew have Jesus riding the mother donkey, with her child following nearby. This is one way to reconcile the impossibility of Jesus riding both donkeys simultaneously, but the ambiguity should alert us to the highly formative role 2 Zechariah plays in the formation of our Palm Sunday narrative.

Fifth Sunday in Lent -- Back from the Dead

2008-03-04T15:30:00.000-08:00

Passages: Ezekiel 37:1-14, Psalm 130, Romans 8:6-11, John 11:1-45

Lazarus emerges from his tomb

Lazarus is an interesting figure in the Gospels. With the exception of Jesus Christ, he is the only other person to come back from the dead. But Lazarus is not interrogated about his experience. He is a tangential character in the broader narrative of the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. The Gospel moves on, with no canonical follow-up on Lazarus. You have to wonder – what happened to Lazarus? What kind of life did he lead after being resurrected from the dead?

I have always been interested in stories about people whose lives were greatly impacted by the historical Jesus. Last year, around this season, I began writing a play for high school youth loosely based on the story of Barabbas, the criminal released when the crowd was given the choice between Barabbas and Jesus. Barabbas is a unique figure because his literal reality for what for all of us is a spiritual reality: Jesus took his place on the cross. In researching the play, titled Jesse Barabbas, I read a short novel by Swedish author Pars Lagerkvist titled Barabbas. There is also a movie starring Anthony Quinn with the same title. In the Lagerkvist story of Barabbas, there is a memorable episode where Barabbas seeks out Lazarus to learn more about Jesus. He meets with Lazarus at his home.

The Lagerkvist Lazarus was not what you’d expect. I figured Lazarus lived the remainder of his life in good health, a follower of Jesus grateful and joyful at the life afforded him by a profound miracle. But Lagerkvist challenges that idea – his Lazarus is dark and morose. Lazarus is almost a zombie, a man who should be dead but through divine power remains on the earth past his natural time. Tired and seemingly longing for the fate that was miraculously altered, Lazarus had no profound insights about life and death. He was living testament to Christ’s power, and proved to Barabbas that Jesus was indeed no ordinary man. However, instead of beholding the glory of God as Martha does when Lazarus emerges from the tomb, Barabbas struggles with a more complex figure. He sees a man like him, whose fate was altered by Jesus (although Lazarus in a much more supernatural way) who – also like Lagerkvist’s Barabbas – wanders the earth confused and perplexed by the mystery of God.

If I were to write a story about Lazarus, I would also complicate him like Lagerkvist, but not in the same way (indeed, my modern rendition of Barabbas bared little resemblance to his novel). The moment Lazarus dies, he immediately finds himself in the tomb, hearing Jesus’ voice commanding him to emerge. He has absolutely no recollection of the afterlife, something that festers with him for the remainder of his life. He wonders why he was not afforded a peak into the great beyond, but figures it was to prevent giving away its secret. But impulsively, with very little control, he continues to worry. In his second life afforded to him by the miracle of Jesus Christ, he has confidence in Jesus as a prophet and savior. But in his mysterious death he is filled with doubt – did he cease to exist? Maybe there is nothing in death, just vast nothingness.

Of course, this is all just imagination and speculation. There is no way to know what truly happened to Lazarus. So what’s the point of even thinking about it? The power of creativity in religious life and practice should never be underestimated. These stories, although fictional, can contain spiritual truth and teach us about our human condition. Looking back on the Lazarus story, the reason why I find him a fascinating figure – and why a fictional story line of him in doubt about not having any answers about death – resonates with me is because of my own doubts and anxieties about death. Inner contemplation or listening to someone else’s stories around death are two ways to learn and gain understanding, but I think that creating your own stories is a unique and powerful way of gaining spiritual insight.

So, what sort of life do you think Lazarus lived?

Fourth Sunday in Lent -- Light and True Seeing

2008-02-24T20:29:00.001-08:00

Passages: 1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41

Darkness cannot overcome even the faintest light.

Link to a choir rendition of Siyahamba, a South African song that relates to Ephesians 5

“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” –1 Samuel 16:7

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” –Psalm 23.4

“While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” –John 9:5

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light … everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible.” –Ephesians 5:8-14

The theme of light and darkness is repeated throughout the Bible, particularly in the New Testament. In today’s lectionary, this theme – along with Samuel’s theme of true seeing – binds the passages together. In the selections I have pulled out, you can see a progression of sorts. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Samuel proclaims God’s ability to see past outward appearances into the heart – immune to deception or ill intent. In the most famous Psalm of David, David uses the image of a shadow for death, an image that has endured for about 3,000 years. In the Gospel of John, which makes eloquent use of this theme, Jesus declares himself “the light of the world.” Ephesians takes the theme even farther, encouraging Christians to “live as children of light” and ties this spiritual light with true seeing.

Although the contrast of light/darkness lends itself to dualism, it is interesting to note that darkness is not an equally powerful opposite of light, but merely its absence. Darkness is also completely incapable of overcoming light – even the faintest, palest light can vanquish some darkness. Also, anyone familiar with dimming house lights know that there are gradations of illumination – a gray area between pitch black and blinding light.

The above passage from John is found in the account of Christ healing a blind man on Sabbath. Pharisees interrogate the blind man, his parents and even Christ, unable to make sense of someone they see as a sinner (Because Jesus did not keep the Sabbath) able to perform such a prophetic act of healing. As the ordeal winds down, Jesus informs the blind man and the Pharisees, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind” (John 9:39). Jesus connects his previous claim (“I am the light of the world”) with his current action – “I have come so that the blind may see.” Although Jesus has literally given sight to a man who was blind from birth, he is clearly speaking in metaphor. As darkness is absence of light, spiritual blindness is ignorance of the Lord.

What I find so interesting about this passage is that Jesus also says he will make those who see blind. When he states, “but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains,” he is refuting the legitimacy of their claims to sight. Perhaps, like in 1 Samuel, they are only seeing outward appearance, unable to see into the heart. Those arrogant enough to assume they truly see the world for what it is are unable to achieve true spiritual sight. Christ seems to be adopting the Socratic ideal – perhaps an instance of the Greek influence on Jewish thought – that in order to become wise, you must first admit your ignorance. In a mysterious paradox, you must negate yourself as a knower in order to know anything.

Those who confess their blindness are absolved of their sin: “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin.” If we cling stubbornly to our “sight” our guilt will remain with us. We will remain in darkness, unable to attain knowledge of our true surroundings, and unable to abide by the advice in Ephesians to live as children of light, truly seeing God’s creation.

Third Sunday in Lent -- Perseverance

2008-02-17T19:38:00.000-08:00

Passages: Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42

"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." -- Romans 5:2-5

The Apostle Paul, imprisoned near the end of his life.

There is a certain danger in rationalizing suffering. It is important to see how God works in our lives, including our deepest trials, but it should not affect our sense of compassion and duty to each other when in need. Often, when Christians are faced with suffering they will either see God's wrath and punishment, or -- like Paul -- see God's blessings and how even the worst times can build up our character and faith. But we must also see the injustice of suffering, and act in accordance to the teachings and commandments of Christ.

Not all suffering is an injustice -- but all injustice causes suffering. There are certain agonies (the Greek word "agwn" or agon means a contest or struggle) that are a necessary part of life, and even a blessing as Paul suggests. But those tend to be the sufferings of the universal human condition: heartbreak, failure, sickness, injury and betrayals. These are all difficult parts of life, but part of its richness and wholeness. But there are sufferings that cannot be seen as blessings -- torture, rape and murder. Children dying from hunger or unsafe drinking water. The wholesale exploitation of human beings for greed and power.

True, even in the worst of human conditions (perhaps especially in the worst of human conditions) you can find great character and hope. The kind of hope that can only emerge the deepest of despairs. The Early Christians faced severe persecution and often gruesome, torturous treatment. Paul was beaten and arrested many times in his life, and is best known for his sense of mission and his perseverance (even more than his gift of pen and persuasion). And no doubt, Paul is able to write this inspiring passage because he knows first hand how his persecution has given him greater hope and connected him with the Holy Spirit. Yet these words were written to Christians during a time of persecution and limited power -- there was yet to be significant danger for the Early Christians to grow callous about the sufferings of others, or perpetuate systematic injustice against others.

Today, we are in a much different historical and social context. We must remember that these words come from the depths of persecution and social powerlessness. It was written to communities who were suffering together, and sharing hope for a better world through Christ together. It was meant to encourage them, and help them see how God continues to bless them even in these difficult times.

Two thousand years later, Christians still suffer and hope together. Paul's words resonate with them now as it did for the first Christians. But unlike the first Christians, the Church has great power and resources. We cannot let our understanding of suffering as a blessing -- and something that is part of God's plan for our lives -- dilute our mission of healing and compassion. We cannot pass the Samaritan on the road and not see someone in great distress.

Born from Above

2008-02-08T10:14:00.000-08:00

Passages:

Genesis 12:1-4a, Psalm 121, Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 and John 3:1-17

Maybe it's the Sunday Schooler in me, but I have a soft spot for this style of religious artwork.

On being born again

Today’s lection in John 3:1-17 is one of the foundational passages to born-again evangelical Christianity. In this passage Jesus tells Nicodemus the Pharisee, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again” (John 3:3). Also in this lectionary passage is the famous John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,^[f] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” The evangelical view of salvation, for many, is laid bare in this passage. To achieve salvation, you must believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and be “born again.” Unfortunately, this passage is often interpreted in a highly legalistic, literal way that castes aside the compassion and mercy of God.

When I was a teenager I would visit my great grandmother in her retirement home. We were close, and I loved listening to her stories, particularly her early years in marriage with my great grandfather (during the Depression they moved about 3 or 4 times a year as my great grandfather hopped from temporary work to temporary work). She was a borderline fundamentalist, a family trait that was not passed down to her children. She would read this passage and worry that I was not truly saved. She pulled from the passage the absolute necessity of proper baptism, and to her that was complete submergence in the water. Politely, but unfailingly, every time I visited her she encouraged me to think about my baptism and consider a new one.

I knew better than to engage in a theological debate with my great grandma (I loved her too much anyway), but if I did I would have pointed to Luke 23:40-43, where Jesus tells one of the criminals on the cross, who asked to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom: “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus tells Nicodemus that unless someone is born again, they will not see the kingdom, but tells the criminal on the cross he will be in paradise with Jesus.

But this man was not baptized. This man did not recite a doctrine of belief. This man had done no good works. He simply acknowledged the divinity in front of him, when so many could not. He repented and came to Christ with honesty and sincerity. Luke does not mention this criminal being suddenly “born again.”

You may argue that Jesus made an exception to the rule – but I think it demonstrates that the born-again doctrine is overly literal and legalistic. In fact, if you want to get very literal about the passage, the Greek word used for “again” is “a;nwqen,” which also means “from above” – an equally plausible translation. Nicodemus interprets it as “again” by his reaction, but Jesus mocks him for his literalism and inability to understand the spiritual world: “You are a teacher of Israel … and do you not understand these things?”

Jesus also says, “Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.” If you read this line through the lens of “born from above” instead of “born again,” it seems likely that Jesus is talking about a spiritual birth that is inherently separated from earthly signs.

I’m not arguing against baptism or renewing your life in Jesus Christ – baptism is an extremely meaningful sacrament that symbolizes being buried to sin and being “born from above” into new life in Christ. But it is the physical symbol for a very spiritual reality. It is not necessary to salvation, nor is a new life in Christ guaranteed.

It is the Spirit that truly baptizes, and that seems to come only when you acknowledge your own sin and look to the Lord with honesty and sincerity. To try and limit how this could happen to baptism or being “born again” places an unnecessary dogma to someone’s conversion and looses sight of what’s truly important: beginning a new life in Christ.