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.

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.

5th Sunday after Epiphany(A): Why Do We Worship?

5th Sunday after Epiphany (A): Why Do We Worship?

Isaiah 58:1-9a

By: The Rev. AnnaKate Rawles

Each week, we gather together as congregations to worship God and fellowship with one another. Each of our contexts and congregations are different, but we, in essence, all join together to do the same things. We sing, read scripture, participate in liturgy, hear the word preached, and respond to the word by our offerings, Eucharist, or an invitation to the altar. For some, this weekly ritual is deeply moving and helps them to connect more with the divine and then to share the love and grace of the divine with the world. For others, worship is a time to spend with friends, to sing, or is simply a part of their weekly schedule, but it has no real impact on what happens in their life after noon on Sunday.

In this week’s text, the people have returned to exile and found themselves in the same worship rut they were in decades before. The people appear to be very religious. They seek God’s presence and delight in drawing near to God (v. 2) and they fast often (v. 3). In some ancient religions fasting was done so that the deity would hear the people’s voices, and the Israelites seem to have fallen back into those traditions. They complain because God does not answer their fasting or their sitting in ash and sackcloth. Isaiah, writing in the voice of God, says the fasting they do is not one that God chooses as acceptable. Their fast and worship is self-serving. It does not loose the bonds of injustice (v. 6) or provide for the needs of the hungry, poor, and naked (v. 7). This text shows that what matters most to God, and what God demands, is worship that leads us to acts of justice and liberation. Isaiah says worship should lead the faithful to care for the hurting of the world.

Part of our job as preachers is to invite our congregations into transformative worship, but before worship can be transformative we have to ask why is it we worship anyway. Are we here because it is a habit or because we want to be guided by God to satisfy the needs of the broken (v. 10)? This week, I suggest sharing the struggle of Isaiah’s people. Ask those hard questions Isaiah asks: “Do you fast and still oppress your workers?” or with more modern language: “Do you fast and still support corporations who do not pay a living wage?” “Do you worship and bow down in atonement only to get up and ignore the hungry, homeless, and oppressed?” After all, we are not just preachers who proclaim good news to our congregations, but good news to all of creation, which sometimes feels like bad news to our own people. Isaiah declares that if you worship and inhale love and grace so that you can go forth to exhale God’s love and grace to a broken world, then you will find yourself made whole (v. 11), and you will be called “restorer” (v. 12).

One congregation who encompasses Isaiah’s vision for the worshipping body is St. Mark’s United Methodist Church in New Orleans. It is a fairly small church and more than half of its attendees are experiencing housing and food insecurity. Each week the congregation gathers, some in dress clothes and others in dirty clothes they have been wearing for days, to sing, pray, and be together. It is nearly impossible to attend worship there without feeling transformed, without being led to participate in acts of justice. After worship, the people share a meal together and others experiencing homelessness or addiction are found in the area and invited into share in lunch. Together this congregation is transformed by worship, led to break bonds of injustice, and seeking to let the light of God break forth in dark places (v. 8). May it be so for us all.

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The Rev. AnnaKate Rawles

The Rev. AnnaKate Rawles earned a BA in Literature and Religion from Converse College, Master of Divinity from Candler School of Theology,  and a certificate for theology in ministry from Cambridge University. She is an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church and is currently serving as Associate Pastor at St James Atlanta United Methodist Church. She is passionate about full inclusion of LGBTQ persons in the Church, conservation efforts especially around endangered and at risk animals, and sustainability and creation care at home and in the local church. She enjoys traveling, volunteering at Zoo Atlanta, and spending time with her husband Brian Trepanier and their pets Merlin and Arthur.

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).

Proper 27(C): This Blog is (NOT) about Marriage

***EDITOR’S NOTE: This post was originally posted for Proper 27(C) in 2016.***

Proper 27(C): This Blog is (NOT) about Marriage

Luke 20:27-38

By: The Rev. William Culpepper

In the introduction to his book “Sex God,” Rob Bell assures us that “this” really is about “that”—meaning  that the book really is about sex, even if it the particular chapter or section didn’t seem to be. It was a particularly good point to make at the beginning of the book because sometimes I found myself reading and asking was “this” really about “that”? And I find myself asking the same thing here: was the Sadducees’ question really about “this”? And was Jesus’ answer really about “that”?

I’m not talking about sex here (although I’m sure there is a commentary out there that does, given that the institution of marriage and sexual intercourse were so tightly bound during this time and in this culture.) But I do want to know what the Sadducees are getting at. Are they asking about marriage? If so, is this an intellectually curious question that has no real answer since we have no idea about the laws of marriage in the next life. Are they asking about resurrection? If so, are they honestly asking or seeking to undermine the teachings of Jesus since they do not believe in resurrection (verse 27)?

Is this some sort of mega-Schrödinger situation in which the woman is both dead and alive and also married to one brother and all of the brothers?

And then there is Jesus’ answer. What is he getting at? Does he adequately answer the question or is this one of those situations where Jesus seems to know more than we do and acts counter to what we would think he would do?

Is this question really about that? Is the answer really addressing that?

Let’s crack these hypotheticals by looking at the person of Luke. This story is included in both Matthew (22:23-33) and Mark (12:18-27), but Luke leaves out something that is included by both Matthew and Mark. In the other two gospels, Jesus begins his response by calling into question the Sadducees’ knowledge of both Scripture and the power of God. Luke probably doesn’t include this little detail because he is writing to a primarily Gentile audience, while the others are writing to primarily Jewish audiences. Instead, Luke begins Jesus response by saying “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage but those who are considered worthy of a place in that and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.” (v. 34-35)

Jesus’ answer is about this and that.

But the ‘this’ and ‘that’ isn’t marriage.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ is life and death.

“Let’s step away from the hypothetical and into what matters,” says Jesus. Stop asking about a situation that probably never happened and start looking at one that happens everyday. Start asking about the difference between death and life. That is what the Sadducees were missing, and maybe that is what Jesus was referring in those interlinear passages found in Matthew and Mark. Resurrection is throughout the Scriptures; somehow the Sadducees have missed it.

And with no resurrection there is no way to escape death.

And with no escape from death, what can we hope for in this life?

And yet, God offers life as an escape from death through Jesus Christ.

And yet Jesus is the resurrection.

The Sadducees needed to stop asking about the letter of the law and start seeing the resurrection right before their eyes. They needed to open their dead eyes and see the life that is offered by Christ. Because things are different between this age and that age. And the difference is that we worship not “the God of the dead but of the living” (v. 38)

And those who worship this God experience life.

And those who are living that life experience death.

There is a difference between this and that. It’s resurrection. It’s Jesus.

 

Bill-Culpepper
The Rev. William Culpepper

The Rev. William Culpepper is an ordained Deacon in the South Georgia conference of the United Methodist Church. He currently serves as the Associate Pastor and Youth Minister at a church in downtown Macon, Georgia. With a 2 year old daughter and newborn daughter, he and his wife Lindsey have their hands full but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Proper 25(C): How Bizarre

Proper 25(C): How Bizarre

Luke 18:9-14

By: The Rev. Anna Tew       

We’ve all been there. You get in the car and decide to listen to the radio for a change. The music that comes on takes you back.

:opening guitar riff, with an overlaid Spanish-inspired horn:

Instantly, you’re transported back to the late 1990s as OMC’s “How Bizarre” blasts over the radio. You might be recalling a lot of things in that moment, but as for me, I was a pre-teen in the midst of news I didn’t quite understand about the President and impeachment. I loved the series Animorphs, which planted the seeds of how to accept those who aren’t like me and to fight controlling and dominating powers, no matter how powerless I felt. Oh, and the series was about human teenagers turning into animals. How bizarre.

But then, it was a bizarre time.

I hadn’t yet thought about racial dynamics and policing, and to tell you the truth, I never really listened to the words of “How Bizarre” until 20-something years later, just last week, when the podcast Switched on Pop did a series on 1990s pop.

Brother Pele’s in the back / Sweet Zina’s in the front / Cruisin’ down the freeway in the hot, hot sun / Suddenly red-blue lights flash us from behind / Loud voice booming / Please step out onto the line / Pele preaches words of comfort / Zina just hides her eyes / Policeman taps his shades / Is that a Chevy ’69? / How bizarre.”

With this catchy hit, we all sang along, knowingly or not, to a commentary on race penned by BIPOC: “Every time I look around / It’s in my face.”

You see, it turns out that OMC, the name of the band, stands for Otara Millionaire’s Club. Otara, you might not know, is a suburb of Auckland, New Zealand, where the band is from. The community has Māori origins and has historically been inhabited by Māori and other indigenous peoples. Like many communities of color around the world, it has suffered from European colonization and a subsequent lack of resources. Until the mid-2000s, it had one of the highest crime rates in the country, such that OMC had a hard time booking in New Zealand. Thus, along with the commentary on race and policing, even the band’s name, Otara Millionaire’s Club, is a tongue in cheek commentary. OMC flips our expectations upside down and teaches us some serious, life-or-death lessons, all through a catchy, happy little guitar riff overlaid with a horn.

How bizarre.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us another catchy, feel good story so familiar that we may miss the words. Or, rather, we get so caught up in the words that we miss their meaning. We see “Pharisee” and immediately think of the people we can’t stand. Maybe we see the religious fundamentalists, or the evangelical right. Maybe we see self-righteous white liberals. Whomever you put in the position of Pharisee, however, if it’s not you, the impact you’re getting from the story is the exact opposite of its intent. This story isn’t about pointing fingers; it’s about realizing how righteous you aren’t. Let’s tell it another way.

Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: two people went up to church to pray. One of them, a Lutheran pastor, loved justice, and was very proud of her stances against racism, sexism, and homophobia. The other was a white, straight Republican. He used to be religious, but now, he wasn’t sure, but here he was anyway. The Lutheran pastor, bowing her head in a corner pew, said this: “God, I thank you that I’m not like the NRA members I know, or the racists, or even this guy. I volunteer twice a week. I protest. I’m part of the resistance. I stand for your justice.” But the other guy, standing far off, wept over the state of the world, not sure what to do about it, but sure he had a part in it. He thought over the times in his past where he’d even said openly racist things, when he’d talked over women, when he’d ignored the violence and injustice in the world. “Oh God,” he cried, “Have mercy on me, a sinner!”

“Jesus said, ‘I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted (Luke 18:14).’”

Let’s be clear: this story isn’t supposed to make you feel like a hero. It’s supposed to make you angry.

The tax collectors in the Roman world were the worst. They were seen as traitors, to God and to their people. They stole from their own people to benefit the empire. However much you can’t stand your political enemies today is at least how angry and betrayed the average person felt about tax collectors in first century Palestine.

This story isn’t supposed to make you happy. It’s supposed to make you mad. It’s supposed to turn your expectations upside down and make you take a hard look not only at yourself, but at your perceived enemy. The person who’s supposed to be good comes off looking like an asshole, and the person who’s supposed to be an asshole comes off looking contrite, thoughtful, self-aware, realistic, and ultimately, justified.

How bizarre.

I believe that the future of the world depends on how we treat those that we believe have got it all wrong.

This doesn’t mean that we should all ignore the wrongs done by others. I will not engage in spiritual bypassing, saying that if we’re just nice to those we think have it all wrong, that the world will be a better place. The story doesn’t say the tax collector lived happily ever after, either, or that there was never a reckoning for the injustice he caused.

What I am saying is that Jesus has a tendency to take our expectations — of ourselves and other people and the state of the world — and turn them upside down. It’s Christ who pulls the saint out sinners like us. It’s Christ who transforms death into new life.

So all I’m asking is this: let this story surprise you again. Let “How Bizarre” by OMC surprise you. The ending of that song isn’t a happy one, it’s a bizarre one. “Is that a Chevy ’69?” doesn’t solve racism. It just flips our expectations and surprises us and calls us to think more deeply as to why a traffic stop might be terrifying for BIPOC, and why this ending is bizarre and not as commonplace as a far more tragic ending.

The same is true of the publican and the Pharisee; the guy who has it all right actually has it all wrong. Sometimes the familiar songs and stories lay the hardest truths on us.

So let yourself be surprised, preacher. Stand for justice. See the humanity in others, even when they’ve got it all wrong. Pay attention. Notice when your expectations get flipped.

Let yourself say, at least once a day this whole week: how bizarre.

:guitar riff continues:

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The Rev. Anna Tew

The Rev. Anna Tew is a 30-something Lutheran pastor serving Our Savior’s Lutheran Church (ELCA) in South Hadley, Massachusetts. A product of several places, she was born and grew up in rural Alabama, thinks of Atlanta as home, and lives in and adores New England. In her spare time, Anna enjoys climbing the nearby mountains, traveling, exploring cities and nightlife, and keeping up with politics and pop culture.