Author: Dennis

Divine Requirements – Lectionary Reflection for Epiphany 4A (Micah)

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Micah 6:1-8 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

6 Hear what the Lord says:
Rise, plead your case before the mountains,
and let the hills hear your voice.
2 Hear, you mountains, the controversy of the Lord,
and you enduring foundations of the earth;
for the Lord has a controversy with his people,
and he will contend with Israel.
3 “O my people, what have I done to you?
In what have I wearied you? Answer me!
4 For I brought you up from the land of Egypt,
and redeemed you from the house of slavery;
and I sent before you Moses,
Aaron, and Miriam.
5 O my people, remember now what King Balak of Moab devised,
what Balaam son of Beor answered him,
and what happened from Shittim to Gilgal,
that you may know the saving acts of the Lord.”
6 “With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
7 Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
8 He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

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What does God require of you? That is the question we regularly ponder. The question, however, is prefaced by a declaration of what God has already done. The reading from the Old Testament for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany concludes with a passage well known to many. I regularly use of it myself. What does God require, but justice, mercy, and humble obedience? While Micah 6:8 is a favorite verse among those of us who believe that social justice stands at the heart of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, but have we truly fulfilled God’s desire for us?

 

The reading from the prophet Micah begins with a court summons, because God is suing Israel for being unfaithful to the covenant. Eugene Peterson puts it as clearly as can be in The Message:

“Take your stand in court.
If you have a complaint, tell the mountains;
make your case to the hills.
And now, Mountains, hear God’s case;
listen, Jury Earth—
For I am bringing charges against my people.
I am building a case against Israel.” (vs. 1-2).

Just like Perry Mason, God is formulating a case, and inviting creation itself to be the jury. So, what do you have to say for yourself? What is your defense? Is God just being overly litigious, or is there something to God’s case?

img_20140921_100141The prophet who brings this word to Israel, this spokesperson for God, is Micah. Like many of the “Minor Prophets,” we know little about him. The superscription to the book (Micah 1:1) takes note of three kings of Judah, during which time he is supposed to have been active—Jotham (742-735 BCE), Ahaz (735-715 BCE), and Hezekiah (715-687 BCE). Whatever was the exact timing of his prophetic ministry, it was a time of upheaval and external threat (Assyria). What is clear from the book itself is that Micah was concerned about ordinary people. Commentator Daniel Simundson writes: “He felt compassion for the poor and disposed, and held the leaders responsible for their suffering. We can learn something about the people’s social and economic situation from Micah’s condemnation of the rulers, merchants, and prophets” [“The Book of Micah, New Interpreter’s Bible, 7:534]. You might say that he didn’t hold the 1% in high regard, but as Simundson notes, there are similarities in message to that of Micah’s contemporary, the one we call First Isaiah. So, he wasn’t alone in his messaging!

It is this God who is concerned about the poor and the disposed, who speaks to Judah through Micah in the Old Testament reading for the fourth Sunday after Epiphany. When we listen to the full story, it’s clear that this God can get angry with those who fail to abide by God’s vision for humanity. But, we’ll not be saved by our piety. God demands actions. God isn’t interested in our burnt offerings, or even the offering of our first-born child (suggesting that human sacrifice was present in the region). Instead, God demands that we attend to those in need. This is the backdrop of God’s covenant lawsuit against Judah. Before we get to the request for action, we first need to hear what God has already done for Judah. Micah reminds the people of God’s deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt. The prophet takes note of earlier leaders—Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. Yes, Micah mentions the sister of Moses, suggesting that to Micah she is a co-liberator. We need to take note of this. All of this is meant to remind us that when it comes to covenants, God keep’s God’s side of the bargain (verses 3-5). But do we?

That is the question for the final set of verses. What does God require? What are the expectations that God has for us? What is clear is that God isn’t interested in burnt offerings. It doesn’t matter if it is a young calf, ten thousand rivers of oil, or even thousands of rams.   None of the usual offerings matter to God. That should be taken note of, because sometimes we want to think that our piety is sufficient. Surely, even if the usual offerings are not acceptable, the offering of one’s first born should suffice. This statement, about an offering of the “the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul,” should give us pause. It’s a reminder that human sacrifice was still prevalent, even in ancient Israel. But that will not suffice either.

These are difficult words for good church people. There’s something to be said for showing up week in and week out, but if that’s all there is, is it sufficient? Another way of putting it. If my Sunday piety doesn’t influence how I live amongst my neighbors from Monday through Saturday, is there any substance to my piety? The answer appears to be no.

This is what God wants from us. This is what is good: “Do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” Turning again to Eugene Peterson’s rendition of the passage:

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do,
what God is looking for in men and women.
It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,
be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don’t take yourself too seriously—
take God seriously. (vs. 8 The Message)

Yes, “do what is fair and just to your neighbor.”  “Be compassionate and loyal in your love.”  What could be plainer? Jesus called on us to love God and love our neighbors. He made it clear that these two commands are connected. You can’t do one without doing the other. This will require a great deal of humility. There’s no room for narcissism in this word of guidance. “Don’t take yourself too seriously” is the way Peterson puts it.  Is this not a word for our times?

Humility is a character trait that is difficult to maintain. We all struggle with the call to be humble. I want to be recognized for my accomplishments. I want the applause. But as I wallow in this “need,” I hear the call to humility, for this is what God desires of me. Indeed, it takes that humility to embrace justice and fairness. It takes humility to love compassionately. What does God require of us? God has revealed the answer here in Micah. If we need some New Testament support, what about the word offered by James:

Anyone who sets himself up as “religious” by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world.  [James 1:26-27The Message].

Indeed! And timely words for a moment like ours, for it does seem that a goodly portion of the Christian community in America (at least) is caught up in a form of piety that is unlike the one Micah proclaims.

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Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

There’s Only You and Me and We Just Disagree- Epiphany 2

There’s Only You and Me and We Just Disagree- Epiphany 2

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Narrative Lectionary Reflection
January 15, 2017
Luke 4:14-30

So let’s leave it alone ’cause we can’t see eye to eye
There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy
There’s only you and me and we just disagree

-Dave Mason, We Just Disagree

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It was about 20 years ago, that I attended a large Baptist church in Washington, DC. The church was an odd mix, or at least it would be odd today. Evangelicals and liberals were somehow able to worship together, along side a healthy dose of members from Latin America and Asia.

The church decided at some point to hire a pastor to the join the good-sized multi-pastor staff. The person chosen was a woman with great pastoral care skills. At the time, there was a bit of controversy because she was pro-gay and some of the evangelicals in the church weren’t crazy about that.

I was at a meeting where a member of the congregation stood up. She was one of the evangelical members of the congregation and she had what could be considered a “traditional” understanding on homosexuality, but she spoke in favor of calling the pastor. You see, the pastor had been involved with congregation for a few years and the two had gotten to know each other. “We don’t agree,” I recall this woman saying when talking about the issue they didn’t see eye-to-eye on. But this woman was a good friend and she saw her as the right person for the job.

What’s so interesting about this story is that I don’t think it could happen today. Churches like the one in DC really don’t exist anymore. Evangelicals and liberals have sorted themselves into different churches and don’t really know each other. Which only makes it easier to highlight differences and demonize each other.

In Luke 4, Jesus comes back home to Nazareth and go to the local synagogue.  He reads from Isaiah 61:1-2, which is an inspiring text.  The people love this, a local boy made good. 

But Jesus knew what was going on in the hearts, so he decides to tell some more stories.  One is a story from I Kings 17 where the great prophet Elijah helped feed a non-Jewish woman and her son in the town of Zarapath during a famine.  The famine struck Jewish widows as hard as non-Jewish widows, but this was where God led Elijah.  Jesus then goes to 2 Kings 5 and tells the story of the prophet Elisha healing Naaman, a Syrian (not Jewish) general, from leporesy.  He was healed even though there were many in Israel that suffered from the skin problems.

This did not go well with the crowd.  The mood went from pride to a homocidal rage.  The pushed Jesus towards a cliff in order to throw him off, but Jesus was able to slip away.

Sometimes we can mouth the words that Jesus loves everybody, but in our heart of hearts, they are just that: words.  Deep down, we want God to provide for us, but not for that evangelical Christian.  We want to be showered with blessings, but we don’t want that liberal Christian getting anything from God.  We want to be God’s special people and we want those that disagree with us to go to hell.

But God doesn’t work that way.  When it is said that God so loved the world, it really means God so loved the world; as in everybody. Instead of welcoming people into God’s realm, we start to act like the holy bouncers deciding who is on the special list and who isn’t.

Jesus had a good way of holding up a mirror to people who thought they were good people and showing them who they really are.  Maybe if we were living in first century Palestine and Jesus showed us how we fall short, we might to join in throwing Jesus off a cliff.

When Martin Luther King Jr. was working for racial justice in the American South, many whites were willing to support him.  Maybe because they didn’t like the South and thought it backwards.  But when King started to take his campaign to the North, starting with Chicago in the 1966, many whites were turned off.  He had chosen to show a mirror to White Northerners and what they saw wasn’t pretty.

But the thing is, as much as this passage shows that people are not so pure, it also shows that God is loving of us, all of us even when we act like jerks. 

The two women in Washington, DC were able to get beyond boundaries to love and support each other.  In our modern age which seems more and more divided by class, race and ideology, we need to place our trust in a God that loves us all and pray that God give us a heart big enough to love “those people” as well.

Dennis Sanders is the Pastor at First Christian Church of St. Paul in Mahtomedi, Minnesota. He’s written for various outlets including Christian Century and the Federalist.

A Light to the Nations – Lectionary Reflection for Epiphany 2A (Isaiah 49)

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January 15, 2017

 Isaiah 49:1-7 Common English Bible (CEB)

49 Listen to me, coastlands;
pay attention, peoples far away.
The Lord called me before my birth,
called my name when I was in my mother’s womb.
2 He made my mouth like a sharp sword,
and hid me in the shadow of God’s own hand.
He made me a sharpened arrow,
and concealed me in God’s quiver,
3     saying to me, “You are my servant,
Israel, in whom I show my glory.”
4 But I said, “I have wearied myself in vain.
I have used up my strength for nothing.”
Nevertheless, the Lord will grant me justice;
my reward is with my God.
5 And now the Lord has decided—
the one who formed me from the womb as his servant—
to restore Jacob to God,
so that Israel might return to him.
Moreover, I’m honored in the Lord’s eyes;
my God has become my strength.
6 He said: It is not enough, since you are my servant,
to raise up the tribes of Jacob
and to bring back the survivors of Israel.
Hence, I will also appoint you as light to the nations
so that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.
7 The Lord, redeemer of Israel and its holy one,
says to one despised,
rejected by nations,
to the slave of rulers:
Kings will see and stand up;
commanders will bow down
on account of the Lord, who is faithful,
the holy one of Israel,
who has chosen you.

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We are in the season of Epiphany, the season of revelation and light. It probably is true of every era, but it seems as if we have entered a season of darkness. Many feel like night has fallen, and we simply can’t see our way forward. For some, this might feel like being abandoned by God. They join the Psalmist crying out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” (Psalm 22:1). There is good news, however, for into this darkness steps the servant of God, who reveals the glory of God.

The Day of Epiphany has come and passed. We have joined Jesus at his baptism, where we watched as the Spirit fell upon him, and the voice from heaven declared him to be the beloved. In him, we declare, God is incarnate. In him, as John reveals, the light shines in the darkness, and despite everything that came against him, the darkness did not and does not overcome him (John 1:5). During this season after Epiphany we attend to the light. We look for the places where God is being revealed, so that we might be made new. With this in mind, we continue our journey through the readings from the Hebrew Bible.

The Word of God as revealed through the words of the one we call Second Isaiah, speaks of a Servant of God who is the light to the nations. When we read a text like this, especially reading at as Christians, we need to take stock of the multiple levels of interpretation that are present. I think it’s appropriate for Christians to see Jesus in these words, but we must be careful about jumping to that interpretation without attending to original contexts and readings.

The prophet tells of one who speaks to the Coastlands, that is to a people living faraway? Who is this one who speaks? Who is the one who was called from his mother’s womb? At level, this must be the prophet’s own sense of call. We don’t know his identity, but he reveals to us that before he was born, God had chosen him for a purpose.

I wonder, do those of us attending to this text, see ourselves being called by God from before birth? Do we have a sense of God’s guiding hand upon our lives? I wonder about that at times. Even though I didn’t anticipate being a pastor early in life, there are a few markers along the way that might be suggestive. I was an acolyte at the age of 9, serving at the altar, at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church. Now I was one of only two children in the church of an age who could do this, but still is this a sign?  I would later serve as a lay reader at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Fr. Green decided that since I read the liturgy with enough volume, I might as well lead it. Was this a sign of a call?  I ask these questions from the perspective of a non-Calvinist, non-predestinationist, open theist, kind of Christian, who nonetheless finds some sense of purpose in words like this.

While I think that the prophet is reading his own call into this text, it’s clear that he also has in mind the people of Israel (now the remnant we call Judah). The servant of God is Israel, or the remnant thereof. The people who heard this word lived exile in Babylon. They were wondering about their future. What they knew was that the capitol city lay in ruins, the Temple of God with it. The monarchy had been essentially destroyed as well. So, who would they be if they returned home? What would be their calling? The word of the prophet is quite direct: “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I show my glory.” When it comes to glory, we’re talking about light. A bit later in this passage, the prophet says to a people living in exile:

It is not enough, since you are my servant, to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the survivors of Israel. Hence, I will also appoint you as light to the nations so that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth. (v. 6).

It’s not enough for the exiles to return home. No, God has plans for Israel (the tribes of Jacob). God is appointing Israel to be the “light to the nations,” so that the message of salvation might reach the ends of the earth. That is Israel’s calling. It is also our calling.

From a Christian perspective, Jesus takes on the mantle of the servant. That is, Jesus is the one Isaiah describes as being the suffering servant. He is the one who is despised by the nations (even as Israel was despised). But, despite the rejection and the resistance, Jesus is the light of the world. As the light, he brings the salvation to the world. Yes, even to the ends of the earth. The commission that Jesus gives the Disciples on the day of Ascension reflects this message. “you will be my witnesses in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

The season of Epiphany (I prefer to speak of the Sundays after Epiphany rather than Ordinary Time) is a season of revelation and enlightenment. It is a season to highlight the message of salvation in Christ. Here we are, a people who have walked in darkness, but now we have seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2).   Having experienced the light, let us take up the calling to be a light to the nations, singing that children’s song: “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, I’m gonna let it shine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

 

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

The Buzzcut- Baptism of Jesus

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Narrative Lectionary Reflection
January 8, 2017
Luke 3:1-22

hairdresser-1684815_640-1From the time I was about seven until maybe I was old enough to drive, my Dad would get me up at about 6am on a Saturday morning once a month to get to the barber shop before they opened around 7:30 or so. A line would form and Dad wanted to be among the first.

I hated doing this, especially during the cold, Michigan winters. Saturdays were for sleeping in and not trying to get to the barber shop before the other guy. However, we did it and maybe as a token of my patience, Dad would take me to breakfast where I would have pancakes.

I always got the same haircut; short, but not too close. For years, Dad would tell the barber what I wanted. I think when I got around 11 or 12, I started telling the barber what I wanted. Well, one Saturday, when I was about 13, I told the barber I wanted it cut short. So he went to work and I sat not paying attention. When he was done and spun me around, I was shocked; he had cut my hair really short. I mean were talking the next step was looking like Kojack. Now, these days, that is my standard haircut, but back then it wasn’t and I thought I looked horrible. I remember just crying like crazy. Here it was, I wanted a little off the top; and I what I got was a buzzcut.

This got me thinking about today’s passage; some people wanted a little off the top and John the Baptist was preaching a total buzzcut.

John the Baptist is not anyone’s favorite Biblical character. He’s rude and can’t say anything nice and he certainly lives up to that in today’s gospel, if you can it that. The passage opens with the crowds who were listening to John. Many in the crowd decided to come forward to be baptized. I’ve learned that baptism is about being reminded of God’s love for us, but I don’t think John was sitting in on my seminary class, because he calls those coming forward a “brood of vipers.” He tells them to produce fruit in keeping with repentance and to not rely on religious or family ties for salvation. He talks about an ax that is getting ready to cut down poor producing trees and throw them into the fire.

When was the last time you saw a preacher say that at a baptism? If they did, I can bet they didn’t stay in the pulpit very long.

There was a time when I would have said that poor John was off his rocker. He was preaching a message of hell and damnation, a message of what my Lutheran friends like to say, “works-righteousness.” On the other hand, Jesus preached a message of grace. But these days, John was preaching a message of salvation and grace, but he reminds us this grace isn’t cheap, but costly. John, like Jesus, was concerned with how we live. Yes, we are saved by grace not by works, but the eveidence of our faith relies on how we live. The best testimony of being a follower of Christ, is how we live our lives. Do we live them in the same way Jesus did, welcoming all, forgiving others and helping those in need?

I think if John was around today, he might call many of us snakes as well. There are too many people, especially Christians, who will shout loudly that they are religious, holy people and yet their actions say sharply otherwise.

There are a lot of people out there who think that to be a Christian means accepting certain truths; Jesus is God’s Son, Jesus died and rose again, Jesus is coming soon. If you believe that, then you are all set. But John seems to be saying that’s not enough. Of course Christians must believe in all of this, but if those beliefs aren’t lived on in our daily lives, are they real to others? If we say we believe in Christ, and yet ignore the poor, or turn people away because they are different, will people really believe us?

Christianity isn’t just about accepting certain beliefs; it’s also about living as a Christian. John the Baptist told those in the crowd to share with those who have none, don’t extort and don’t overtax the populace. He was telling people that if they were coming to be baptized; they need to live lives of repentance and not do this just for show.

On an Advent night a decade ago, I heard a memorable passage from the slain Archbishop Oscar Romero. He summed up nicely what Advent and by extension what following Jesus is all about:

Advent should admonish us to discover in each brother or sister that we greet, in each friend whose hand we shake, in each beggar who asks for bread, in each worker who wants to use the right to join a union, in each peasant who looks for work in the coffee groves, the face of Christ. Then it would not be possible to rob them, to cheat them, to deny them their rights. They are Christ, and whatever is done to them Christ will take as done to himself. This is what Advent is:

Christ living among us.

God isn’t interested in shaving a little off the top. God wants us changed, to live lives for others.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Dennis Sanders is the Pastor at First Christian Church of St. Paul in Mahtomedi, Minnesota. He’s written for various outlets including Christian Century and the Federalist.

Behold, the Servant of God – Lectionary Reading for Baptism of Jesus Sunday (Isaiah 42)

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January 8, 2017

 
Isaiah 42:1-9 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

42 Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations.
2 He will not cry or lift up his voice,
or make it heard in the street;
3 a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice.
4 He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth;
and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
5 Thus says God, the Lord,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people upon it
and spirit to those who walk in it:
6 I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
7     to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
8 I am the Lord, that is my name;
my glory I give to no other,
nor my praise to idols.
9 See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.

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We have arrived at Baptism of Jesus Sunday, the first Sunday after Epiphany. On the Day of Epiphany, we celebrate the coming of light into the world in God’s self-revelation in the person of Jesus. For those in the Eastern Church, January 6 is Christmas. In the West, it is Epiphany, which is according to tradition the day we remember the coming of the Magi to honor Jesus with their gifts. They represent the Gentile nations who have seen the light of God. On Baptism of Jesus Sunday, our attention shifts several decades into the future. Jesus is now a grown man, who, according to Matthew, comes from Galilee to the region of the Jordan River, where John is baptizing. Why does Jesus come to John for baptism? That is the question for the ages, but whatever the answer, in Matthew’s version of the story, John resisted the request. He suggests that Jesus should baptized him, but Jesus insists that John baptize him. When Jesus emerges from the waters of baptism, the Spirit of God descends upon him in the form of a dove. Then a voice from heaven declares: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:13-17). With this announcement from the heavens, the ministry of Jesus is launched.

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Baptism of Christ- Jacopo Tintoretto (Cleveland)

 

Baptism has deep roots within Judaism, and it is one of two sacraments that almost all Christians affirm (the other being the Eucharist). Defining the meaning/theology of baptism and describing the “proper” forms is rather complicated. It would require much more space than I’m ready to give to it at this moment. I might suggest reading Clark Williamson’s small book Baptism: Embodiment of the Gospel, Disciples Baptismal Theology, (Christian Board of Publication, 1987), though it is long out of print, for an interpretation arising from my own tradition. I will interject this from Paul: in baptism, we are united with Christ in his death and resurrection, so that we might be dead to sin and alive to Christ (Rom. 6:1-11).

In Matthew’s description of Jesus baptism, we hear God affirm Jesus to be God’s Son and we watch with Matthew as the Spirit of God alights upon Jesus. We hear that God delights in Jesus, and this leads us to the reading from Isaiah 42. The prophet (Second Isaiah) declares, on behalf of God, “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations” (Is. 42:1). The wording isn’t quite the same as in Matthew 3, but there is a resemblance. Jesus is the servant of God, in whom God delights. He is the one, according to Luke 4, upon whom the Spirit has fallen, and who is given the responsibility of bringing “good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18). The scripture Jesus reads in the synagogue in Nazareth in Luke 4 is Isaiah 42. In that passage, Jesus claims this mantle. He is the one in whom God delights. He is the one who is filled with the Spirit, to bring justice and good news to the world. He will bring deliverance to the captives and sight to the blind.

While we appropriate the message of this psalm from Isaiah to define the ministry of the one who received baptism from John—the one whom God claims as God’s Son as the Spirit descends—it’s unlikely that Isaiah has Jesus in mind. Contextually, the servant is Israel. As John Goldingay puts it, “Yahweh’s servant embodies with it means to have Yahweh in covenant relationship with you, embodies what it means to have Yahweh’s light (that is, Yahweh’s blessing) shine in your life. That covenant and light are not designed just for Israel but for the nations; Yahweh’s plan was to embody them in Israel as something also available to the nations” [Goldingay, Isaiah forEveryone, p. 158]. Here we have, laid out for us, Israel’s vocation. Here, in these verses, Isaiah lays out Israel’s calling as the covenant people of God living in exile in Babylon. This people is called by God, and filled with the Spirit, to bring good news to the nations. They have been charged as God’s covenant people with being a light to the nations.

What is important to hear in this passage is Isaiah’s description of Israel’s condition. What is amazing about the story of God’s covenant relationship with Israel, is that this people was never rich or powerful. Israel, even at its height of glory, was a relatively small kingdom. It never approached the power of Egypt or Assyria or Babylon. It stood at the crossroads of empires, which meant that many battles were fought on its plains and valleys, but it was never the main actor. Nonetheless, this people whom Isaiah describes as being a “bruised reed” will “never break.” Israel might be a “dimly burning wick,” but it “will never be quenched” (vss. 2-3).

So, what word should we hear from Second Isaiah on Baptism of Jesus Sunday? What is Jesus’ mission, and how might we participate in it? In other words, how might we baptized with the baptism of Jesus? Whatever the form of our baptism, whether immersion or sprinkling, believer’s or infant, on Baptism of Jesus Sunday, let us reaffirm vows of commitment to Jesus and his way. May we be formed by God’s grace, so that we might be in Christ a community of light to the nations, so that justice might be proclaimed, that good news might be shared with the poor, the captive, the blind.  We close with these words from Isaiah, words fit for the beginning of a new year.

I am the Lord;
that is my name;
I don’t hand out my glory to others
or my praise to idols.
The things announced in the past—look—they’ve already happened,
but I’m declaring new things.
Before they even appear,
I tell you about them.  (Is. 42:8-9 CEB).

New things are about to happen, and God has revealed them to us. We have been made, through baptism, part of the covenant people of God. Therefore, may the light of God shine through us so that the world might see God’s grace, love, and justice.

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Signs of Divine Presence – Lectionary reflection for Advent 4A

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December 18, 2016

 

Isaiah 7:10-17 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

10 Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, 11 Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven. 12 But Ahaz said, I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test. 13 Then Isaiah said: “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also?   14Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. 15 He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. 16 For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted. 17 The Lord will bring on you and on your people and on your ancestral house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah—the king of Assyria.”

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As a follower of Jesus, I am called to live by faith. After all, I serve the invisible God. There may be signs of divine presence and activity, but it’s not always easy to offer proof. Now, I live by faith, but I try to live a rational and reasonable life. I’m not given to conspiracy theories and fake news. When it comes to such things, I’m a pretty big skeptic. But my claims to be a reasonable person might note pass muster with some who don’t share my faith. A good example of such a view is to be found in a recently published book that was sent to me for review by Yale University Press. I’m not exactly sure why I received this rather large book that carries the title: Confessions of a Born-Again Pagan. In a book that stands at well over a thousand pages, Anthony Kronman offers what he believes is a third way between atheism and the God of the Abrahamic religions. I’ve only read the introduction, so I can’t say too much about the book, but the author does believe that the God of Abraham and the Prophets is “an obstacle to reason.” I hope he’s wrong, but I do know that sometimes faith requires us to move beyond the rational. I hope Kronman’s search for God is successful, but as for me I’m going to stay with the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Jesus, Sarah, and Mary.

This leads me to the reading from Isaiah that marks the Fourth Sunday of Advent. This is the last Sunday before we gather to celebrate the coming of the incarnate one, the one named Jesus, the one who will save the people from their sins. We’re still in the moment of expectation and promise. But there are signs that suggest that God is present, at work in our midst. We simply have to open our spiritual eyes and look for them.  This, of course, requires a bit of imagination. It requires that we move out of our de-enchanted world into the realm of the Spirit.

The reading from Isaiah 7 is paired with the reading from the Gospel of Matthew, which announces the coming birth of the messiah (Matthew 1:18-25). In Matthew’s version of the infancy story, the child born of Mary fulfills the promise made in Isaiah 7, that a child would be born whose name would be called Immanuel (God is with us), and that this birth would be a sign that God will save God’s people. The word that came to Isaiah and delivered to the king of Judah, whose name was Ahaz, sought to allay the concerns of the king about the crisis that had enfolded his kingdom. The word given here concerns trust in God. It is a word that may have resonance in our day as well, even as it had resonance in the first century among the early Christians. There is a sense of unease in our midst, but will we be able to discern signs of God’s presence in our midst, or will we seek to take care of things without God? What signs do we need to let go of our anxiety?

When we turn to Isaiah 7, we find ourselves in the midst of a conversation about foreign entanglements (does that sound familiar?). King Ahaz is being pressured by his neighbors to join in alliance with Aram and Ephraim against Assyria. The two neighbors are in the process of invading, and maybe even giving siege to Jerusalem. Things look bad for Ahaz, but Isaiah has a solution, if Ahaz is willing to accept it.  Isaiah even offers to provide signs that will cause Ahaz to trust in the way of God, whether it is in the depths of Sheol or the heights of heaven. Ahaz, piously refuses to test God. It’s interesting that Ahaz is pretending to be so pious, since his reputation is anything but pious. He’s one of the bad kings, unlike his son Hezekiah. It appears that Ahaz is covering up his own anxiety and need to find an answer to the problems besetting him without any help from God, by feigning piety.  Not to be deterred, Isaiah offers a sign of his own. A young woman is pregnant, and before her child is born and weaned, the threat to Jerusalem will be over. The two kings that Ahaz is worried about will be no more. The advice seems to be—don’t make a fateful alliance with your oppressors. They will lose in the end, so stay away. That’s the basic point of the story, at least from Isaiah’s point of view. This passage, which we draw our messianic theology from, is focused on a real political crisis. Isaiah isn’t concerned about a first century child. He’s concerned about Judah in the years just prior to the fall of the northern Kingdom of Israel/Ephraim to the Assyrians. Will the king be willing to see signs of God’s presence?

For Matthew, writing centuries later, this prophetic word has important implications for his own time. He sees in it a resource for understanding who Jesus is. This is where things get tricky for us. It reveals something of how Christians read scripture. Since many Christians are uncomfortable with perceived “contradictions,” they are often give to harmonization. We like to smooth things out, which is why nativity scenes have both shepherds and magi, even though these two groups appear in different gospels, though both bear witness to this sign of divine presence. There is a tendency to read the New Testament as a first order fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Thus, we arrive at the problem of reconciling what is happening in Isaiah 7 with what happens in Matthew 1. Much of the problem has to do with the way that New Testament authors use the Old Testament. John Goldingay, an evangelical teaching at Fuller Seminary (my alma mater), offers us a helpful clarification of the connections between the two testaments.

The New Testament itself doesn’t address people who don’t believe in Jesus in order to prove from the Prophets that he is the Messiah. It does use the Prophets to help people understand aspects of their confession that Jesus is the Messiah. The passage about a virgin conceiving and having a son who would be called Immanuel, which Matthew takes up, is a notable example. [Goldingay, Isaiah for Everyone, 32].

Regarding the readings from Isaiah 7 and Matthew 1, the issue is centered on the translation of a particular Hebrew word. That word is almah, and it simply means young woman, or a woman of child-bearing age, whether she’s been with a man or not. Goldingay’s translation of Isaiah7:14 makes this clear: “Therefore my Lord—he will give you a sign. There—a girl is pregnant and is going to give birth to a son, and she will call his name God-is-with-us.” The problem stems from the way this passage is translated into Greek and then read by Matthew. The Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, which Matthew undoubtedly made use of the Greek word parthenos,which is translated as virgin. While the Hebrew in Isaiah 7 is best translated as “young woman,” theology led to it being rendered as virgin in Christian translations to harmonize it with Matthew 1, which was read as the foundation for the virginal conception of Jesus.  

In Isaiah’s case, this is simply a young woman who is going to have a baby, and that baby will be a sign that God is at work. Who this girl is, Isaiah doesn’t say. It could be Ahaz’s son Hezekiah. It could be a child born to Isaiah’s wife. In fact, this could be any pregnancy. There’s nothing miraculous about it. The point seems to be that before the child is weaned the crisis will be over. So, put your trust in God and not the less than honorable neighbors. Again, Isaiah wants Ahaz to refrain from giving in to its neighbors, and make a fateful alliance that could lead to destruction. Stay true because God is with the people. Before too long, Assyria marches in and destroys the two neighbors, while Judah gets by barely!

It is important that we let Scripture texts have their own integrity. As Goldingay points out Matthew uses Isaiah 7:14, not an apologetic tool, but to help define who Jesus is. For Matthew, Jesus is the incarnate one (even if Matthew doesn’t exactly use that language), who represents to us the promise that God is with us. This Jesus (Immanuel) will save us from our sins (not something Isaiah has in mind, except as Ahaz decides how to respond to these outside threats). What the story of the incarnation does is remind us that God is present and at work, often within the mundane aspects of life. In the birth of a child, God is present. For Matthew God is at work in the world through the child who is being born in that moment in time. The birth in Isaiah isn’t miraculous, but for Matthew it does seem to be miraculous. This child, to be born of Mary, is conceived through the intervention of the Holy Spirit (Matt. 1:18-25).

As we head into the final days before the coming of Christmas, may we hear the call to put out trust in God, who is with us. May we be attentive to the signs that God is at work in our midst. Let us not get caught up in battles over words, that distract from the point at hand. God has offered us a sign, if only we’re willing to pay attention. That means setting aside all the distractions that want our attention. The sign that God offers Ahaz is a simple one. A child will be born, and this child’s birth and maturation will be a sign that the external threats do not have power over us. That brings us back to the point about whether we’re able to live by faith as we take this final step toward Christmas, when the one called Jesus is born in our midst to save us from our sins.

Picture attribution: Nuttgens, Joseph Edward. Isaiah prophecies to Ahaz about the birth of Christ, Immanuel, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55805 [retrieved December 12, 2016]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/paullew/2838876113.

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Where’s Jesus? – Advent 3

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December 11, 2016
Isaiah 61:1-11

A few years ago at the congregation I was serving at as an Associate Pastor, members of the church were busy decorating the church for the Christmas season. The hallways are decked out in wreaths and garlands, Christmas trees are found in the lounge and in the sanctuary. The decorating had an air poignancy; this would be the last Christmas at the old location of the congregation. In a few weeks, the church would move to a new location a few blocks away.

One of the things that is always fascinating are the manger scenes. Like most folks, people tend to decorate the mangers with all the central characters; the wise men (even though they weren’t at the manger), the shepherds, Joseph, Mary and yes, Jesus. One my favorite mangers at church is one that is basically made for kids. The characters are all dolls and you can imagine a kid picking it up and squeezing it. That manger scene is a bit different. One of the young mothers set it up in front of the communion table. Mary and Joseph are there at the stable, but you have the shepherd on the steps leading down from the chancel and the wise men are all the way in the back of the church near the narthex.

What missing is Jesus. There’s no baby Jesus to be found.

View of the what once part of the Buick City complex in Flint, MI.

The young mother explained to me that since wasn’t Christmas yet, the characters in the birth story are still a ways off. As Christmas draws closer, they will move in closer and closer. What I was fixated on was the fact that there was no Jesus. She did a good job of hiding Jesus, because I could not find the baby Jesus any where in the sanctuary. Where’s Jesus? Where indeed. Advent is about waiting and expectation, but I wonder if sometimes it’s also about this scary feeling that hope will never come, that things will never change. I think about places like my hometown of Flint, Michigan, known now for the lead in its drinking water, but also a place where the auto industry’s shrinkage has left huge swaths of empty land  where giant factories used to be.  Or places like the Syrian city of Allepo that has been devastated by five years of civil war. It’s in those dark times that people feel that hope is not present and that Jesus is nowhere to be found. We might pray and pray and for whatever reason, it feels like the phone line is dead.

Where’s Jesus?

Isaiah 61 tells the returning Israelites that hope is on the way. This had to be good news to these new arrivals after coming back to the land from years away in exile to a place that was ruined by wars. The unnamed prophet tells the people that the holy city of Jerusalem that had been destroyed decades earlier, would be rebuilt better than ever. It’s a great story and would be even better if it just stopped there. But the background reveals that Jerusalem was never rebuilt in the way the writer of Isaiah 61 said it would-at least not in their lifetime. And yet, this passage is still one of hope. Actually it’s not just about hope, but also about faith. We have faith that hope will prevail even if we can’t see it.

As I said earlier, one of the Christmas trees is located in the lounge. It’s was decorated with lights and an angel at the top…and socks. That year, socks were being collected for refugees, helping newcomers have warm feet in the winter, since most of them are coming from tropical countries to chilly Minnesota. Advent is a time of hope, and sometimes hope comes in the form of…well, socks. Hope can come in the form of socks! It’s hard when you are in pain or suffering to see Jesus anywhere, but maybe we can have hope that Jesus is the giving of socks to the stranger, or in the kind word we give to someone grieving or simply standing by a friend as they battle cancer or even something that only God knows. It is in these acts that God brings hope to the burdened…and it’s where Jesus is found.

 

Dennis Sanders is the Pastor at First Christian Church of St. Paul in Mahtomedi, Minnesota. He’s written for various outlets including Christian Century and the Federalist.

Marching to Zion with Song – Lectionary Reflection (Isaiah) for Advent 3A

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December 11, 2016


Isaiah 35:1-10  New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
35 The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus 2 it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
the majesty of our God.
3 Strengthen the weak hands,
and make firm the feeble knees.
4 Say to those who are of a fearful heart,
“Be strong, do not fear!
Here is your God.
He will come with vengeance,
with terrible recompense.
He will come and save you.”
5 Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
6 then the lame shall leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
and streams in the desert;
7 the burning sand shall become a pool,
and the thirsty ground springs of water;
the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp,
the grass shall become reeds and rushes.
8 A highway shall be there,
and it shall be called the Holy Way;
the unclean shall not travel on it,
but it shall be for God’s people;
no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.
9 No lion shall be there,
nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;
they shall not be found there,
but the redeemed shall walk there.
10 And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

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On the third Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of joy. Even a casual reading of Isaiah 35 suggests that joy is a central theme of Isaiah 35. That is because the “ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing.” Isaiah 35 has an eschatological tone to it, at least as we read it today in the context of Advent. Looking at the text more broadly, this word of joy is part of prophetic promise on the part of Yahweh to deliver the people from captivity. The word begins in Isaiah 34, which offers a word of judgment on Judah’s neighbor, Edom.  There is a reason why we read Isaiah 35 and not Isaiah 34 in the season of Advent. Chapter 34 offers a rather bloody picture of God’s judgment. There’s no joy present in that chapter, but it is present in chapter 35.

It’s important that we remember the context. This word originally was meant for people experiencing exile in Babylon. The prophet, likely Second Isaiah, offers the people hope of redemption and return to Zion (Jerusalem). We will return to the context, but let us also put it in a liturgical context. This is the reading from the Hebrew Bible for the third Sunday of Advent. Liturgically, we hear a word of joy. We receive the invitation to lift our eyes so we can see the glory and majesty of God. The reading begins with the desert in bloom. Such a picture is a joyous one. I’ve seen enough nature films to know what that looks like. A bit of rain falls and the desert comes alive, revealing a previously hidden radiance. A good example can be found east of Los Angeles in the Antelope Valley. It’s high desert. It’s dray and barren, but most every spring, when the rains fall, this normally barren land turns a vibrant yellow as the California poppy, the state flower, blooms across the valley floor. The flowers mentioned are different, but the effect is the same. Not only does the desert blossom, but our eyes are drawn to the glory of Lebanon – that is the mountains. While I may have never been to Lebanon, I’ve lived much of my life in the shadow of mountains. Growing up, I lived within view of Mount Shasta, a 14,000-foot volcano that dominates the landscape. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the most beautiful mountain in the world.  When covered with snow, it is magnificent. Yes, nature has a way of declaring God’s glory (I know, it can also wreak havoc on us).

There is another vision present in this passage, and it’s the one that the season of Advent picks up on, and that is the vision of one who will open the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf, even as the lame shall “leap like a deer,” while the speechless will sing for joy. In each case this is a reversal of fortune. What was is no more. For the people of Judah, who had been living in exile, this is good news. It also describes Jesus ministry as revealed in the Gospels.

We need to return to the context of the reading. While placed within the section we call First Isaiah (the eighth century BCE prophet), chapters 34 and 35 fit best within the scope of Second Isaiah (during the Babylonian Exile of the sixth century BCE). Thus, the highway that God is laying out isn’t the one the Messiah traverses as envisioned by the call of John the Baptist, but rather it is the one the people of Judah will take as they journey home from Babylon (Edom?) to Jerusalem (Zion). They will return home singing the songs of deliverance.

While the hymn “Marching to Zion” isn’t an Advent hymn, it does seem to fit the context: The hymn begins: “Come, we that love the Lord, and let our joys be known; join in a song of sweet accord, join in a song of sweet accord, and thus surround the throne, and thus surround the throne.”  Then we join in the chorus: “We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion; we’re marching upward to Zion, the beautiful city of God” (Isaac Watts; refrain by Robert Lowery). In the Watts/Lowery version, the road to Zion is that road that leads to the heavenly realm. It is a song of consummation rather than advent, and yet Advent is an eschatological season. While we remember the first advent, when Jesus was born, bringing into flesh the Word of God (John 1:1-14), our continued observance of the season is rooted in the belief that we are moving into God’s future, when God’s vision of peace will be revealed and we will be redeemed. Thus, we can all join in the march toward Zion. There we’ll “obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” Isn’t that the message that Advent brings to us, or at least that is the message that this reading from Isaiah suggests.

This is a good word for the moment. In conversation with someone at church this past Sunday, we talked about leaving 2016 behind. In many ways 2016 has been a difficult year. There was an election that leaves the United States divided, with many uncertain about the future and even afraid of what it might bring. We also saw beloved figures, especially in the music world, pass away. Some of us lost members of our family. We need some joy in our lives. So, perhaps this is a good Sunday to sing “Joy to the World.” At least Isaiah seems to suggest that this would be appropriate.

Let us sing for joy at the prospect of returning home, marching to Zion, along the highway that God has prepared for us. When we get to the promised land, there will be a full reversal of fortunes. As Isaac Watts puts it in stanza four of “Marching to Zion,” “then let our songs abound, and every tear be dry; we’re marching through Emmanuel’s ground, we’re marching through Emmanuel’s ground to fairer worlds on high, to fairer words on high.” While this hymn might suggest that our hope for joy is to be found in the next life, could it not be that the joy can begin now, as we experience the inbreaking of the realm of God?

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Family Values and the Resurrection – Lectionary Reflection for Pentecost 25C

Family Values and the Resurrection – Lectionary Reflection for Pentecost 25C

November 6, 2016

Luke 20:27-38 Common English Bible (CEB)

27 Some Sadducees, who deny that there’s a resurrection, came to Jesus and asked, 28 “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies leaving a widow but no children, the brother must marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. 29 Now there were seven brothers. The first man married a woman and then died childless. 30 The second 31 and then the third brother married her. Eventually all seven married her, and they all died without leaving any children. 32 Finally, the woman died too. 33 In the resurrection, whose wife will she be? All seven were married to her.”                 34 Jesus said to them, “People who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage. 35  But those who are considered worthy to participate in that age, that is, in the age of the resurrection from the dead, won’t marry nor will they be given in marriage. 36 They can no longer die, because they are like angels and are God’s children since they share in the resurrection. 37 Even Moses demonstrated that the dead are raised—in the passage about the burning bush, when he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. 38 He isn’t the God of the dead but of the living. To him they are all alive.”

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20161016_105852Jesus often found himself in the cross-hairs of contemporary debates. Although he had tangled with Pharisees earlier in Luke’s story, now that he has arrived in Jerusalem, he faces a different group of questioners—Sadducees. When this encounter takes place, Jesus has already entered the city in triumph (Luke 19:28-40). He has cleansed the Temple. He has been facing a variety of questions about his authority. The Sadducees formed one of several Jewish religious parties in first century Palestine. You might call them the religious conservatives, because they sought to protect older theologies, including understandings of the afterlife. They were also aristocratic, who were the source of the priesthood. Their primary rivals at the time of Jesus were the Pharisees, who like Jesus embraced the doctrine of the resurrection.

In this encounter, this group Sadducees try to test Jesus. In fact, they seem eager to mock him. They probably had motive to embarrass him, since Jesus had earlier visited the Temple and turned over a few tables and freed some animals. We call this the cleansing of the Temple, but the priests and their allies among the Sadducees would have been rather irate at the way this upstart from Galilee messed with their Temple.  So, why not ask a question that could embarrass. That had to do with marriage and resurrection.

The question they posed was this. Given the ancient practice of levirate marriage, which required that if a man died without leaving an heir, it was up to his younger brothers to fulfill that obligation by marrying his widow and hopefully producing a child, what would happen if none of seven brothers provided an heir. Who would the wife belong to in the resurrection.  The point of levirate marriage was the eternal value of one’s legacy—that is one’s male line (in a patrilineal society). Things could get messy as is seen in the story of Judah and Tamar (Genesis 38).

We no longer practice levirate marriage, but many of the concerns that gave birth to that practice remain with us. We seem to have a need to perpetuate the family tree.  My father, for instance, was quite interested in our family’s ancestry. He was also concerned about his legacy. He had produced two sons, but what might happen after that. He was pleased when Cheryl and I produced a male child. For at least one more generation the Cornwall name would continue.  Of course, my cousin David, the son of my father’s older brother, also produced a male heir. I don’t know if my uncle’s line has continued beyond David’s son, and as for my father’s, well only time will tell. Legacies are important, except that Jesus doesn’t agree.

So, the question posed to Jesus, a question meant to show the ridiculous nature of the doctrine of resurrection, concerned the status of a wife given two seven brothers through levirate marriage. In the resurrection (if there’s such a thing), who did she belong to if no child was ever produced?  That seemed like an unanswerable question, except that Jesus turned the question on its head.  What if in the resurrection there isn’t marriage and family? If that’s true, then the question of who one belongs to is a moot point. It doesn’t matter if there is no marriage or giving in marriage in the heavenly realm. In the next life, we’ll all be like angels!

Point well taken, Jesus wins the argument. Resurrection still stands. But, what about family values. How does Jesus’ answer affect the way we view marriage and family? It is common in weddings to pledge one’s covenant loyalty to the other “until death do us part.” That would seem to suggest that we understand the bond to hold as long as we “both shall live.” As for the next life, who knows? We say the words, but as life goes on and family takes hold, the hope emerges that this bond forged in life will continue in the next life. When we gather at funerals we envision being reconnected with our loved ones. We picture taking up where things were left off. Second marriages and blended families don’t factor into the equation. We don’t worry about the intricacies; we just want to take up life again. That is one of the reasons why Mormon theology of marriage consecrated in the Temples is so attractive. It also answers the question of to whom one is married in the resurrection. It’s the one to whom one is sealed in the Temple, and as far as I know that can take place only once. Alas, for the rest of us, we don’t have the theological legacy to stand on. What we have is this message from Jesus.

I take up this passage in my book Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016). I made this passage the concluding chapter in the book, which I titled “Beyond Marriage and Family.” I address the question of security. If you have security in this life, as the members of the Sadducees party like had, then there’s less need for an afterlife. Having those heirs. That’s good enough. But, if you don’t feel secure in this life, then perhaps the next will provide it.

In our modern context questions raised about the resurrection are different from the first century. They’re mostly intellectual ones. Since we can’t prove the existence of an afterlife, then why bother with believing in one.  If we do believe in the resurrection, the question of to whom we’re married in heaven probably doesn’t even come to mind. Yet, at least on an emotional level, a good majority of Christians expect to take up life as usual in the heavenly realm. We want to believe we’ll be reunited. But Jesus sets that aside, which is a good reminder that while family is important, it’s not ultimate.

On the matter of resurrection, which is the real issue at hand.  Jesus affirms it, and he backs up this affirmation with a bit of scripture. He notes that when God appeared to Moses at the burning bush, God revealed God’s self as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exodus 3:6). According to Luke’s Jesus, that meant that these three Patriarchs still lived, and therefore God is the God of the living and not the dead. Death has lost its sting. Death is not victorious, because Jesus has conquered death through the resurrection (1 Cor. 15:54-55). That is what is ultimate!

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Righteous Humility – Lectionary Reflection for Pentecost 23C

Righteous Humility – Lectionary Reflection for Pentecost 23C

October 23, 2016

 

Luke 18:9-14 New Revised Standard Version(NRSV)

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

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What does it mean to be righteous? Does it mean that you are religiously devout and follow all the protocols of the faith to the letter? Or does it involve humble submission to God? These are questions that emerge from this parable. It’s one encounter and one more parable that redefines what God is looking for from us. The characters in the parable stand as far apart as is possible in ancient Jewish culture. The Pharisees were upstanding religious leaders; tax collectors were not only collaborators with the Romans they often robbed from their own people to benefit Rome and themselves. The Pharisees were respected; tax collectors were reviled. It should be noted that both Pharisees and tax collectors tended to be wealthy. We know where the tax collectors got their wealth. It’s less clear how a Pharisee got his wealth, though perhaps it was inherited wealth.

5445613926_85169104aa Two people from opposite ends of the social spectrum, even if not from different economic ones, come to pray, and their attitude to God and to each other are worlds apart. When we read about the Pharisees as Christians we must always acknowledge the possibility of anti-Jewish sentiment creeping in. The Gospel writers have a tendency to portray them in bad light, and we needn’t embrace that sentiment. At the same time the Pharisee in this story does exhibit the self-righteous tendencies that can afflict many a religious person. And here is the question for us—while we judge on the basis of outward things, God isn’t bound by our judgments or even our criteria. That seems to be the message of this parable.

Self-righteousness isn’t simply a religious sentiment. It emerges in a variety of contexts when we feel morally superior to those who do not follow our lead. We see this in our political stylings. We see this in the myth of American exceptionalism, where in the name of patriotism Americans (and I’m an American) feel superior to other nations, and this can lead us to a place where we are blind to our own faults. We believe that we can do no wrong. The Pharisee in this parable exhibits these tendencies. He looks down the line and compares himself with the tax collector and feels good about his superior morality and spirituality. He can take pride in his fasting and his tithing. He’s not like those “other people,” who are “thieves, rogues, adulterers,” and of course tax collectors. He is righteous and he wears it on his sleeve! Does this describe you? Or me?

In contrast to the Pharisee who is satisfied with his spiritual place, the tax collector seems contrite. He’s self-aware. He understands that he has fallen short of God’s best. He might even look across to the Pharisee and envy his uprightness. He can only wish that he was in the other’s shoes, but he’s not. He knows that despite his wealth, the people around him despise him. Not only that, but he feels as if God has similar feelings toward him. Thus, he comes to the altar in a spirit of repentance. He wants to change things. While God receives the tax collector with grace and mercy, there is the expectation of change.

It is probably helpful to take note of the encounter that will follow in Luke’s Gospel. Jesus will encounter a tax collector, one named Zacchaeus, and Zacchaeus gives evidence of his changed heart. In a reading that will appear a week from now on the 24th Sunday after Pentecost in the year C, Zacchaeus will search out Jesus, and will give evidence of a changed heart (Luke 19:1-10). Of course, that is next week’s reflection!

Before we get to Zacchaeus, we need to address the vision of God with regard to the “righteous” and the “humble.” The Pharisee represents self-satisfied self-righteous moralism. He’s got the religious system down. He knows how to play the game—something many of us have learned over time. But in his air of superiority he forgets who God is. The tax collector on the other hand may not have the same theological pedigree but he seems to better understand God’s nature.

Miguel de la Torre reminds us as well that those who are marginalized, and this tax collector probably made the decision to collude with the Romans because he knew that it was one of the few ways to survive, make decisions that enable survival not morality. We make those kinds of decisions, that may appear unrighteous, but are the result of systems that oppress. So he writes: The salvific message of the gospel that the publicans of the world, the pimps and prostitutes of today, need to hear is that they are precious and are due dignity because they are created in the very image of God. Jesus understood that part of his liberating message was to humble the proud and uplift the lowly” [Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, 2:136]. So the message of today isn’t really about the humble prayer of the tax collector (publican), but the superior airs of the self-righteous religious person.

 

The question becomes, how do we who are religious and hopefully seek to do what is right, that is achieve righteousness, respond to our neighbors who find themselves marginalized by systems beyond their control. Sometimes elections reveal voices of people who feel unheard, and while we may not like what we hear, there is something important revealed by their cries. In our day there are numerous voices that aren’t getting heard. That may have something to do with the attack on the “elites,” and if I’m honest I live among the elites. The reason populist demagogues get a hearing is that they tap into feelings of abandonment on the part of those with power. So, while I may not like to admit that I live within the world of the elites, due to education and privileges accorded to me due to religion, ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation, I can be deaf to the cries of my neighbors.  The good news is that God is not deaf.

The difference between the Pharisee and the tax collector is that the tax collector has come to recognize his need for grace. He hasn’t let exceptionalism take hold. He’s ready to receive God’s blessing. Are we? How is this expressed? Could it be in the way in which we treat one another?  Could it be that it starts with recognizing our need for God? As Cynthia Hale puts it:

Admission of human weakness and failure is taboo in our culture. It is not cool to admit your mistakes or you need help. This admission gets the attention of God, though, and it is God’s attention and approval that we need and want. [Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, 2:138].

Righteousness isn’t the same as “morality.” That is, it’s not about fulfilling our moral and religious obligations. Righteousness is rooted in justice. It has to do not with right observance, but right relationships that begin with God and spread outward. By recognizing this truth, we put ourselves in a position to be justified.

bobcornwallRobert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).