This week's sermon text is Luke 17.5-10. It is the second half of a collection of 'sayings of Jesus' as the Biblical scholars titled the section. Why the lectionary skipped the first five verses is a mystery to me, because it seems to me that we need them to understand the last five. Of course without the first five it makes preaching easier (for instance verse 2 when Jesus says, "It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble") and there is the argument that if this is just a collection of sayings then perhaps there isn't any connection between them.
However, as I often do, I argue with the scholars that they are connected. Particularly verses 3-4. Jesus has just told the disciples that they are to forgive anyone who sins but is repentant. Even if that same person commits the same sin seven times in one day. While I would like to say that I have a ready supply of forgiveness, I think it would be difficult for me to do that. I think the disciples were a little frightened by it to, for they immediately responded, "Lord, increase our faith!" Who has the strength to do that?!?
Although, as I ponder this forgiveness thing, I wonder... We as Christians are really pretty good at forgiving others in comparison with forgiving ourselves. There are a lot of jokes about "Lutheran guilt" or some I have heard regarding "Roman Catholic guilt" but there is no denying that we tend to beat ourselves up over stuff. Sometimes carrying around guilt for a particular sin for a very long time. And it impedes our experiencing God's grace and forgiveness. It impedes upon our living life as God intended.
I think this is clear toward the end of the lesson, in verse 7, "Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in...from the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table?'" If you remember back to the parable of the lost sheep, Jesus started his ridiculous question the same way, "Who among you, having lost one sheep..." When I read that parable my immediate response was, "not me!" However, reading verses 7-10 I didn't have the same reaction. I agreed with Jesus when he said in 8, "Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me...later you may eat and drink.'"
But I wonder if Jesus is being sarcastic here. We aren't very good at forgiving ourselves. We aren't very good at receiving God's grace. What if Jesus is the slave owner in verse 7. Doesn't he bid us to come and eat at the table with him? As equal sons and daughters of God? When it comes to forgiveness of self, of having the faith to believe that God does actually invite us to the table as equals with Christ, clothed in his righteousness, I often find myself lacking. Do you really want me to come eat with you? Don't you want me to do a little more for you, so that I may be worthy God?
God just bids us to come, sit, and dine with the Living Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In Jesus' response to the disciples' plea for more faith, I think he is telling them that they already have enough faith. Faith comes from God, and is it not possible for God to uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea? God has given us all the faith we need. In that faith, and through Christ, God invites us to the table, equal co-workers, nothing owed. What a radical gospel.
30 September 2010
23 September 2010
How thin is the great chasm?
The gospel lesson for this Sunday is from Luke 16.19-31. It is the story of the rich man and Lazarus, one that is very familiar with many. As I was in conversation with colleagues this week, I heard some reminisce about how they heard this story growing up.
Some said that they remember this being a very scary passage because of the burning torment that the rich man feels. Some said that they think about what 'rich' means when they hear about being dressed in purple and eating sumptuously. Some said they wonder if cremation is better since the rich man was buried and Lazarus was 'carried to Abraham's bosom.' There is a lot to wonder about in this text, but before we get to even more mysteries I'd like to make a few observations:
1) Names. It is interesting that the one in the story who is named is Lazarus, the poor man who was thrown in front of this gate, whose sores are licked by dogs. The rich man, the one with the power and wealth, is not even deemed important enough to get a name.
2) Blessings. The text suggests in verse 25 that material blessings in life have nothing to do with blessings in eternity. It also suggests that the blessings given in life have nothing to do with the nature of the person receiving them. It would seem from Abraham's response to the rich man's request for Lazarus to dip his finger in water that could Lazarus have done so, he would have done it, regardless of how the rich man had treated him during their lifetime. ("Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so... verse 26)
3) Power. Even after death the rich man, who is in a place of torment, wants to use the power he enjoyed during his life to make others, who are below him, work for him. The rich man doesn't ask Lazarus directly, but instead asks Abraham.
4) Death. When the rich man finally realizes that his 'fate is sealed', so to speak, he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers. Again, he is attempting to use his power, which he no longer has. And, perhaps a little coldly, Abraham tells the rich man that his brothers have the law and the prophets to guide them and that is sufficient. Even if someone came back from the dead they wouldn't be persuaded to repent.
These observations have left me with one mystery above all others. How thin is the great chasm that separated the rich man and Lazarus? Perhaps as thin as the front gate near which Lazarus lay?? While Abraham mentioned that the rich man and his brothers all had the law and the prophets to guide them and their actions in terms of justice for the poor, he conspicuously left out the fact that the whole family had Lazarus as a living reminder of what the law and prophets said. Each day when these brothers left their home they passed by, or perhaps even had to step over Lazarus. Yet they didn't see. The chasm that kept the brothers from seeing and understanding that they did have power, but they weren't using that power correctly. Instead of using their power to be good stewards of their money and care for the poor, they used their power for their own selfish gains, feasting sumptuously and dressing in fine clothes for others to see. Who do we walk by or step over on our way to use our own wealth and power for selfish gain instead of serving those in need?
One thing we do have going for us is that Abraham was also not quite right in his statement that, "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead," in verse 31. You see, we have Moses, the prophets, and the one whom death could not hold, Jesus Christ. The power that Christ has over the grave is the same power that Christ can use to free us from our own greed, open our eyes, and help us to see those who sit at our gates, poor, hungry, and sick. How thin is your great chasm?
Some said that they remember this being a very scary passage because of the burning torment that the rich man feels. Some said that they think about what 'rich' means when they hear about being dressed in purple and eating sumptuously. Some said they wonder if cremation is better since the rich man was buried and Lazarus was 'carried to Abraham's bosom.' There is a lot to wonder about in this text, but before we get to even more mysteries I'd like to make a few observations:
1) Names. It is interesting that the one in the story who is named is Lazarus, the poor man who was thrown in front of this gate, whose sores are licked by dogs. The rich man, the one with the power and wealth, is not even deemed important enough to get a name.
2) Blessings. The text suggests in verse 25 that material blessings in life have nothing to do with blessings in eternity. It also suggests that the blessings given in life have nothing to do with the nature of the person receiving them. It would seem from Abraham's response to the rich man's request for Lazarus to dip his finger in water that could Lazarus have done so, he would have done it, regardless of how the rich man had treated him during their lifetime. ("Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so... verse 26)
3) Power. Even after death the rich man, who is in a place of torment, wants to use the power he enjoyed during his life to make others, who are below him, work for him. The rich man doesn't ask Lazarus directly, but instead asks Abraham.
4) Death. When the rich man finally realizes that his 'fate is sealed', so to speak, he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers. Again, he is attempting to use his power, which he no longer has. And, perhaps a little coldly, Abraham tells the rich man that his brothers have the law and the prophets to guide them and that is sufficient. Even if someone came back from the dead they wouldn't be persuaded to repent.
These observations have left me with one mystery above all others. How thin is the great chasm that separated the rich man and Lazarus? Perhaps as thin as the front gate near which Lazarus lay?? While Abraham mentioned that the rich man and his brothers all had the law and the prophets to guide them and their actions in terms of justice for the poor, he conspicuously left out the fact that the whole family had Lazarus as a living reminder of what the law and prophets said. Each day when these brothers left their home they passed by, or perhaps even had to step over Lazarus. Yet they didn't see. The chasm that kept the brothers from seeing and understanding that they did have power, but they weren't using that power correctly. Instead of using their power to be good stewards of their money and care for the poor, they used their power for their own selfish gains, feasting sumptuously and dressing in fine clothes for others to see. Who do we walk by or step over on our way to use our own wealth and power for selfish gain instead of serving those in need?
One thing we do have going for us is that Abraham was also not quite right in his statement that, "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead," in verse 31. You see, we have Moses, the prophets, and the one whom death could not hold, Jesus Christ. The power that Christ has over the grave is the same power that Christ can use to free us from our own greed, open our eyes, and help us to see those who sit at our gates, poor, hungry, and sick. How thin is your great chasm?
17 September 2010
Genetics?
Genetics is a not-so-new field of science that is rapidly advancing. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) has decided to write a social statement on genetics, pondering questions and mysteries surrounding "contemporary developments in genetic research, technology and their use". The task force commissioned to write the social statement is asking for feedback until October 15th. Please take time to read the social statement and fill out the response form found at the end of the draft. The social statement can be downloaded by clicking on the following link:
www.elca.org/genetics
And then "Draft Social Statement on Genetics"
How can we continue to live faithfully with all the mysteries surrounding genetics??
www.elca.org/genetics
And then "Draft Social Statement on Genetics"
How can we continue to live faithfully with all the mysteries surrounding genetics??
15 September 2010
You want us to make friends using laundered money?!?
Jesus has given us another doozy of a parable. Luke 16.1-13 is called the Parable of the Dishonest Manager. And Jesus tells us to make friends for ourselves by means of dishonest wealth. Really? Are you sure, Jesus? Well, this one is truly a mystery to me. It is difficult to read this parable allegorically, that is, making one of the characters into God or Jesus and figure out how they relate to us. It is difficult to read this metaphorically, since the parable is obviously about wealth, as Jesus so nicely concludes for us in verse 13, "You cannot serve God and wealth."
So, how on earth are we supposed to read this parable? A wealthy landowner has hired someone to manage his property in absentia. The manager uses the opportunity of the landowner's absence to make a little money for himself, perhaps charging the debtors more than they owe, or perhaps skimming off the top of the landowner's earnings. We aren't really sure exactly if the allegations are true, except then the manager shows us who he is. When he finds out he is going to be fired and realizes he can't work and is too proud to beg, he decides his best option is to make friends with the debtors. That way he will have some sort of support system after he is no longer earning a paycheck. So he swindles the landowner yet again. Strange... And even stranger, the landowner commends the manager. Stranger..... And strangest of all, then Jesus says we should act like the manager.
Now I'm totally confused and trying to live in this mystery. I'd be especially curious to know what you think. Bishop Burk said yesterday that he is thinking of this parable in terms of relationship. The manager's relationship with money cost him in the end, caused him to lose his job and reputation. So, he worked at building different relationships with people who were lower on the social ladder than him. In working at these relationships, the manager not only looked out for himself (ensuring those he helped would welcome into their homes) but he also looked out for them (significantly decreasing their debt).
Perhaps it is this simultaneous caring for oneself while caring for others that is at the heart of this parable? Kind of like a skewed version of the Golden Rule? Or maybe it is best to leave this as a mystery and focus on the last part, "You can't serve God and wealth"? This parable is indeed a mystery to me. Who is this God of ours, who commends the dishonest manager? Who is this God who tells us to get friends using dishonest wealth?!?
So, how on earth are we supposed to read this parable? A wealthy landowner has hired someone to manage his property in absentia. The manager uses the opportunity of the landowner's absence to make a little money for himself, perhaps charging the debtors more than they owe, or perhaps skimming off the top of the landowner's earnings. We aren't really sure exactly if the allegations are true, except then the manager shows us who he is. When he finds out he is going to be fired and realizes he can't work and is too proud to beg, he decides his best option is to make friends with the debtors. That way he will have some sort of support system after he is no longer earning a paycheck. So he swindles the landowner yet again. Strange... And even stranger, the landowner commends the manager. Stranger..... And strangest of all, then Jesus says we should act like the manager.
Now I'm totally confused and trying to live in this mystery. I'd be especially curious to know what you think. Bishop Burk said yesterday that he is thinking of this parable in terms of relationship. The manager's relationship with money cost him in the end, caused him to lose his job and reputation. So, he worked at building different relationships with people who were lower on the social ladder than him. In working at these relationships, the manager not only looked out for himself (ensuring those he helped would welcome into their homes) but he also looked out for them (significantly decreasing their debt).
Perhaps it is this simultaneous caring for oneself while caring for others that is at the heart of this parable? Kind of like a skewed version of the Golden Rule? Or maybe it is best to leave this as a mystery and focus on the last part, "You can't serve God and wealth"? This parable is indeed a mystery to me. Who is this God of ours, who commends the dishonest manager? Who is this God who tells us to get friends using dishonest wealth?!?
07 September 2010
What is just one sheep?
I lost one of my favorite lapel pins a few months ago. (Well, first I should say that it isn't really my pin to begin with, it is a tie tack that I commandeered from my husband. He received it as a confirmation gift but in the nine years we've been together I've never seen him wear it. Granted I have had it in my own jewelry box for the last two, but I think the seven previous were good enough!) Anyway, it is a dove with a cross, the Holy Spirit and Christ. I used to wear it when I preached, or when I was doing something official as a seminarian. Then one day, I couldn't find it.
I didn't have a lot of time to look and thought I must have left it at school. When I got to school I looked and still couldn't find it, so I tore my dorm room to pieces, literally, taking apart my bed, dresser, and computer desk looking for it. Not there. When I got home that week I tore the house apart, taking every shirt out of the closet and drawers looking to see if I'd left it on something I wore. I took all the clothes out of the rest of my drawers, in case in one of my senior moments I'd put it somewhere it doesn't belong. (I do that more than I'd like to admit.) Checked every single suitcase, even if I hadn't used it in over a couple years. The washer and dryer. The vent grates. I said a prayer and asked St. Anthony of Padua, the Roman Catholic patron saint of lost items, to intercede for me. Praying to the saints is not something I do on a regular basis, and I did it because a priest friend of mine suggested it. I was desperate. And then I remembered I'd gone through my jewelry and given some away to Goodwill. What if I accidentally put it in that pile?!? It was gone. Just gone. I'd given up. I hadn't looked for it in over two months because one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It was simply gone.
And then? Praise be to God! I got a sweater out to wear and there it was! I know I looked at that sweater a million times when I was looking but there it was! I raced downstairs shouting Russ' name ecstatically jumping up and down holding this pin like a precious trophy, rejoicing that I had found it! And just in time for my ordination! Double bonus! Triple bonus because I had counted it as lost! Quadruple bonus because it meant that I hadn't really lost my pin that is actually Russ' tie tack and that he's never officially said I could have! Quintuple bonus because...I think you get the point.
The gospel lesson for this coming Sunday comes from Luke 15.5-10. Verses 8-10 I can understand perfectly. The woman lost a coin and tore her house apart looking for it, just like I tore my house and dorm room up looking for this pin. It is the first part that is a mystery to me. Verses 5-7 set up the scene: Jesus talking with tax collectors and sinners. Pharisees muttering under their breath about how Jesus welcomes them. Eats with them even. Then Jesus tells the story about the shepherd who watches 100 sheep but one got away. He then goes on to ask, in what I can only hear as an incredulous tone, "which of you does not leave the 99 in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?"
Um, excuse me? Jesus? I am raising my hand ever so bashfully. "I would not leave the 99 others. In fact, I would be giving thanks that I still had 99 of them and had only lost one!" I'd like to be able to lie, especially when Jesus is asking this question like it is the only natural thing to do, go looking for the lost one. But I can't. First because Jesus is asking and I can't lie to him and second because I'm just not as forgiving or gracious or good as I'd like to be. I'd cut the losses and move on.
But not Jesus. Not God.
God's grace and love is so extravagant that not even one sheep is worth the loss. Not even worth the loss of going to find the one and then having to round all other 99 back up before God can rejoice. No amount of work is too much for God to go looking for that one. That lost one. Even more crazy is that one lost sinner causes more joy than do 99 righteous ones. This to me is a mystery. And I do value life, and I do understand about being happy over someone who repents and lives in the light of God's grace because I've done it! But, in my human limitedness, I cannot for the life of me fathom, what is just one sheep? Yet, we, all of us, are that important to God. So important, in fact, that Jesus died for you. And you. All of you. And me. Me? Yes, you. God's grace is so unfathomable that thinking about it for too long makes my head hurt. It is so big, enormous, all-encompassing, crazy, joyous, welcoming, loving, merciful, mind-boggling, wide, deep, mysterious. After all, what is just one sheep?
I didn't have a lot of time to look and thought I must have left it at school. When I got to school I looked and still couldn't find it, so I tore my dorm room to pieces, literally, taking apart my bed, dresser, and computer desk looking for it. Not there. When I got home that week I tore the house apart, taking every shirt out of the closet and drawers looking to see if I'd left it on something I wore. I took all the clothes out of the rest of my drawers, in case in one of my senior moments I'd put it somewhere it doesn't belong. (I do that more than I'd like to admit.) Checked every single suitcase, even if I hadn't used it in over a couple years. The washer and dryer. The vent grates. I said a prayer and asked St. Anthony of Padua, the Roman Catholic patron saint of lost items, to intercede for me. Praying to the saints is not something I do on a regular basis, and I did it because a priest friend of mine suggested it. I was desperate. And then I remembered I'd gone through my jewelry and given some away to Goodwill. What if I accidentally put it in that pile?!? It was gone. Just gone. I'd given up. I hadn't looked for it in over two months because one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It was simply gone.
And then? Praise be to God! I got a sweater out to wear and there it was! I know I looked at that sweater a million times when I was looking but there it was! I raced downstairs shouting Russ' name ecstatically jumping up and down holding this pin like a precious trophy, rejoicing that I had found it! And just in time for my ordination! Double bonus! Triple bonus because I had counted it as lost! Quadruple bonus because it meant that I hadn't really lost my pin that is actually Russ' tie tack and that he's never officially said I could have! Quintuple bonus because...I think you get the point.
The gospel lesson for this coming Sunday comes from Luke 15.5-10. Verses 8-10 I can understand perfectly. The woman lost a coin and tore her house apart looking for it, just like I tore my house and dorm room up looking for this pin. It is the first part that is a mystery to me. Verses 5-7 set up the scene: Jesus talking with tax collectors and sinners. Pharisees muttering under their breath about how Jesus welcomes them. Eats with them even. Then Jesus tells the story about the shepherd who watches 100 sheep but one got away. He then goes on to ask, in what I can only hear as an incredulous tone, "which of you does not leave the 99 in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?"
Um, excuse me? Jesus? I am raising my hand ever so bashfully. "I would not leave the 99 others. In fact, I would be giving thanks that I still had 99 of them and had only lost one!" I'd like to be able to lie, especially when Jesus is asking this question like it is the only natural thing to do, go looking for the lost one. But I can't. First because Jesus is asking and I can't lie to him and second because I'm just not as forgiving or gracious or good as I'd like to be. I'd cut the losses and move on.
But not Jesus. Not God.
God's grace and love is so extravagant that not even one sheep is worth the loss. Not even worth the loss of going to find the one and then having to round all other 99 back up before God can rejoice. No amount of work is too much for God to go looking for that one. That lost one. Even more crazy is that one lost sinner causes more joy than do 99 righteous ones. This to me is a mystery. And I do value life, and I do understand about being happy over someone who repents and lives in the light of God's grace because I've done it! But, in my human limitedness, I cannot for the life of me fathom, what is just one sheep? Yet, we, all of us, are that important to God. So important, in fact, that Jesus died for you. And you. All of you. And me. Me? Yes, you. God's grace is so unfathomable that thinking about it for too long makes my head hurt. It is so big, enormous, all-encompassing, crazy, joyous, welcoming, loving, merciful, mind-boggling, wide, deep, mysterious. After all, what is just one sheep?
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