“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea; there’s a kindness in God’s justice, which is more than liberty.” We just sang those words. Do you believe them? Do you believe “there is welcome for the sinner and more graces for the good….”? Or is there a part of you that still believes you have to do something to get God to love you? Or worse, do you think that you’ve botched up your life so badly that there’s no way that God could love you? Or maybe it’s all those other people out there – whoever “they” are – who don’t deserve God’s love: the murderers, drug dealers, crooked politicians, child abusers, and streetwalkers? Or perhaps you believe that when “bad things happen to good people,” when people are caught in floods or tornadoes, or their cities are bombed, it’s because they deserve it, that God is punishing them – or the rest of us on their behalf. On this day fifteen years ago, some of us heard claims like that. So does any of this reflect your beliefs?
If your only idea of the God of the Hebrew Bible is what we heard this morning in the reading from Jeremiah, you might think that all those statements about God are true. Remember that Jeremiah originally wrote his prophecies at a time of great political upheaval, when the Babylonian armies had destroyed the temple in Jerusalem and were herding the Judean leaders into exile in Babylon. The prophet is very clear about God’s judgement of the people of Judah. Clearly God is enraged at them. God calls them foolish and stupid, skilled in evil, and ignorant of good. They have even violated creation. God pronounces judgement: God will destroy the land and make the earth mourn. And God is fiercely determined to carry out God’s plan.
And yet. Did you notice the hints that God did not intend to wreak total destruction? Did you notice something else besides God’s fierce anger? Did you hear “my poor people?” Did you hear that “my people” are foolish, like stupid children? Did you hear God acknowledge God’s deep relationship with God’s people, the hint of God’s compassion for them? Did you hear God say, “Yet I will not make a full end?”
Throughout this long book, the prophet continues to rail against the wrong-headed political alliances that eventually led to the triumph of the Babylonians over the Judeans. Yet, in chapter 30, God declares, “… have no fear my servant Jacob … and do not be dismayed, O Israel; for I am going to save you from far away, and your offspring from the land of their captivity.” And more: God declares, “I am going to restore the fortunes of the tents of Jacob, and have compassion on his dwellings; the city shall be rebuilt upon its mound, and the citadel set upon its rightful site.” Most important of all, God promises to make a new covenant with the houses of Israel and Judah. “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” The prophet Ezekiel, who also experienced the exile, also trusted God to seek out and restore God’s people. Using the familiar image of God as a shepherd, Ezekiel repeats God’s declaration that “I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered ….”
Perhaps Jesus had that very section of Ezekiel in mind as he responded to the implied criticism of the Pharisees and scribes. And here let me remind you that, despite what you hear in the Gospel, in Jesus’ time the Pharisees are the good guys – literally. Though the gospels often show them arguing with Jesus, they strove to keep the Law of Moses, to “read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest” it. They also continued the process of reinterpreting the law – which rabbis do to this day – so that the law remains relevant for those who try to observe it.
Like all good people, the Pharisees tend towards self-righteousness. Focused on their own efforts to be good, they exclude those who miss the mark more visibly. It is understandable that they might wonder why this charismatic rabbi not only seemed to avoid the obviously good people but sought out the least, the lost, and the left behind. Why would a self-respecting follower of God’s law do that? Here in Luke’s telling, Jesus answers their concerns by telling three stories, two of which we just heard. Just as we heard in last week’s gospel, Jesus uses hyperbole to make his point. Using images that would resonate with ordinary people, Jesus pictures a shepherd who chases after a lone sheep, leaving ninety-nine “in the wilderness,” then rejoices when he finds the lost one. Would a sane shepherd, even imagining that he had a flock that size, really leave them all to chase after one? Jesus then uses the image of a woman searching for a lost coin and rejoicing when she finds it. Would a person expend that much effort just to find one coin?
Wondering about what happened to the ninety-nine sheep left behind or the woman’s effort entirely misses the point of these stories. Jesus is not saying anything here about sheep, women, or even us. In answering the complainers, Jesus is saying something about God’s intentions. He is reminding his hearers – and us – that God takes the initiative to seek and rescue the lost. And maybe we’re all lost – only the ninety-nine “good” sheep and the nine coins hanging around the woman’s neck – that’s how the poor kept their money – don’t know that they’re lost. So God starts with those who do know that they’re lost, those who’ve wandered away and can’t find their way back, those who fall in between the cracks, or end up behind the drapes. And God not only takes the initiative to go looking for the least, the lost, and the left behind, God welcomes them, even eats dinner with them. To show what God was really like, “Jesus welcomed the people we ignore and despise. The sexually suspicious. The religiously impure. Ethnic outsiders. Rich tax scammers and lazy poor people. Soldiers of the Roman oppressors. The chronically sick and the mentally deranged. Women with multiple marriages, widows, and children. His closest disciples who betrayed him.”1
And why does Jesus – or God – take the initiative to seek out those on the margins? Of course in the parables, the sheep and the coin are forms of wealth. And you know what? So are we! So are all of us, even those who we good people wouldn’t be caught dead embracing! God loves all of us. And even more important, the least, the lost, and the left behind people are part of the community, and the whole is not complete without them. God’s search for us – all of us – is ultimately a quest for restoration and wholeness. “In this sense, all of us who are part of God’s creation should be just as anxious as God until the lost are restored and we are made whole again by their presence.”2
And so, what of us? If God always takes the initiative, if God always seeks us out, are we willing to be found? If we are, how do we let ourselves be found? On Tuesday, we wondered how to discern God’s will – which may be another way of asking the same question. No surprise: we discovered that we have to open ourselves to God’s presence in our lives. We realized that a deeper relationship with God helps us to be found by God and to let God lead us – even when the next steps aren’t always clear. The means? Intentional silent prayer is a good first step: letting go of our own ego, our own small needs and concerns, and simply sitting silently in God’s presence. Intentional reading of Scripture is another good practice. Daily examen, looking over your day and seeing God’s presence in the events of the day, is yet another good practice. We will experience all of them at next month’s quiet day, but I’ll be happy to give a preview of both practices to anyone interested.
But. Practices of prayer are never ends in themselves – if Jesus is our example. After taking time away for prayer, Jesus leapt right back into active ministry, healing, teaching, proclaiming the reign of God. Once God has found us, welcomed us, fed us, healed us, and strengthened us, then we have a responsibility to share God’s welcome with others, to actively seek the least, the lost, and the left behind, both those who come to us and those who don’t find their way through our doors, who may not even know that we exist.
Today, we remember all those first responders and everyone else who went out to help victims and family members of those who lost their lives in New York, Washington, and Shanksville, PA. And here’s another example. Every Wednesday evening, the Lost Sheep Ministry reaches approximately 250-300 people under the Interstate Bridge in downtown Knoxville, Tennessee. Many volunteers take part in this ministry. After a brief prayer service, they serve hot meals, give away gently used clothes, including work and interview clothes, staff a prayer table, provide dental and medical assistance, hold an annual flu clinic, and provide risk-free tuberculosis screening.3
Who are the homeless bridge people around us? To whom are we called to reach out with God’s love? “I once was lost, but now am found.” As God has found us, as God has showered us with love and great blessings, with whom are we called to share that love? Who needs to be found, so that the Body may be made whole?
Let your God love you. Then go out and to seek the lost, to share God’s love with them.
1. Dan Clendenin, “A Trustworthy Saying,” http://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay .
2. Jennifer Copeland, “Clean Sweep,” Christian Century, Sept. 07, 2004, http://christiancentury.org/article/2004-09/clean-sweep
3. http://lostsheepministry.org/under-the-bridge/
Monday, September 12, 2016
Monday, September 5, 2016
Are You All In?
We’re still on the road with Jesus. For the last month or so, ever since Jesus “set his face for Jerusalem,” we‘ve been walking the dusty roads between Galilee and Judea with him. All the while, Jesus has been flinging hard words at us. If you become one of my followers, be prepared for conflict with your friends and family, he told us last month. Just last week he told us not to assume that we are the high-status people, and to invite the riffraff to our parties rather than our families and friends. It’s hot, we’re tired, and we’ve had enough of Jesus’ hard teachings. “That’s it, Master, no more. Leave us alone.”
Maybe Jesus can already see Jerusalem and the events that will happen there – if not with his naked eye, then perhaps in his mind’s eye. So he flings his hardest teaching yet at us. He tells us to be prepared for the cost, the full cost of truly following him. “You have to hate your family members,” he says. “You have to follow me all the way to unjust execution, if necessary.” “You have to give away everything you have.” “Wait, wait, you can’t mean all that Jesus, can you?” He can, and he does.
OK, the rabbis of Jesus’ day were given to hyperbole. Maybe Jesus overstated his expectations for their shock value, so that he could get our attention. So what, as Luke tells it, did Jesus want his followers – and by extension us – to hear? In a nutshell, it’s not a piece of cake to follow him. We don’t follow him because it feels good. We don’t follow him when life calms down and we have time to get around to it. Being Jesus’ disciple is not a spectator sport, as if you can watch the clergy try to do it, but sit in the bleachers yourself.
When we decide to follow Jesus in a serious way, we are making a deep commitment. We are committing ourselves to putting God before all the other commitments in our lives, before family, social class, nationality, before all those pieces of our lives that are not God. We are committing ourselves to a way of life that puts the needs and desires of others ahead of our own needs and desires. We are committing ourselves to working for the good of all creation. We are committing ourselves to travelling lightly with our achievements and our “stuff,” while acknowledging our responsibility to share what we have. We are making a commitment to letting ourselves be transformed by God. As we travel behind Jesus, we promise to be ready to respond to God’s call to grow in ways that may seem difficult, risky, and strange. And we know, that, at some point along that road, Jesus will turn to us and say, “Are you all in?”
In effect, Paul posed that same question to Philemon and the others to whom the brief letter bearing Philemon’s name is addressed. Oddly, this letter is the only truly personal letter of Paul’s that has been preserved. And sadly, we don’t know much about it. You can easily figure out the broad outlines of the story. The slave Onesimus ran away from his master, Philemon, possibly also taking money or property. He met up with Paul in prison, where Paul converted him. Now Paul writes to Philemon asking him to take Onesimus back as a fellow follower of Jesus and promising to reimburse Philemon for any expenses. What we don’t know are where Paul was imprisoned, how he and Onesimus got together, and, most important, what Paul means when he asks Philemon to receive Onesimus “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother.”
We do know this: whatever we now think about slavery – and some would criticize Paul for not taking a strong stand against slavery – Paul was following Roman law in returning Onesimus to Philemon. Upon Onesimus’s return, Philemon could have severely punished him, hobbled him, as was done to African slaves in the American South and in South Africa, or sold him away. Instead, Paul asks Philemon to treat Onesimus very differently, to treat him as a fellow member of a Christian community, and even, if possible, to send Onesimus back to Paul. In effect, Paul has forsaken the expectations of his culture, and is subtly undermining the system of slavery by reminding Philemon of his common humanity with Onesimus as a fellow follower of Christ. He is further asking Philemon to treat Onesimus differently than what law and custom would permit. And he does this, not by trying to coerce Philemon, but by gently requesting that Philemon follow his own example and treat Onesimus with love.
I wonder what we would do in Philemon’s place. I couldn’t help thinking of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn and another letter, the letter that Huck Finn planned to write to turn in the runaway slave Jim. The laws and the customs of the day tell Huck that Jim should be returned to his owner. Huck even drafts a letter. But then when he realizes all that Jim has done for him, how Jim has been a friend and father to him, Huck tears the letter up. Huck is definitely all in. I wonder if I would have had the courage to do what Huck did.
Even the reading from the prophet Jeremiah indirectly poses a question of commitment to us. Here Jeremiah uses the image of the potter shaping and reshaping the pot to suggest the way God works God’s transformations within us. However, Jeremiah is not addressing individuals but rather the covenanted community, the Israelites who have promised to follow God’s law. As we hear throughout this long book, the Israelites get entangled in untrustworthy political alliances, amass wealth, exploit the poor, and visit all kinds of injustices on each other. Jeremiah warns them here of the dire consequences of forsaking the promises they made to God. He assures them that God will force then to undergo a period of transformation, which indeed, as it turns out, happens when they are sent into exile.
And so: are you all in? Are you committed to Jesus and willing to pay the cost of following him? What examples might we choose to illustrate what full commitment looks like? Actually, we have some wonderful examples of what such total commitment to the beliefs of one’s heart actually looks like – even when those beliefs challenge the status quo of the culture around them. Think about those who enter vowed religious life, convents and monasteries. They truly give up all their possessions, traditionally even their clothes and their name, and they commit to a life in common with others, traditionally a life of poverty, chastity, obedience, and stability. How about those who took part in the civil rights struggles of the 1960s? The Freedom Riders challenged the status quo of segregated buses by riding interstate buses in the South in mixed racial groups and by defying local laws or customs that mandated segregated seating. Those who took part in the Montgomery bus boycott to protest segregated municipal buses walked to work for 381 days until the city finally caved in and allowed people of all races to sit where they pleased. Those of you who are athletes know the single-minded commitment that is necessary to excel in any sport. We were all charmed last month as we watched Simone Biles, Gabby Douglas, Alys Raisman, Laurie Hernandez, and Madison Kocian defend the USA’s gold medal title in the team all-around gymnastics event in the Olympics. Those young women had practiced for years to get to that place. They were definitely all in!
And are we? What does being all in look like for us? John Calvin suggests that there are four different ways in which we can show our commitment to Christ. The first is through self-denial, i.e., not seeing ourselves as the center of the universe, but rather recognizing that of God in everyone else and affirming our kinship with all people. Second, we can bear our cross, i.e., face whatever suffering comes our way in life without complaint, knowing that Christ bears it with us, trusting in God for the outcome of what we bear, and sharing the suffering of others. Third, we can meditate on eternal life, i.e., we can seek to understand ever more deeply who we are and whose we are, that we are all beloved children of God. And fourth, we can use God’s gifts properly, i.e., we can live a simple life, knowing that we are on a spiritual pilgrimage. We are called to live neither ascetically nor overindulgently as we remember that we will ultimately be accountable to God for how we have used God gifts. To which I would add one more: we are called to recognize that salvation, spiritual wholeness and health, are not do-it-yourself projects. We are all in this together. Just as Paul wrote to Philemon and the others in his Christian community, so we are also called to build up each other and to call each other to greater and greater love.
Are you all in?
Maybe Jesus can already see Jerusalem and the events that will happen there – if not with his naked eye, then perhaps in his mind’s eye. So he flings his hardest teaching yet at us. He tells us to be prepared for the cost, the full cost of truly following him. “You have to hate your family members,” he says. “You have to follow me all the way to unjust execution, if necessary.” “You have to give away everything you have.” “Wait, wait, you can’t mean all that Jesus, can you?” He can, and he does.
OK, the rabbis of Jesus’ day were given to hyperbole. Maybe Jesus overstated his expectations for their shock value, so that he could get our attention. So what, as Luke tells it, did Jesus want his followers – and by extension us – to hear? In a nutshell, it’s not a piece of cake to follow him. We don’t follow him because it feels good. We don’t follow him when life calms down and we have time to get around to it. Being Jesus’ disciple is not a spectator sport, as if you can watch the clergy try to do it, but sit in the bleachers yourself.
When we decide to follow Jesus in a serious way, we are making a deep commitment. We are committing ourselves to putting God before all the other commitments in our lives, before family, social class, nationality, before all those pieces of our lives that are not God. We are committing ourselves to a way of life that puts the needs and desires of others ahead of our own needs and desires. We are committing ourselves to working for the good of all creation. We are committing ourselves to travelling lightly with our achievements and our “stuff,” while acknowledging our responsibility to share what we have. We are making a commitment to letting ourselves be transformed by God. As we travel behind Jesus, we promise to be ready to respond to God’s call to grow in ways that may seem difficult, risky, and strange. And we know, that, at some point along that road, Jesus will turn to us and say, “Are you all in?”
In effect, Paul posed that same question to Philemon and the others to whom the brief letter bearing Philemon’s name is addressed. Oddly, this letter is the only truly personal letter of Paul’s that has been preserved. And sadly, we don’t know much about it. You can easily figure out the broad outlines of the story. The slave Onesimus ran away from his master, Philemon, possibly also taking money or property. He met up with Paul in prison, where Paul converted him. Now Paul writes to Philemon asking him to take Onesimus back as a fellow follower of Jesus and promising to reimburse Philemon for any expenses. What we don’t know are where Paul was imprisoned, how he and Onesimus got together, and, most important, what Paul means when he asks Philemon to receive Onesimus “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother.”
We do know this: whatever we now think about slavery – and some would criticize Paul for not taking a strong stand against slavery – Paul was following Roman law in returning Onesimus to Philemon. Upon Onesimus’s return, Philemon could have severely punished him, hobbled him, as was done to African slaves in the American South and in South Africa, or sold him away. Instead, Paul asks Philemon to treat Onesimus very differently, to treat him as a fellow member of a Christian community, and even, if possible, to send Onesimus back to Paul. In effect, Paul has forsaken the expectations of his culture, and is subtly undermining the system of slavery by reminding Philemon of his common humanity with Onesimus as a fellow follower of Christ. He is further asking Philemon to treat Onesimus differently than what law and custom would permit. And he does this, not by trying to coerce Philemon, but by gently requesting that Philemon follow his own example and treat Onesimus with love.
I wonder what we would do in Philemon’s place. I couldn’t help thinking of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn and another letter, the letter that Huck Finn planned to write to turn in the runaway slave Jim. The laws and the customs of the day tell Huck that Jim should be returned to his owner. Huck even drafts a letter. But then when he realizes all that Jim has done for him, how Jim has been a friend and father to him, Huck tears the letter up. Huck is definitely all in. I wonder if I would have had the courage to do what Huck did.
Even the reading from the prophet Jeremiah indirectly poses a question of commitment to us. Here Jeremiah uses the image of the potter shaping and reshaping the pot to suggest the way God works God’s transformations within us. However, Jeremiah is not addressing individuals but rather the covenanted community, the Israelites who have promised to follow God’s law. As we hear throughout this long book, the Israelites get entangled in untrustworthy political alliances, amass wealth, exploit the poor, and visit all kinds of injustices on each other. Jeremiah warns them here of the dire consequences of forsaking the promises they made to God. He assures them that God will force then to undergo a period of transformation, which indeed, as it turns out, happens when they are sent into exile.
And so: are you all in? Are you committed to Jesus and willing to pay the cost of following him? What examples might we choose to illustrate what full commitment looks like? Actually, we have some wonderful examples of what such total commitment to the beliefs of one’s heart actually looks like – even when those beliefs challenge the status quo of the culture around them. Think about those who enter vowed religious life, convents and monasteries. They truly give up all their possessions, traditionally even their clothes and their name, and they commit to a life in common with others, traditionally a life of poverty, chastity, obedience, and stability. How about those who took part in the civil rights struggles of the 1960s? The Freedom Riders challenged the status quo of segregated buses by riding interstate buses in the South in mixed racial groups and by defying local laws or customs that mandated segregated seating. Those who took part in the Montgomery bus boycott to protest segregated municipal buses walked to work for 381 days until the city finally caved in and allowed people of all races to sit where they pleased. Those of you who are athletes know the single-minded commitment that is necessary to excel in any sport. We were all charmed last month as we watched Simone Biles, Gabby Douglas, Alys Raisman, Laurie Hernandez, and Madison Kocian defend the USA’s gold medal title in the team all-around gymnastics event in the Olympics. Those young women had practiced for years to get to that place. They were definitely all in!
And are we? What does being all in look like for us? John Calvin suggests that there are four different ways in which we can show our commitment to Christ. The first is through self-denial, i.e., not seeing ourselves as the center of the universe, but rather recognizing that of God in everyone else and affirming our kinship with all people. Second, we can bear our cross, i.e., face whatever suffering comes our way in life without complaint, knowing that Christ bears it with us, trusting in God for the outcome of what we bear, and sharing the suffering of others. Third, we can meditate on eternal life, i.e., we can seek to understand ever more deeply who we are and whose we are, that we are all beloved children of God. And fourth, we can use God’s gifts properly, i.e., we can live a simple life, knowing that we are on a spiritual pilgrimage. We are called to live neither ascetically nor overindulgently as we remember that we will ultimately be accountable to God for how we have used God gifts. To which I would add one more: we are called to recognize that salvation, spiritual wholeness and health, are not do-it-yourself projects. We are all in this together. Just as Paul wrote to Philemon and the others in his Christian community, so we are also called to build up each other and to call each other to greater and greater love.
Are you all in?
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