Proper 10(A): No “Us” Versus “Them”

Proper 10(A): No “Us” Versus “Them”

Genesis 25:19-34

By: Colin Cushman

This passage involving Jacob and Esau, and the birthright traded for pottage, is one of the famous stories of the Genesis tradition. However, while this is quite familiar passage for those of us steeped in the Bible, there are definitely parts of it that we pay attention to and parts that we gloss over. I would like to poke around those murky areas to see what they can teach us, specifically about our relationship with the Other.

From the very beginning of this passage, we see that we are talking about how groups of people relate. Notice, for example, verse 20. Twice within the course of one sentence, the author here reiterates that Rebekah, a major matriarch of The Chosen People, is a foreigner. She’s an immigrant who married into the family. We cannot tell the story of our sacred history without including the story of immigration and inter-racial marriage. The passage insists that we must recognize the role of the foreigner in making us who we are today. Adopting this perspective then opens up a significant theme in our passage: foreigners and relationships between peoples.

Take, for example, the oracle given by God in verse 23. God makes it clear that this story is not just an anecdote about two individual people. It about nations and their relationship with one another. We are talking about groups of people and how they interact with one another.

And what group of people are we talking about? Well, obviously Jacob is Israel (as his later name change makes clear). In verse 30, we learn, in a rather ungainly construction, that Esau here really is referring to Edom (the neighbor to ancient Israel). So the author tells us that there are two people groups: Israel and Edom. Except, in reality, there might not be. The thing is, as we learn more and more about the region from archaeology, we are learning that, as a matter of fact, Israelites and Edomites were not all that different from one another. As much as the powers that be wanted a clear-cut, nonporous line demarcating who is really an Edomite or an Israelite, in reality, there were a bunch of different families and tribes, all of whom were operating more or less independently, and they may or may not have wanted to be lumped into that label of “Edomite” or “Israelite.”

The story serves an etiological function: it explains why things are the way they are. What is the situation that it is explaining? It’s not immediately clear. Were the “modern day” (at the time of writing) serving under Israel? Did Israel see them as inferior to themselves? If so, this story would give justification for this ethnocentric view.

Interestingly, though, scholars think that the name and nation “Edom” did not actually originate from Esau, as claimed here, but was pre-existent. However, right around the time that this story was being written down, the nation of Edom was consolidating and becoming an actual nation, so it was very important for the Israelites to clarify who was and wasn’t actually an Israelite. Thus, we have a story that is actively and intentionally involved in the process of boundary-defining and community-constructing, specifically designed to explain who “we” are and why we’re better than “them.”

Even if this story is telling about the inferiority of the Edomites, though, it certainly does not appear to be the standard criticism leveled against Esau. He seems much less of an evil person who rejects all that is of value, and more of a bumbling, idiotic drama queen who makes stupid decisions.

Take for example this anecdote with the food in verses 29-34. Esau comes home from the field hungry. Presumably, dinner would be served soon enough—he belongs to a rich enough family. However, this is not good enough for him. In a fit of melodrama, he claims that he is starving to death. Jacob seizes on his hyperbolic state to con his brother out of a massive amount of money and the spiritual blessings due to the favored child.

Esau came in starving. He saw a pot of red food. What would he have assumed other than that this was a rich, protein-filled meat stew? What other foods are red? But instead of at least getting a fancy meal for his birthright, he learned too late that it’s simply red lentils.

And yet it doesn’t particularly seem to matter to him! Examine verse 34. The writing style is much different. We’re just given a rapid-fire list of actions, as if Esau were rushing through them as fast as possible. He doesn’t even understand the import of what he just did. He doesn’t have regrets. He’s just hungry and will do whatever he needs to satiate that hunger.

We learn that Esau is not good at weighing options and that Jacob is a con man. And yet, somehow, out of all of this, we are apparently supposed to choose Jacob (=Israel) as the good guy, whereas Esau (=Edom) is deserving of our wrath. (That is certainly what the Hebrew prophets choose, as they direct a disproportionate measure of God’s wrath toward Edom.) Even this anecdote, which is supposed to be another brick in the pedestal elevating Israel as the superior nation, fails to do so and simply muddies the ethical water.

These kinds of stories are the kinds of tales that groups throughout the ages have told to prop up one group above another. These stories function to try to create firmer and firmer boundaries between the self and the Other. They try to erase the existing similarities, which muddy the boundaries between “in” and “out.”

In our current historical moment, in which we experiencing the blossoming of xenophobia and nationalism, it is worthwhile noting that, even in the sacred stories we create about “us”—who we are, where we came from, why things are the way they are—these stories are inextricably linked to the presence of “them.” As much as we try to define ourselves as a self-contained entity, the inherent interconnected nature of the very identities that we are constructing betrays our project. As many non-western folks throughout the ages have insisted (against the values held sacred by western individualism), we are inextricably bound together in a network of mutuality (to paraphrase Martin Luther King, Jr.). No matter how much we think that ”we” as a people are better than “them,” we can never lose sight of the fact that our very nature is intertwined with theirs.

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Colin Cushman

Colin Cushman currently is the camp director at Camp Indianola in the Seattle area. He has previously worked as a pastor at local churches. He loves teaching the Bible and helping people to find meaning from even the most obscure parts of the Bible.

 

Proper 8(A): It’s All Held by God

Proper 8(A): It’s All Held By God

Psalm 13

By: Anne Moman Brock

I’m glad I’m not the only one asking the question “How long, LORD?” It’s a daily question for me, one that remains unanswered.

How long, LORD, until I can hug my family and friends again?

How long, LORD, until income is secure for all people?

How long, LORD, until we can trust those making decisions on our behalf?

How long, LORD, until health care is available to all?

How long, LORD?

 

David laments as I lament:

How long, LORD? Will you forget me

forever?

How long will you hide your face

from me?

How long must I wrestle with my

thoughts

and day after day have sorrow in

my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph

over me?

I don’t need to write pages and pages in my own journal, I can just let David do the writing for me! Is it comforting to know that humanity has faced this kind of discomfort from the beginning of time or is it depressing to know this is how it will always be? Yes.

I think we’ve all had a moment of lament like this (or several) over the last few months: God, where are you? Have you forgotten us? Have you given up on humanity? We need you — where are you??

And if that weren’t enough, we’re home day after day wrestling with our never-ending thoughts: When is it safe to go to the grocery? Why do we have to wear masks? Yes, I’ll wear a mask, but I won’t like it. How many more meals must I cook myself? I miss my friends.

And still more is piled on as I scroll through social media and see hatred continue to spread: Why are they behaving like this? When will truth be a given? Who is my enemy right now? I’m so confused. Who is the right person to listen to?

There’s a reason this psalm, along with all the other laments, are included in the Bible. They are valid. They are real. They are us. I have permission to voice all of my feelings, not just the ones that make others feel good. God gives us space to cry and be angry and moan and groan. Our feelings are valid. We can bring our whole selves before God without worry of rejection.

I appreciate that David laments and that he doesn’t end there. He allows himself the space for despair and desolation, but he keeps going through it to a place of consolation. He doesn’t let the lament have the last word. However, just before he turns to praise, he states his complaints and his worries. He acknowledges his fear and anxiety around failure. He puts it all out there, and then…

David ends with praise. Will I end my litany of fears, anxieties, and lament with praise too?

But I trust in your unfailing love;

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the LORD’s praise,

for he has been good to me.

Every night as I lay my head on the pillow, I name at least three things from the day for which I give thanks. This daily practice has saved me for over three years now. There are some nights when I have to “stretch” to find something I’m grateful for (i.e. this pillow), but for the most part I can name way more than three. I’m glad to know David had a practice of gratitude as well.

Now, we don’t know how long it took David to write this psalm. We don’t know how long it was ruminating in his mind before he spoke it out loud. He may have been in that space of despair for quite some time before he moved into praise. Reading it in the Bible makes it look like everything happened at once… but we don’t know.

I know for myself that it might take days, weeks, months, even years, before I can find the heart space to praise God in the midst of a hard time. Praise doesn’t naturally come out of my mouth when I’m hurt and scared and uncertain. I have to be intentional about it, which is why I make myself practice gratitude every night, whether I feel like it or not.

If you’re not in the place of praise today, that’s okay. I’m not sure David was right away either. Whether you’re asking How long, LORD or singing God’s praise, it’s all held by God.

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Anne Moman Brock

After thirteen years of youth ministry in the United Methodist Church, Anne Moman Brock is now in another form of ministry with Lake Institute on Faith & Giving, part of the IU Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. She is a graduate of Christian Theological Seminary. Anne lives with her husband and two dogs — an 11-year-old husky and a 1-year-old chocolate lab — in Indianapolis, Indiana. She writes about her experience with infertility at www.annebrock.com and on Instagram @livinginthemidst.

Proper 7A: Is This What We Signed Up For?

Proper 7A: Is This What We Signed Up For?

Matthew 10:24-39

By: The Rev. Kimble Sorrells

If today’s passage were a product to be purchased it might come with a warning label: “Warning: side discipleship may lead to loss of status or family, rejection, division, and sometimes death.” Upon a quick glance it sounds about as appealing as a commercial for prescription medication with a laundry list of side effects. Is this really what I signed up for when I came to church? I just wanted a little time to recharge from my busy week.

The harsh realities of Christian discipleship may seem far off to many who live in a comfortable western Christian existence. If we are honest, most of us in the mainline American Christian world have grown stagnantly comfortable. In this passage Jesus warns of the costs of being his disciple.

Being a disciple of a teacher means we follow the same ways of being that they live, we follow their example, and walk in their footsteps. To be a disciple of Jesus is to pattern our life after his life, follow his example, and walk in his footsteps. In Jesus’ earthly life, and in the early days of the Church, the context is inextricably linked to the Roman Empire—an empire whose systems of inequality Jesus resisted. The vision of the Kin-dom of God that Jesus initiated on earth was one that challenged human systems of class, wealth, status, and oppression. Indeed, his resistance to the empire led to his crucifixion at the hands of the state. Thus, if we are to be disciples of Jesus, we can expect to follow this path of resistance to oppression. Once again, a warning is helpful here: this work is dangerous!

Jesus warns that his mission will cause division. Some might face rejection, even by their own families.  It’s not that we need to renounce family simply for the sake of it, rather Jesus is pointing out that to follow him means elevating his mission of justice above all other areas of one’s life. Being a disciple isn’t a part time hobby or even a “Christian lifestyle” of being holy and going to church regularly. It’s about being all in for the work of God.

We can look to many in our recent history who have lived fully into this costly discipleship. Those who have fought for racial justice such as Dr. King have lived out the call to bring about God’s Kin-dom on earth, even though it cost them their lives. Or we might remember Dietrich Bonhoeffer whose resistance to Hitler and the Nazi regime led to his death. But what does this mean for us, in this moment?

To be a disciple of Jesus means committing ourselves to the work of bringing Gods Kin-dom on earth as in heaven. We must resist oppression and seek to build a more just world. Sometimes it may be a small action. Yes, that does mean you have to speak out and say something when your family members speak racist micro-aggressions at thanksgiving dinner; yes, even if it makes you uncomfortable and is going to disrupt conversation. After all, Jesus says even our families can’t hold us back from his work. But there is more than just individual moments. I doubt we need to look far to notice we are in a place where entire systems of oppression are glaringly obvious in our country.

As I write this, I am 50 days into social distancing during the COVID-19 pandemic and crisis. We are nowhere near an end or improvement and yet, here in Georgia our elected officials have moved to re-open the state for the sake of the economy. While this virus itself does not discriminate, the effects of the virus have revealed how our social structure leads to disproportionate harm of those who are most vulnerable, those who are poor, and people of color. Those who are frontline workers, often working for less than a living wage, are putting themselves at high risk for contracting the virus on a daily basis. These employees must make the choice between a job or risking their health. Poverty and classism are highly visible as we see who is most at risk, and who can remain tucked away in relative safety. Furthermore, studies show that COVID-19 is infecting and killing black people in the US at disproportionately high rates. Public Health researchers say these high numbers reveal the systemic inequalities that exist in our society around resources and access to healthcare.[1]

This crisis, like many others, is showing in the full light of day the ugly structures our society is founded upon. We must ask ourselves in this moment what it means to be disciples of Jesus who sought to bring about a kin-dom of Gods love and peace. For many who have relative privilege or security, this will cost something. Moving towards equity and justice requires that we examine the ways that we benefit from systems of oppression. It requires that we change our participation in those systems and actively seek to change them rather than perpetuate them. For a small action, I might ask, “How do my choices in shopping affect those who work in essential jobs? Do I seek to patronize companies and stores that pay a living wage and aim to protect their workers?” Thinking a bit more broadly, do I join in organizing to change the systems that leave some vulnerable, or without healthcare? I do not have all the answers to what life might be like on the other side of this virus, but I know that it cannot be as it always has been.  Whatever “normalcy” we had, it was not the Kin-dom of God on earth as in Heaven that Jesus calls us to co-create with God.

Perhaps we should include a warning in our baptismal liturgies: This life may lead to loss of earthly comforts. But as Jesus says, those who lose their life will truly find it.

[1][1] Elingon, John. “Black Americans Face Alarming Rates of Coronavirus Infection in Some States.” New York Times. April 7,2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/07/us/coronavirus-race.html

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The Rev. Kimble Sorrells

The Rev. Kimble Parker Sorrells is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ, and currently serves as the Georgia Field Organizer for Reconciling Ministries Network—an organization affiliated with the United Methodist Church that works for the inclusion and rights of LGBTQ people. Prior to their work with RMN they served as Minister for Spiritual Formation and Youth at Saint Mark UMC in Atlanta, Georgia. They have also served as a hospital chaplain and worked in homeless services through their time in AmeriCorps. Kim is a graduate of Candler School of Theology at Emory University and Berry College and is a Yoga Alliance Registered Yoga Teacher. They draw on their theological and yoga training to inform their ministry’s focus on using spirituality and contemplative practices to equip us with the inner peace to be justice makers in the world. Outside of their formal employment Kim serves as chair of the Spiritual Leaders Committee for the Transgender Health and Education Alliance (THEA), and is a member of the Atlanta Coalition of LGBTQ youth.

Proper 6(A): What Do We Need?

Proper 6(A): What Do We Need?

Matthew 9:35-10:8, (9-23)

By: The Rev. Maurice Dyer

What do we need to bring with us to do ministry?

I grew up playing sports. My favorite was soccer.  When I showed up to each game, I wore the same sweat pants—my lucky soccer warmup pants. Heaven forbid if I couldn’t find these pants before I left for a game! Looking back, I wore them because I thought they made me faster, made me play better, and, dare I say, I thought they made me look cooler.

What is it about lucky objects that make them so special?  What’s at the core?

In the lesson from Mathew, we find Jesus and his 12 disciples.  Jesus appoints these 12 people to go into the world, to all of the lost sheep of Israel. Jesus is giving them a very important task, and it is the same task that Jesus gives to all of us. Go find the lost sheep; go proclaim that the kingdom of God has come near. Our scripture drops us into a conversation that Jesus is having with his followers.

I can almost imagine myself there with the others. I can see it now, just excited–hanging on Jesus’ every word.

Jesus says I’m sending y’all out to go find lost sheep. “Right on,” the imaginary me would say.

Jesus says the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. “I’m ready to harvest Jesus, I used to live next door to a farm! I’ve picked carrots before…I’m ready!”

Jesus says I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. “…Wait a second, that doesn’t sound safe. Lambs in the midst of wolves…hmm. I’ll make sure to pack a stick to keep me safe.”

Then Jesus says I don’t want you to bring anything, don’t carry a purse, don’t carry a bag, and don’t even wear any sandals. “No sandals, Jesus? But I’ve got these lucky sweatpants that I like to wear.”

But Jesus says, “No, don’t bring anything!”

What is Jesus really asking of his followers? What is Jesus really asking of us?

Let’s think about the things that Jesus asks his followers to leave behind. A purse, a bag, and sandals. What do we use these things for?

I’ve seen a lot of survivalist shows on TV. People are allowed to bring next to nothing with them. But one thing remains the same no matter the show, they are all allowed to carry a bag.  In these bags, people carry tools for making fire, or food that they are saving for later.

In these bags, you can carry all of the things that might make you self-sustainable. The contestants on television are able to stay in the wilderness for weeks on end because of what’s in their bags. So why is Jesus asking his followers to leave their bags behind?

Jesus doesn’t want us to be self-sustainable.

Now, mind you, I’m not referring to “green” movements or eco justice. Rather, I am referring to the way that we are called to live with one another. Jesus doesn’t want us to be self-sustainable; he wants us to trust and rely on one another, to be others-sustained.

Jesus says don’t bring any sandals, so we know this will not be a comfortable journey.

So again I ask the question: What do we need to bring with us to do ministry?

Jesus tells his disciples that when they go into these towns and get invited into these homes, first they are to bring tidings of peace for their household. Then they should remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever the host provides, not moving from house to house.

I think what’s missing but is implied in these instructions is, “get to know the people.”

Jesus asks that we leave it all behind, our bags, our baggage, to strip it all away and to really make ourselves vulnerable. It is out of that vulnerability that we are able to meet people and really get to know them.

You see, when Jesus is talking about going out for a harvest, we don’t need the traditional tools that we normally would use, like a shovel or an axe. (What are the tools needed for a traditional harvest, anyway?) No, for the harvest into which we are being sent, we are the tools.

What are we to bring with us, if not our bags and sandals? Jesus says, “Just bring yourself. You have everything you need to do this work because it was given to you by the Holy Spirit.

You have your life, and you have your story. Christians are among the best story tellers in the whole world because we have been telling the same story for two thousand years.

We go and we tell others about Jesus, but not just that… we go out and we tell others what Jesus has done for us. How Jesus has changed our lives.

This is what Jesus is asking of the followers that we see in our scripture today, and it is what Jesus is asking of us all. That when we go out to the harvest, we bring nothing but our most honest and vulnerable selves to get to know people and to share the story. This is the mission to which God calls us all. Tell the story, then live the story.

Yes the world looks a whole lot different today, but Jesus’ charge to all of us remains the same.  It was never the things that we bring with us that show people who Jesus is, or what the kingdom of God is like. It has only ever been us, living our stories—living testimony to the work that God is up to in the world.

Amen.

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The Rev. Maurice Dyer

The Rev. Maurice Dyer is a California native and grew up in San Diego. He attended Cal State University at Monterey Bay, and graduated from the social and behavioral science department. After his undergraduate work, Maurice was called to serve as a missionary and moved to South Africa. While in South Africa, he lived in a Benedictine Monastic community with the other monks and taught at the school that they oversaw. He then moved to Capetown, South Africa and worked for an institute that assisted people in healing from trauma, particularly related to the South African Apartheid years. Upon coming back to the U.S. he went to seminary at the Virginia Theological Seminary and graduated in 2019. Maurice has worked in several churches in central California and Washington DC. He sits on the boards of the Global Episcopal Mission Network and the Episcopal Community Services of Philadelphia.

Trinity Sunday(A): Origin Stories

Trinity Sunday(A): Origin Stories

Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Psalm 8; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Matthew 28:16-20

By: The Rev. Andrew Chappell

In his introduction to Genesis, Theodore Hiebert shares that the writer’s goal “was to make sense of the world [the Hebrews] knew by explaining how it came into being. They came to terms with who they were as a people by explaining their own origins in that world.” (The CEB Study Bible, 1 OT) Thus, Genesis 1:1-2:4a begins the Torah with a story detailing a very harmonious and beautifully-structured creation, not unlike the structure of Israel’s religious life, with a goal of articulating the climax of creation: the Sabbath (2:1-3). If a Hebrew child were to ask a question about the Sabbath, a teacher might have pointed to this very story and said, “It is at the foundation of who we are and who God is.”

Origin stories are important to us. Any K-12 education in the US comes with a history of how we became who we are with imagery of revolution, slavery, women’s suffrage, and civil rights. Popular culture is filled with origin stories. How many times has modern America witnessed Peter Parker bitten by a radioactive spider? (I honestly don’t think we can take another one!) Sometimes, when an adopted child grows older, they have questions about their parentage, leading to a search for answers.

In all of these things, one idea comes to the surface: knowing more about the beginning may shed light on the present. And in that manner, Genesis 1:1-2:4a sheds light on the very beginning of the Sabbath, the imago Dei, and the responsibility and stewardship of humanity over creation, ideas that have ever-present meaning for the modern reader.

The Psalmist demonstrates the concern with origins in the first praise psalm, which is a celebration of God the creator. The psalm carries with it the origin-centric understanding of the imago Dei when it declares, “You’ve made [human beings] only slightly less than divine, crowning them with glory and grandeur. You’ve let them rule over your handiwork, putting everything under their feet” (8:5-6, CEB). It seems that the very beginning of humanity and scripture still plays an important role in Israel’s present at the time of Psalm 8, and in the Christian lectionary today. From the start, humanity has been created in the image of God, to partner with God in bringing order to the chaos of the world and to care for creation and creature alike in harmony.

The origin of the Jewish people plays a role in 2 Corinthians when Paul writes to the community, “Put things in order, respond to my encouragement, be in harmony with each other, and live in peace.” (13:11, CEB) Why is this the call upon the life of the early Christian? It most certainly has some root in the creation story above. The harmony-bringing of God is still the call of humanity. The 2 Corinthians’ charge also has its beginnings in another origin story of sorts.

In Matthew 28:19-20, the resurrected Jesus gives a mandate to his disciples that is the origin of most church vision statements and the historical evangelism (good and bad) of the global church: “Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you.” (CEB) This disciple-making — rooted in obeying Jesus’ commands — is rooted in his summary of the law: love God and love neighbor. But the origin of this understanding comes from the Torah, from Genesis, and from creation, when from the natural outpouring of God (who IS love) came creation, humanity made in God’s image, the structure of religious life, and the task to bring harmony and care to creation and to one another. And all of that has great implications for who we are today. Our origins matter. And this is our ultimate origin story. So how will the knowledge of our beginning influence how you live right now?

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The Rev. Andrew Chappell

Andrew has been in ministry since 2008 and currently serves as the Associate Pastor of Northbrook United Methodist Church in Roswell, Georgia. Andrew has degrees in Religious Studies and Telecommunications from the University of Georgia, and an M.Div. from Candler School of Theology at Emory University. Andrew loves listening to records, watching Seinfeld, and beignets from Roux on Canton.

6th Sunday after Epiphany(A): The Law of Life

6th Sunday after Epiphany: The Law of Life

Matthew 5:21-37

The Rev. Joseph Graumann, Jr.

Jesus didn’t die on the cross just so we would behave. I firmly believe that. With four law-heavy texts this week, one could easily stick to interpreting the rules. While they bear some explication, simply sticking to the “do’s and don’ts” of these texts could result in a proclamation that rings hollow in sanctuaries and hearts alike. With lots of law, what then of the Gospel? Moses tells the Israelites to “choose life,” and elsewhere James tells us that faith without works is dead. In this interplay between life and death, one can find a starting place for a meaningful and evangelical (i.e. Gospel-centered) proclamation.

Gustavo Gutiérrez’s book, The God of Life, makes a simple claim that roots what Protestants would call both law and Gospel in God’s identity. “God causes all that exists to be because God is the source of all things; God gives life because God is life,” he writes.[1] With God as life, God the father can be seen as life-creator and Jesus Christ becomes life-redeemer. In his crucifixion, Jesus takes death upon himself, and his resurrection is the eternal triumph of life over death. Crucially, for our purposes, Gutiérrez writes, “Oppression in any of its forms means death.”[2] Since God righteously defends life, God righteously opposes oppression, and since God have us life, we too oppose the same.

The authors of Deuteronomy illustrate more than they legislate. Though in the imperative, “Choose life” serves as a hearty reminder that the one who gave life and freedom is the one worthy of obedience. The law becomes more than a way to live but indeed a way of life.

Moses exhorts his people to keep the commandments as a kind of farewell, immediately after a renewal of the Covenant and before his death. Knowing his time is limited, he begs his people to see that the Law will preserve their lives, root out oppression, and foster peace among them. Gutiérrez writes, “The law or Torah must be put into practice; it is life because it is a way to God.”[3] Because God is a God of life, and oppression deals death to the oppressed, the law will bring life to the people. Likewise, because the law brings life, God’s law is a gift of life.

In his Sermon on the Mount, the life-redeemer fulfills this Law of life. Yet, if God is a God of life, the abundant life Christ brings hardly means the death of the law. The law becomes similarly abundant, similarly expansive. A simple injunction against murder becomes an exhortation to peace and reconciliation. The prohibition of adultery is a call to a pure heart. Divorce, which was once permitted, is reinterpreted with the oppression of women in mind. Honesty is similarly abundant, wherein a vow becomes unnecessary if one’s daily word is true. Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, we encounter Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection as a triumph of God’s righteous life over sin and death.

Elsewhere in his Sermon, Jesus commands his disciples to “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,”[4] highlighting two main themes in Matthew’s Gospel. First is the eschatological reality of Jesus’ coming on earth. Jesus brings the kingdom of God to earth in his very person. Second is the righteousness of God in Jesus. If the kingdom of God is the locus where God’s law reigns supreme, Jesus’ arrival expresses the law’s fulfillment. Gutiérrez writes, “When Jesus speaks in Matthew’s Gospel of seeking the kingdom and righteousness of God, he is calling attention to the demand that the seeking implies.”[5] So, then, the law becomes a mark of seeking God’s reign on Earth. The church seeks an eschatological reality by practicing the law here and now.

With this interpretive lens, a preacher has a little bit of grace with which to interpret the law. The God of life gives the law to bring life, not death, for people of all genders. Some interpret the command, “choose life,” as the prohibition of reproductive justice. Similarly, the Sermon on the Mount appears to proscribe divorce. Yet, with an eye to a God of life, and thus a law of life, one has freedom beyond the plain text. Divorce would have been a means by which a woman lost all protection in a society where she could not work or hold property. It would have negatively impacted her life. In situations of abuse or an unhappy marriage, marriage could be death-dealing. In line with a great many thinkers, we ask ourselves, “What brings abundant life?”

I find grace in this text because it does more than show us how to behave. It shows us who God is, who God makes us to be through Jesus. The law of God gives us a glimpse of the kingdom of God, as if that kingdom were an earthly country. “This,” it seems to say, “is what life will be like when God’s kingdom fills all things.” In that kingdom, both faraway and near, death is forever conquered by life. Murder, adultery, and lying are no more. Relationships are healed and whole. All of this because God is life, and God gives us life abundant.

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The Rev. Joseph Graumman, Jr.

The Rev. Joseph Graumann, Jr., is the pastor of Saint Stephen Lutheran Church in Marlborough, Massachusetts. He is a native of the Jersey Shore, and he thinks sand in his car is the mark of a summer well spent. Joe is a graduate of Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service and the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

 

 

 

 

[1] Gustavo Gutiérrez, The God of Life, trans. Matthew J. O’Connell (Maryknoll: Orbis, 1991), 1, Kindle.

[2] Ibid, 3.

[3] Ibid, 6.

[4] Matthew 6:33, NRSV.

[5] Ibid, 103.

Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple: Patience

Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple: Patience

Luke 2:22-40

By: Chris Clow

If there is one thing I struggle with (as if there is only one thing), it is patience. I have a horrible time waiting for things to happen. Of course, I can put some of the blame on all of my beloved smart devices, but when I am honest, I know that it’s mostly on me. I was always the kid who snuck down at 4am on Christmas Day to shake the presents and try to guess what I got. I’m the kind of person who will read the spoiler long before I ever see the movie – I always want to know how it ends. It is awfully hard for me to wait.

With that in mind, I have a hard time relating to both Simeon and Anna in this gospel passage.  It is difficult for me to imagine waiting my entire life to see something. Who knows how many times Simeon went to the temple wondering if today would be the day? Who knows how many children Anna looked at in the temple and then had to go, “Nope, not this one.” I know how difficult I would find it to persevere in that patience – to spend so long unsure whether you will see it pay off. I wonder how many others also found it difficult, and what they thought of both Simeon and Anna? Were these two respected as elders? Were they mocked for their continued presence? Or even worse, were they just ignored and branded as “old weirdos?”

And, of course, I have to wonder if I am like that. I find it hard to be patient with myself – what am I like with other people? I can think of times that I outwardly or inwardly push others – “Come on, you just have to get over it and move past it. Can’t you see you’re wasting your time?” Certainly, there is a season for everything, and there are people who do need help moving past difficult times in their lives, or out of harmful relationships. But given how we tend to pride ourselves on constantly staying busy and never missing out on the next best thing, do we look at people who don’t seem to be as productive as ourselves and think they are wasting their time? Do we do that with ourselves?

The many changes over the past few months have made it very difficult for me to stay patient.  My family and I have moved to a new city for my wife’s new job, and I have begun full-time stay-at-home dad duties. And I have loved doing it and I love getting to have all of this time with my son, but it has been a massive change to my life, and for as much joy as being a full time parent has brought me, it has also brought a lot of anxiety too. “What do people think of me when they hear that I am a stay at home parent? Why do they keep asking about when I will get a job? How can we afford to stay in this house if I don’t start working? How will we afford childcare if I do?” I try to have faith that all will come to fruition in the future, but it is hard in the present to stay hopeful, and I know that my family is still relatively well off and there are many in tougher situations than we will ever face. I cannot imagine how a single parent even has an ounce of patience left.

“Yes, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who will endure the day of his coming? And who can stand when he appears?” These words of Malachi ring out like a terrible challenge: yes, God is coming, and yes, thing will get better, but you’ve gotta wait! Seriously? Nevermind my anxieties; my mind goes to all kinds of evils occurring – the children taken from their parents at the border; the children in our schools being trained for what to do if someone tries to shoot them; the constant reminders of the damage being done to our planet. As I write this, we have a threat of yet another war in the Middle East. It is overwhelming to think about all the harm taking place in our world. How can we endure this?

Well, thankfully we remember that we have a God who also lived through such trials with us.  Jesus’ time on Earth was not paradise either. He was not born an earthly prince but as a poor man – “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” probably wasn’t just a metaphor for him. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us well: “He had to become like his brothers and sisters in every way, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest before God.” Surely a God who didn’t always know where he would sleep at night can relate a bit to a young couple worried about keeping the roof over their heads too.

And one other thing that helps me is trying to practice humility – that is, placing myself in right relationship with God and with others around me (and not the form practiced by some that basically amounts to self-flagellation). By being willing to acknowledge the things I do have power over and things I don’t, I recognize what’s worth worrying about, along with what I need to let go of. A prayer that was written in honor of Oscar Romero puts it well:

“It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction

of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us…

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.”*

I find solace in these words very often. Of course, I need to make sure I am doing my part to help bring about the Kingdom, but it is just that. My part. I cannot do everything, and that means that I can do a few things, and do them well. We do not know what Simeon and Anna did the very next day – if they went out to tell everyone that they had seen God’s promise fulfilled in this child, or if they simply went back to the temple and about their lives. In the overall scheme of the Gospels, these two did not do much. But they did their part – they waited in patience for God to deliver, and when God did, they recognized it and didn’t miss out.

Maybe that’s a takeaway for us. In times where it can be hard to wait, where the world can overwhelm us, let us remember that can truly cannot do it all, but we can do our little part, and do it well. In that, may we recognize Jesus coming into our lives.

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Chris Clow

Chris Clow currently spends his days as a stay-at-home parenting for his now 15 month old!  Before this chapter of his life, he had spent 8 years as a Campus Ministry and Director of Music and Liturgy at St. Ambrose University in Davenport, Iowa.  He currently lives in Omaha, Nebraska with his wife and son, and is also looking forward to when another more “professional” ministry opportunity might arise.

 

 

*The prayer is titled A Future Not Our Own, written by bishop Ken Uetener of Saginaw; it can be found here: https://www.journeywithjesus.net/PoemsAndPrayers/Ken_Untener_A_Future_Not_Our_Own.shtml

Thanksgiving Day (C): All About Eating

Thanksgiving Day (C): All About Eating

John 6:25-35

The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It is ALL about eating. You don’t have to buy presents, you don’t have to put on a costume, you don’t have to decorate the house, you don’t have to buy fireworks, you don’t have to worry about if you have a date to take out—you just have to cook and eat with people you love.

For many years now, it has been my tradition to celebrate Thanksgiving with good friends in Rhode Island. We get up early, walk the dogs, preheat the oven, then I go to church. After the Eucharist, we gather in the kitchen to cook, laugh, and revel in the joy of being together. We eat around 2, take a nap, then repeat.

Our lesson from John appointed for Thanksgiving certainly mirrors this joy of eating in community. Those who preach regularly will remember that last year (Year B) we had five Sundays in a row going through the Bread of Life discourse that makes up Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel. All of this, including our lesson appointed for today, stems from the Feeding of the 5,000–an image that many Thanksgiving chefs might have in their heads already!

The people who just have partaken of the feast of loaves and fishes are so amazed by that experience that they follow Jesus across a body of water seeking more. “You are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of loaves,” Jesus says to the crowd (Jn 6:26). Jesus recognizes that the miraculous meal got the people’s attention. Furthermore, it’s important to remember that the meal comes in the context of Jesus healing people (Jn 6:2). One sign leads to another: Jesus heals the sick, and the people are amazed. They follow Jesus to witness more of these healings, and suddenly there is a large crowd that needs to eat. Jesus not only points the way to the Kingdom of Heaven in restoring health to the sick (healing signs), but he points the way through attending to the physical needs of those gathered (sign of the loaves and fishes).

In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ signs always have two purposes: they address the immediate needs of those gathered, and they point toward the Kingdom of God which Jesus comes to initiate. In the case of the Feeding of the 5,000, the people are hungry. They need sustenance. Jesus feeds them. The sign also points the way to the Kingdom of God wherein God transforms even the smallest gift into abundance.

Coming back to today’s lesson, Jesus goes on to say, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life” (Jn 6:27). He further clarifies that he, himself, is that food that endures: “I am the bread of life” (Jn 6:35). Jesus, here, is not knocking the actual meal. People were hungry. People were fed. That’s good. He goes a step further, however, in reminding the crowds that the good meal is a means to an end, not the end itself.

When I think about my favorite Thanksgiving gatherings with my chosen family in Rhode Island, we ate amazing meals. We drank delicious wines. We played games and laughed. The great joy of those gatherings, however, were not the turkey, the Pinot Noir, nor the Scrabble board. The joy came from the love for one another expressed in fellowship.

The love we feel and experience at Thanksgiving is heightened because of the occasion. The holiday festivities point toward the greater love found through fellowship. Just as the many signs in John’s Gospel point the way to the Kingdom of God, our Thanksgiving observations point the way to the joy of community in thanksgiving for the many blessings of this life. What is more kingdom-y than that?

Because the Gospel of John has no dedicated lectionary year, preachers might take this opportunity to highlight the nature of the Johannine sign. What signs does God show us in our Thanksgiving traditions that point the way toward the Kingdom of God? How might we incorporate these signs and revelations into our everyday lives? Where can we use these signs to point others toward God’s Kingdom?

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The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen

The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen serves as Associate Rector at Trinity Episcopal Parish (Trinity and Old Swedes) in Wilmington, Delaware, working alongside English and Spanish-speaking congregations. Prior to ordained ministry, Charles spent over a decade working in the professional theatre world as a director, actor, and puppeteer. His love of story informs his passion around biblical studies and sharing the Gospel of Christ.

 

Reign of Christ (C): A Different Kingdom

Reign of Christ (C): A Different Kingdom

Luke 23:33-43

By: The Rev. Ryan Young

It is jarring to read this scripture for Reign of Christ Sunday—the only characters here proclaiming Jesus as reigning over anything are doing so mockingly. Here we see Jesus humiliated. Here we see the Human One derided. Here we see the Messiah lynched. Hardly a fitting read for a day when we proclaim the universal Lordship of this figure. So then, what does it mean that “Jesus is Lord?” Just what type of “reign” are we talking about here?

At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry on earth he stood in front of the community of faith that had known him since childhood and declared precisely what this reign would look like:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

Because the Lord has anointed me.

He has sent me to preach good news to the poor,

To proclaim release to the prisoners

And recovery of sight to the blind,

To liberate the oppressed,

And to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

His home congregation, the very people who helped raise him, the ones in whose homes he played as a child, the ones who had watched him grow, the ones who had more cause to love him than any others, heard this and sought to throw him off a cliff.

Liberation of the oppressed is extremely popular in theory and rarely popular in practice because it means that those who benefit from injustice relinquish some of those benefits for the sake of others. And yet, this is precisely the path of salvation that Jesus offers us—in rejecting an unjust system for love of another the privileged also find release from a noxious system and reconciliation with the other. Sadly, we can’t delude ourselves into imagining that hostility toward the liberation of the Gospel was limited to the political and religious elite. It was the mob filled with average working citizens who called for Barabbas’ release and Jesus’ execution. The fear of change often overrides the distaste of the status-quo, even when the status-quo is killing us.

Jesus’ entire ministry was spent announcing and living out a way of being that was an alternative to exclusion, alienation, and violence. He spent his life among the poor, the sick, the enslaved, thieves, criminals, and hypocrites. Jesus traveled the provinces challenging established religious, political, and social structures and the powers that upheld them in the service of liberation and everywhere he went he was met with hostility. As Fr. Richard Rohr points out, Jesus was killed much more for his world-view than his God-view.

We know all of this and yet we find ourselves once again confounded by Christ, the Lord on the lynching cross, because we still hold onto the same belief of the soldiers and the criminal—that those with God’s favor will be spared from suffering and injustice. But that’s not the way God works. Our suffering had to be entered into, our injustice had to be faced. Liberation does not come from afar, reconciliation is not impersonal, and an unjust system cannot be upended from the outside. As his last act on earth Jesus witnesses to his alternative way of being by offering comfort to his fellow condemned and forgiveness to his executioners; both of whom are also victims of the powers of state and religion.

If we are to witness to the reign of Christ in any meaningful way, we must likewise enter into the suffering of others with love and the confidence that God goes with us. Because of the crucified and risen Lord we can proclaim the Kingdom of God which stands as an alternative to the economic, political, and religious systems that depend on division, exclusion, and violence. There will be pushback. There will always be pushback when we promote significant changes to established systems. So don’t be surprised when you upset people—they killed Jesus for it, and I’m not sure we should expect better treatment—but that’s the way of our Lord.

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The Rev. Ryan Young

The Rev. Ryan Young currently serves as the Director of Adult Discipleship and Missions at Northbrook United Methodist Church in Roswell, Georgia. He is a graduate of Clemson University and Emory University’s Candler School of Theology. He is looking forward to being commissioned as a Provisional Deacon in the United Methodist Church in June. When he is not engaging in holy mischief, he can be found sampling craft beers with friends at local breweries, reading, or singing Baby Shark with his wife Rachael to the delighted squeals of their toddler Iris.

 

Proper 28(C): God’s Faithfulness is Eternal

Proper 28(C): God’s Faithfulness is Eternal

Luke 21:5-19

By: The Rev. TJ Tetzlaff

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

                                     –“Ozymandias,” by Percy Shelly

This poem by Percy Shelly describes an ancient statue of a once-mighty king who was filled with his own sense of importance and grandeur. Ages ago, the statue was a splendid and awe-inspiring figure, but deteriorated over time until it was nothing more than a ruin. None of Ozymandias’s works remain for us to see and the nation he once took pride in is gone. The gold he had and whatever works he accomplished had vanished long ago leaving behind nothing more than an obscure name on a broken statue, covered by the sands of time. Ozymandias is a haunting a reminder of the impermanence of this world, and perhaps that is the same lesson Jesus is trying to teach the disciples in this Gospel.

Jesus had just told the Disciples not to be taken in by appearances – that the few coins a poor widow offers has more spiritual value than wealth given out of abundance – but, as they travel through the city, the disciples are captivated by the beauty and grandeur of the temple, and are awe-struck by the ostentatious display of wealth. Jesus tries to snap them out of it and prophesizes that dark events are on the horizon; they will be arrested and persecuted, and nations will rise up against each other. There will be earthquakes, famines, plagues and dreadful signs from heaven until, at last, the temple is torn down and every stone ripped apart. With such a grim and dismal future ahead, the disciples would have every reason to give up if Jesus’s prophesy stopped. But Jesus continues with the most important part of his message: “… not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

Jesus essentially tells the disciples: ‘Regardless of how bad things get, I am with you. Life is going to get hard, but don’t lose hope.’ Over the years I find myself needing this reminder more and more often. Throughout life there are times when it seems like everything is falling apart and there is nothing left to hope for. As I write this, there are news reports about a possible impeachment and the continued dysfunction of our nation’s political system. A new study has been released stating that climate change is accelerating far more quickly than previously thought; in fact, surpassing previous estimates. Last summer the world watched in shock as the Notre-Dame burned; as, in less than a day, nearly a thousand years of history went up in smoke.

With so much dysfunction and brokenness in the world, I sometimes find myself getting lost in cynicism and wondering what the point of it all is. Why bother building up when someone else can come along and rip it all down? It’s times like these I need to be reminded that the value is in the effort itself, not the outcome. The Temple may have been destroyed, but the wailing wall is still a holy place for billions of people. Notre-Dame may have burned, but countless lives have been enriched during the thousand years it stood. Jesus’s words to the disciples in this gospel remind me that even when it looks like the world is in chaos, there is always hope. It reminds me that God is always with his people and meets us where we are, regardless of how broken our world becomes.

This Gospel is not just a reminder that the world is impermanent and nothing we build will last, but also a reminder of where to put our hope. It is a proclamation that God’s faithful love remains with us even when everything around us is falling apart. In the times we are left shocked and bewildered, and the things we’ve trusted in are suddenly gone, we remember that our hope doesn’t reside in this world. Our hope is based on God’s love for us and nothing more.  The only thing that is constant in this world is God’s continued love for us. It seems an appropriate reminder as we prepare for “Christ the King” Sunday. While everything in the world just seems to be so awful so much of the time, I need to be reminded that it’s all being held in the palm of God’s hand. Christ does not promise us that life is going to be easy; if anything, he warns us that our immediate future will be harder if we follow him, but the eternal rewards will be unimaginable. If, like Ozymandias, all our work is forgotten or torn apart, we remain in hope because God’s faithfulness is eternal.

 

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The Rev. TJ Tetzlaff

The Rev. TJ Tetzlaff is the Assistant Priest at St. Philip’s Episcopal Church in Southport, North Carolina.  He lives in Wilmington, North Carolina with his wife Chana and their two dogs Molly and Momo. In his free time, he enjoys reading, going on hikes, spending time with his family and playing chess (poorly).