The 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time: November 15, 2009
"If you ask the average person to tell you what Christians believe, they can do that. If you ask the average person how Christians live, they are struck silent. We Christians haven't done a very good job showing the world another way of doing life."
These haunting words of Shane Claiborne led to this four-part sermon series on how we can show the world another way of doing life. Two weeks ago I said Christians live like we know there's more-than-enough. Last week I said Christians let go of what we cling to, even if it's what gives us security or meaning or what keeps me able to live our lives in the balcony. We let go of what we cling to so we can jump into the fray, where Jesus stands by us as we pick up the cross and walk with him on the way he calls us.
This morning we look at another way we're called to show the world another way of doing life. Listen for a word from God.
As he often did when he needed time for prayer, Jesus went to Mount Olives. The disciples followed him..Jesus pulled away from them about a stone's throw, knelt down, and prayed, "Abba God, remove this cup from me. But please, not what I want. What do you want?" At once an angel from heaven was at his side, strengthening him. He prayed on all the harder. Sweat, wrung from him like drops of blood, poured off his face.
He got up from prayer, went back to the disciples and found them asleep, drugged by grief. He said, "What business do you have sleeping? Get up. Pray so you won't give in to temptation."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a crowd showed up. Judas, the one from the Twelve, in the lead. He came right up to Jesus to kiss him. Jesus said, "Judas, you would betray the Chosen One with a kiss?"
When those with him saw what was happening, they said, "Rabbi, should we strike them with our swords?" One of them took a swing at the Chief Priest's servant and cut off his right ear. Jesus said, "Stop! No more of this!" Then Jesus touched the servant's ear and healed it (Luke 22.39-51; adapted from The Message � 1993-96, 2001-03, Zondervan).
Up until Wednesday, I was all set to preach a sermon about forgiveness. About how Christians are supposed to forgive, even though it's often very hard to do. I've heard lots of those kinds of sermons. And maybe you have to. And I've given more than a couple of them. And then I came across this book, Beyond Revenge: The Evolution of the Forgiveness Instinct (Michael McCullough, Jossey-Bass, 2008).This book tells me what I don't want to hear. Like to be human is to want revenge. The desire for revenge is not a sickness that can be cured. It's as deeply a part of being human as the desire to forgive. There are some ways to increase the desire to forgive. And some ways to reduce the likelihood people will be vengeful. But the desire for revenge is very real within us Christians, because it's very real in all humans. So we can't talk about forgiveness without talking about the desire for revenge.
I've never heard a sermon about the human desire for revenge. And I've certainly never preached one. But maybe one of the ways we can show the world another way of doing life is by making this a place where we can talk about things like our desire for revenge. We don't have to come in wearing our "everything's fine with me and I'm really ready to forgive everyone" face. We come in as we are. And we feel free to talk about whatever is going on with us - even those things we feel ashamed or embarrassed about. Even those things we don't think Christians should feel.
Mark Twain said, Mark Twain once wrote, "Revenge is wicked, & unchristian & in every way unbecoming..(But it is powerful sweet, anyway)." (Private letter, Dec. 27, 1869). Michael McCullough writes,
"A 21st century paraphrase might read, 'Revenge pays neurochemical dividends.' People who have been harmed by another person are goaded into revenge by a brain system that hands them a promissory note certifying that revenge, when it comes, will make develop a plan for obtaining revenge. When avengers actually see their transgressors experiencing the pain they've planned for them, they get the pleasurable jolt that the seeking system had promised. A hard truth of human nature is that it's often pleasant to watch our enemies suffer, and it's a pleasure that we'll sometimes go to great lengths to acquire. Natural selection's logic here seems pretty easy to comprehend: by paying us back with pleasure, our brains ensure that we'll go to the trouble of seeking the social advantages that come from returning harm for harm. Injustice, modern neuroscience tells us, can make sadists of us all (p. 46).
If the desire for revenge is part of being human, then it's something our evolutionary ancestors experienced as valuable for their survival. How did the desire for revenge help assure them that they'd have lots of grandchildren.and so would thrive as a species? Michael McCullough gives three suggestions.
Say you hurt me or someone who is a member of my family or group. I strike back. That might keep you from acting aggressively toward me again.
Or say that you have seen me take revenge on someone else who hurts me. That might deter you from even thinking about doing anything to me or to someone who's part of my group.
Both of these deal with defending ones honor. Our evolutionary ancestors who make their living herding livestock were willing to take revenge in order to preserve their honor because they knew if they lost their honor they likely would die. You make a living herding sheep or goats or cattle. I don't think you'll do anything to me if I steal your herd. Or someone steals a few of your animals, and you don't do anything to punish that person. You lose honor in my sight. If I want to expand my herd, then I might just go ahead and do that. And then you're left with no livelihood. You and your family might die. So you have to be willing to take revenge against me if you hope to survive. If I'm a farmer and you don't honor me as much, it's not like you can sneak into my field at night and steal all my barley crop. For the herder to be viewed as willing to take revenge was much more a matter of life-and-death than for the farmer.
The third way the desire for revenge may have been something that helped our ancestors survive has to do with people who don't do their fair share. We depend on each other for our survival. And say one of us refuses to do our part. Instead of gathering berries for all of us to put in the common pot, I keep back half of what I collect for my immediate family. Since my selfishness threatens the survival of the whole group, they take revenge out on me. In the hope that the next time I will act on behalf of the common good (p. 49).
How deeply this desire for revenge as a survival mechanism is a part of us is suggested by a study done 10 years ago. Researchers wanted to know why white men in the American South have higher levels of gun violence than white men in the North. And they connected it to where in Europe people's ancestors came from. The Europeans who settled in the American South came from Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. They and their ancestors had made their living as herders. So a couple of centuries later, they still carried this herder honor mentality with them. They felt like any threat to their honor threatened their survival. And if someone witnessed an attack on their honor, the brains of these white Southern men secreted hormones that are tied to stress, dominance, and aggression. They were sure the witness thought they were less manly, courageous, and tough.
Northern men didn't think the witness thought any less of them. Their brains didn't secret these hormones. What was different? Most of the Europeans who settled in the north came England, Germany, and Holland. These Europeans were farmers. They weren't as obsessed with the need to protect their honor by keeping others afraid of them. It's not like someone's going to come onto my farm during the night and steal my barley crop. Farmers weren't as vulnerable as herders. And centuries later, these white Northern men didn't have this sense that someone who someone bump into and curse them. Gun violence today is connected to violated honor rooted in experiences of ancestors hundreds of years go. That's how deeply rooted is the desire for revenge in us (McCullough, p. 54).
Jesus' followers see the temple guards coming to arrest him. They love Jesus. They want to protect him. They have sacrificed everything to follow him. Now everything they have given their lives for is at risk. If Jesus is arrested, he will be executed. And then what will become of them? Not only will he be dead, but the guards see them with Jesus, so it's only a matter of time before they're arrested. So what if Jesus has told them to love their enemies. And to turn the other cheek. They need to act. "Rabbi, should we strike them with our swords?" It's a rhetorical question. Of course they should strike the guards with their swords. Before Jesus has a chance to answer, one of his followers has cut off an enemy's ear. It's about honor. It's about not looking weak. It's about protecting yourself from people who want to hurt you. It's about survival.
But Jesus isn't going there. For him, it's not about protecting his honor or anyone else's honor. For him, it's about showing the world another way of doing life. He knew God was doing something through him that none of his followers could begin to grasp until the first Easter. When the tomb would be empty. And the world would know that with God death couldn't even end life..that God would hold us in love and in life even after we died. So Jesus tells his followers to put away their swords. He heals the ear of the one who has come to arrest him. When Jesus' followers see that he loves this man who has come to arrest him, they run away into the night. They've given up on this Jesus. They don't believe love is stronger than the desire for revenge. They don't believe there's another way of doing life other than violence and revenge.
The Waorani tribe of Ecuador show us Jesus and his forgiveness have the power to tame even the most violent desire for revenge. Micael McCullough tells the story:
"Anthropologists first made contact with the Waorani people of eastern Ecuador in 1958, when they numbered about 600. In short order, the Waorani became renowned in anthropological circles for their ferocity and for the ease with which they spiraled into blood feuds. By the time anthropologists began studying them, revenge was starting to tear this tiny culture apart. Homicide was the leading cause of death among adults, and entire family groups were being wiped out in the blood feuds..
"Then, in an evolutionary nanosecond, the cycles of revenge were stopped in their tracks, and Waorani culture was transformed. Something important had happened.
"That something was the introduction of Christianity by Western missionaries. When the missionaries had arrived back in 1956, five of the missionary men were killed. This encounter set the stage for all that was to come, because the Waorani warriors couldn't understand why the missionaries had refused to use their guns to defend themselves. The fact that the remaining missionaries refused to retaliate after the raid only added to the Waorani's fascination with them. Instead of trying to wreak vengeance on the Waorani, the missionaries wanted to 'save' them.
"The Waorani began to conclude that it was the missionaries' religion, with all its talk of Jesus and love and forgiveness, that made them different. Perhaps this strange religion could help the Waorani solve their own problems with revenge.
"The warriors who killed the five missionaries would be among the earliest adopters of the missionaries' new religion. Then, seeing that Christianity was powerful enough o cause even their fiercest warriors to surrender their grudges, many other Waorani eventually followed suit. By 1973, about 500 Waorani had converted to the Christian faith. They settled into a new community of converts, where they were able to reunite with loved ones, ebjoy protection from old vendettas, and benefit from access to the trade goods that were being imported from the modern world. Of all the benefits that their new way of life afforded them, though, the most appealing were the Christian injunction against revenge and its message of forgiveness. The missionaries encouraged the converts to demonstrate the sincerity of their conversions by surrendering their vendettas (a common mantra of the new converts was 'On behalf of Jesus, do not spear'). As one convert explained, 'Before the [missionaries] came and taught us about God we lived spearing. Back and forth, back and forth we speared, they died. We tried to stop killing. We would say, that's enough, leave off the spearing. Then someone would kill and we would return to killing back and forth. After hearing and believe in God, [my wife] and I told them not to spear on our behalf, no matter how we died. And we ceased killing others back and forth. Just a few years ago when some Waorani men killed my sister, I refused to spear on her behalf. Had I not believed, they would all be dead now'" (pp. 213-14).
Sometimes we don't think the way we live makes any difference. Sometimes we don't think our faith has the power to change the world. "I refused to spear on [my sister's] behalf. Had I not believed, they would all be dead now." Amen.
The 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time: November 8, 2009
This morning is the second in a 4-part series about how we Christians can show the world another way of doing life. Last week we talked about living like we know there’s more than enough.
This morning I want to invite us to show the world that following Jesus means letting go of whatever we cling to, and taking up a cross.
Listen for a Word from God.
Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered, “You are the Messiah.” And Jesus sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
The Gospel of Mark probably was written about 40 years after Jesus was executed and raised from the dead. So the first people who read Mark’s Gospel knew Jesus was the Messiah, which is the Hebrew word for Christ. They knew Jesus was the one sent by God to gather them into a new group of people who would make God’s kingdom real on earth. After Peter has messed up so many times in this Gospel, Mark’s readers can’t believe Peter’s finally said something intelligent. He proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah. They begin to think Jesus wasn’t so short-sighted choosing him to be the rock on which Jesus would build this new kingdom community.
But Peter’s glory doesn’t last long.
Then Jesus began to teach the disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
We can forgive Peter for reacting so violently to Jesus saying he was going to suffer and be killed. It wasn’t in anyone’s playbook that the Messiah would suffer. And it wasn’t in anyone’s playbook that the Messiah would be murdered like a common criminal. Peter expected Jesus the Messiah to lead them into Jerusalem like a conquering army. They’d wipe out everybody working for the Roman Empire. And they’d reclaim the land for God. Peter was expecting a plum political appointment…maybe vice-Messiah or something. Peter thinks Jesus isn’t getting enough sleep. Or he’s eating or drinking something that’s messing with his little grey cells. He’s got to keep Jesus from saying things like this. No one will follow him if they think he’s going to suffer and be killed. Even if he talks about being raised on the third day.
Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross, and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?”
There are 2 billion Christians in the world. Why would so many people choose to follow Jesus when he tells us, If you want to come after me, you must deny yourself, and take up your cross, and follow me (Mark 8.34)? It kind of makes me wonder if we’re paying attention. Why would we choose to follow a Jesus who is so demanding? Maybe we don’t think Jesus was really serious when he said stuff like that…
Or maybe we do. Maybe some of us Christians choose to follow him because we want a Messiah who expects something from us. We want a Messiah who demands everything from us. Because we want our lives to matter. We want to live for something larger than ourselves. And we realize the safe, reasonable, rational ways we’ve lived our lives isn’t working. We show love. We stand up for justice. We are generous. But something’s missing. Our lives are busy and full. But we’re not passionate about what we’re doing.
For some of us Christians, maybe a text like this is why we’re following Jesus. Because we know trying to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow him is what will throw us into the fray. And bring us the kind of lives we want. Not lives that protect us from anything. But lives that hurl us from the safety of the balcony…into a place where there is a cross to pick up. Which may be the riskiest, scariest thing we’ve ever done. But it’s where life is for us. It’s where Jesus is for us. It’s where the path is that will take us into places where we’ve never felt more alive. Where we’ve never felt so much love sucked out of us. And where we’ve never known such joy. And never felt God closer and more in love with us and this amazing world She has made.
Before we can deny ourselves, and take up our cross, and follow, I think we have to be willing to let go of what we cling to. Listen to the refrain of the song the choir sang at the beginning of the service:
As a carpenter, my tools give me my identity. They give me a way to earn money. They give me a sense of purpose. If I let go of my tools, who am I? What am I here for? How will I make a living?
The Pharisees got their identity by believing that the way to love God was to follow the religious rules. That’s what they clung to so they knew what they were living for.
I can regret that I’ve lived most of my life in the balcony. I can regret I’ve been too afraid to jump out of that safe place, and dive into the fray… I can feel like my life is a bit stale and colorless. But as long as I cling to my regrets, then I won’t have enough energy or imagination to bolt out of the balcony. Staying there might mean I’ll always feel like I’m not following Jesus like I want to. But it is familiar. And I can find people who tell me I’m doing something useful with my life. Even if I hunger for so much more.
Denying ourselves means letting go of whatever it is we cling to that lets us stay in the balcony instead of jumping into the fray. As the choir sang,
come leave what you cling to, lay down what you clutch
and find, with hands empty, that hearts can hold much.
When Jesus tells us to deny ourselves, he’s asking, “What are you most afraid of being without? What are you most afraid of being in the world without? That is what might be keeping you from picking up the cross that is yours. That is what might be keeping you from saying Yes to a cross that would bring you the kind of sorrow, frustration, life, and joy you never knew existed. It’s a cross where you’d fall in love with me and feel my love so real you’d burst. So look at what you’re totally afraid of being without. And let it go. Lay it down. And step into my arms. Walk with me and with others who have left the safety of the balc0ny. And jumped into the fray. Terrified to be without what they’ve been clinging to for so long. But together. Arm in arm. Hand in hand. Ready to have their hearts broken. Ready for the love that never comes easy. Ready to help create the miracles that mostly come hard.
Fred Small is a song-writer who writes songs about things that really happened. He listens to
ordinary people talk about their lives. And he shows us what can happen when such ordinary people
let go of what they cling to. And dive into passionate living.
Christians around the world celebrate today as All Saints Day. A person who is a saint for me is Grandma Shull. She and my grandfather were missionaries for 40 years. So they had no money. But everything about her was rich. She knew God had given her so much. And she said thank you to God by giving back. It was like she knew there was more than enough of everything to go around. Until I was well into my 20s, every year for my birthday, Grandma sent me a check for $2. It wasn't the amount that mattered. It was being remembered and loved so richly by her. Around her, I always knew there was more than enough.
Two weeks ago I shared a quote that continues to haunt me. It's by Shane Claiborne, who wrote the book Jesus for President that we're going to start studying together in a week. He said, "If you ask most people what Christians believe, they can tell you....But if you ask the average person how Christians live, they are struck silent. We have not shown the world another way of doing life. Christians pretty much live like everybody else; [we] just sprinkle a little Jesus in along the way" (Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, p. 117). Over the next four weeks, I'd like to talk about four ways that I think we Christians can show the world another way of doing life.
Today, I want us to imagine living like we know there is more than enough.
Even though the Bible is filled with stories about the abundance and extravagance of God, most of the time I don't live like there's more than enough. I don't often live like there's enough time, money, kindness, patience, space, power, imagination, community, or hope. Our economy and our world live the lie that there is not enough. When we believe this lie, we can never have enough. We can never be enough. The gospel of our culture and economy makes us violent, depressed, fearful, anxious, greedy, and willing to destroy the very earth that sustains our life.
If we want a different kind of world, we Christians need to live by God's economy. We need to show the world that there is more than enough.
Our Gospel reading this morning sets up the contrast between our economy and God's economy. The disciples are students of modern economic theory. They take an inventory of the situation. Five thousand hungry people are in the middle of nowhere. There are fives loaves of bread and two fish. It's not a pretty picture. They tell Jesus to send them all back home so they can feed themselves. Jesus, who lives God's economy, sees a totally different picture. He doesn't see the scarcity that the disciples do. And since what we see shapes how we respond, Jesus responds in an utterly outrageous way. He shows everyone around him that with God's power and love, there is more than enough. Much more.
Listen for a word from God.
Jesus and his disciples got in a boat and went off to a remote place by themselves. Someone saw them going and the word got around. From the surrounding town people went on foot, running, and got there ahead of them. When Jesus arrived, he saw this huge crowd. At the sight of them, his heart broke - like sheep with no shepherd they were. He went right to work teaching them.
When his disciples thought this had gone on long enough - it was quite late in the day - they interrupted: "We are a long way out in the country, and it's very late. Pronounce a benediction and send these folks off so they can get some supper."
Jesus said, "You do it. Fix supper for them."
They replied, "Are you serious? You want us to go spend a fortune on food for their supper?"
But he was quite serious. "How many loaves of bread to you have? Take an inventory."
That didn't take long. "Five," they said, "plus two fish."
Jesus got them all to sit down in groups of fifty or a hundred - they looked like a patchwork quilt of wildflowers spread out on the green grass! He took the five loaves and two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread to the disciples. And the disciples in turn gave it to the people. He did the same with the fish. They all ate their fill. The disciples gathered twelve baskets of leftovers. More than five thousand were at the supper.
The story says that when Jesus sees this crowd, his heart broke. He falls in love with these people. He combines this deep love with the power of God. And the 5000 are filled. With more than enough to go around. The key is what Jesus does with the bread and the fish. He takes it, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it. Do you remember any other time in the Gospels when Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it? At the last supper. This is a story about communion and Eucharist. It's not a story about some supernatural multiplication of a tiny bit of food. And I don't believe it's a story about all these people sharing what they brought so everyone would have enough. Jesus came to announce that God's kingdom of joy and justice was present here and now in him, and tell us that that this kingdom can come alive through us as well. So we need the faith and the imagination, we need to believe in God's power and love so much, that we can look at a situation our culture would call hopeless. And instead see more than enough to go around.
Three stories about not enough and more than enough.
Princeton seminary wanted to find out what makes people most likely to help a stranger in need. So they did a study looking at three variables. One was why the person went to seminary. Were they more interested in the work of a pastor, or in finding ways to live their faith in their day-to-day lives? Second was what they'd been studying most recently. Half the group was put in a class where they had to prepare a presentation on issues around ordination to the ministry. The other half was preparing presentations on the story of the Good Samaritan - the story where the only person who stops to help someone in need is the arch-enemy of the needy one. The third variable had to do with time. In the class before their presentations on ordination or the Good Samaritan parable, half the group was told by the teacher, "Oh, I've kept you too long. You need to get to the next building for your presentations as quickly as you can." The other half of the sample was told before they had to go to the next building for their presentations, "We've finished a little early today. So you've got plenty of time to get there."
Both sets of students were sent off to the other building. Along the way, each student came across a man slumped in an alley, head down, eyes closed, coughing and groaning.
The researchers wanted to know which students were most likely to stop and help the man in need.
People familiar with the study predicted the same thing. They said the students who would stop to help the hurting man would be the ones who had entered seminary because they wanted to live out their faith by helping people, and the ones who had been studying the Good Samaritan parable.
They were wrong. The only thing that determined whether students stopped to help was whether they felt like they had enough time Some of the students who were on their way to do a presentation on the Good Samaritan stepped over the man slumped across their path. Of the students who were told they were late to their presentations, only ten percent stopped to help. Ninety percent of them didn't think there was enough time to help this person. Of the students who felt they had enough time, 63% stopped to help. Feeling like there wasn't enough time led people normally compassionate people to withhold love from someone in need (summary from Malcolm Gladwell, The Tipping Point, p. 165).
A second story.
Shane Claiborne is part of a community called The Simple Way. This group of adults and children live in an area of Philadelphia which most of us wouldn't walk through in broad daylight, let alone move into. Here is what Claiborne says he has learned from his neighbors about how to move from not enough to more than enough.
"One of our neighbors owns a pizza parlor around the corner. The owner and his family are from Afghanistan, and during the war his loved ones became refugees. He heard about our efforts for peace, bringing attention to the desperate situation in Afghanistan. He made our pizzas with love and joy, sincerely thanking us for what we do. And he always told us to name our own price, for money was irrelevant.
"A family very dear to our hearts own the Josefina minimart across the street from us. Over the years we have become inseparable. The kids come over for homework, participate in our theater camp, and beat us at Skip-Bo (though they cheat sometimes). We helped rehab their house; they helped teach us Spanish. Oftentimes they need transportation to restock the store or pick up the kids. We found that we could insure them (actually at no extra cost) under our policy. So we share cars and resources, and they never take our money for groceries. We are not good Samaritans, nor are we an efficient non-profit provider. We are family with them, and money has lost its relevance" (Shane Claiborne, "Mark 2: Sharing Economic Resources with Fellow community Members and the Needy Among Us," The Rutba House, School(s) for Conversion: 12 Marks of a New Monasticism, Cascade Books, 2005, p. 36).
The gospel of our culture and economy would look at this block in Philadelphia and see blighted, hopeless, not enough. But the people who live on this block see something else. Because they have fallen in love with each other. They listen to the gospel of God's economy. Filled with the love and power of God, they live like there is always more than enough.
The third story is about a guy at the Recovery Caf� I'll call Gregory.
At the Recovery Caf�, I facilitate a weekly support group. Last Friday during the check-in time, Gregory said, "I can't imagine being happier than I am right now. I passed my tests to become a volunteer at the Seattle Aquarium. On my third test, I needed an 80 to pass, and I got an 81. And seeing all the kids at the aquarium, I've realized what I want to do with my life. I want to be an elementary school teacher. I think I'd love to do that." The week before, one of the members of the Recovery Circle had talked about the Lupus fundraising walk he'd been organizing. And the next day, Gregory was at the walk. Soaking wet from that morning's downpour. Without any sponsors. But ready to do the walk. To show his friend he had enough time and love to share.
By any measure, Gregory has had a very hard life. He lives in a shelter. He lives with mental illness. He lives with cocaine and alcohol abuse. And.Gregory seems to be living by God's economy. Because where most of us would look at a life and see depressing, bleak, hopeless, Gregory looks at his life, and sees, "I can't imagine being happier than I am right now." He sees so much more than enough, he has to share it.
Standing in the middle of nowhere before 5000 hungry, tired people, Jesus took next-to-no amount of food. He lifted it to God, he broke it, he gave it to them. And there ended up being so much more than enough. That is God's economy. Where we live by the assurance that when God's power and love fill us, we always know there is more than enough. Some Princeton students show us that we are more loving when we live knowing there's more than enough time. The community of The Simple Way, some Afghani pizza makers, and the Mexican owners of a minimart have fallen in love with each other. So they are rich with more than enough.though they have no money. Because he isn't used to having very much, Gregory can look at a life many of us would see as lacking so much, and say, "I can't imagine being happier than I am right now."
May these living saints teach us how to live knowing there is more than enough. There is much more than enough. Amen.
The 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time - October 25, 2009
Last Sunday, I said God's love is the strongest force in creation. And I said God's love fills us and carries us into the world to show the world another way of doing life (italicized image from Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, p. 117). To live in the way of Jesus - with compassion, non-violence, forgiveness, and justice.
In response to that sermon, one of you told me this week, "The notion of God's love is kind of a big umbrella." Which is why this morning I want to focus on God's love some more. And ask the question, When is God and God's love most real for us?
I think God is most real for us when we are doing what God calls us to do. When you and I are doing whatever God has put us on this earth to do, that is when God feels closest to us. When God's deepest desire for us is our deepest desire, and we're committed to make that desire real, then God is most real to us. At such times, God isn't just a concept. We don't just talk about God, or think about God. We don't wonder if God exists. When we're doing what God made us to do, we are so alive that we feel God totally alive in us. When we feel God really alive in us, God fills us and carries us out into the world. God's love flows through us bring light to a dark place in the world. To water a thirsty place.
The Gospels tell us Jesus is God with skin on. Jesus' call is to carry God's light and water into this world. Jesus does that in lost of different ways. He heals and teaches. He talks and eats with people everyone else curses or ignores. Jesus speaks hard truths in love. Though he is God's love, many people still reject him. We reject him because the truth makes us uncomfortable. And when Jesus speaks the truth to us in love, it makes us really uncomfortable. Because we can't attack Jesus' motives. So to avoid having to accept the truth, and make the changes that the message demands, we come up with a reason to reject the messenger. Then we don't have to pay attention to the message. We don't have to examine our lives. We don't have to change.
In our Gospel story for this morning, that's what the people who've known Jesus since he was a baby do. They reject the messenger. So Jesus has to decide what to do. Do I try to please the hometown crowd by giving them the power to limit how I follow God's call? Or will I keep doing what I believe God wants me to do?
Listen for a Word from God.
Jesus, Peter, James, and John left Jairus' house and went back to Nazareth. On the Sabbath, he gave a lecture in the synagogue. He made a real hit, impressing everyone. "We had no idea he was this good!" they said. "How did he get so wise all of a sudden? How did he get this ability?"
But in the next breath, they were cutting him down. "He's just a carpenter - Mary's boy. We've known him since he was a kid. We know his brothers, James, Justus, Jude, and Simon, and his sisters. Who does he think he is?" They tripped over what little they knew about him and fell, sprawling. And they never got any further.
Jesus told them, "Prophets have little honor in their hometown, among their relatives, on the streets they played in as children." Jesus wasn't able to do much of anything there - he laid hands on a few sick people and healed them, that's all. He couldn't get over their stubbornness. He left and made a circuit of the other villages, teaching (Mark 6.1-6, adapted from The Message � 1993-96, 2000-02. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group).
For a while, the hometown crowd is so proud of him. They tell everyone who visits Nazareth, "You know Jesus is from here, right? I've known him when he was knee-high to a scorpion." So they listen to him speak in the synagogue. And they're amazed at his wisdom. Each one wonders, "Maybe he learned that from me."
But as they listen more, they start to realize something. Jesus is telling them God fills them and carries them out into the world. Jesus is telling them they need to show the world another way of doing life. God's love flowing through them asserts that no one is unclean. And they will welcome whoever is in need. God's love flowing through them asserts that they are to love their enemies and never react to violence with violence. And the hometown crowd decides that's not how they want to live, thank you very much. So they turn on Jesus. "Jesus, who are you to talk to us about what God wants? Who do you think you are, Jesus?"
All Jesus is trying to do is live like God wants him to live. He's just trying to follow God's call. And be light and water for a dark and thirsty world. But the people who've known him the longest are doing everything they can to get him to ignore God's call. They're not cheering him on. They're not supporting him as he tries to live his life like God wants him to. They're not reminding him his name is Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy. They don't like what he's saying. So they're trying to convince him his job is to make them feel happy and unthreatened. They're trying to limit him to grow into their image of him. They don't care what he feels God wants for him. They just know who they want him to be. So when he says and does things they don't like or expect, they reject him. Be like we want you to be, they say. Or get outta town.
So Jesus has to choose. Do I stay with these people who raised me.and let them decide what God calls me to do with my life? Or do I change my relationship with them.and create a new family made up of those who truly are my people? Do I leave the people I grew up around, and create a new family? A family who reminds me I am most fully me when I am most fully doing what God made me to do? This is the choice Jesus needs to make. The end of this morning's story tells us what he decides: "[Jesus] couldn't get over their stubbornness. He left and made a circuit of the other villages, teaching" (Mark 6.6).
If someone asked you today, "What is God calling you to do with your life?", how would you answer? What do you most truly and deeply want when you are most really and truly you? When you are at your best, what is it that you most truly desire (John Neafsey, A Sacred Voice is Calling, Orbis Press, 2006, p. 78)? This is what gives you a glimpse of God's desire for you. That is what gives you a glimpse of what God wants for your life. When you're doing this is when God feels most alive to you. And when God's presence is filling and carrying you. So God's love flows out of you. To bring light to a dark world. And water to a thirsty world.
Hearing God's call can be hard. And following it can be harder. A lot of us aren't very much in touch with our deepest desires. As a Christian writer says, "Our strongest feelings revolve around our wants and desires, and we have been taught since our first summer to give these only slight attention, so that when we thing about drawing close to our real longings we have feelings of guilt and shame. It is as though our deepest wishes were unworthy and, if pursued, would get us into all kinds of trouble, and at the very least cause us to feel or be called selfish. The opposite, of course, is true" (Elizabeth O'Connor, Cry Pain, Cry Hope, Word Books, 1987, p. 82). It is selfish not to touch our deepest desires. Because unless we do that, we will never know God's desire for us. And then our lives are limited to our shallow desires, or to what others desire us to be.
I think the church needs to be the group of people who helps us get in touch with our deepest desires. Church needs to be the group of people who encourages us to feel God stirring inside us. The people who remind us what our gifts are. The church needs to remind us who we are. Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy.
This is the church's work. This is our joy. To create ways we can get to know each other so well that we know each other's desires and dreams, each other's brokenness and beauty. So we can remind each other that every one of us is named Beloved. And every one of us, no matter our age or condition, has a call from God to make real. We remind each other God is not served by small dreams and timid disciples. So we give each other whatever each of us needs. To be fully alive in our following Jesus. A story from the fourth century tells the church what we need to do for each other. [The very cautious] Abbot Lot came to Abbot Joseph and said: 'Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, my meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do?' The elder [monk] rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: 'Why not be changed totally into fire?' (John Neafsey, A Sacred Voice is Calling, Orbis Press, 2006, p. 80).
We're taught to be afraid of fire. Maybe that's because people know if we catch fire, they won't be able to control us and confine us to who they want us to be. But when we let ourselves be changed totally into fire.when we're so passionate about something we're on fire, then we're fully alive. Then we're in touch with our desires. We become fully alive. And God becomes fully alive in us. Filling us, carrying us into this world. To make God's call real.
The miraculous thing about following God's call is that, while we're bringing light and water to a hurting place in the world, hurting places in us are being healed at the same time. Filled with God, carried by God, we live our deepest desire. And God multiplies healing through us.
I learned this again last Thursday working at the Recovery Caf�. I am helping to teach a class there on having healthy relationships. There's a woman in the class I'll call Gloria. She never talks when the whole class is meeting; she'll say a few words when we break into small groups. Last Thursday we were talking about building and keeping healthy boundaries. I wasn't teaching the class that day. At one point, I noticed she had her elbow on the table, and was holding her pen up. She actually wanted to say something when the whole class was together. The facilitator that day didn't notice her pen up. Someone else in the class did, though, and pointed it out. Gloria said, "I'm crying out for help. I don't know anything about setting boundaries. And I am desperate to be able to do that." Then she put her arms on the table, and put her face into her arms, and cried quietly. We were quiet for a moment, until it became clear Gloria didn't want us to focus on her. So we went on. After four or five minutes, Gloria got up and left the room. I went out after her. When she came out of the bathroom, I asked her if she wanted to sit down and talk. She said she did.
She talked about how hard it was to be in the class. She said, "I don't know anything about setting boundaries. And when someone talked about child abuse, all I could think of was how my dad abused me from when I was little up until the day before my wedding. My parents didn't teach me anything about setting boundaries. I wonder if it's too late for me to learn."
I said, "Gloria, I don't know who has taught you the lie that you don't know how to create boundaries. You raised your hand in the class. That was a boundary. You kept your hand up when the leader of the class didn't see you. When you were called on, you decided to speak. After you spoke, and you started crying, you stayed in the room." At that point, Gloria interrupted me and said, "Yeah, before I've always left a room when I started to cry. I didn't want anybody to see me." I said, "Exactly. And this time you stayed. That was a boundary. And after a while, you decided you would be more comfortable leaving the room. That was a boundary. And when I asked you if you wanted to talk, and you said you did, that was a boundary. It seems to me like you know a whole lot about creating boundaries."
Then Gloria started talking about how one of her husbands started looking at her kids like her dad looked at her when he started to abuse her. And she told that husband to leave. She divorced him. I said, "And you don't think you know how to set boundaries? Who told you that lie? It sounds like you've been creating boundaries for 20 years." Gloria smiled at me. And said, "Actually, it's been more like 29 years!"
For Gloria, the Caf� is kind of like church. The Caf� is one of the few places in her life where people remind her who she is. Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy. And that love helps her go deep inside. And touch God's desire for her. God is calling her to teach others about how to create boundaries. God is calling her to stop believing the lie that she doesn't know how to set boundaries. And to feel God filling her and carrying her. So she can go out into the Caf�, and show us how it's done. And be healed of some of her fears and brokenness at the same time. Gloria is my teacher about boundaries. And about the miracles that happen when people who love us encourage us to go deep inside. And let God's desire become our desire. And catch fire to make that desire real.
Henry David Thoreau said most people "lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them" (Neafsey, p. 175). No one in this room, no one who comes into this body of Christ, should go to their grave with God's song still in them. Because we are here to remind each other who each of us is. We are here to help each other catch fire, and come alive. So we feel God alive in us. Because when we catch fire, when we are fully alive, no force on earth or in heaven can silence our song.
The 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – October 25, 2009
Last Sunday, I said God’s love is the strongest force in creation. And I said God’s love fills us and carries us into the world to show the world another way of doing life (italicized image from Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, p. 117). To live in the way of Jesus – with compassion, non-violence, forgiveness, and justice.
In response to that sermon, one of you told me this week, “The notion of God’s love is kind of a big umbrella.” Which is why this morning I want to focus on God’s love some more. And ask the question, When is God and God’s love most real for us?
I think God is most real for us when we are doing what God calls us to do. When you and I are doing whatever God has put us on this earth to do, that is when God feels closest to us. When God’s deepest desire for us is our deepest desire, and we’re committed to make that desire real, then God is most real to us. At such times, God isn’t just a concept. We don’t just talk about God, or think about God. We don’t wonder if God exists. When we’re doing what God made us to do, we are so alive that we feel God totally alive in us. When we feel God really alive in us, God fills us and carries us out into the world. God’s love flows through us bring light to a dark place in the world. To water a thirsty place.
The Gospels tell us Jesus is God with skin on. Jesus’ call is to carry God’s light and water into this world. Jesus does that in lost of different ways. He heals and teaches. He talks and eats with people everyone else curses or ignores. Jesus speaks hard truths in love. Though he is God’s love, many people still reject him. We reject him because the truth makes us uncomfortable. And when Jesus speaks the truth to us in love, it makes us really uncomfortable. Because we can’t attack Jesus’ motives. So to avoid having to accept the truth, and make the changes that the message demands, we come up with a reason to reject the messenger. Then we don’t have to pay attention to the message. We don’t have to examine our lives. We don’t have to change.
In our Gospel story for this morning, that’s what the people who’ve known Jesus since he was a baby do. They reject the messenger. So Jesus has to decide what to do. Do I try to please the hometown crowd by giving them the power to limit how I follow God’s call? Or will I keep doing what I believe God wants me to do?
Listen for a Word from God.
Jesus, Peter, James, and John left Jairus’ house and went back to Nazareth. On the Sabbath, he gave a lecture in the synagogue. He made a real hit, impressing everyone. “We had no idea he was this good!” they said. “How did he get so wise all of a sudden? How did he get this ability?”
But in the next breath, they were cutting him down. “He’s just a carpenter – Mary’s boy. We’ve known him since he was a kid. We know his brothers, James, Justus, Jude, and Simon, and his sisters. Who does he think he is?” They tripped over what little they knew about him and fell, sprawling. And they never got any further.
For a while, the hometown crowd is so proud of him. They tell everyone who visits Nazareth, “You know Jesus is from here, right? I’ve known him when he was knee-high to a scorpion.” So they listen to him speak in the synagogue. And they’re amazed at his wisdom. Each one wonders, “Maybe he learned that from me…”
But as they listen more, they start to realize something. Jesus is telling them God fills them and carries them out into the world. Jesus is telling them they need to show the world another way of doing life. God’s love flowing through them asserts that no one is unclean. And they will welcome whoever is in need. God’s love flowing through them asserts that they are to love their enemies and never react to violence with violence. And the hometown crowd decides that’s not how they want to live, thank you very much. So they turn on Jesus. “Jesus, who are you to talk to us about what God wants? Who do you think you are, Jesus?”
All Jesus is trying to do is live like God wants him to live. He’s just trying to follow God’s call. And be light and water for a dark and thirsty world. But the people who’ve known him the longest are doing everything they can to get him to ignore God’s call. They’re not cheering him on. They’re not supporting him as he tries to live his life like God wants him to. They’re not reminding him his name is Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy. They don’t like what he’s saying. So they’re trying to convince him his job is to make them feel happy and unthreatened. They’re trying to limit him to grow into their image of him. They don’t care what he feels God wants for him. They just know who they want him to be. So when he says and does things they don’t like or expect, they reject him. Be like we want you to be, they say. Or get outta town.
So Jesus has to choose. Do I stay with these people who raised me…and let them decide what God calls me to do with my life? Or do I change my relationship with them…and create a new family made up of those who truly are my people? Do I leave the people I grew up around, and create a new family? A family who reminds me I am most fully me when I am most fully doing what God made me to do? This is the choice Jesus needs to make. The end of this morning’s story tells us what he decides: “[Jesus] couldn’t get over their stubbornness. He left and made a circuit of the other villages, teaching” (Mark 6.6).
If someone asked you today, “What is God calling you to do with your life?”, how would you answer? What do you most truly and deeply want when you are most really and truly you? When you are at your best, what is it that you most truly desire (John Neafsey, A Sacred Voice is Calling, Orbis Press, 2006, p. 78)? This is what gives you a glimpse of God’s desire for you. That is what gives you a glimpse of what God wants for your life. When you’re doing this is when God feels most alive to you. And when God’s presence is filling and carrying you. So God’s love flows out of you. To bring light to a dark world. And water to a thirsty world.
Hearing God’s call can be hard. And following it can be harder. A lot of us aren’t very much in touch with our deepest desires. As a Christian writer says, “Our strongest feelings revolve around our wants and desires, and we have been taught since our first summer to give these only slight attention, so that when we thing about drawing close to our real longings we have feelings of guilt and shame. It is as though our deepest wishes were unworthy and, if pursued, would get us into all kinds of trouble, and at the very least cause us to feel or be called selfish. The opposite, of course, is true” (Elizabeth O’Connor, Cry Pain, Cry Hope, Word Books, 1987, p. 82). It is selfish not to touch our deepest desires. Because unless we do that, we will never know God’s desire for us. And then our lives are limited to our shallow desires, or to what others desire us to be.
I think the church needs to be the group of people who helps us get in touch with our deepest desires. Church needs to be the group of people who encourages us to feel God stirring inside us. The people who remind us what our gifts are. The church needs to remind us who we are. Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy.
This is the church’s work. This is our joy. To create ways we can get to know each other so well that we know each other’s desires and dreams, each other’s brokenness and beauty. So we can remind each other that every one of us is named Beloved. And every one of us, no matter our age or condition, has a call from God to make real. We remind each other God is not served by small dreams and timid disciples. So we give each other whatever each of us needs. To be fully alive in our following Jesus. A story from the fourth century tells the church what we need to do for each other. [The very cautious] Abbot Lot came to Abbot Joseph and said: ‘Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, my meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do?’ The elder [monk] rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: ‘Why not be changed totally into fire?’ (John Neafsey, A Sacred Voice is Calling, Orbis Press, 2006, p. 80).
We’re taught to be afraid of fire. Maybe that’s because people know if we catch fire, they won’t be able to control us and confine us to who they want us to be. But when we let ourselves be changed totally into fire…when we’re so passionate about something we’re on fire, then we’re fully alive. Then we’re in touch with our desires. We become fully alive. And God becomes fully alive in us. Filling us, carrying us into this world. To make God’s call real.
The miraculous thing about following God’s call is that, while we’re bringing light and water to a hurting place in the world, hurting places in us are being healed at the same time. Filled with God, carried by God, we live our deepest desire. And God multiplies healing through us.
I learned this again last Thursday working at the Recovery Café. I am helping to teach a class there on having healthy relationships. There’s a woman in the class I’ll call Gloria. She never talks when the whole class is meeting; she’ll say a few words when we break into small groups. Last Thursday we were talking about building and keeping healthy boundaries. I wasn’t teaching the class that day. At one point, I noticed she had her elbow on the table, and was holding her pen up. She actually wanted to say something when the whole class was together. The facilitator that day didn’t notice her pen up. Someone else in the class did, though, and pointed it out. Gloria said, “I’m crying out for help. I don’t know anything about setting boundaries. And I am desperate to be able to do that.” Then she put her arms on the table, and put her face into her arms, and cried quietly. We were quiet for a moment, until it became clear Gloria didn’t want us to focus on her. So we went on. After four or five minutes, Gloria got up and left the room. I went out after her. When she came out of the bathroom, I asked her if she wanted to sit down and talk. She said she did.
She talked about how hard it was to be in the class. She said, “I don’t know anything about setting boundaries. And when someone talked about child abuse, all I could think of was how my dad abused me from when I was little up until the day before my wedding. My parents didn’t teach me anything about setting boundaries. I wonder if it’s too late for me to learn.”
I said, “Gloria, I don’t know who has taught you the lie that you don’t know how to create boundaries. You raised your hand in the class. That was a boundary. You kept your hand up when the leader of the class didn’t see you. When you were called on, you decided to speak. After you spoke, and you started crying, you stayed in the room.” At that point, Gloria interrupted me and said, “Yeah, before I’ve always left a room when I started to cry. I didn’t want anybody to see me.” I said, “Exactly. And this time you stayed. That was a boundary. And after a while, you decided you would be more comfortable leaving the room. That was a boundary. And when I asked you if you wanted to talk, and you said you did, that was a boundary. It seems to me like you know a whole lot about creating boundaries.”
Then Gloria started talking about how one of her husbands started looking at her kids like her dad looked at her when he started to abuse her. And she told that husband to leave. She divorced him. I said, “And you don’t think you know how to set boundaries? Who told you that lie? It sounds like you’ve been creating boundaries for 20 years.” Gloria smiled at me. And said, “Actually, it’s been more like 29 years!”
For Gloria, the Café is kind of like church. The Café is one of the few places in her life where people remind her who she is. Beloved, Graced, Gifted, Holy. And that love helps her go deep inside. And touch God’s desire for her. God is calling her to teach others about how to create boundaries. God is calling her to stop believing the lie that she doesn’t know how to set boundaries. And to feel God filling her and carrying her. So she can go out into the Café, and show us how it’s done. And be healed of some of her fears and brokenness at the same time. Gloria is my teacher about boundaries. And about the miracles that happen when people who love us encourage us to go deep inside. And let God’s desire become our desire. And catch fire to make that desire real.
Henry David Thoreau said most people “lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them” (Neafsey, p. 175). No one in this room, no one who comes into this body of Christ, should go to their grave with God’s song still in them. Because we are here to remind each other who each of us is. We are here to help each other catch fire, and come alive. So we feel God alive in us. Because when we catch fire, when we are fully alive, no force on earth or in heaven can silence our song.
(Mark 5.32.43) A sermon preached by Dave Shull Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ Sammamish, Washington The 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time – October 18, 2009
One of the reading assignments for the program I attended in North Carolina last weekend was by a young man named Shane Claiborne. He wrote the book we're going to start discussing pretty soon on Monday nights. Claiborne writes, "If you ask most people what Christians believe, they can tell you, 'Christians believe that Jesus is God's Son and that Jesus rose from the dead.' But if you ask the average person how Christians live, they are struck silent. We have not shown the world another way of doing life. Christians pretty much live like everybody else; [we] just sprinkle a little Jesus in along the way" (Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, p. 117).
Even though that was how the 40-page chapter we were supposed to read started, as soon as I read it, I had to put the book down. If you ask most people what Christians believe, they can tell you….But if you ask the average person how Christians live, they are struck silent. We have not shown the world another way of doing life. I had to put the book down because I knew he was right. And I was afraid of what he was going to say next about how we Christians might show the world another way of doing life. Besides just sprinkling a little Jesus in along the way.
This morning, we conclude the gospel story we started two weeks ago. A president of the local synagogue named Jairus pleads for Jesus to come to his house to heal his gravely ill daughter. As they are going to Jairus' house, a large crowd follows them. From the middle of the crowd, an unnamed woman with an unstoppable flow of blood sneaks up behind Jesus and touches his cloak. She is certain that if she only touches his cloak, she'll be healed. But she doesn't want him to notice her. Because Jewish law names her Unclean, and anyone she touches becomes unclean as well. But as soon as she touches him, Jesus feels power drain from him. So Jesus calls out, "Who touched me?" And the woman has to make a decision as to what to do. That is where we pick up the story.
In this story, both the unnamed woman and Jairus are afraid. And, for both of them, the love of God is stronger than anything they fear. The love of God fills and carries them. So they can show their neighbors in Capernaum another way of doing life.
The woman is afraid of going out in public. Her neighbors know she has been bleeding, and so she's unclean. She's afraid if they see her they will curse her or spit at her. And she's afraid that if Jesus realizes she has touched him, he'll become furious with her. Because by touching him, she has made him unclean. But the love of God fills this unnamed woman. The love of God carries her out of her isolation into the streets. God's love is stronger than any purity laws that define anyone as unclean. God's love is stronger than any fear she has of being shamed, or being the object of Jesus' anger at being made unclean by her.
And Jairus is afraid. Two weeks ago we read how he fell before Jesus' feet and pleaded for Jesus to heal his gravely-ill daughter. Jairus is a president of the local synagogue. Other leaders of this synagogue at that moment are plotting with others to find a legal way to kill Jesus. If they find out that Jairus has publicly acknowledged his faith in Jesus' power to heal, they will probably fire him. And Jairus will lose his honor. Which in first-century Palestine is the same as being dead. But the God's love fills Jairus. God's love carries him to come to Jesus. That love is stronger than his fear of losing his job. That love is stronger than any code of honor. That love of God is the love he feels for his daughter. And that love for her leads him to risk everything to have her healed.
Because God's love in her was stronger than any other power, this unnamed woman is free. For the first time in 12 years, she is not bleeding. But now Jesus knows someone touched him. And this woman has to decide what to do. She could have made it back home without him ever finding out. But maybe this love of God that fills and carries her also led her not to fear honesty even when that is risky. So she decides to tell the hard truth. The story says the woman approaches Jesus fearing and trembling. She falls on her knees before Jesus. And she waits for his angry, shaming response to having been made unclean by her. And the crowd's looking forward to him shaming her. That's how they do life. Shaming people when they forget who they are, when they don't play by the rules.
But the love of God is always about another way of doing life. So Jesus does not shame this woman. Instead he calls her, "Daughter." A woman whom no one has touched for the 12 years of her uncleanness hears Jesus call her Daughter. He invites her into his family. Where people practice another way of doing life. Because everyone is declared clean, everyone is welcome, everyone is cherished, everyone has a place.
We don't have time to celebrate the new life Jesus' love offers this woman. Because messengers from Jairus' home arrive with the worst possible news. "Your daughter has died. Why bother the Teacher any further?" Then Jesus says something utterly outrageous. "Don't be afraid, just keep on believing." How is this grief-stricken father not supposed to be afraid? He has risked everything for his daughter, and now it seems to have been for nothing. His life is falling apart around him. And all Jesus can say is, "Don't be afraid, just keep on believing"?
What I hear Jesus saying is that God's love is the most powerful force in the world. It is even more powerful than death. Easter's empty tomb shouts to all who will hear that God's love is stronger than any evil, any violence, any empire, any brokenness, any fear, any death. If Christians walked together through this world, confident that God's love fills us and carries us, and confident that love is the most powerful force in the world, then we can face anything. If we really believed God's love is the most powerful force in the world, then we would make Shane Claiborne a liar. Because everyone who saw us would be able to answer the question, How do Christians live? Because every day they would see us Christians showing the world another way of doing life. We'd be showing the world another way than to accept that there always will be lots of people without homes or jobs or health care or hope. We'd be showing the world another way than to accept that there should be people who fall outside the circle of those whose human rights should be protected. We'd be showing the world there is a power in this world that is so much stronger than fear.
If I really believe God's love is stronger than any power in creation, what have I to fear? What have you to fear?
When I wrote this sermon, I typed nothing.
If I really believed this, why do I water down Jesus' demands? I make all kinds of excuses as to why I can't live my life like Jesus tells me to live it. And my excuses for not walking in his way are so reasonable. Jesus, the world today is so different than it was when you were telling people how to live. There's no way I can do the hard stuff you say disciples need to do. Give me a break, Jesus. You can't expect your followers to live this way…can you?
And then in four sentences, Shane Claiborne shatters all my reasonable excuses. When you ask the average person how Christians live, they are struck silent. We have not shown the world another way of doing life.
The empty tomb promises us that the Spirit of Christ is with us. His love fills us. We live in his love. We respond to that love by showing people what it looks like when love transforms fear. We show them others ways of doing life because we are certain that the love of God is the strongest power in the world.
I like the sound of that. But to live like that? To make it real? Jesus tells us his love fills us. He says, "Make yourselves at home in my love." That part I like. That doesn't ask much of me. Then Jesus says to you and to me, "If you believe my love fills you, if you believe no matter where you go in this world, I am holding you in my love, then you will be truly free. My love is the strongest power in creation. So let it fill you. Let it carry you and your companions out into the world. To show it another way of doing life."
(Mark 5.1-20) A sermon preached by Dave Shull Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ Sammamish, Washington The 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time – September 27, 2009
The comedienne Anna Russell is most famous for her routine about Wagner's opera Ring of the Niebelung. The Ring is a 15-hour opera about a gold ring that gives whoever has it the power to become master of the universe. It's an amazing story. And it's very, very involved. In her telling of it, Anna Russell talks about how the ring was made by Alberich the Dwarf. And then she's off, describing gods and humans and the children born of couplings of gods and humans, and talking about how they get all mixed up with each other. After about 15 minutes of detailing the machinations, Anna Russell says, "Then Siegfried gets the ring….D'you remember the ring?" The story has gotten so involved that the audience can be excused for forgetting about the opera's main attraction.
I kind of feel that way about my sermon this morning. Between January and June I preached on the same gospel. Then this summer, I preached about questions you wanted to hear a sermon about. Today we return to that same gospel. But after having taken a break from it for over three months, I feel like asking, "D'you remember Mark?"
Because it's been so long since we took a detour from our leisurely walk through the gospel of Mark, I thought I'd remind us where we've been.
Unlike Matthew and Luke, Mark's gospel has no story about the birth of Jesus. At the beginning of the story, the adult Jesus comes from Nazareth to the River Jordan. John the Baptizer baptizes him. As Jesus comes out of the river, he hears God's voice saying, "You are my Son, chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life" (Mark 1.11, The Message, Eugene Peterson, InterVarsity Press).
He's hasn't had a chance to dry off before the Holy Spirit drives Jesus into the desert. For 40 days, the devil tries to get Jesus to turn around from the hard path God has called him to walk. The devil says, "Look, Jesus, where is a life of sacrifice, compassion, and non-violence gonna get you? People will look at you and think you're a pathetic weakling. And they'll think your naïve for believing God's love is gonna get you anywhere. Jesus," the devil says, "take the easy road. Power, wealth, intimidating people and keeping them afraid of you: that is how the world works. Worship those values. Worship me." Jesus refuses.
Jesus returns from the desert with one message, "Repent, for God's kingdom is here" (Mark 1.14-15). Repent means to turn your life around. And the kingdom of God is any time and any place people live the compassion, sacrifice, and non-violence of Jesus. Mark spends the rest of the gospel telling the story of how Jesus keeps inviting people to turn their lives around. And how he keeps showing them what the kingdom of God is like.
Jesus spends most of his time with the people who'd never show up on anybody's 'A' list. He heals sick people. He eats with tax collectors and prostitutes. He gathers a truly unimpressive group of followers who usually don't have a clue what he's doing or why. Why does Jesus hang out with people like this? He knows they know what others think of them. He knows they know people see them as losers and nobodies. He knows they know people look at them as people they wish they didn't have to look at. Which means they aren't ashamed to admit their lives are pretty miserable. They aren't ashamed to admit how hungry they are for love. They have been locked in the prison of their loneliness long enough. They have no one to impress, they have no reputation to defend. So when Jesus calls them out of the darkness of loneliness, and calls them into the light of his love and the love of his followers, they scream, "YES!"
Mark wants the Jesus he tells stories about to free us. So when we hear Jesus calling out to us, "Follow me," we say the same thing.
So we come to our reading for this morning. Listen for a word from God.
Mark could not have painted a more painful picture of someone locked in a prison of loneliness. In Jesus' day, contact with the dead and with graves made people unclean. Demon-possessed people were unclean. No wonder he howls at night and strikes himself with stones. With no one to love or be loved by, he has forgotten he is a human being.
Jesus refuses to leave us locked in the prison of loneliness. Jesus refuses to leave us locked in any prison. Remember what he said when he came back from the devil's temptations. Repent. Turn your lives around. The kingdom of God is right here. Make it real with your lives. So prisons of loneliness are burst open . . . and every person is welcomed into a home at whose only hearth is love.
Repent. Turn your lives around. The kingdom of God is right here. Make it real with your lives. It's Jesus' invitation to us. (The choir sings these verses)
(2) Come out of your prisons, come out from your ghettoes, come out from behind your walls. Leave all your distractions, leave all your derisions, and answer Her when She calls. For She is your end as She was your beginning, She is the desire of all your days, in Her love is fullness, in Her love is wholeness, holy will be all Her ways.
Come out. Come out, Jesus calls. What binds you? What scares you? What oppresses you? What keeps you stuck? What keeps you from soaring? Or dancing? Or smiling? Jesus calls to us: Come out of your prison. Come into my presence. Come into my heart. Come into my love. Follow me. And be free.
So why doesn't Jesus let this newly-freed, newly-healed man get into the boat with him? Jesus tells him, Go home to your people (5.19, The New Jerusalem Bible). Which means this left-for-dead man once had a home. Maybe there are people in his village who still remember him. Maybe there are even some people who once loved him, and who will run out to me him when he walks back home. Like he's been raised from the dead. Whole. On fire and in love with the God who sets us free.
But what kind of freedom is this? Is it like a having a for-all-eternity condo on Waikiki? Listen to the rest of Christ's freedom song.
(3) No more will you rest now, no more take your ease now, no more let your life go by; always you will seek Her, forever desire Her until the day you die. Her love will consume you, blazing deep within you, burning away all that is not true, until you embrace Her, in flesh and in spirit holy you and wholly you.
Dorothy Day, who started the Catholic Worker houses of hospitality in the poorest areas of this country, knew following Jesus wasn't about the rest and ease that is an escape from life. She knew when Jesus calls us out of our prisons, he calls us into a ministry of love. Dorothy Day said, "Love is a harsh and dreadful thing to ask of us, but it is the only answer" (Robert Ellsberg, ed., Dorothy Day: Selected Writings, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Press, 1992, p. 339). When God call us out of our prisons, God does not call us into lives of rest and ease. But Jesus doesn't call his followers to burn ourselves out, either. He practiced Sabbath. He took time away from the crowds. He ate with friends and sat by the sea and danced at wedding feasts. He's not calling us to outdo each other in becoming martyrs. What Jesus is doing is saying, I want to free you from whatever imprisons you. I call you out of your prisons . . . into a new life. A new life of following me, and following people who follow me . . . so we can call others out of their prisons, into new life. We cannot rest and be at ease when so many people remain locked in prisons of poverty, war, addiction, fear, and oppression.
And in Sammamish and Issaquah, where so many are wealthy, people can find themselves locked in their own kinds of prison. One Christian writer puts it this way: "I know enough rich folks to know the loneliness that is all too familiar to many of them. I read a study comparing the health of a society with its economics. [A]nd one of the things it [said] is that wealthy countries like ours have the highest rates of depression, suicide, and loneliness. We are the richest and the most miserable people in the world" Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, p. 133). And he adds, "I feel sorry that so many of us have settled for a lonely world of independence and riches when we could all experience the fullness of life in community and interdependence" (p. 134).
When Peter and I were in Scotland last month, we hiked to the top of a hill. We looked across the valley at a couple of mountains that had nothing on them but rocks and heather. Peter said, "Man are those barren." I said, "To me, those mountains are open. Wide open. I don't think they're barren at all. For me, barren is when I look out the dining room window and see two big apartment buildings, and realize I don't know anybody in any of them."
What prison are you in? What prison is God calling you out of? What prison doors does God call Spirit of Peace to commit ourselves to fling open . . . so newly freed people can join us in our version of the kingdom of God . . . in this home whose only hearth is love. Amen.
(Revelation 13.11, 14-18; 19.11-15; 22.1-5) A sermon preached by Dave Shull Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ Sammamish, Washington The 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time: September 20, 2009
The eleventh and final in a summer series on topics church members asked to hear sermons about. This morning's is the third to address the question: What is the Revelation to John about?
Three weeks ago during the sermon talkback, Dorothy asked, "What in the world is the Book of Revelation about?" This is the third a final sermon on that question . . . at least in this incarnation. I've spent this amount of time on Dorothy's questions because I think it raises two key issues for Christians.
First, how do we interpret the Bible – specifically those parts of it that seem so violent? Last week I talked about how some rabbis in the first century, and St. Augustine in the fourth century, came to the same conclusion. The sacred stories of our faith have one message: God's compassion for creation, and God's call for us to respond to the compassion God gives us by loving creation and loving ourselves. So for Christians, that means every verse of the Bible sings God's love for us. Every verse of the Bible calls us to sing God's love back to all of creation and to ourselves. So we even try to hear those parts of the Bible that seem to justify violence, cruelty, and dividing the world between insiders and outsiders, the saved and the damned, as a song about compassion. And what these rabbis and St. Augustine tell us is that even if the original intention of the authors of these stories was to say God blesses violence or bigotry, we must change what that story says. Because God is not served by anything but a people who is shaped by compassion. And a people who shapes others in compassion.
The second issue a study of Revelation brings up is this: Christians need to know enough about this book so we can respond to people who know we go to church and who ask us what Revelation is about. And we need to know enough about it so, if we hear a Christian assert that it justifies violence or bigotry or self-righteousness, we can offer a different picture of what the Revelation to John is about. No longer can Christians surrender the interpretation of this book to conservative Christians just because we don't like much of what it seems to say. We need to know it so we can share what we believe it means.
So this morning, I'd like to share three specific ways we can talk about Revelation.
The first has to do with the symbols Revelation uses, and a way to understand and talk about them. For centuries, Christians have seen this symbols as coded predictions of actual events in the future. So Christians have spent a lot of time and energy looking for what they call "the Anti-Christ" because they hear in John's book a prediction that such a servant of the devil will show up at some future point in history. When the images and symbols John uses address specific people at the time he wrote to seven churches in western Turkey. So we need to look at these images as images from John's world. And then look for ways his message about these images speaks to us today.
Listen for a word from God.
I saw a second beast come out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb, but it spoke like a dragon….It deceived the inhabitants of the earth with the miracles it was able to work. And it ordered them to set up a statue in honor of the beast who had been wounded by the sword and revived. It was given permission to breathe life into the statue, so that the statue could speak and cause all who refused to worship the statue to be killed. It forced anyone – small and great, rich and poor, free and oppressed – to be branded on the right hand or on the forehead. No one could buy or sell without the mark – that is, the name of the beast, or the number that stood for its name. Wisdom is required here. Let those who have insight figure out a number for this beast – a 'human' number: 666 (Revelation 13.11, 14-18; the verses from Revelation quoted throughout this sermon are adapted from The Inclusive New Testament, Priests for Equality, 1994).
If George Lucas were putting this scene on the screen, he'd have a Darth Vader kind of beast who terrorizes the people into submission. But John's audience wouldn't see that kind of character in what John as written at all. Most Bible scholars believe John has created these creatures to represent specific people in his world. And his readers and listeners know who he's talking about (Craig Koester, Revelation and the End of All Things, Eerdmans, 2001, p. 134).
The beast with the 666 was the Roman Emperor Nero. Nero was the poster boy for embodied evil; he's like Adolph Hitler is today. Nero had committed suicide by the time John wrote Revelation around 100CE. But everyone knew about Nero. He'd tortured and killed thousands of Christians. The relationship between 666 and Nero works like this. Every Hebrew letter had a numerical value attached to it. It's like 'a' is 5, 'b' is 10', 'c' is 15. The numerical value of the Hebrew letters for "Emperor Nero" add up to 666 (Koester, p. 133).
So Nero is the beast with the 666, which Christians since Revelation call the Anti-Christ. Now the beast who comes out of the sea that Gloria just read about – this beast with the horns like a lamb who talks like a dragon – that beast work for Nero. John's audience would recognize that beast as all of the government officials who implement Nero's orders. They were the ones who did the actual torturing and killing of Christians and other enemies of the Empire.
So in talking about the beast from the sea, and Nero, who is portrayed as a beast from the land, John isn't predicting that in some specific point in the future, a figure whose name can be contorted into a connection to 666 is going to come to try to convince all the Christians in the world to worship the devil. He's referring to specific people everyone he's writing to would recognize.
But he's doing it in a way that shows us he is a true student of human nature. Tyrants are able to hold onto their power as long as they can keep people afraid of them. Fear keeps people from resisting their oppressors. One of the ways we can lessen the amount of fear we have is by learning how to laugh at what we fear. And John has created a symbol of these government officials who do whatever Nero tells them in ways that can help his listeners laugh at these people who have the power to hurt and kill them.
The beast has two horns like a lamb. Up to this point in this story, the only lamb John has mentioned is Jesus. John talks about Jesus as the sacrificial lamb – the one who was willing to die rather than stop being who God called him to be. Jesus is the lamb. So here's this beast who has two horns like a lamb. And John's readers laugh. Does this beast think we're so gullible, that we'll follow this beast just because he's pretending to be Jesus, the Lamb?
Then John adds the fact that this beast talks like a dragon. A chapter earlier, we learned the dragon stands for the devil. Talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing! The beast pretends to be a lamb, but it talks like a dragon. If it talks like the devil, it is the devil. So John's listeners aren't going to go anywhere near it.
Then John says the beast has the power to make a statue talk. That would send his listeners into hysterics. Because everyone in the Roman Empire knew the story of Alexander the False Prophet. Alexander built a little chapel. Then he made a statue, and put it in the chapel. He put hinges in the jaws, so he could move the jaws with levers. Then he stuck a tube from the mouth through the back of the statue's neck. So someone hiding behind the statue could speak into the tube. And Alexander could work the levers that move the mouth. And it would look like Alexander had made the statue talk (Koester, pp. 130-31).
By describing this beast like he has, John has helped free his people from some of their fear. For they are laughing at the government officials who do the Emperor's dirty work. And that helps them imagine being able to resist the efforts of the Empire to convince them to worship it instead of worshiping God.
Next is the stuff about the beast with the 666. John is most likely talking about Emeror Nero. But a lot of Christians have spent a lot of time trying to figure out who in the present this Anti-Christ might be. Throughout history, popes, presidents, kings, computers, and various international organizations have been accused of being the Anti-Christ. The most ridiculous candidate for the beast I've come across deals with the purple dinosaur Barney. He's the one with that giggle that makes me want to hurt somebody.
Take the phrase 'CUTE PURPLE DINOSAUR'. Change the U's to V's, so they appear like they did in Roman times. Get rid of all the letters that aren't Roman numerals. Covert them to Arabic numerals and add them up. And, lo and behold, look what you get:
C + V+V+ L + D + I+V 100+5+5+50+500+1+5 = 666 (Koester, p. 133).
It would be utterly laughable if so many Christians didn't take this stuff literally. In the case of Barney, I remember hearing that some Christians didn't like the fact that some of Barney's lessons led kids to do un-Christian things like think for themselves. If kids do that, what happens to parental authority? So they decided Barney was the anti-Christ.
John's images speak to real people known by him and his community. But what these people represent is universal. These people try to scare people into submitting to cruelty and tyranny. They are trying to get the people to turn away from God and worship a nation, an institution, an ideology, a person. Don't fall for it, John says. God is the only being worthy of worship. Worship God. No matter how much those in power try to scare you. Worship God. And no one can destroy you. Even if Rome kills you, God will raise you to eternal life.
The second and third ways we can talk about Revelation will take much less time to explain.
We can tell people that Revelation calls Christians to be non-violent. Even though the book is filled with violent images, Revelation does not give Christians permission to be violent towards others. Listen for a word from God.
Then I saw heaven itself standing open, and a white horse appeared. Its rider was called Faithful and True – a warrior for justice, a judge with integrity. This warrior has eyes like a blazing flame, and is crowned with many crowns, inscribed with a name no one else has every known. The warrior wears a cloak dipped in blood, and is known by the name "The Word of God". The armies of heaven were following the warrior, also riding on white horses. They were dressed in dazzling white linen. Out of the warrior's mouth comes a sharp sword to strike down the nations (Revelation 19.11-15).
The rider of this horse is the Risen Jesus Christ. And what is his weapon? A sword that comes out of his mouth. Not a sword that pierces bodies and leads them to bleed. But a sword that is the Word of God. A sword that convicts the nations of refusing to show compassion and refusing to practice justice. That is the sword Jesus wields. (Koester: p. 174). The pastor I quoted last week who uses this text to say that the Jesus of Revelation "is holding a sword in His hand and wants to make someone bleed" is not being faithful to what this text says. Jesus holds no sword in his hand. He is just speaking God's compassion, calling people to repent, calling people to love more radically – especially to love their enemies.
And what about the army of saints? The ones who are clothed not in armor but in linen? What weapons do they carry? None. And who do they attack? No one. They do nothing. They just follow Jesus. They take up no arms.
This image of Jesus on the white horse was used to justify the Crusades – the wars Christians waged against Muslims. But this story justifies no war-making. It justifies no violence. People might use other sacred texts to argue Christians can fight in wars. But they cannot use Revelation.
Third: Revelation calls us to commit our lives to create a new kind of 'normal'. Revelation paints a picture of God's dream for this world. And Revelation says, This is how the world's supposed to be. This is the new picture of what's normal. Normal isn't violence. Normal isn't fear. Normal isn't poverty. Instead this is normal:
The angel then showed me the river of life-giving water, clear as crystal, which issued from the throne of God and of the Lamb, and flowed down the middle of the streets. On either side of the river grew trees of life which produce fruit twelve times a year, once each month; their leaves serve as medicine to heal the nations. There will no longer be any curse. The throne of the Almighty and of the Lamb will be there, and God's subjects will serve faithfully. They will see the Most High face to face, and bear God's name on their foreheads. Night will be no more. They will need no light from lamps or the sun, for Our God will give them light, and they will reign forever (Revelation 22.1-5).
That is not what's normal in our world. Everyone having just enough of what they need isn't normal in our world. In our world, 26,000 children under five die each day, largely because they don't have enough food and clean water (UNICEF website). In this country, 81 people die every day from gun-related deaths; 25 of these deaths are suicides by white men 40 and over (Bill Marsh, "An Accounting of Daily Gun Deaths," The New York Times, April 29, 2007).
Allan Boesak is a black South African pastor who with Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu fought for equal rights against the white minority government in their country. He describes what passes as the normal way of life for many of God's children in our world:
There must be a new earth. This earth – raped, robbed, torn, filled with anger and revenge, with hurt and pain – cannot and should not remain. This earth had been the dwelling place of the Beast, the false prophet of the Beast who came out of the sea…. This earth had given refuge to the murderers of the saints of God [and] became…the arena of the suffering and death of God's children. It was never "home" for them….Indeed, in the experience of the little people of God, the earth belonged to the mighty and the powerful who claimed it for themselves, and they were the enemies, the killers of those who sought to remain faithful to Jesus Christ. So this earth should be no more….Normal is no longer hiding in the night, leaving loved ones behind and fighting with wild Beasts for the enjoyment of the Beast. What is normal now is walking in the light of God and living from the fruits of the tree of life (Allan Boesak).
Revelation shows us the new kind of 'normal' Jesus calls his followers to create. Normal is people living without fear. Normal is using only the word of God as our weapon, and not believing God blesses bombs and bullets. Normal is people living free from the night of shame and fear; free from the terror of separation from loved ones; free from being treated with contempt and callousness by the powerful of the world. Normal is people living in freedom. Free for life in community. Free to live in safety. Free of want. Normal is no one having too much or too little. Normal is everyone having enough. Enough food, enough water, enough joy, enough hope, enough compassion.
This is what Revelation calls us to. To see this vision of God's new kind of normal. And to say 'yes' to making it real. Revelation calls us to walk in the way of Jesus, open to the compassion and correction of God. And live the words we pray: Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.
(Revelation 13.11,14-18, 14.6-13) A sermon preached by Dave Shull Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ Sammamish, Washington The 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time: September 13, 2009 The tenth in a summer series on topics members of the church asked to hear sermons about. This morning's is the second to address the question: What is the Revelation to John about?
This is the second sermon in a mini-series in response to a question Dorothy asked two weeks ago: "What in the world is the book of Revelation about?" Last week I talked about the historical setting for the Revelation to John. John wrote to seven Christian churches in western Turkey. These Christians were under extreme persecution by the Roman Empire. Because they were Christians, their property was being confiscated and they were being tortured and killed. Understandably they were tempted to turn away from their faith and do whatever Rome wanted them to. John writes to them to encourage them to stay faithful to God. Because only God offers life, hope, and strength. John told his audience that when their suffering leads them to feel hopeless, they must remember what Jesus went through. The Roman Empire killed him. But God raised him to new life. So if they remain faithful, even to the point of being killed by Rome, they will not be defeated. But God will raise them to new life.
Our scripture passages from Revelation last week were the three verses that George Friedrich Handel used as the basis for the "Hallelujah" chorus. They are the kinds of words that produce finger-snapping tunes. The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord, and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever King of kings and Lord of lords . . . . The scripture passage for today is not one that leads to the creation of finger-snapping tunes. Parts of this passage are harsh and offensive. Listen for a word from God.
The first and last parts of this aren't so bad. It's the stuff in the middle that is hard to hear. Words that suggest those who don't follow Jesus will be burned with sulphur for eternity. And Jesus and the angels are going to watch it all happen, and seemingly enjoy doing so. It's horrible. John says those who suffer are the ones who bear the mark of the beast. Next week I'm going to talk about this beast who bears the number 666. Here John is saying that all of us bear some mark, and the mark we bear shows us who we belong to, who our god is. Baptism marks us people who belong to the God who says, "You are my beloved". Which means God should be the one we live and die for. But many Christians and non-Christians allow ourselves to bear the mark of some other force. Like a nation, an ideology, a job . . . like violence, fear, or greed. So John is saying to his audience, continue to live for God. If you allow yourself to be marked by any other force, you will become an enemy of Christ's church. And you will spend eternity in torment.
Passages like this are what make a lot of Christians try to keep Revelation at a long arm's length. And they're what lead a lot of Christians to which Revelation had never made it into the Bible. But I believe passages like this show us why progressive Christians need to reclaim the Revelation to John.
I think we need to do this for two reasons. First, we need to be able to respond when some Christians try to say with utter certainty what Revelation says. When we hear a Christian say that Revelation tells us that anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus is going to hell, we need to be able to offer a different word about Revelation. Too many Christians who read Revelation as the literal word and will of God use it as a reason to turn God and Jesus into hateful, vindictive beings who seem to enjoy inflicting pain on those who choose not to follow them. The pastor of a 6000-member church in Seattle is an example. He said, "Some [Christians want] to recast Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a dress with a lot of product in His hair, who drank decaf and made pithy Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair of shoes. In Revelation, Jesus is a prize fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up" (Mark Driscoll, Relevant magazine, January-February 2007, quoted in Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, Jesus for President, The Simple Way, 2008, p. 194).
People who interpret Revelation like this do incredible damage. They cause deep pain in families and friendships, because they lead people to believe that if someone they love doesn't believe in Jesus as the only way to salvation, they will spend eternity in torment. They lead some Christians to believe that they know exactly what God's thinking and what God wants, and that they can do whatever they want to carry out what they perceive as God's will. Such extreme interpretations of Revelation lead some Christians to support extremists in Israel who believe Arabs should be forcibly removed from all of the land the Bible says belongs to Israel. Which only deepens the violence and suffering among Palestinians and Jews, and delays any just resolution to this conflict. We progressive Christians need to be able to offer a different story about Revelation. When we hear irresponsible, destructive interpretations of his book like this pastor offers, we need to be able to do better than saying, "I don't think that's what Revelation says." We need to be able to offer sound reasons as to why the eternal suffering of any person is not the will of God.
Which leads to the second reason progressive Christians need to reclaim Revelation. Wrestling with violent texts like the one we're looking at today forces us to look at the larger question of how we understand the Bible. What do we do when we come across a text that seems to say God blesses violence? Or that seems to justify hatred and cruelty? Living with this text this past week, I've had to look at new ways to interpret the Bible as a whole. And the 'new' way to interpret that Bible that I came across is in fact a way scholars interpreted the Bible 1900 years ago. But which I'd never heard about before.
Toward the end of the first century, a group of rabbis gathered southwest of Jerusalem. The temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by Rome in 70AD. The temple is where the Jews felt closest to God. The temple was the symbol for God's love for and closeness to the Jews. So now the rabbis were trying to figure out how they could feel God's love and live as God's faithful people without having a temple to worship in. What the rabbis came up with was extraordinary. They said in all of their sacred stories, God was trying to express one message and one message only: compassion. Everything in the Bible is about how to put into practice the central teaching of the Bible: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your might; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself (Deuteronomy 6.5; Leviticus 19.18; see also Matthew 22.36-40; Mark 12.28-34; Luke 10.25-28). What was most extraordinary is that the rabbis said it didn't matter what the original meaning of a story or law in the Bible was. If the original meaning could not convey today a message of God's compassion for us and our compassion for others and for ourselves, then the rabbis said the original meaning needed to be changed. The Bible must speak compassion, the rabbis said. Always the Bible must speak compassion (Karen Armstrong, The Bible: A Biography, Atlantic Monthly Press, 2007, p. 83).
A couple hundred years later, a Christian in North Africa came to the same conclusion. Augustine was born in 354. He was a bishop in North Africa. He didn't know Hebrew, and had no clue about what these rabbis had come up with. But his studies of the Bible led him also to see the Bible as being only about compassion. Everything in the Bible, he said, is about compassion. And he pushed this point even further, offering this chilling word: if we insult others in the name of the Bible, "we make the Lord a liar" (Armstrong, pp. 122-23). If I try to use the Bible as a weapon against anyone, I make the Lord a liar. If I try to use the Bible to tell anyone that they are less than sacred, less than holy, less than God's beloved, I made the Lord a liar. It's a stunning statement. And one that all Christians desperately need to hear. Sixteen hundred years ago, Augustine said that any Bible passage that seems to justify hatred or cruelty has to be reinterpreted. Because God's word can never be contorted into expressing anything but compassion.
So how do we hear the middle part of this morning's reading from Revelation as saying something compassionate?
Here's a thought I have. Imagine that some authority is oppressing you or someone you love. Some government, some church, some employer, is making life hell for you or someone you love. Or imagine some authority is consistently violating some value that you hold deeply. What do you want to have happen to that authority? Doesn't a part of you want something to happen to that authority? Doesn't a part of you want to do whatever is necessary to take that authority's power away so it can't cause any more harm? If you believed that God was going to make sure that authority was not going to be able to keep causing harm, might that give you a little relief? If you believed that if you continued to resist that authority by continuing to worship God and follow in the way of Jesus, that you were weakening the power of that authority, might that help you stay faithful, even if that meant that authority might harm or even kill you?
I saw a movie in Chicago years ago. I don't remember very much about it. The movie was set in South Africa. The oppressive system of apartheid in which the minority whites ruled the majority blacks still was doing its evil. There was a black South African who had suffered profoundly under white rule. Family members had been killed, and he had been brutalized. And yet he was committed to resisting white oppression non-violently. Toward the end of the movie, however, he had had too much. So he went to the police station, and sat in his car in the parking lot. The police chief at that station had been especially cruel to this man and those he loved. When the white police chief came out of the station, this black South African who had been so committed to nonviolence ran him down in the parking lot. And everyone in the audience cheered. The audience needed to know this police chief would never harm anyone again.
Maybe that's what John is trying to do in this harsh and offensive middle section of this reading. Maybe he's saying to his audience, "God had not forgotten you in your suffering. Stay faithful. And no matter what the Roman Empire does to you, you will live forever in the loving embrace of God. Those who are hurting you will not be able to destroy you." That is a word of compassion. John's words about those who turn away from God being tormented eternally with burning sulphur in front of Jesus and the angels are not literally what is going to happen. This is just a powerfully graphic symbol that says to people under persecution that God has not forgotten them, and God knows their suffering is unjust and evil. And it will not continue forever.
What would happen if Christians began to interpret the Bible like the rabbis and Augustine call us to? What if we began to hear every story, every teaching, every law in the Bible as saying something about the compassion of God? What if every time we open the Bible, compassion flows out of it . . . to engulf us, and cleanse us, and open us to see this world through the eyes of God's compassion? This world desperately needs compassionate Christians to live what we say we believe. May we hear the news of God's compassion anew. And step out in faith to embrace this world with the love it so deeply hungers to know. Amen.
(Revelation 19.6, 11.15, 19.16: The text of the "Hallelujah" chorus by G.F. Handel) A sermon preached by Dave Shull Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ Sammamish, Washington The 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time: September 6, 2009
The ninth in a summer series on topics members of the church asked to hear sermons about. This morning's topic: What is the Revelation to John about?
The question came up during the sermon talk-back last Sunday. What is the book of Revelation about? I'd read a passage from Revelation in that morning's sermon. Strange words about seals opening and riders on horseback taking peace from the earth and destroying a fourth of earth's creatures. So Dorothy asked to hear a sermon about the Revelation to John.
The Revelation to John is probably the most confusing book in the Bible. It's also the most mispronounced, since I've even heard a lot of clergy pronounce it Revelations. And it's one of the most misused books in the Bible. For over a hundred years Christians have tried to read it literally. So they have found within its pages coded language they say predicted the creation of the United Nations Security Council as an agent of Satan, for example.
I'm going to spend the next two weeks preaching about Revelation, because I think progressive Christians need to reclaim it. I think we need to know something about this book so we can respond when other Christians misuse it. And I think we need to hear its words of warning and promise.
John wrote Revelation at end of the first century to Christians in seven churches in western Turkey. These Christians were caught in the hard and holy in-between. They knew God had come to earth in Jesus. They knew Jesus had promised always to be with his followers. They knew God would not abandon them. And yet every day they knew they or someone they loved could be taken to prison. Or tortured. Or killed. They were in-between hearing the promise of God that their lives would be blessed by justice, dignity, love, and hope. And the fear that maybe God had forgotten them, because so many of them were suffering. The lives of these Christians was extremely hard. Christianity did not attract the movers and shakers of society; most Christians came from lower socioeconomic classes. Because people outside the church knew every time Christians gathered for worship they ate the body of Christ and drank his blood, they called Christians cannibals. Because their leader, Jesus, had been crucified as a rebel and enemy of public welfare, people outside the church called Christians unpatriotic. Because Christians called Jesus "son of God" and refused to call Caesar by that name, those outside the church called them atheists. Many Christians had their property confiscated. Many were tortured or executed (Eugene Boring, Revelation, Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1989, pp. 11, 18).
How do you hold on to faith in times of such severe persecution? When you or the people you love are being tortured and killed, how can you talk about a God who is faithful?
That's what the Revelation to John tries to do. The book is filled with wild images and symbols. Images and symbols often inspire the passion and creativity of artists. The Revelation to John is no exception. Here is how three verses from Revelation inspired one such artist 250 years ago. Listen for a Word from God. a recording of G.F. Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus from "The Messiah" was played; the text for the chorus comes from these verses: Revelation 19.6: And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, "Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." Revelation 11.15: And the seventh angel sounded; and there were great voices in heaven, saying, The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever. Revelation 19.16: And on his robe and on his thigh, Christ has a name inscribed, "King of kings and Lord of Lords."
What does this piece make you feel like? (the congregation responded: it makes me grateful that the early Christians held on to their faith in spite of persecution, or we wouldn't be here today; joyful; triumphal)
I think these are some of the feelings John hoped his words to Christians would inspire: gratitude for the God who was with them, joy in having companions who encourage each other to be faithful, and belief in the God who triumphed even over death. Hope for people caught in the hard and holy in-between that God will be faithful and not leave them to suffer alone.
The Roman Empire was like any empire. Empires try to seduce us into believing we should do whatever they say. They have the wealth, they have the army, they have the secret of what it takes to have a good life. So the empire says, follow us, obey us, worship us – and you'll be happy. You'll be successful. You'll have everything you could want.
And in Revelation, John says to the Christians in western Turkey, Don't believe it. Don't let yourself be seduced by the Empire. Don't worship violence or greed or power. John calls Christians to keep following Jesus. Who had no wealth. And had no army. The only power Jesus had was love. A healing, calling, story-telling, boundary-shattering love. All he had was a love that refused to let itself hate so much it became violent. Rome thought they'd destroyed that love when they put Jesus on the cross. But that love could not be destroyed. That love came back to life . . . and the Roman Empire ended up being destroyed.
Last month, my spiritual director, the motorcycle-riding ex-nun who doesn't let me get away with much, told me I didn't expect enough from God. I sat with that all month. And when we met yesterday, I asked about it. She said, "Look how most people in this culture related to God. We decide what we want. And because we're good individualists, we try by ourselves to achieve that. And when we can't quite make it happen by ourselves, we ask for God's help. If we end up getting what we want, then we believe in God. If we don't get what we want, then maybe we start to doubt. But it's all about getting God to help us get what we want. But that's totally backwards. That makes God our servant. Instead, we should be listening. . . listening in prayer to hear what God's desire and dream for us is. We listen for that, and then we try to make that real. So we're God's servants, doing what God want us to do." She said she thinks oppressed people seem to understand that. Maybe it's because they don't have many other options. Slaves and the victims of military dictatorships in Central America are people we might expect to have a weak faith because of their suffering. But they often have a stronger faith than those of us who have so much. "It seems that oppressed people who from the outside look like they'd have good reason not to believe in God's faithfulness have a much stronger faith than people like us who have so much. They hear the promises of God. They feel the love of Jesus Christ. And they trust. They follow where Jesus calls them to go. They commit their lives to making God's dreams for them real.
That is what John calls us to do today. To hear the promise that this King of kings and Lord of lords will reign forever and ever. And it is this risen Jesus who reigns in love. It is this risen Christ who calls us to listen for God's desire and dream for us, so we can live into that, expecting God to give us what we need to make it real. And John assures us when we are in tune with God's song, no force can defeat us.
