A Sparkle of Generosity - Lev. 19:9-10, Ruth 2:1-16, Mark 12:38-44

In the late 1950’s, DC Comics introduced its readers to Bizarro World.
It was a cube shaped planet inhabited by opposites of DC Comic super heroes
like Batman, and Superman, and the Green Lantern.
Not only that, the preferred attitudes and personality traits of Bizarro world inhabitants
were the opposite of what we would call normal.
Stupid was smart, ugly was beautiful, and greed was good.
If you were kidnapped from your home on earth and transported to Bizarro world
you wouldn’t know who were the villains and who were the heroes.
You wouldn’t be able to trust your own eyes or ears.
Everything would seem backwards and upside down.

Those who heard Jesus teaching in the temple that day
must have thought they had been transported to Bizarro World.
He sat right there and told them the most backward, upside down thing.
“Beware the Scribes,” he said.
“What?”
“Beware the Scribes.”
You can see the wheels turning in his listeners’ heads,
wondering why he would say such a thing.
The Scribes were pillars of the community.
The Scribes were the good guys, the ones who really knew God’s law.
The Scribes had it all – wealth, respect, reputation.
You could tell they were important by the robes they wore,
by the long prayers they said.
But Jesus insisted on following that Bizzaro train of thought.
“Beware the Scribes,” he said.
“The ones who like to put on their fine robes and be bowed to in the shopping mall
and have front row seats in the Synagogue
and sit at the head table at banquets.”
Because even while they’re saying those long prayers of theirs,
they are, at the same time, signing the foreclosure notice on the homes of widows.

You see, if a woman’s husband died she was not deemed qualified to manage the estate.
So a religious leader with an impeccable reputation,
a Scribe,
would be appointed trustee of the dead man’s property.
That Scribe would charge the dead man’s estate a management fee
and, believe it or not, the Scribes would take advantage of the situation,
and siphon off more and more of the surviving widow’s property.

No one had the nerve to object to this, certainly not the powerless widow,
because it was always done in the name of God and for the good of the Temple.
Everyone in Jerusalem assumed that was just the way it was.
Everyone was conditioned not to question the status quo,
EVEN the widows whose livelihood was being consumed.

Mark tells us that on that last day Jesus taught in the Temple,
that last day before the precipitous tumble of events leading to his crucifixion,
Jesus sat down in the Temple opposite the Treasury,
a position Mark’s readers would immediately recognize as a position of judgment.
There Jesus watched as the people paraded up to the keeper of the Temple coffers
and made their contribution,
each donation called out aloud for all to hear.
The wealthy walked up with their entourage,
grinning broadly at those gathered,
making grand sweeping gestures to make sure they had everyone’s attention.
As they came forward each subsequent gift would be greater than the last,
causing the onlookers to gasp or even applaud the generosity of the giver.
You can bet the Scribes were there to offer the biggest contributors
an invitation to the club for dinner that evening,
or maybe two tickets to the chariot races on Sunday.
But then came the widow, that confounding widow.

The bare facts of the story are clear enough.
The woman shuffled forward and gave two of the tiniest coins there were in that day.
What she put in wouldn’t buy a lemon drop.
It wouldn’t buy a single thread in one of those fancy robes the Scribes wore.
You can imagine the snickers and the scornful looks she got
from the wealthier people gathered there
as her meager offering was made public by the money collector.
But Jesus spoke up, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more
than all those who are contributing to the treasury.
For all of them have contributed out of their abundance;
but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

The question comes when we try to sort out this poor widow’s motivation
for giving the Temple coffers her last little coins.
For the longest time, commentators have seen her gift as a supreme act of devotion,
and they have made her a model of generosity to be trotted out on Commitment Sunday
to shame everyone into pledging generously to the church budget.
“THEY gave out of their excess, but SHE gave sacrificially!”
Doesn’t that just make you want to write the church a big old check!
The trouble is, making the widow a model of pious generosity
doesn’t fit with the context of the passage.
Jesus has just accused the Scribes of devouring widow’s houses,
and now Mark has introduced into the story one such widow.
Revealing the widow’s offering of all she has
is not meant to hold her up as a shining example,
It is meant to denounce the greedy, morally bankrupt practices of the Scribes
that have created her desperate predicament!

As a judgment against the Scribes,
some now see the widow’s offering as an act of defiance.
They imagine her storming up to the collector’s money chest
and angrily throwing in her two tiny coins
as a way of saying, “There! That’s it! You got what you wanted!
Now you’ve got it all!”
That’s a satisfying image in one way,
but I think it’s more a Hollywood version
than an accurate estimate of what really happened.

More troubling in my mind than a defiant widow who, in her frustration and anger,
throws in her last two coins in this world,
is a widow who quietly acquiesces to the Scribes’ corrupt authority and gives readily,
not out of pious devotion to God, but out of unquestioning acceptance
of the Scribes authority, despite their obvious corruption.
Even though it may mean the end of her,
she, like everyone else, just goes along, not uttering a peep in protest,
because that’s just the way it is.

In his book, “Deer Hunting with Jesus,”
Joe Bageant, a journalist from Winchester, VA,
tries to describe the mindset of the working poor in his hometown.1
As he describes them, I am reminded of this widow,
who does what she has been convinced is the right thing to do,
and, in doing the right thing, only manages to prop up the very ones
who have driven her into poverty.

Bageant is talking about the man who bags his groceries,
the woman who stocks the shelves,
the janitor who cleans up after them all.
He pulls no punches in pointing out that they are in many ways their own worst enemies.
Bageant writes here mostly about the white working poor,
those hard-headed descendents of Scots-Irish immigrants
who see receiving help from others as a sign of weakness
and who do not value education,
the one thing that might get them out of poverty.

But the many challenges as the working poor put in their own way
are nothing compared to the barriers erected by their own society.
Bageant cites conservatives who shamelessly manipulate the working poor
by playing on their frustrations and fears,
and also liberals who have not clue what makes them tick
and quickly dismisses them as ignorant red-necks.
No one, in Bageant’s view has a monopoly here.
In his view, Democrats and Republicans are equal opportunity exploiters.

The people who heard Jesus denounce the Scribes in the temple that day
must have thought he had traveled to them from Bizarro World.
What was he thinking?
But Jesus knew that he was the one talking sense
to a society that itself had turned upside down and backwards.
They were the ones who were doing the opposite of what God intended
learning, as they had, to turn a blind eye to the injustice that infected every aspect of
their society, even the holy Temple and those who supported it.

In the very foundation of the Jewish law there is provision for the poor,
compassion for the outcast and the stranger in their midst.
Leviticus is very explicit in it’s instruction to leave part of the harvest in the fields
for the poor to glean.
In the beautiful little story of Ruth, Boaz is our example of a man who has prospered
yet has not forgotten his responsibilities to the poor.
As Ruth showed mercy and kindness to Naomi,
so Boaz, in a sparkle of generosity, showed mercy and kindness to Ruth.

Today is commitment Sunday, the day we intentionally consider
how we will choose to give ourselves to God in the coming year.
We hope you will pledge your time and your energy and also your money.

There is no Church Tax to pay, no guilt to labor under, no one looking over your shoulder
to see how “faithful” you are.
If you choose to give, give as Boaz gave, out of gratitude to God for all God has given.
Give out of recognition of the interconnectedness we share with all of God’s children.
Give with a sparkle of generosity and an attitude of joy.

1Bageant, Joe, Deer Hunting with Jesus, New York: Crown Publishing Group, 2007

Choose Well - Ruth 1:1-18, Mark 12:28-31

Every day we have choices to make about how we live out our faith,
and it is important to choose well.

At Columbia Seminary this past week I met a young man from Hungary.
Though he wasn’t even born until Soviet influence had begun to wane
he knew the stories of what it was like for the church under communist rule.
He told me that the Communists kept the churches open for appearances sake
but they appointed their own priests.
And though no one was barred from attending worship,
there was always a man in a black suit seated in the back
taking the names of those who came
Those who chose to practice their faith would be out of a job the next day.

Every day we have choices about how we live out our faith,
and sometimes it’s the seemingly small choices that can have the most lasting effect.

The book of Judges ends with a pessimistic assessment of Israel’s prospects
under the inter-tribal rivalry and haphazard leadership that marked the era.
But Ruth, the book after Judges,
ends with the foreshadowing of the coming King, the great one, David himself.
David, in fact, is a descendent of Ruth, the main character in the story.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Before the birth, before the king, a choice has to be made.
It may seem at first like a small choice,
an unimportant choice made by a seemingly unimportant woman.
But sometimes a seemingly small choice make a huge difference.

The choice Naomi’s husband Elimelech makes to leave Bethlehem and travel to Moab
to find food for his family seems like a no-brainer.
But there is a touch of irony in the fact that Elimelech leaves Bethlehem,
(the very name of the city means “House of Bread”)
and travels to Moab in the East across the Jordan River;
Moab, one of Israel’s many enemies;
Moab, whose women Israelite men are expressly forbidden by God to marry.
Desperate times, though, call for desperate measures.

In a nutshell, Naomi and Elimelech have two sons.
Elimelech dies.
The two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, defy the Deuteronomic law
and marry two Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth.
Ten years later, Mahlon and Chilion die.
This leaves three women, one Israelite and two Moabites.
Three women, grieving great loss
and without male protection in a male dominated culture.

But then the rain falls in Bethlehem, the grain grows and the harvest once again ripens.
The wind shifts and word drifts in on the wind that the famine in Bethlehem is over.
Given her bitter grief over the loss of her husband and her two sons,
it’s remarkable that Naomi credits God for the end of the famine in Bethlehem.
She has been a foreigner in a foreign land for too long.
It’s time to go home and cast herself on the mercy
of whatever family she’s got left there.
What Naomi DIDN’T need was two extra mouths to feed.
In her commentary on Ruth, Katharine Sakenfeld notes that Naomi is in survival mode.
No matter what affection she may have toward them,
Naomi doesn’t need to feel responsible for her sons’ widows.
SHE may be able to see beyond the fact that Orpah and Ruth are Moabites,
but she knows her clan-conscious tribe won’t be so welcoming of foreigners.
Naomi is going to need all the goodwill she can get from her Judean relatives
and Orpah and Ruth are likely to be liabilities for her more than assets.

Then there’s the other thing.
Naomi feels cursed by God.
She has lost so much and she wonders what she could have possibly done
to deserve the loss and grief that has enveloped her like a heavy, coarse blanket,
smothering her, taking from her sometimes even the capacity to breathe.
Why should two innocent women be further struck by lightening
just because they happen to be standing under Naomi’s private storm cloud?

What Naomi has to say to her daughters-in-law makes sense.
“Go back to your Mother’s house,” she tells them.
“And God be merciful to you.”
Though it pains her, Orpah is obedient and follows Naomi’s direction.
Nobody can blame her for that.
But Ruth? Ruth is a different story.

Naomi orders Ruth to go home.
Ruth has a choice to make and there is a context for that choice
The cards seem stacked against her.
She had a husband but he died. In ten years of marriage she had no children
putting her in the category of Sarah and Hannah and Elizabeth
a category the Bible calls “barren.”
In a culture that defines a woman through her husband
and by the number of children she bears, Ruth has nothing.
Nothing, that is, but loyalty. Nothing but endurance.
Nothing but affection. Nothing but hope.

Naomi wants only to survive, but Ruth is more interested in thriving.
Naomi can’t see beyond her bitterness,
so it falls to Ruth to live into the moment,
to embody the gracious giving of a God she’s only beginning to know.

So Ruth offers to Naomi a remarkable gift.
She offers her what in Hebrew is called Hesed.
In English it’s translated “kindness” but it’s so much more than that.
It’s mercy, it’s peace, it’s steadfastness, it’s commitment. It’s a gift.

“Where you go, I will go,” Ruth vows. “Where you lodge I will lodge.”
Easy enough. But then she adds,
“Your people shall be my people, your God my God.”
This passage is often used in weddings
and every time I read that part about “Your people will be my people”
The two who stand before me always give a nervous little laugh.
They know that’s a tall order!
But Ruth isn’t just saying, “I’ll try to put up with you’re crazy family.
She’s saying, “I not only will go with you
but I will subject myself to certain rejection by your people as a foreigner.”

To top it off Ruth even vows, “Where you die, I will die.”
Naomi is older than Ruth and will likely die first.
Then what.
Even though Ruth will always be a foreigner in Bethlehem,
she is promising not to go back home to Moab
even after Naomi is no longer around.
She’s putting everything on the line.
She’s in it for the long haul.
This is more than duty, Ruth is telling her.
This is more than affection.
This is Hesed. This is steadfastness. This is my covenant. This is my choice.

The Scribe comes to Jesus and asks,
“What is the most important of God’s commandments?”
Jesus replies, “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.
The second most important commandment is this,
“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Everyday we have choices to make about how we live out our faith,
choices about whether or not we will take advantage of the opportunities we have
to offer Hesed to our neighbor.

This past week I was at Columbia Seminary studying the sacraments,
thinking about how to make the sacraments more vivid in our worship here.
The faculty made themselves available to the six of us who were on campus
and I scheduled a meeting with two of the women faculty
who specialize in the theology of worship.

I don’t mind telling you, I was nervous.
I was afraid I wouldn’t know enough to carry on a conversation with these women.
I was intimidated by their credentials and feeling ill prepared.
When I emailed Dr. Long and Dr. Moore-Keish to confirm our meeting,
Dr. Long wrote back and said she would try to be there,
but that her mother-in-law was near death and she may be called away.

We met for an hour and both professors were there
and they couldn’t have been more gracious and helpful.
At the end of the hour I asked about Dr. Long’s Mother-in-law.
Her face clouded and she said, “She doesn’t look like herself anymore.”
Her voice caught as she spoke and a tear came to her eye.

Now, I tell you this not to hold myself up for any great prize,
but as an example of how powerful it can be if you stay alert to opportunities
to offer even a small gesture of mercy and peace and compassion
when the context calls for it.
These opportunities happen all the time and they usually fly right by me!
But this time the Spirit moved me to ask Dr. Long her mother-in-law’s name.
She said, “Her name is Belle.”
I suggested we might have a prayer for Belle before we left.
I mean, they’re theology professors! They’re not going to say “No!”
So we held hands, these highly intelligent theology professors and me,
and I offered a prayer for Belle and for Dr. Long and for her husband.
When I finished, Dr. Long’s tears were spilling over.
She paused, caught her breath, and said,
“That’s the first time in all of this that anybody’s prayed for me.”
* * *

“Love God, love neighbor.”
That’s it? That’s it!
It is so simple, yet so profound.
In God’s realm it’s not about the grand gesture or the flashy show.
It’s not about the big production or the once in a lifetime opportunity.
It’s about mercy, and peace, and steadfastness and covenant.
It’s about trusting the process when the road gets narrow,
staying on coarse when the light gets dim.
It’s about careful consideration of what and who is most important in your life.
It’s about recognizing all God has given us
and about being generous in our gifts to God and others.

Though our lives we are given the opportunity to be a source of Hesed to others,
to be fiercely devoted to those around us,
even when the economy tanks and familiar institutions crumble.
God gives us the choice and even the strength to follow through with the choice.
but ultimately the choice is ours.
It is important to choose well.

Choose Well
Ruth 1:1-18
Mark 12:28-31

Every day we have choices to make about how we live out our faith,
and it is important to choose well.

At Columbia Seminary this past week I met a young man from Hungary.
Though he wasn’t even born until Soviet influence had begun to wane
he knew the stories of what it was like for the church under communist rule.
He told me that the Communists kept the churches open for appearances sake
but they appointed their own priests.
And though no one was barred from attending worship,
there was always a man in a black suit seated in the back
taking the names of those who came
Those who chose to practice their faith would be out of a job the next day.

Every day we have choices about how we live out our faith,
and sometimes it’s the seemingly small choices that can have the most lasting effect.

The book of Judges ends with a pessimistic assessment of Israel’s prospects
under the inter-tribal rivalry and haphazard leadership that marked the era.
But Ruth, the book after Judges,
ends with the foreshadowing of the coming King, the great one, David himself.
David, in fact, is a descendent of Ruth, the main character in the story.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Before the birth, before the king, a choice has to be made.
It may seem at first like a small choice,
an unimportant choice made by a seemingly unimportant woman.
But sometimes a seemingly small choice make a huge difference.

The choice Naomi’s husband Elimelech makes to leave Bethlehem and travel to Moab
to find food for his family seems like a no-brainer.
But there is a touch of irony in the fact that Elimelech leaves Bethlehem,
(the very name of the city means “House of Bread”)
and travels to Moab in the East across the Jordan River;
Moab, one of Israel’s many enemies;
Moab, whose women Israelite men are expressly forbidden by God to marry.
Desperate times, though, call for desperate measures.

In a nutshell, Naomi and Elimelech have two sons.
Elimelech dies.
The two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, defy the Deuteronomic law
and marry two Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth.
Ten years later, Mahlon and Chilion die.
This leaves three women, one Israelite and two Moabites.
Three women, grieving great loss
and without male protection in a male dominated culture.

But then the rain falls in Bethlehem, the grain grows and the harvest once again ripens.
The wind shifts and word drifts in on the wind that the famine in Bethlehem is over.
Given her bitter grief over the loss of her husband and her two sons,
it’s remarkable that Naomi credits God for the end of the famine in Bethlehem.
She has been a foreigner in a foreign land for too long.
It’s time to go home and cast herself on the mercy
of whatever family she’s got left there.
What Naomi DIDN’T need was two extra mouths to feed.
In her commentary on Ruth, Katharine Sakenfeld notes that Naomi is in survival mode.
No matter what affection she may have toward them,
Naomi doesn’t need to feel responsible for her sons’ widows.
SHE may be able to see beyond the fact that Orpah and Ruth are Moabites,
but she knows her clan-conscious tribe won’t be so welcoming of foreigners.
Naomi is going to need all the goodwill she can get from her Judean relatives
and Orpah and Ruth are likely to be liabilities for her more than assets.

Then there’s the other thing.
Naomi feels cursed by God.
She has lost so much and she wonders what she could have possibly done
to deserve the loss and grief that has enveloped her like a heavy, coarse blanket,
smothering her, taking from her sometimes even the capacity to breathe.
Why should two innocent women be further struck by lightening
just because they happen to be standing under Naomi’s private storm cloud?

What Naomi has to say to her daughters-in-law makes sense.
“Go back to your Mother’s house,” she tells them.
“And God be merciful to you.”
Though it pains her, Orpah is obedient and follows Naomi’s direction.
Nobody can blame her for that.
But Ruth? Ruth is a different story.

Naomi orders Ruth to go home.
Ruth has a choice to make and there is a context for that choice
The cards seem stacked against her.
She had a husband but he died. In ten years of marriage she had no children
putting her in the category of Sarah and Hannah and Elizabeth
a category the Bible calls “barren.”
In a culture that defines a woman through her husband
and by the number of children she bears, Ruth has nothing.
Nothing, that is, but loyalty. Nothing but endurance.
Nothing but affection. Nothing but hope.

Naomi wants only to survive, but Ruth is more interested in thriving.
Naomi can’t see beyond her bitterness,
so it falls to Ruth to live into the moment,
to embody the gracious giving of a God she’s only beginning to know.

So Ruth offers to Naomi a remarkable gift.
She offers her what in Hebrew is called Hesed.
In English it’s translated “kindness” but it’s so much more than that.
It’s mercy, it’s peace, it’s steadfastness, it’s commitment. It’s a gift.

“Where you go, I will go,” Ruth vows. “Where you lodge I will lodge.”
Easy enough. But then she adds,
“Your people shall be my people, your God my God.”
This passage is often used in weddings
and every time I read that part about “Your people will be my people”
The two who stand before me always give a nervous little laugh.
They know that’s a tall order!
But Ruth isn’t just saying, “I’ll try to put up with you’re crazy family.
She’s saying, “I not only will go with you
but I will subject myself to certain rejection by your people as a foreigner.”

To top it off Ruth even vows, “Where you die, I will die.”
Naomi is older than Ruth and will likely die first.
Then what.
Even though Ruth will always be a foreigner in Bethlehem,
she is promising not to go back home to Moab
even after Naomi is no longer around.
She’s putting everything on the line.
She’s in it for the long haul.
This is more than duty, Ruth is telling her.
This is more than affection.
This is Hesed. This is steadfastness. This is my covenant. This is my choice.

The Scribe comes to Jesus and asks,
“What is the most important of God’s commandments?”
Jesus replies, “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.
The second most important commandment is this,
“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Everyday we have choices to make about how we live out our faith,
choices about whether or not we will take advantage of the opportunities we have
to offer Hesed to our neighbor.

This past week I was at Columbia Seminary studying the sacraments,
thinking about how to make the sacraments more vivid in our worship here.
The faculty made themselves available to the six of us who were on campus
and I scheduled a meeting with two of the women faculty
who specialize in the theology of worship.

I don’t mind telling you, I was nervous.
I was afraid I wouldn’t know enough to carry on a conversation with these women.
I was intimidated by their credentials and feeling ill prepared.
When I emailed Dr. Long and Dr. Moore-Keish to confirm our meeting,
Dr. Long wrote back and said she would try to be there,
but that her mother-in-law was near death and she may be called away.

We met for an hour and both professors were there
and they couldn’t have been more gracious and helpful.
At the end of the hour I asked about Dr. Long’s Mother-in-law.
Her face clouded and she said, “She doesn’t look like herself anymore.”
Her voice caught as she spoke and a tear came to her eye.

Now, I tell you this not to hold myself up for any great prize,
but as an example of how powerful it can be if you stay alert to opportunities
to offer even a small gesture of mercy and peace and compassion
when the context calls for it.
These opportunities happen all the time and they usually fly right by me!
But this time the Spirit moved me to ask Dr. Long her mother-in-law’s name.
She said, “Her name is Belle.”
I suggested we might have a prayer for Belle before we left.
I mean, they’re theology professors! They’re not going to say “No!”
So we held hands, these highly intelligent theology professors and me,
and I offered a prayer for Belle and for Dr. Long and for her husband.
When I finished, Dr. Long’s tears were spilling over.
She paused, caught her breath, and said,
“That’s the first time in all of this that anybody’s prayed for me.”
* * *

“Love God, love neighbor.”
That’s it? That’s it!
It is so simple, yet so profound.
In God’s realm it’s not about the grand gesture or the flashy show.
It’s not about the big production or the once in a lifetime opportunity.
It’s about mercy, and peace, and steadfastness and covenant.
It’s about trusting the process when the road gets narrow,
staying on coarse when the light gets dim.
It’s about careful consideration of what and who is most important in your life.
It’s about recognizing all God has given us
and about being generous in our gifts to God and others.

Though our lives we are given the opportunity to be a source of Hesed to others,
to be fiercely devoted to those around us,
even when the economy tanks and familiar institutions crumble.
God gives us the choice and even the strength to follow through with the choice.
but ultimately the choice is ours.
It is important to choose well.

How Not to Write a Resume Job 38:1-7, Hebrews 4:14-5:10

Unemployment in the U.S. is nearing 10%.
Whatever the reasons for this, it’s a hard time to be looking for work.
The first step to finding a job is to write yourself a good resume.
Some people are better at this than others.
The trick is learning how to put the proper spin on your qualifications and experience.
For example, you want to put, “I’m a fast learner.”
You don’t want to put, “I backed up the fork lift without looking where I was going.
I’ll never do THAT again!”
You want to put, “I’m known for running a tight ship,”
not, “I’m such a nag I was voted ‘Most likely to annoy,’ by my colleagues.”
You want to put, “I was the sales leader last quarter.”
But you may not want to reveal that what you were selling
was chocolate bars to raise money for your son’s band uniform.

The whole point of a resume is to focus on your strengths,
not to LIE necessarily, just to try to show yourself in the best light possible.
After all, if we were to tell the whole truth who would hire us?
“I pad my expense account every chance I get.”
“I will not hesitate to stab a colleague in the back if it gets me a promotion.”
“I spend fifteen minutes of every hour
checking my fantasy football stats on the internet.”
“I get bored easily.”

In classic theological terms, when it comes to the workplace,
or any other place for that matter,
we are sinners.
It’s one of those things we all have in common.
We are experts in our inhumanity –
choosing comfort over integrity,
choosing war over peace.

This isn’t a modern phenomenon.
It’s been going on for a long time.
The whole book of Job is one author’s attempt
to understand the question of sin
and why bad things happen to seemingly “good” people.
Job suffers one calamity after another
and his friends try to convince him that his misfortune is God’s punishment for sin.
Job, however, protests that he is innocent
and that a righteous God would not punish an innocent man.
So Job stands before God and asks, “Why?”
And God answers Job’s question with another question saying,
“Who are you to question me?”
When it comes to sin the author of Job says,
there are no answers.

When we read the sermon we call the letter to the Hebrews
it’s clear that the church to whom the sermon is addressed is struggling
with their own obedience.
They’re suffering from a sagging spirit.
They seem to have a problem with motivation.
Their hands are drooping, their knees are weak.
They’ve even started neglecting meeting together for worship.
They’re tired of being different,
tired of holding themselves to a higher standard,
tired of trying to resist the temptations that assault them daily,
tired of failing.
Reading between the lines,
it appears that they have started to question if they’ve made the right choice
in choosing to hire Jesus as their savior.
They’re wondering if the self-denial is worth it.
They’re wondering if their life together as a community of faith really means anything.
They’re starting to question if the abuse they suffer from being different
has any lasting benefit.

You know how that is – right?
If you grew up in church you remember getting dressed in those uncomfortable clothes
and pulling out of your driveway to go sit in Sunday school
while your friends zipped up and down the street on their bikes, free as birds.
You’re all too aware of the times you’ve wanted to hurt somebody,
to exact your revenge swiftly, bring your enemies to their knees,
and yet because you are a follower of Jesus you’ve done your best to stuff it down,
swallow the anger, absorb the hurt.
You know what’s its like watching people pass you on the career ladder
because they’re willing to play ball with the boss,
while you stew in your sauce of Christian ethics.

Like the Christians to whom Hebrews was written we hired Jesus as our savior
because he seemed the one most likely to get us out of our predicament.
We know we have this problem with sin
and he seemed the one who could make that problem go away.
Maybe you initially chose to hire Jesus as your savior
on the recommendation of a friend,
His references were good.
His pedigree seemed impeccable.
His resume was full of action words and bullet points.
But, honestly, are you happy with his job performance?
What if you were decide that today his contract is up?
You know there are many other candidates vying for the job.
Would you rehire him?
In this day and age is he still what you’re looking for?
Or should you cut him loose and look for something different?

If we’re going to hire someone other than Jesus to be our savior, who should it be?
How about John Rambo? That’s a thought.
He’s the fictional muscle bound tough guy who lives by the code that might makes right.
He’s appealing because he’s able to see the world in black and white.
There are good guys and bad guys in Rambo’s world,
and they’re easy to tell apart.
There’s no gray area. No ambiguity. If you’re not for me, you’re against me.
Rambo would definitely keep us safe.

Who can we hire to be our savior if not Jesus?
Maybe we should hire our Mother as our savior.
After all, in Mother’s eyes we can do no wrong.
Mother will give us nothing but nurturing love and acceptance no matter what.
If we mess up we can blame it on someone else.
If we run up debts Mother will pay them off for us.
We would be free of all responsibility if Mother was by our side.
Mother would definitely keep us comfortable.

Who can we hire to be our savior if not Jesus?
Maybe Hugh Hefner, founder of the Playboy Corporation
could be our savior. We could hire him.
He’s getting up there in years, but he’s still got that Playboy spirit.
If Hugh Hefner was our savior,
the first thing he would do would be to tell us to lighten up!
Pleasure is the key, he would say, and the pursuit of pleasure our ultimate concern.
He would tell us not to sweat the small stuff.
He would tell us not to sweat period!
Effort is for chumps.
Self-indulgence is the answer.
Hugh Hefner would surely keep us feeling good!

We’re in the market for a savior. Should Jesus’ be rehired
or should we look for another.
The original readers of Hebrews had to make that very decision.
Sagging, dispirited, world-weary – could Jesus still be the one
to make them hope again.
Did he still have the substance that would help them get their second wind?

The truth is, by modern standards Jesus’ resume is lacking.
He doesn’t offer safety, or comfort, or pleasure.
He hasn’t maximized any stake-holder’s profitability,
or streamlined any corporation’s functionality.
His one start-up effort was severely undercapitalized from the beginning
and the franchise is limping along at best.
He IS qualified as a high priest, the author claims
but even those qualifications come not from the established Ivy League line of Levi.
but through the unaccredited, mysterious line of Melchizedek.

Jesus’ primary qualification it seems is his acquaintance with weakness;
that and his sensitivity to God’s calling.

He is, we’re told, well versed in every test, every trial, every temptation that besets us,
yet, through it all, he is without sin.
He is without sin.

We’ll big deal! He’s God, right?
He can put on the cape, fire up his X-ray vision, leap a tall building with a single bound.
Of course he’s without sin, he’s GOD!
No.
The author of Hebrews wants us to know that Jesus is without sin because he’s HUMAN.
He is “human” in the fullest expression of that word.
He is human as God created us all to be human:
- subject to weakness, assaulted by temptation, beset by uncertainty
and yet he endured the sufferings without compromising his humanity.

As my former preaching professor Tom Long writes,
“It was Jesus who walked, as the high priest, into the great sanctuary
and, on behalf of us all, placed himself into the offering plate,
the one thing God truly desires: a human being fully alive.”1

If we’re honest with ourselves,
we can never have a truthful resume that doesn’t include sin.
But if we continue to employ Jesus as our savior
then we also have the right to include the one thing that makes all the difference.
Human. Like Jesus, we are human.
With God’s help, may our humanity toward one another
be the qualification that defines us.


1 Long, Thomas G., What God Wants, Christian Century, (March 21, 2006, p. 19.)

A Beautiful Gift Sometimes Broken Mark 10:1-12

It’s reported that there’s a drive-through chapel in Las Vegas (where else!)
where you can get married without leaving the comfort of your rental car.1
I guess McDonalds next door gets all the catering gigs.
It’s a sweet deal.

This, of course, is an extreme case of the marriage industry run amok;
a clear demonstration that nothing is so sacred
that it cannot be decisively rendered insipid and trite.
It’s the good old American profit motive at work.
“And what of it?” Many would ask.
When it comes to the law it makes no difference if you’re married
by an Elvis impersonator or by the Archbishop of Canterbury,
as long as they’ve been licensed by the appropriate government authority.
That’s one way to look at it.

It’s with a question concerning the legality of divorce
that the Pharisees try once again to trip Jesus up
as he and his disciples make their way to Jerusalem.
The question of divorce was a hot topic in Jesus’ day,
a point of heated debate between the two dominant rabbinic schools of thought.2
The Shammai school said it was only by reason of adultery
that a man could divorce his wife.
The Hillel school, however, interpreted the law more broadly,
saying that a man could divorce his wife if she shamed him in any way
including spoiling his supper.
Given adequate grounds,
a divorce could be granted if a man simply wrote down,
“I am not her husband and she is not my wife,” gave her a copy,
showed her the door and administered a little shove on the way out.

“What do you say, Jesus? Concerning divorce, what does the law allow?”
The Pharisees ask this of him
snickering all the while at their own cleverness.
“We’ve got him this time, boys!” one of them whispers.
Silly Pharisees.

“Is divorce allowed?” the Pharisees ask.
Legalities, that’s the sandbox they want to play in.
Rule book stuff.
An “Is not! Is too!” kind of dialogue.
The Pharisees come up to Jesus and they want to talk about marriage like it’s a game,
a wickedly clever device for tripping him up and making him look foolish.
In the process they take this most sacred of covenants
and turn it into a drive-through spectacle, Las Vegas style.
Not only that,
they also want to take the heart stopping, flesh ripping, soul crushing pain of divorce
and make it a mere topic for debate.
But Jesus will have none of it!

They talk in terms of what is allowed by law.
Jesus responds by raising the stakes.
He asks them “What did Moses command?”
Rocked back on their heels they answer,
“Moses said a man simply had to write out a certificate of divorce and that makes it so.”
Jesus looks them in the eyes and says,
“Moses told you that because he already knew you wouldn’t have
the intellectual or emotional capacity for anything more complicated than that.”
Then Jesus says, “But let’s take it above and beyond this nitpicking about what is lawful,
what is ALLOWED.
Let’s talk instead about what God intends marriage to be.”

In one deft move, Jesus sidesteps the Pharisee’s pitiful little trap
and he draws them into a much deeper consideration.
What was God’s intention when God created human beings?
God’s intention at creation was that a woman and a man would be equal,
partners in this great experiment we call life,
both made in God’s image and beloved.
God created two, the Bible says, because it’s not good to be alone
and marriage is the name we give to the process of two people choosing
to go beyond the act of just keeping each other company.

Marriage is choosing to look each other in the eye and say, “I promise.”
“I promise you, I covenant with you to love you and uphold you and be your champion.
I covenant with you that I will not abandon you when you get sick
or kick you to the curb when you no longer amuse me.
I covenant with you to synchronize my step with your step
and to allow you to synchronize your step with mine
and to always have your back.”

Jesus went on to say that when two people marry, they become one flesh,
their skin and bone and muscle and blood intertwines and intermingles.
You can’t write out a certificate of divorce and make that not so.
You can’t just decide you’re bored and hit the rewind button.
The moment you make a covenant,
it is as though your chemical composition changes.
There is no way to return to a pre-covenant state.
“What God has joined together, let no one separate.”

If Mark’s account stopped there this passage would be so much easier.
But following the typical formula in Mark’s gospel,
Jesus and his disciples leave the Pharisees stuttering,
they leave the crowds clamoring,
and they retreat inside a house where the teaching continues
in a more private, intimate way.

Still not clear what Jesus’ answer was concerning divorce,
the disciples press him to explain further.
Jesus doesn’t mince words.
“If a man divorces his wife and marries another he commits adultery against her.
If a woman divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

For the longest time, the church took this saying as a clear prohibition
against remarriage after divorce.
Because of these two sentences, divorce, in the past, has been a stigma,
a blot on one’s spiritual resume no amount of Clorox could bleach out.
But that understanding comes from focusing exclusively on the word “adultery”
and forgetting that covenant-making is the centerpiece of the table God sets
and just because I may spill the milk,
and put my elbow in the butter dish,
doesn’t mean I’m no longer invited to sit and eat
and experience the joy of companionship and the fellowship of God.
Saying that there is no possibility of remarriage after divorce
is basically to say, “You’ve got one shot buddy!
Mess this one up and that’s it, you’re done.”
But that sentiment goes against the broad sweep of salvation history.
Through out scripture going all the way back to Abraham
God’s covenant people have time and time again broken their covenant promises.
And time and time again, God has forgiven and reclaimed and redeemed his people.

You and I both know that when two people come together in marriage
sometimes even the caterer knows it’s a mistake;
a bad idea from the very beginning.
And sometimes, both partners mean well,
but one or maybe both haven’t the maturity or the emotional constitution
to weather the rigors of married life.
That’s usually because nobody tells us that the primary reason for marriage
is not pleasure but growth.

It was 31 years ago that Scott Peck wrote his best seller, “The Road Less Traveled.”3
It was all the rage at the time.
I remember nothing about the book except one vignette he tells
about going to see his spiritual advisor, a nun,
and complaining to her about his marriage.
“It’s over, I think.” he told the Sister. “We’re having a tough go of it.”
The old nun replied, “How nice for you.”
Thinking the old bat couldn’t hear well, he repeated himself,
“No, you don’t understand, my marriage is on the rocks.”
The nun replied, “And I said, ‘How nice for you’.”

He didn’t like it, but he understood what she was trying to say.
“Marriage is for the grind,” he writes.
It wears away at my ego, my selfishness, my belief that I am the center of the world
Like sand and water grinding against a stone,
until the sharp edges are worn down, and the surface is polished,
and I become what God created me to be –
in relationship.
Marriage isn’t the only way to learn how to be in relationship
or to grow into my created potential,
but it might be the best way.

Those of you who have been through divorce understand that, legal categories aside,
it is never a “no fault” proposition.”
Somewhere along the way there is human failure to account for.
Maybe it was the decision to marry in the first place.
Maybe you let the fantasy of something better out there run away with you.
Maybe your fear of your own mortality made you panic.
I’m not trying to generate blame, just make an observation,
and if you’ve not yet considered you were anything but innocent in a failed marriage
there’s still work to be done.

“Those whom God has joined together let no one separate.”
When a covenant has been made it can’t be unmade.
Divorce is never clean,
No matter how relieved you may be, you will always bear the mark of it
you will suffer wounds and wounds leave scars.

If you choose to remarry then, Jesus says, the new relationship you enter
is adulterated by the mark, by the scar left by the broken covenant.
There’s no return to the pre-covenant condition, no matter how you may wish it so.
But you are not cut off from the table of grace.
You are not banished from the kingdom of God.
Forgiveness is yours for the asking.
There is no reason to curse God and die.

Marriage is a gift.
Sometimes we mishandle, neglect, and even break the gifts God gives us.
But even if we do break a gift, even a really important gift like marriage,
God doesn’t suspend all gift-giving activity.
God in fact has shown a consistent willingness when it comes to us
to go over and beyond even when we seem determined to sink below and lag behind.
I, for one, am grateful for it.

________________________
1Century Marks, The Christian Century, October 6, 2009, p. 9.

2 Stoffregen, Brian P. Exegetical Notes at Crossmark Mark 10.2-16 
Proper 22 - Year B
http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/mark10x2.htm

3 Peck, M. Scot, The Road Less Traveled, New York: Simon and Shuster, 1978.

Symptomatic Mark 9:30-58, James 5:13-16

Astrid Thoenig from Parsippany, NJ rose and went to work as always this past Thursday.
But it wasn’t just any other day.
It was her 100th birthday.
I read the story of her celebration on my Yahoo! News page Friday morning
as I went to check my email.
There was a photograph of a smiling Astrid
that gave credence to her statement, “I don’t feel old and I don’t think old!”
But what made this more than just another birthday story
was her statement that though she was born in 1909,
she has no memories at all of her life before 1918.
Her first memory is of a day in 1918 when she was nine, and she came downstairs
to find two coffins in her living room, one for her sister and one for her father,
who had died just one hour apart from the flu pandemic that raged through that year.

The H1N1 flu virus is making the rounds this year,
and we’ve received public service announcements
about what symptoms to look for and what to do if you think you have it
and how to cover your mouth with your elbow when you sneeze
instead of sneezing into your hand.
The troubling aspect of H1N1 is that it affects the young and the healthy
and it’s going to be wide spread.
The good news is that it is apparently nowhere near as virulent
as the strain ninety years ago that wiped all memory from Astrid Thoenig’s 9 yr. old mind.
Symptoms are what we rely on to let us know there’s something wrong,
something that’s thrown the system out of equilibrium.
Physical symptoms like fever, achy-ness, hacking cough
are useful cues that tell us we may have the flu and need to isolate ourselves.
But symptoms don’t just have to be physical.
They can be emotional, as well, even behavioral.
And the malady to which they point may have nothing to do with any virus.
You’ve seen it. A friend snarls at you for no reason.
Your teenager slams the door.
You get to the end of the day and though you’re physically fit as a fiddle,
you’re find yourself exhausted.

These are symptoms,
caused not by a physical illness, but a disruption in emotional equilibrium.
The friend snarls because his company is laying off workers
and he may be next.
The door slams not because your teenager is mad at you,
but because she’s afraid she messed up on a big chemistry test.
You think back and realize that you’re exhausted
because you got an upsetting phone call early that morning
and you’ve been tense all day.

Physical symptoms are often straightforward and sometimes even easy to treat.
Other kinds of symptoms can be more elusive .
In the ninth chapter of Mark Jesus’ disciples are showing signs of disequilibrium,
symptoms not of flu or a respiratory infection,
but of an unsettled spirit, a psyche that’s slipped a cog.
It causes them to act in ways unbecoming a disciple
and Jesus, like an ER doctor with cardiac paddles, has to shock them back into rhythm.
The disciples’ problem isn’t hard to diagnose.
Chapter nine in Mark’s account of Jesus’ story
marks a major turning point.
Through the first eight chapters Mark recounts Jesus’ ministry in Gallilee,
teaching with authority, healing the sick and disabled,
easily standing his ground against those who oppose him.
Like love-sick suitors looking for a mate
the disciples have been comparing Jesus to their mental checklist of the ideal Messiah
and one by one they’ve ticked off every item on their list.
He’s the one, they conclude,
the one who will restore God’s covenant people to their rightful place of power.

At the end of chapter eight, however, Jesus throws them a curve.
He says something strange about being killed and then rising from the dead
and when Peter chides him for bringing everybody down
Jesus rebukes Peter, even calls him the Devil in disguise.
But then in chapter nine
Jesus takes his core group, Peter, James and John up the mountain
and they have a vision of him in shimmering white, talking to Moses and Elijah,
which only confirms their notion that he’s God’s chosen one.
But THEN they come down the mountain
and he says it again…that stuff about dying and rising.
You see the problem.

In the disciples’ eyes their teacher, their rock has suddenly become unsteady.
Their invincible leader seems to be coming unglued.
Their clear path to glory has suddenly become shrouded in thick fog
and indications are there may be a cliff ahead.

This is when the disciples become symptomatic.
They start acting out in visible ways the inner turmoil they’re beginning to feel.
Last week we read about how they started arguing among themselves
about which of them was the greatest,
which of them was more deserving of a place of honor in Jesus’ administration.
Today we read about how they took offense at someone
who was bringing mental and physical healing to people
and doing it in Jesus’ name no less.

The disciples have become symptomatic.
Because Jesus has spit in their soup and challenged their fantasy,
because his journey to the cross doesn’t match their expectations.
They have become unbalanced. They are acting out.
Clearly an intervention is called for. Their symptoms cannot go untreated.
So Jesus goes to work.

First, in reference to the man doing good works in Jesus’ name,
Jesus quietly says, “Let him be. Don’t stop him.
If he is identifying his good works with my name that can’t be a bad thing.”
“If anyone is handing out cold drinks to thirsty people in my name,
we should be celebrating.”
But then Jesus pulls out the cardiac paddles and cranks up the power.
It’s time to shock.

He starts talking about offending body parts and self-amputation.
With graphic language and over-the-top hyperbole,
he launches into a speech on the dangers of acting out,
on the need for his disciples to get over themselves and pull it together.
They are the ones who are setting the example for others
and they need to take care not to be the cause of stumbling
for anyone else who may be looking to follow Jesus.
The word “stumble” is translated from the Greek word, “scandalizo.”
It’s where we get our word, “scandalize.”
And the Greek word originally comes from the word used to describe
the trigger on a trap.

So, in other words, Jesus is saying, “Don’t let yourself be the reason
someone else gets ensnared or tangled up, distracted or lost.”
“You may be unsettled. You may have doubts. You may not have all the answers.
but this is no time to be self-indulgent.
This is no time to lose sight of the big picture.
This IS the time to put the needs of others ahead of your own needs.”

After he’s shocked them with his exaggeration,
Jesus puts the paddles down, lays his hand on their shoulders one by one,
looks them in the eye and says, “Everyone will be salted with fire.”
“Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”
Huh?
There’s no getting around it. These are not easy words to understand.
Most scholars believe they hearken back to the second chapter of Leviticus
which says “Do not let the salt of the covenant of your God
be lacking from your cereal offering.”

Salt was a precious commodity used to preserve and flavor food.
It was a symbol of God’s covenant with Israel.
It seems that Jesus is thinking of sacrificial offering when he says this,
and the kind of behavior that honors the covenant God has made with God’s people.
“Have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another,”
seems to mean something like,
“Don’t let your symptoms run away with you.
Pay attention to what you’re feeling and how you’re acting
and think about whether your behavior reflects your relationship with God.
If your behavior does not lead to peace,
then maybe it’s time to treat the symptoms.”

Astrid Thoenig has lived 100 years
and in those 100 years she has seen incredible advances
and she has endured every hardship from economic depression to nuclear threat.
I suppose every generation thinks it has it hard,
that it is the axle around which the wheel of history turns.
We seem to currently have more than our share of stressors –
a bum economy, terrorist threats, political polarization, global warming, a flu epidemic.
Suffering these ills, we have allowed ourselves as a nation to become symptomatic,
to indulge our disappointments, to give into our fear, to get panicky and vulgar
and petulant and polarized.

We who follow Jesus, however, have neither the luxury of being symptomatic,
nor do we have the need.
As followers of Jesus, as those who have been baptized into the covenant of grace,
we already have the cure for whatever ails us.
The letter of James puts it very succinctly.
“Are any among you suffering? They should pray.”

As followers of Jesus, people are watching us to see how we will act in this time.
They may not even know they’re watching, but they are watching.
They are watching and they are asking themselves,
does following Jesus make any difference? How will we answer that?
Will we follow the crowd and indulge our anxiety or will we find strength in prayer?
Will we be symptomatic or will we have salt in ourselves -
have salt in ourselves, trust in God’s covenant, and be at peace with one another?

The Star at the Bottom Mark 9:30-37, James 3:13-18

It’s no mere coincidence that the very first story in the Bible has to do with shame.
Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit, their eyes are opened,
they perceive their nakedness, and they are ashamed.
Shame haunts our dreams, it governs our impulses,
I would say shame and the fear of being exposed drives us in most all we do.
Shame manifests itself in feelings of unworthiness.
Therefore it is the primary wedge between us and God who counts us intrinsically worthy,
the wedge that Jesus came to remove.

Perhaps because of the Garden of Eden,
our sexuality has become the seat of much of our sense of shame.
When I was in the seventh grade, health class was mandatory
and it was team taught by Miss Caruthers, the girls’ gym teacher
and Mr. Byrd, the football coach.
When we came to the unit on “human reproduction” the boys and girls split up.

In my mind, I imagine that the girls probably sat in a circle and held hands,
offering comfort and support to one another
as together they explored a sensitive and wonderful topic.

That’s not how it was with the boys.
The first day, we boys slouched into our assigned room, slumped in our chairs,
and whispered crude comments and entertained forbidden fantasies
while Mr. Byrd, a bulldog looking man with a gold chain around his neck
drew a simple diagram of the female reproductive system on the blackboard.

After a few minutes Mr. Byrd turned, faced his class, and growled,
“Alright you meatheads, I’m going to tell you this once.
The only stupid question is the question you don’t ask.”
That was easy for him to say, of course.
He was a grown up. Grown ups knew all there was to know about sex.
But we were seventh grade boys.

We only PRETENDED to know all there was to know about sex.
In reality, of course, the gaps in our knowledge were wide.
What we did know was a cross between the embellished boasting of older brothers,
furtive glimpses at illicit “girlie” magazines
and the shared ignorance gleaned from late-night conversations on camp outs.

Who in that congregation of cracking voices and sweating armpits
was going to ask a question and suffer the shame
of being exposed in his ignorance in front of all the others?
Certainly not me!

I somehow survived adolescence,
and I managed to learn the basics of human reproduction,
but it’s still hard to ask questions sometimes.
Especially when I’m in a competitive environment and I want to perform well,
or a gathering of peers who seem more informed than I.
What if I say something stupid?
Maybe I don’t really belong.
What if everyone finds out just how inadequate I am?

As Mark tells the story, it was just this kind of situation the disciples faced
that day long ago as they sat with Jesus in Capernaum.
For the second time, in Mark’s account,
Jesus had made a prediction filled with foreboding,
a prediction that he would be betrayed into the hands of the enemy and killed.
Mark says that as Jesus and his disciples made their way through Galilee
Jesus spoke to them of his impending betrayal and death
“but they did not understand what he was saying to them
and they were afraid to ask.”

They did not understand and they were afraid to ask.
I can see why they didn’t understand. But why were they afraid to ask?
Did they think he’d tell them something they didn’t really want to know?
Or were they afraid to ask because each thought he was the only one who didn’t get it;
that it must make sense to everyone else
and anyone who asked for clarification would be exposed as a fraud and put to shame.

“They did not understand and they were afraid to ask.”
If you are not sure of your place in a relationship, you will be afraid to ask.
If you are not confident that you are accepted and acceptable, you’ll be afraid to ask.

But, if you have taken to heart the promise of a covenant-making God,
if you have rested in the shade of God’s healing, affirming grace,
if you have centered your identity in what theologian Paul Tillich called
“the Ground of All Being,” you may still be confused,
you may still be befuddled,
you may still not understand, but you will not be afraid to ask.

In the shelter of the source of all power and all wisdom there are no stupid questions.
In the economy of God’s realm where everything we really need is abundantly given
there is no lack of cover.
In the post-incarnation creation where Jesus is the new Adam
through whom we are reconciled to God
there is no cause for shame anymore.

The disciples didn’t understand that there was nothing they couldn’t ask Jesus.
So, they began to engage in the activity we all engage in
when shame starts nipping at our heels.
They started trying to manufacture self-worth by elevating their social status.
They argued amongst themselves about who was the greatest,
about who Jesus liked the best,
about who was more deserving of a plum assignment
when Jesus came into power.

That’s what we do when we don’t have both feet firmly planted
in the rich, fertile soil of God’s unconditional love.
We try to push our way up the pecking order, bully our way to the front of the line.
We throw a bigger party than the last party our neighbor threw.
Sometimes the shame is so embedded in our psyche that we act out our shame in horrible, destructive ways.
But sometimes we try to beat back the shame by being the best church worker
or the best charity fundraiser
or the most valuable volunteer
all wonderful things except when the odor of desperation betrays us.

When they got to Capernaum Jesus asked the disciples what they’d been discussing.
That’s when all that shame just piled up and spilled over
and they couldn’t even speak because of it.
Recognizing what had them all choked up,
Jesus took a little child, hugged him close and said,
“See this child?”
“Yes, we see the child.”
“See this child? This child who in our culture is a non-person, a non-entity,
not an outcast, but just a nobody until he comes of age?”
“We SEE the CHILD.”

Jesus basically said, If you are going to continue to follow me,
you must become this child.
It’s not a threat, just an observation.

If you are going to continue to identify yourself as my follower,
you will HAVE to let go of this idea that you are shameful somehow,
let go of this idea that your social status or your position or your lack thereof
can make you any more or any less valuable in God’s eyes.

If you are going to stay part of my team,
you are going to have to find your footing in nothing more and nothing less
than the simple fact that you are a child of God.

Don’t misunderstand.
You can still be grounded in your identity as a child of God
and, at the same time, gain a sense of satisfaction from great accomplishment.
You can still be a follower of Jesus
and, at the same time, hold a position of power in government.
And you can certainly consider yourself Christian
and, at the same time, contribute substantially to your church,
chair non-profit fundraisers,
and throw great parties.

The key is to examine yourself and decide if you are doing these things
out of a desperate attempt to cover your sense of shame and prove yourself worthy
or if you do what you do out of a great sense of joy and gratitude
for God’s passionate love for you and each person.

Yesterday we remembered and gave thanks for the life of Monty Purviance.
I said yesterday that Monty is just the man I think of when I read today’s passage
from the letter of James and his description of heavenly wisdom. James writes:
“the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to
yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or
hypocrisy."
This kind of wisdom is just the opposite of shame.
That's why we can have a man like Monty who doesn't need to embarrass or bully anyone in order to feel worthy and loved.

Jewell-Ann Parton, a former member of this church and now pastor of Tabor Presbyterian
was telling me she was in Jonesboro, TN recently
looking at locally made crafts in a little shop there.
She said she saw in the shop an upside down Christmas tree
carved of wood and hanging on the wall.

She said it seemed too unusual at first, too odd,
but the more she looked at it, the more she liked it.
Jewell-Ann said, “I’ve never thought about it before,
but our regular tree with the wide base and the pointed top
reflects the way we usually look at the world.
The big, plain ornaments are down at the bottom where no one can see them,
and the star is at the top.

But the way Jesus sees things, if you want to be the star
you’ve got to be willing to be at the bottom..
There’s nothing shameful about it.
Nothing shameful at all
That’s just the way it is in God’s realm.”

Dear Prudence Proverbs 2:1-11, James 3:1-12

The prosecutor approaches the witness stand
and in a voice dripping with sarcasm says to the accused,
“Have people always known you to be a sick, twisted psychopath
or is that a more recent development in your life journey?”
The defense attorney rises like he’s been shot out of a cannon,
“Your honor I object to this slanderous and highly prejudicial name-calling!”
With a look of pure innocence the prosecutor shrugs and says, “Withdrawn.”
“Objection sustained,” the judge proclaims and then looks at the jury and says,
“You will disregard the prosecutor’s comments.”

Withdrawn?
How do you withdraw a word once it’s spoken?
Disregard?
How do you disregard a word set loose in the world?

[Light a match]
James writes, “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire”
It was a tiny match, or maybe a cigarette lighter carelessly or deliberately mishandled
that touched off the worst fire in the history of Los Angeles County
and two weeks after it started the so-called “Station Fire” still burns
having destroyed 78 homes, burned 250 square miles, and taken two lives.
Hard to imagine that just a tiny flame can be so destructive.
Hard to imagine, but as destructive, says the author of James,
is a word carelessly or deliberately misspoken.

“You lie.”
Those are two little words South Carolina Representative Joe Wilson
probably wishes he could have reeled back in the moment they were spoken.
He might now be a folk hero among some in his home district
but when Wilson blurted those words
in the middle of the President’s speech Wednesday
he ignited a firestorm of protest that, at last count,
has motivated contributions of over half a million dollars to his opponent.

“What’s the big deal?” some ask.
He was thinking the words.
What’s the difference between thinking and speaking?
At least he’s not a hypocrite who thinks one thing but says another!
But it is a big deal.
There is a difference.

The author of the letter to James
identifies himself simply as “a servant of God and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
He’s writing to a community of faith who seem to have settled
into a passive form of Christianity.
They have committed the common error of disconnecting their faith from their daily life
and their identity as followers of Jesus isn’t reflected
in the way they conduct themselves.
They favor the rich and ignore the poor.
They make their plans without seeking God’s guidance.
They are beset by envy and selfish ambition.
AND, they are quarrelsome with one another,
letting loose their tongues without restraint
and with no appreciation for the power of a word.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”
Do children still chant that on the playground?
It seemed to be an effective response when I was growing up,
a way of putting a name-calling bully in his place,
but I’m not sure that’s still true.
Not when with the press of a cell phone “send” button
you can broadcast an insult to an entire student body at once!
Not when you can post a website devoted to ridicule and slander
that can be viewed not just in your neighborhood
but on the other side of the planet as well.
A parent’s gentle encouragement to “Just ignore it,”
doesn’t quite seem enough anymore.

“No one can tame the tongue,” James writes, “a restless evil, full of deadly poison.”
He’s making his point through exaggeration, of course,
because, in fact, the tongue can be tamed.
Back when I did marriage counseling
I would hear that one or the other, sometimes both, partners,
would engage in the most awful name-calling during marital fights,
cursing a blue-streak, saying really mean things.
The excuse offered was always, “I get so angry I just can’t help it.”
That’s when I would ask “Do you ever get angry with your boss?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What does your boss do when you call him names or curse at him?”
“Oh, I never do that at work. I’d lose my job.”

If I heard it once I heard it a thousand times.
“If you haven’t anything nice to say,
don’t say anything at all.”
The witty writer Dorothy Parker had her own twist on this old saw.
She is quoted as saying,
“If you haven’t anything nice to say…come sit by me.”
One with an untamed tongue is often the life of the party,
entertaining the room with her acerbic wit at someone else’s expense.
But the act quickly grows thin.

The untamed tongue is the champion of what we call freedom of speech.
We value freedom of speech in this country as well we should.
But sometimes you hear political groups and journalists going on and on
as if freedom of speech is the only freedom that really means anything.
Those who value freedom of speech above all else
get their back up at any hint of restraint or attempts to censor speech for any reason.

I’m not saying freedom of speech is not important.
But for those who follow Jesus there is a much more important freedom,
a more important freedom that may even run counter to freedom of speech.
I’m talking about the freedom to love.

Freedom of speech is easy
It requires only that I exercise freedom FROM restraint.
I value the right to say what I want to say when I want to say it no matter who it hurts.
Freedom to love, however, is different.
Freedom to love requires an effort.
Freedom to love even requires that I exercise [GASP!] SELF-restraint
for the sake of another person.

How tempting it is to engage in gossip,
to indulge in rumor,
to make myself feel important by being the teller of secrets
or the author of witty ridicule.
How tempting it is to casually toss out offensive words just because you can
or to be the voice of easy anger tearing down with hate-filled words
and manipulating others with words drenched in fear.

We who follow Jesus are called to resist this temptation,
to exercise self-discipline,
to elevate ourselves with God’s help to a higher level of discourse.
The author of Proverbs calls this wisdom.
He says, “Wisdom comes through understanding,”
and understanding comes not through talking, but through listening to God.

I understand that I use my tongue as a weapon when I feel insecure.
I lash out and tear down or pass on the opportunity to build up
because I feel my position is so precarious,
that there’s not enough affirmation to go around.
But the author Proverbs tells me there is nothing to fear.
He seems to anticipate our world
where radio waves are jammed with hate-speech
and TV transmissions are filled with silly and vulgar speech
and wise speech, helpful speech, life giving speech
seems as illusive as Bigfoot.

He says, “If you truly seek wisdom, just keep looking. It’s there.
It’s not gaudy. It’s not loud.
And when you find it you’ll know it’s the genuine article.
And WHEN you find it you’ll be surprise at how comfortable you feel in your own skin,
how secure you feel, how serene, how truly free.
This is where the author uses that old fashioned word.
He says, “Then wisdom will come into your heart…
and prudence will watch over you….”

Prudence. That’s the word we’re looking for. Dear prudence.
It’s not a popular word. It’s where we get the word “prude.”
But I think it might be time to rehabilitate this word,
add it to our daily vocabulary.
Look it up and it means “wise or judicious in practical affairs,
discreet, circumspect, sober.”
I would suggest that maybe “prudence” is what we need most these days
not only in our speech, but in every aspect of our conduct.

I’m not advocating a return to uptight judgmentalism. Not at all.
But a little clear-eyed, loving, self-restraint surely would be nice.
Of course, I can’t expect to find this kind of prudence in others
until I begin to find it in myself.

Indiscriminate speech can destroy,
But don’t forget how a judicious word of encouragement or affirmation can build up.
Most of you here can think of a person who gave you an encouraging word
at just the right time and it made all the difference in your life.
[Light a match]
James was right. The tongue, like a small fire, can cause great destruction.
[Light a candle]
But James was also wrong. The tongue can be tamed.
A kind word, an encouraging word, a PRUDENT word
can be just the light we need to guide us in the dark.