Oct. 23, 2011

Matthew 22:34-46

34 When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, 35 and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. 36 "Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?" 37 He said to him, " "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' 38 This is the greatest and first commandment. 39 And a second is like it: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' 40 On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." 41 Now while the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them this question: 42 "What do you think of the Messiah? Whose son is he?" They said to him, "The son of David." 43 He said to them, "How is it then that David by the Spirit calls him Lord, saying, 44 "The Lord said to my Lord, "Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet" '? 45 If David thus calls him Lord, how can he be his son?" 46 No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.

When I was a young boy, there was a trick that my father liked to play on me. I would be outside playing doing whatever it is that little kids do.  I would then my father’s voice, loud and stern, yelling: “Justin, come inside, now!”  Given his tone and volume, you can better believe that I thought I had done something to get in trouble, and figuring out what that thing might have been was typically my anxious task as I made my way back into the house.  With much fear and trembling, I would open the front door and go to my parents who were in the kitchen, feeling like I was probably in trouble for mistreating my brother, not doing my chores or something else (let it be known that I never went to these meetings with a totally clear conscience.  My own question was not if I had done something that merited punishment, but rather if I had been caught).  However, when I would get into the kitchen, I would find not an angry parent, but rather a delightful surprise, typically a bowl of fresh raspberries from a bush out in our backyard.  Now, I have no idea what motivated my father do this, but I can say that the impact was to make me, a middle child who from time to time did not get as much attention as his siblings, feel loved and noticed.  In that instant, absolute terror would turn to laughter, fear melted away by the love of a father for one of his children.  Sometimes, then, getting exactly what we do not expect is actually precisely what we need.

            What is so very interesting about today’s story is that this is the same position in which the Pharisees and other religious elite find themselves, dealing with something, rather someone, who is quite unexpected, their own bowl of raspberries.  The contentious dialogue from the last several weeks continues. Having seen their interns rebuffed by Jesus’ answer about paying taxes to Caesar, and having seen the Sadducees thoroughly worked over in their misunderstanding of the resurrection, the Pharisees put in one last attempt at stumping Jesus, asking him, in essence, what is the heart of the Jewish faith?  Now, the answer that Jesus gives is not all that controversial; this time he avoids the trap set for him by showing the Pharisees that they stand on some common ground, that love of God and love of neighbor is the heart of their common faith, though they disagree mightily on what constitutes this neighborly and godly love.  However, on a very basic point they are in agreement. 

            But Jesus, mischief maker that he is,  cannot let things be, for under their seeming agreement, there is a deeper issue at work and it has everything to do with expectations and their denial.  Yes, for Jesus cuts right to the heart of the matter in asking whose son is the Christ, the messiah.  What may sound a lot like word gymnastics and meaningless chatter to us is actually the real question.  For when the Pharisees answer “David,” they are doing more than reciting a bit of Jewish orthodoxy; instead, they are giving voice to a whole series of expectations as to what the Messiah, God’s chosen, would be and what he would do.  Yes, to say that the Messiah is David’s son is to suggest that the Messiah will be something of a warrior-king, throwing off the cruel rod of Roman oppression, shedding unrighteous blood as Israel’s enemies are finally exposed to the anger of God.  Yes, the Messiah as David’s son would liberate Israel, hopefully by the most wrathful means available.  

            And this, this, is really the heart of the matter for the Pharisees.  Jesus simply does not conform to their expectations; in fact, he rather disappoints them.   He forgives without limit and insists that his followers do the same.  He spends his time with the weak and weary, the poor and the unforgivable, with tax-payers whose hands are filthy with extorted cash, and women whose bodies are tired and used, telling them of the eternal tenderness named the Father.  In fact, his only sharp words have been pointed at them, the Pharisees, and not at the Roman occupiers that he, by this point, certainly should have taken up arms against.  The Pharisees just cannot wrap their minds around the notion that God could look like Jesus, could behave like Jesus, and could be in the places where Jesus puts himself.   And this is their tragedy, this is why, as Jesus says earlier in Matthew’s Gospel, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God in front of the Pharisees.  Can you imagine a more offensive word for them to hear?  These men, so blinded by their own sense of self-righteousness, so convinced in their own moral superiority and religious correctness can find Jesus to be only a threat, only someone who does not live up to their expectations.  Like children who, perversely, would prefer punishment to gift, a grounding to a fresh bowl of raspberries, the Pharisees want  Jesus, as David’s son, to be a lot more fierce, a lot meaner, though certainly they believe that they will not be on the receiving end of that holy anger.  Indeed, they want, expect, nay, demand that Jesus, if he is really going to get the Messianic testosterone flowing, will indeed stamp out Israel’s enemies and crush them under foot.

            Though t there is considerable historical distance between the Pharisees and us, this does not mean our expectations are any more hospitable to Jesus than were theirs, clamoring as we do for God to take up arms against our enemies, be they geo-political or simply someone whom we find annoying at work.  Yes, we, too, want Jesus to put our enemies beneath his feet, and this he will do, but not through drunken violence and suffering.  Instead, Jesus will put his enemies and indeed ours,  under his feet as his broken body is hoisted upon the cross, bidding his Father to forgive even those who conspired to plot his destruction, which means that there is room even for sinners like us at the divine banquet.   Yes, this is how God, in Christ, will chose to subdue hatred, fear and sin, by submitting to it, by suffering the Father’s anger against it,  and by offering only peace and forgiveness, nothing more.  Nothing ever more.  This is how God has chosen to reign, in defiance of human expectation, contrary to our anger and fear that God’s love would reach our enemies, God, in Christ puts us under his feet, puts us at the foot of the cross, and tells us that here, here beneath this broken body, here on that blood and tear stained hill called Golgatha, here is forgiveness, here is newness of life, here is the end of human striving and here is the peace eternal.  Is it what we would expect from the God who created the universe out of nothing?  The God’s whose strong and faithful Word brooded over chaos and made of it the lovely song called cosmos?  No, this is a God, a Messiah, that we simply could not have anticipated or expected,   This is a God who does not despise our frailty and weakness, but comes to you as you are, fragile and just trying to hold this mess call life together.   But take heart, dear people of God, for to be put under Christ’s feet means to be placed at the banquet that echoes through eternity and that awaits you here in the body and blood; a goodness that, thanks be to God, does not conform to our expectations.  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

Oct. 9, 2001

Matthew 22:1-14

1 Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: 2 "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. 3 He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. 4 Again he sent other slaves, saying, "Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.' 5 But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, 6 while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. 7 The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. 8 Then he said to his slaves, "The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. 9 Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.' 10 Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. 11 "But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, 12 and he said to him, "Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?' And he was speechless. 13 Then the king said to the attendants, "Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' 14 For many are called, but few are chosen."

When I was younger, say about 12, my family and I took a trip out to the East Coast.  Now, when were in Washington DC,  touring the White House, my younger brother had to use the restroom, like desperately, like we might be risking incredible public humiliation and embarrassment if this situation was ignored, desperately. Making this information know to the tour guide, my younger brother somehow managed to get led by White House security, behind locked doors, mind you, into a staff bathroom. He actually had the guards watching the bathroom doors during all of this. This, of course, got my whole family wondering if maybe he would run into then President William Jefferson Clinton, and by some happy accident, my family would be invited to dine with the President and first lady.  Now, the point of this story is not about political affiliation, because I am confident we would have responded in the same way had this in during one the Bush presidencies.  The point, though, is that the allure of power and prestige is nothing short of intoxicating to us mere mortals.  To be near those whose lives seem to occupy a different plain than ours, this is the stuff of dreams and fantasies. Think, if you will, about the response to the marriage between Prince William and Kate Middleton.  If, for some random reason, you received an invitation, including airfare and accommodations, to that splendid event, do you think you could have resisted?  Resisted the chance to see Kate walk the aisle, or watch Sir Elton John enter Westminster Abbey?  Or see all those ridiculous hats in person?   I think not.  It would be absurd and insulting. 

            And it is with that in mind that we turn towards those who, in Jesus’ parable for today, do just that, turn down an invitation from the king for his son’s wedding.  Now, to hear this story more fully, we have to rehearse a few details from life in ancient times.  What is at stake here is more than good manners and whether or not one fills out an RSVP on time.  Instead, what we are dealing with is an issue of honor.  Those who turn down the king’s invitation, given the flimsiness of their excuses, they might as well have told an eager young man that they were washing their hair that night, they are intend in sending a message to the king.  Their goal is to dishonor him, which may account for the escalating violence that we see in the text, in which they quite literally end up shooting the messengers.  For whatever reason, their hatred of the king will not allow them to recognize the king’s rule over them.  Their desire to be free of his rule will keep them from feasting with the king, enjoying the best of his prime rib and lobster, and drinking from an endless bottle of vintage wine.   Their goal is not to keep their weekends open for whatever else might come up; instead, their goal is war with the king, and it a war that they are intent on waging until their city gets burned down. 

            Now, if all this strikes as you a bit extreme, this is probably the point.  We are in a portion of Matthew’s Gospel in which Jesus is very near his death, and the tension between him and the religious leaders is thick. This is the third straight parable that Jesus has told in the Jerusalem Temple, and he just refuses to stop his verbal attack on their authority and hypocrisy. But, there is another reason that this parable makes us a bit uneasy, besides the exaggeration, and I think it has something to do with God’s own authority, with the fact that God is beyond our attempts at manipulation, and ultimately, what God says, well, that is what happens.  This is not a God that we can box up and control, and yet, this is the God in whom all of our fates rest.  And that, that combination right there, that is terrifying.  Our illusions of freedom, of self-determination and the rest, all of that is called to question by this king.   By this king who, frankly, can do whatever he pleases, our egos fiercely disregarded.  He can invite and cancel invitations, he can take those who refused his invitations and replace them with the first 500 people that he sees.  And to be frank, there is nothing we can do about it, and this fact makes us crazy, because it means that we do not have the control that we so crave.  And there is nothing more frustrating than giving up control.  

            But, that this God remains outside our attempts at manipulation, what if that little secret is actually the relief that we require?  Yes, this God will frustrate and ultimately defeat our attempts at trying to live apart from God, but what that is ultimately and finally wonderful news ?  What if, it is our pride and our fear, our rejection of this God’s invitation, our fable that we can somehow resist the goodness of this God’s banquet, what if that is the stuff that gets singed off of us by the consuming fire of this God’s love?  Yes, for if you pause to consider it a bit more, what is really going on here is that God refuses to be refused, and this is good news for us. And, make no mistake, this is costly, for both God and for us.  It means, in those words of St. Paul and Martin Luther, that we must die to ourselves, as we do in baptism, so that we might rise into Christ’s love.  But again dear people, this death, no matter strange this may seem, this is the beginning of genuine life.  For it the death of those things that would keep us from God and the absurdly lavish banquet that he throws.  It is the end of all those things that would keep us from the belief that we need to go to war against this God in some misguided attempt at freedom.  Yes, it is the end of trying to do things on our own, for in the end, we, and the whole creation, we are in this God’s loving hands.

Yes, God refuses to be refused, and this, too, will cost God something in the bargain. For it will mean that God, in Christ,  will be tossed into the outer darkness, the one chosen to bear the world’s sin and unbelief, so that the banquet might begin in the most unexpected of places. Yes, in God’s refusal, in God saying “no” to humanity’s attempts to living apart from God, Christ himself, having been found not in his righteousness but rather clothed in our fear and greed, he will be thrown out so that even our darkness, our pain, our fear may be a place where we feast on the goodness of his love.  Yes, for in his ascent to the cross and his descent into hell, he has joined us deep in our misery and our strivings, so that there, even there, his love may be known, and this is so very different from how our culture of celebrity functions.  No VIP passes or security escorts are required at this banquet.  Come, then, dear people, for you have been called and chosen, and please do not be surprised by those whom you find next to you; for the king loves those from whom we try to distance ourselves, calling all from the highways and byways to the feast, and calling us to deeper bonds of love with all those whom we meet, especially those of whom we might be a touch suspicious.   Yes,  your king awaits your presence with giddiness, longing as he does for you.  Here, at this table, you will be clothed and fed with Christ’s righteousness, blessedness and the peace that passes all understanding.  What, then, are you waiting for?  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

October 11, 2011

Matthew 21:33-46

33 "Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. 34 When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. 35 But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. 36 Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. 37 Finally he sent his son to them, saying, "They will respect my son.' 38 But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, "This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.' 39 So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. 40 Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?" 41 They said to him, "He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time." 42 Jesus said to them, "Have you never read in the scriptures: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord's doing, and it is amazing in our eyes'? 43 Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom. 44 The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls." 45 When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. 46 They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet.

Of the great many lies in which our lives together are imbedded, perhaps there is none more seductive than that of ownership.  Now, please hear me correctly on this, there is such a thing as actual ownership in this old world of ours.  I do not think that I could convince the bank that currently holds the lien to my car that they should hand it over without me completing my payments, as great as that might be for yours truly.  But that things belong to us, that we own them, in this provisional and limited way, in the way of banks and loans, mortgages and receipts, this is not what is at stake for us today.  Instead, we are grappling with something far more fundamental, meaning that we have to chase this question a bit further before it will begin to make any sense to us.  For while we do indeed own things, in the sense that we are given the skills and abilities to make a living, to provide for ourselves, and the like, even what we think of as “ownership” in this regard remains a gift from the God who gives without end.  In a way that is more real than can be attested by these mortgages, deeds, and receipts, we own nothing in the sense that we generate it for ourselves.  Everything is actually and genuinely a gift.

            But, this is a fact we were born forgetting, and I wonder if the most common first word for children is not some form of mom or dad, but rather “mine.”  I have no intention of attempting some sort of psychoanalysis as to why this is, but suffice it to say this need to own, to have, to control, this gets us into an incredible amount of difficulty; it is the difficulty of the tenants whose lust for ownership will lead them to do extraordinary things, adding spilt blood to split blood to defend the property in which they have worked and toiled.  And before we make them out to be people of a distinct and artful ignorance, I mean, really how could they forget that they merely work in the vineyard and do not own it, let’s look a bit at their situation.  They are working for a landowner, an absentee landlord, who sets up the shop and then takes off on a long journey.  Which means that while the landlord might have had the start up capital, the hard cash necessary to buy the land and build the fence, watchtower and the rest, it is the tenants who are actually doing all the work.  With the actual landowner out of sight and out of mind, it is easy enough for the tenants to start to believe that they deserve much more than they are getting.  It is their sweat and effort, after all, that is building this harvest, and at some point, in that potent mixture of entitlement and resentment, that myth of ownership overtakes them.  They have forgotten a crucial fact, and in their forgetting, they act in appalling ways, killing and stoning the true owner’s servants, and then even the landowner’s son.  So intent are they on protecting what is not actually theirs, that a terrible irony results.  Rather than ending up the owners, the ones in control, the precise opposite occurs.  They end up owned, utterly determined by their bloodlust, property of their darkest desires. 

            What, then, are we to make of this?  Surely, if we could enter this story, we would wish to talk with the tenants, to remind them that their work is a gift, that they are being paid a fair wage, and that constant killing is not only a poor business strategy, it is something very near madness.  But how do you reason with someone who has lost all control?  And while today’s parable is an extreme example of this, I suspect that, if we are really honest with ourselves, that is a question that is all too relevant. And dare I say we can see perhaps a small bit of ourselves in these tenants.  No, not the murder and the bloodlust, but the singularity of their understanding of the world, the terrible reality of losing control to pride or addiction or anger or fear and anxiety, the realization that we will, in very subtle ways no doubt, do whatever it takes to protect me and mine. Especially when we believe we are undervalued, underappreciated.  

            Well, as bleak a picture as this paints of what it means to be human, there must be someway out and to be sure, a drastic problem requires a drastic solution. How, indeed, do you reason with someone who has lost all control?  Well, maybe you don’t.   Listen again to these words of Jesus: “The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls."  What initially sounds like violence added to violence, broken pieces and crushing stones after all, this is how the madness stops. This is how God will put an end to the violence, by enduring it.  For please remember that this stone is Christ, and he will break us by making us whole, and when he falls on us, it is not for the sake of simply falling, but so that the madness may finally come to an end.   Yes, what is being broken here is nothing less than our resentments and our pride, our fear and addictions, our need to be in control and have ownership over the gifts that we constantly receive.  In the cross, these things are extinguished, put to rest so that we may no longer be their property, but that we may be given back to the God for whom we were created and in whom lies the only genuine security.  Yes, we are broken to pieces by this Christ, for he takes from us our fear and minor madnesses, and gives us his righteousness, joy and peace.  Yes, we are crushed by this Christ, but that is not our end, it is our beginning. 

            For when this occurs, when this Christ claims us, as he does again and again, and as he preparing to do again in the Supper, we are given back to God, to one another and to the world that Gods loves so dear.  If you would like an example of this, look no further than sweet St. Paul.  Yes, this man had it all: a great family name, a prestigious education, a dedication to the good and virtuous life, and yet in his pursuit, in his ownership of such things, he ends up persecuting the very God to whom he believed he had professed his allegiance.  But he, too, on the road to Damascus, ends up broken open by this same Christ.  And now, now, Paul can count all as that he has as that which is to be given away, for he has been found by the Christ whose broken body makes us whole.  In the blinding light of Christ’s love, and in the unceasing hope of the resurrection, Paul recognizes who he actually is.  And though it may be less dramatic for you, that Christ, the same Christ who was hoisted upon the cross, outside the vineyard mind you, the same Christ whose love so compelled St. Paul, that Christ is yours, or more aptly, you are his.  He has taken you as his own, and in the shattering of our fears, doubts, and sins, he has made us whole.  We cannot, do not own him, nor is it ours to say who is invited to his table.  But we are given the freedom to forget about this nonsense of ownership and go bear Christ to a world that needs desperately a word of hope and forgiveness, a world that longs to hear that we are more than what we own, and that our very lives are held by a God who does not refuse us. Yes, in the gifts that Christ gives, he then gifts us to the world, to the hungry and the lonely, the sad and the vulnerable.  It is to them that we now belong.   So come now to the table and take in the broken body and the shed blood that alone makes you whole.  For it is amazing to all eyes.  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

Sept. 18, 2011

Matthew 20:1-16

1 "For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 When he went out about nine o'clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; 4 and he said to them, "You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.' So they went. 5 When he went out again about noon and about three o'clock, he did the same. 6 And about five o'clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, "Why are you standing here idle all day?' 7 They said to him, "Because no one has hired us.' He said to them, "You also go into the vineyard.' 8 When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, "Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.' 9 When those hired about five o'clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10 Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. 11 And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12 saying, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.' 13 But he replied to one of them, "Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14 Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15 Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?' 16 So the last will be first, and the first will be last."

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.”  You all probably know the rest, or at least some part of the rest.  That hymn is about as deep in our bones as any one hymn can be.  So deep, in fact, that we tend to gloss right over what is actually being said, or as, the title of one popular Christian book puts it, “What’s so amazing about grace?” Well, to answer that question, we have to pose a few others, a few like, well, what is grace to begin with?  And also, why do we experience it to be as frustrating as it is amazing? 

One of the reasons I love spending time with my nieces, apart from the obvious, is that they are wonderful instructors in what it means to be human, just like all children.  There it is, human pride, joy, anger, trust, love, resentment, all of it, right there in the raw.  And if there is one thing that I have learned from spending time with the seven dwarfs, if you will, is that kids, like us all,  have an innate sense of fairness.  The instant one of my nieces suspects that I am paying more attention to a different niece, I am called on it: “Uncle Justin, you have only pushed Annika on the swing; that’s not fair.”  And try as I might to rationalize the complexities, morally speaking, of all this, how Annika is my goddaughter, how she and I bonded during my brother’s divorce, how I feel especially protective of her because she can often get pushed to the side and does not get as much adult attention, none of that matters.  For they are right in terms of how my time is being divided.  Annika probably does get more attention from me, and you know what, it is not fair.  Deep beneath those other issues and complicating factors is the glaring reality of whether or not I am being fair; there is nothing quite like seven nieces to cut you down to size a bit.  

And it is precisely this issue of fairness that stalks us from the background of these particular stories, and it is this issue of fairness that can make grace not amazing but frustrating, maddening, infuriating, even.  Look, if you will at the Gospel.  The kingdom of God, says Jesus, is like a land owner who will pay everyone the same regardless of the amount of work that they have done.  It matters little if you clocked in on time and have been doing all those little things that go unnoticed or if you showed up horribly late for your shift and managed to again, get away with it.  Now please do not gloss over your gut reaction to this; you are right, this is fundamentally unfair.  From our perspective, it makes little sense and it is more than a little frustrating.  What kind of God is willing to do this sort of thing, to doll out payment it seems, with no regard to how much labor has been done, how much effort put forth and how much sweat dripped from the brutality of the mid-day sun? 

What is so very interesting about this reaction of ours, though, is that, rather than first being some sort of commentary on what we think about God, it reveals some deeply held belief we have about ourselves.   It would be impossible, you see, to respond with anger, like Jonah, to God’s mercy and grace if we did not first assume that we were somehow more worthy of that unearned love and mercy, that absurdly generous paycheck.  For reasons that are personal and communal, we believe ourselves to be the first workers.  Some where along the way, the faith that we have been gifted, the love that has been shown to us, the Christ who calls to go work joyously in his kingdom, some where, we mistook the gift for something that was ours to possess.  And it is not that this is one time affair, but it seems to be something that we do constantly.  When this happens, there is nothing waiting for us but frustration and resentment.  Resentment towards those whom we believe have not earned God’s grace as we have, and resentment towards God, as we cry along with Jonah: “for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”  

The fundamental mistake that we make can be heard in God’s answer to both Jonah and to those first workers: “Is it right for you to be angry?” and “am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?”  Yes, in both of these questions, utterly rhetorical one might add, the reality is being named: we do not possess God’s mercy and we are not given the authority to determine where that mercy ends up or whom it may come to name.  To put this as simply and forcibly as possible, God does not consult us before extending divine love and care to both our neighbors and our enemies.  And if we are in the business of wanting to reduce God’s mercy to our sense of what is fair or unfair, if we believe, like those first workers, that we can somehow tell God what to do with those things that belong always and only to God, this will strike us a dead end.  We will bang our heads against God’s own incomprehensibility and wish, perhaps a touch less mellow dramatically than Jonah, to just be done with this whole mess.  

But, this is by no means the only option for us.  Because in our more honest moments, when that odd mixture of pride and despair dissipates in Christ’s  warm light, we realize this: we are not the first workers, none of us. None of us stands in the position to rightly dole out Christ’s mercy and grace, and to make this presumption is both arrogant and foolish.   No matter how long or well we have lived lives of faith, no matter how well we believe we have behaved, or how committed we believe ourselves to be, none of that allows us to possess the gift as though it were only ours.  Instead, we, all of us together, and the whole church down through time and space, yes, all those whom Christ has called and continues to call, we are all those workers who were found just a short while before closing time who somehow receive a day’s wages.  And rather than this being a burden, or a blow to our spiritual self-esteem, or point of utter frustration, this is actually what grace means.  It means that you have been chosen by God in Christ Jesus and called to live into the utter giftedness where you receive so much more than you could even possess.  It means letting go of our attempts at controlling God and simply enjoying the fact that Christ’s mercy has found and named us, and that He has given us all that he has:  that Christ has given, through the waters of baptism and in this Holy Supper, his own body, his own blood, his peace which surpasses all human understanding and the love that the Father has poured out onto him from everlasting to everlasting, to say nothing of the blessed Holy Spirit that sustains and upholds, that keeps Christ close by your side through all darkness and strife.   All of that, quite literally all of that, is the gift that you are given again and again and again.  This is something much wider than we can possess, instead, it possesses and animates us. And with all the saints of God, all those whom Christ has called and continues to call, you have been gathered to go find this Christ who has already found you.  For you have been given the vision to see Christ in the hungry neighbor or the restless poor; in the lonely child and the mourning widow.  With the full knowledge that even who we are is an utter gift,  we are free to explore how this same God is calling and naming others. For you belong to Christ, and in him, you have all things.  Is it fair, no, it is not, and we can thank God for that.  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

Sept, 11, 2011

Matthew 18:21-35

21 Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" 22 Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. 23 "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25 and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, "Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.' 27 And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, "Pay what you owe.' 29 Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, "Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' 30 But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. 31 When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, "You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?' 34 And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. 35 So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

Along with expressions of the value of  hard work, personal responsibility and caring for others, typical among lists of parents’ wishes for their children, my father had another refrain that I recall from my childhood.  As a one who deeply values studying history and had lived through some interesting history himself, my father would frequently tell my siblings and I that he “hoped we lived through interesting times.”  Now, I do not know exactly the specific content of that phrase, but I am certain that he did not mean the events that transpired on Sept. 11, 2001.  I am certain of this because he was the first person I called after a new dorm mate of mine informed me of what was happening, as we were brushing our teeth in a communal bathroom.  I remember returning to my dorm room, turning on the tv, and promptly calling my father.  He was steady and reassuring, in that way that fathers tend to be, though I could tell that he too was shaken up.  Shaken up because, in spite of that paternal steadiness, there were no answers that could be easily accessed, no answers for his sobbing son who was already having a hard time adjusting to college, no answers that could rationalize the radical evil that that was now being broadcast on every television channel across the country.

And ten years have past, ten years full of political and economic strife, ten years in which we have become increasingly divided in our politics, though oddly unified in our belief that we have nothing to learn from the other side, ten years and two wars, the question of radical evil remains, and it is just as stupefying as it was on that horrible Tuesday morning. The questions persist, and though we can hazard answers as to the geo-political and in some cases religious realities that gave rise to this brave new world, none of that is fully satisfying.  None of the analysis, regardless if it comes from Foxnews or MSNBC, can actually make us feel any safer, and if there is one reality that has persisted and grown in these ten years, it is the awareness that the world is perhaps infinitely more dangerous and our own stations in life infinitely more fragile than we once believed.  The impossible was being broadcast into every living room and there were no easy answers available to make any sense of it all. 

And while this horrific event may have shattered our collective notions of invincibility in a new way, that the world is a dangerous place and that we are implicated in this danger, this is a reality as old as humanity itself.  Take, if you will, the first reading for the day.  What we have before us is the culmination of one of the most marvelous stories in the whole of Scripture: the reconciliation of Joseph and his brothers. As beautiful as the passage is on its own, when taken in the context of the whole story, it is almost too wonderful for words.  So, to remind ourselves as to why Joseph’s brothers might be a bit afraid of him, let’s briefly look at the entire story.  If you will recall, Joseph’s father, Isaac or Israel, loved and cared for Joseph more than his other brothers, Joseph being the youngest. One way that Isaac demonstrates this love is by giving Joseph an absurdly expensive coat, the one of amazing Technicolor dream fame.  What is more, this Joseph is not exactly the victim who receives this extra attention with any sense of awareness or humility.  Instead, this boy, given to ecstatic dreams, informs his brothers that they will someday bow down to him, an act that occasions even the rebuke of his doting father. This is not what one would call keeping a low profile. To put it frankly, and this might be the middle brother coming out in me, Joseph is a bit of a brat, a bit spoiled, protected as he is by his father’s strong hand.   The other brothers, understandably jealous and tired of the unfair treatment, stop just short of killing Joseph, instead putting him a pit and then selling into slavery in Egypt.  Now, as these things tend to go, the brothers end up relying on Joseph in a way they could have never anticipated.  Turns out that that whole crazy dream thing Joseph had going actually ended up being quite an asset.  It lands him in the halls of power, his dreams being politically useful, predictive as they are of a coming drought and famine, allowing Egypt to be prepared with enough food to make it through.   You can see where all of this is headed, the brothers literally on starvation’s inhospitable door, and now unknowingly dependent on the mercy of the brother that they submitted to treatment a tad bit more harsh than typical fraternal hazing.  Though there is a scene of reconciliation prior to this reading, a scene in which Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers and extends forgiveness, the brothers, still rotting from the guilt of their pasts and with father Isaac now dead, his controlling influence gone with him,  need a bit more reassure.  Realizing that their fate rests entirely in the hands of Joseph, they need to know that past grudges are forgiven so that their futures may be secure.

And you can’t really blame them for this due diligence or their expectation that forgiveness from young Joseph might still be a ways out, given what they did to him.  Sibling rivalry and jealousy are givens, we all know this from our own life experience; literally selling your brother off is quite another.  Dr. Phil, then, does not have the market cornered on family dysfunction.  So, having been ground down by the harsh unpredictability of life, they throw themselves on the mercy of their brother, hoping, it seems, for the bare minimum, a cease fire, a truce.  But what they receive they could have never anticipated.  They, for what feels like the first time, actually receive their brother.  Amidst their own tears and recollection, they are given back to the brother that they never really had.  They are given the joy of relationship with the brother they had envied, hated and left for dead.  In a word, they are given grace.

What, then, compels Joseph to behave this way, holding all the cards and yet throwing them away in favor of fraternal embrace?  Well, it is this most remarkable statement: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.”  It was the realization that not even the evil intentions of his brothers could preclude God’s activity; which is perhaps the deepest mystery that we can fathom.   That God remains active in a world where brothers will sell each other off out of jealousy and men will turn commercial airplanes into missiles.  That however fragile we are in this world, and make no mistake, we are indeed fragile, God’s love and care will continue to uphold and sustain us.  This is what Joseph realizes: the profound mystery that God can use human evil and make of it something life-giving, even to those who perpetuate that evil.  This is the story that Joseph learns, and it is the story that will continue to be enacted until God, in the flesh of Jesus Christ, suffers our evil and gives in return the life, peace and joy he shares with the Father and the Spirit through all eternity.  There is no way to rationalize radical evil, not the radical evil we saw ten years ago nor the evil that is radical in its subtlety, asking us to dehumanize those with whom we disagree until all manner of chaos ensues.  To this, there is no human answer, but there is a divine one.  Even this evil can be used by the God of cross and open tomb for divine good.  This we cannot explain but only offer our deepest praise and thanksgiving.  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

August 28, 2011

Matthew 16:21-28

21  From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.  22  And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, "God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you."  23  But he turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."  24  Then Jesus told his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  25  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.  26  For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?  27  "For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done.  28  Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom."

As many of you know, I am a bit of a book fanatic.  Maybe it is an excuse for my shyness, but being able to stay at home curled up with a good book is irrefutable evidence of God’s goodness.  Consequently, one of my favorite outings is to the local Barnes and Noble, but my what a strange trip that is turning into.  Lately, I have been doing a bit of cataloguing of the all the section headings, and I think they say something instructive about the age in which we live.  You have your old standbys, fiction, non-fiction, mystery, reference, cooking, etc.  But now, you also have self-help, psychology, Christian, Christian inspiration, New Age, religion, and my personal favorite, and I think we can thank the Twilight series for this, “Paranormal Teen Romance.”  I will leave it up to the many qualified educators and librarians in this congregation to determine whether or not this is actually a valid category of book.  The larger point, though, is that this signals to me the great spiritual unrest of our time and place.  The reasons for this are complicated and require far more than we can devout at the moment, but suffice it to say that this is the water in which we swim, so to speak.  In the language of the gospel, we are engulfed by a great movement to try and find a life, find something of lasting meaning and value, and perhaps it has always been the case.  As these manifold book sections would indicate, ours is a time and place that is open to nearly any suggestion as to what is worth caring about,  no matter if it comes from a new book on brain chemistry to the Denver Broncos Quarterback depth chart.  And it is not that there is anything wrong with any of that; a lot of it the good God-given stuff of creation that we are meant to enjoy, paranormal teen romances notwithstanding, of course. It is just that, this stuff always fails to last in the ways that we need it to, which is perhaps why there are so many book sections.  When we tire of one answer, we move onto to another one, hoping that it will love us and secure us in a way that we can continue to count on. 

And make no mistake, asking these questions about what constitutes a meaningful life, this is an act of profound courage in our time and place.  Being willing to question whether or not the things we commonly look to for meaning, things like money or status or knowledge gleaned from the self-help section of the bookstore, yes, asking if these things live up to their potential, this is an act of utter defiance.  For it calls to question the method by which this cultural search for meaning takes place.  It asks, really, what is the most fundamental issue at stake?  Is it that we have simply not yet found the most helpful answer and should therefore keep searching, or there is something deeply flawed about the way that we conduct this search?

            You see, it is only after we have asked such radical questions that today’s Gospel may begin to make a bit of sense to us.  It is only after we have continued to bang and bang our heads against our own efforts to secure and sustain ourselves that these words of Jesus may be read as invitation and not as a threat.   Yes, when we are in that place, a bit too defensive, a bit too certain that we can do it on our own, a bit too prideful about our chances of creating meaning out of the raw material of our lives, these words of Jesus will remain a terror.  For even if we can admit that we are struggling to create something of lasting value, at least it is still us who are doing it, at least we remain in control of our lives.  There may not be much freedom here, but there is the illusion of control.  The illusion that we can manage the stress and hardship of work or lack thereof, of family life, of growing old, yes, that we can handle all of this on our own. That all we need for things to change is a little bit more information, a new promotion, and then we will finally have things figured out.  This is the great illusion to which we cling.  This is how we lose our lives by trying to save them. 

            And before you begin to question to what extend this is true of your own life, before those lonely questions of whether things have turned out like you thought they would, yes before you head down that road of despair and self-pity, know this: you, dear people of God, you have already been given an entirely different reality in which you live.   Yes, as St. Paul writes, through holy baptism, you have been buried with Christ into death, and not death for its own sake, but the death from which a genuine and lasting life may begin to emerge. Yes, the death of believing that we can sustain ourselves spiritually by our own efforts, a death to the belief that we can do something to earn God’s mercy, a death to believing that this life is composed solely of what we can see and consume.  And finally most significantly, a death to believing that we are in control. 

            And from those deaths, from those loses of life, yes, from those crosses, a most remarkable reality breaks forth.  The reality of Christ’s life in and among us.   At the very moment we think that all is lost, precisely because we have lost control, we are grasped by something, rather someone, whose strong and faithful hands secure us for the first time.  Yes, at the very instant that we watch our control become exposed for the paltry myth that it is, something utterly remarkable, entirely new occurs.  From that lose of what we believed was life in its fullest,  Christ raises us into his life, which is the only true life.  The very instant we think things are over, they have actually just begun.  For when we are confronted by the fact that we cannot earn God’s love, meaning that God remains unaffected by our attempts at manipulation, we are greeted with the more resilient truth that God’s mercy in Christ Jesus has already claimed us and refuses to ever let us go.  Yes, when we have finally thrown up our hands in despair over how frustrating this old world can be, when our myths of self-sufficiency and better living through promotions at work, or better living from finally finding our truest self, yes when we have exhausted all those possibilities, the life in Christ, the righteousness that comes from the cross, takes hold of us and gives us a newness of life that we could have never imagined being real, much less self-generated.

            And as the famed Christian apologist C.S. Lewis wrote, what God takes away with the left hand, he gives back with the right.  And so, in this life of Christ, in the righteousness that has claimed you from the cross, in the newness of life that has already found you, you are given back to this old world in a new and wonderful way.  In a way that allows you to live as St. Paul has instructed, down in the messiness of daily life.  Having been found by a righteousness that is not your own, you may now find God in activities that previously seemed far too ordinary to be a place where God would call you.  Places like the hungry crying for food, the child needing to be fed, the stranger asking for welcome, the enemy whom you are free to forgive,  or the mourner who just needs someone willing to listen.   These are the places that now thunder with divine and eternal significance.   Yes, these are the places to which God has now called you.  So rise up, then, dear people, for Christ has found you and has given you the righteousness of his cross and resurrection.  And in so doing, he has given you the freedom to live truly and deeply.  Perhaps even for the first time.  In Jesus’ name, amen. 

August 21, 2011

Matthew 16:13-20

13  Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"  14  And they said, "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."  15  He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"  16  Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah,  the Son of the living God."  17  And Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.  18  And I tell you, you are Peter,  and on this rock  I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.  19  I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."  20  Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was  the Messiah.

 

If you will, please take a moment to reflect with me on the way you relate to God.  Now, I am not going to ask you to share this with anyone, so please do be as honest as possible.  I want you to consider, when you ponder the divine, when you enter a still moment of prayer, when you spend sometime reading your Bible, what keeps you from God?  When you encounter voices of opposition, when that cruel voice of the accuser happens upon you, what are the contents of its message?   Please do, stop and consider these questions for a brief moment. 

The reason I ask this, you see, is because today’s reading takes up what seems to me to be the most subtle form of opposition we encounter in our lives as Christians.  Let me do a little explaining.  Often it is the case that we conceive of sin largely in terms of human pride and arrogance.  That the sin common to us all is wanting not to be human, but rather to be gods ourselves.  To want, as it were, the knowledge of good and evil to be ours, so that we may determine right from wrong, in from out in an ultimate way, judging our enemies or even simply those whom do not like with an eternal ferocity.  Now, I am not going to disagree with this.  Obviously, there is a lot of truth there, but I wonder if it is only one half of the story.  I wonder if, deeper than the pride and the arrogance, there is fear and insecurity, which makes us believe that we have to be more than we are.  That part of the reason we want to storm heaven, to take God’s throne as our own, is because we simply do not believe that God will take care of us for any number of reasons.  So, back to those questions: it seems to me that often it is the case that our own spiritual lives are hindered by this little word “too.”  That is, we are “too” whatever for God to actually care about us and for God to use us in the church and the world.  We are too old, too young, too busy, too full of doubt, too clumsy with our words, too broken in our relationships, too selfish, too insecure, too neurotic, too smart, too dumb, too whatever.  The accuser’s voice can be a relentless one.  If you are anything like me, that is the primal fear that lies behind our pride, really, we are just waiting to be exposed for the frauds that we believe ourselves to be. 

Well, if that is the case, as I suspect it might be, it is time to lay down those burdens in favor of entirely different view of reality, a reality in which who we are is a matter of our perceived faults and failings, nor is it limited by that nasty little word “too.”  Instead, our participation in the kingdom of God, our present moments being swept up into the eternal, is a gift given not of flesh and blood, but by our Father in heaven.  Now, as some of you may indeed recall, I am a huge fan of Peter the disciple.  I just think the man is utterly fantastic, but he is not fantastic because he is somehow faultless, actually quite the opposite.  What I love about Peter is his unfailing humanity.  Yes, we could just as easily apply this “too” to Peter.  If we are being completely honest, Peter is probably a bit too talkative, a bit too convinced he has it figured out (stayed tuned for next week to see this in action).  From the perspective of the religious authorities, those Pharisees, Peter is a bit too working class, a bit too unschooled in the law to be a respectable disciple. Yes, a bit too rough around the edges to be tapped as a potential leader of any religious movement.  According to human standards, to the way we judge one another and ourselves, Peter does not exactly pass our tests will flying colors.  A marginal grading would probably be generous.

And yet, in this extraordinary scene, Peter makes the good confession of Jesus Christ as Lord.  In, with and under all his failings, all of his “toos,” he gives voice to the reality that will defeat the gates of hell.  To this rough and tumble fisherman, God has revealed the very truth by which the creation will be restored and all manner of evil defeated. What exactly is going on here?  Well, a way to begin to answer that question is to note that none of Peter’s “toos” and, let’s be honest, there are plenty, keep God from revealing Jesus to Peter.  Instead, the opposite is true.  Peter is given the confession, the knowledge of Jesus as the son of the living God, and in so doing, has been let in on a little divine secret.  Yes Peter, certainly a guy we would not necessarily be picked as church council president, he is the one who is given the knowledge of Jesus as the Christ.  There is a wonderful bit of absurdity at work here that we are meant to pick up on.  One can almost hear the echoes of divine laughter.  For God’s goodness is so great, his mercy so overwhelming, that God’s word, Jesus the Christ, is enough to bind the powers of evil.  This is not a battle of equals, you see.  For after Christ’s cross and resurrection, the mere mention of Christ as Lord, no matter how weakly uttered or how meagerly acted upon, is enough to bind the forces of evil.  And so,  we are meant to see that God, in Christ Jesus, is going to use this Peter and the rest of the disciples to be the way in which the message of salvation will endure throughout the ages.  Yes, it is not to those who trained with the most prestigious rabbis down in Jerusalem that the Father will reveal that Jesus is the Christ.  But rather to Peter the impetuous, to the brothers Zebedee who cannot stop bickering about which one of them is the best, and later to a man named Saul who begins his career as an apostle by persecuting Christ’s church. 

And it is not just that this is one way that God is active in the world, it is that it seems to be the only way that God wishes to operate.  For God, in Christ Jesus, loves real sinners, you and me included, often much more than we tend to love ourselves.  And this not some Christianized version of self-help; rather it is the renewal of our minds of  sweet St. Paul.  It is realizing that, in the faith we have been given, in the gift of baptism, as my colleague Kevin Maly puts its, the promise of Christ’s unending love has been bound to us.  There is no escaping it.  Regardless of the evils that impede and hamper us, you are and will remain beloved children of God; this much He has promised you.  There is simply no “too” that will keep Christ’s love from reaching us and giving us the new name of beloved child of God, and what a wonderful mystery, that that name glints with the newness of eternity every time we are called it.  Yes, Christ simply loves you too much to leave you be.  Your “toos” are finally indefensible against the fervor of his love and mercy. You may fight it all you wish, but in the end, even those “toos” will be bound so that you, along with all the sainted of God,  may be embraced in the arms eternal of Christ’s forgiveness and care.  And if Peter, the one who rebukes and denies Christ,  is given the confession on which the church is built, there is no excuse that we can marshal in our defense as to why God cannot use us to be of some service in the world that God loves so dearly, to be of use to our neighbors in need, to love as we have been loved, namely in the freedom that characterizes God’s own life.  Against this confession, that Jesus Christ is Lord, even our “toos” are meaningless.  In Jesus’ name, amen.