2 Peter 1:12-18 & Matthew 17:1-9
Transfiguration of the Lord
We don’t usually notice it, but we are constantly being transformed into someone else. We start life with a certain genetic code and then start changing immediately. From a word our parents said to us as children, to the friendships we make, to what we eat and drink, to how we slept the night before; everything has subtly shaped us into the people we are this morning.
And yet, there are some things shape us more than others. There are those moments we can name; moments in our lives that we look back on, and know that we are no longer who we once were. We each have those moments in our lives (some good, some bad) when we see how we have been changed forever. Perhaps those around us don’t see it as well as we do–things others can’t perceive them just by looking at us—but we know that inside, we are not the same.
I’ve shared the story of my daughter’s birth before (if you haven’t heard the story, ask me about it, it’s a good one). Her birth was an event like that for me. I know that I am not the same because of it. I have a very different perspective on God's plan than I did before. If I seem sometimes unusually confident that God loves us and cares for us forever, it might have something to do with that event.
But my point is this: suppose you were on that mountain with Jesus—suppose you saw his radiance and the appearance of Moses and Elijah—do you think that be one of those moments for you? Do you suppose there is any way that you could walk back down that mountain the same person you were on the way up? Would that be a memory you carried with you everywhere you went?
I believe that God gives us those moments for that very reason. I believe that God gives us these life-changing moments, so that our lives will be transformed and that we will go out into the world sharing this transformation in what we do and say.
So, to answer my own question, “Would this experience of witnessing the transfiguration of Jesus change you as a person?” The answer is clearly, “yes.” We read this morning the words of that same Peter who was one of the three with Jesus that day. Many years later (now looking at the very-soon end of his ministry) we see that he is still looking back to that amazing day. Eugene Peterson, from the Bible translation The Message, says: “We weren't, you know, just wishing on a star when we laid the facts out before you regarding the powerful return of our Master, Jesus Christ. We were there for the preview!”
Of course this event changed Peter! Of course this was a day that he would look back on as a day that shaped who he would then become. The gospel writers tell us that the three disciples kept this event a secret until after the Resurrection, but you know they talked about it after that! Wouldn't you? I know you would! Some of us repeat the same stories to each other again and again. Part of it is probably age, but part of it is that they’re good stories. I know you’ve heard some of my better stories in sermons more than once, but none of them are anywhere near as interesting as the story of the transfiguration! Maybe that's why it comes up in the seasons of the church every year: to remind us, as Peter says, of things we already know; to remind us that this Jesus, that we worship and follow, was the very glory of God; that by his transfiguration we know that we are transformed as well.
I’m noticing that Hollywood has figured out that they can make money, hand over fist, with superhero movies. I don’t know your feelings on the genre, but clearly somebody is watching these films. For me, I’m not as interested in the explosions and the fighting as I am in the characters themselves. What would it be like to be one of these superheroes?
I’ve noticed that there are two major types of superheroes: those that put on a costume and those who take one off. Here’s what I mean: look at superheroes like Batman or Spiderman. Batman is really Bruce Wayne… he puts on a costume to become Batman. Spiderman is really Peter Parker… he puts on a costume to become Spiderman. But then you have heroes like Superman: Superman is Superman… he’s got to put on a costume to become Clark Kent. Wonder Woman is Wonder Woman… she’s got to put on her Diana Prince costume to blend in and hold down a job.
So what kind of superhero is Jesus? Is his glorious appearance on that mountain the superhero costume that Jesus put on for that moment, or was that Jesus taking off his alter ego and revealing who he truly was? Was the Jesus that the disciples walked with every other day the real Jesus or was that the costume that he wore to hide his true identity?
As I think about it, I’m not sure it’s either: I don't think the transfigured Jesus is Jesus in a superhero costume and neither do I think that the everyday Jesus was his mild-mannered alter-ego. In fact, what I think this shows us about Jesus, is a little mind blowing. Because I think that when Jesus was transfigured, we saw him for who he truly was. This was the glory of God, shining into the world in order to save us from ourselves. But unlike Superman, this was not his superhero costume! Jesus didn't do his work in spandex and a cape, his outfit... actually blended into a crowd pretty well. He dressed like everybody else. He lived where normal people lived. He did many of the things that normal people do. In many ways, he didn't look very much different than anyone else. And yet, it was in that outfit that he did the most for us.
I am struck this morning by the fact that although Jesus at the Transfiguration was Jesus at his most impressive (aside from the resurrection), this is not Jesus saving the world. This vision of Jesus was so impressive that Peter wants to move in—so impressive that Peter never forgets the vision, yet this is not the Jesus that does the most good. That Jesus—the Savior Jesus—frankly looked a lot like us.
Now why do you suppose that was? Why do you think Jesus' Superman costume... looks a lot like our costumes? Do you think that it might have something to do with the fact that Jesus calls people who look quite a bit like us, to carry on his work? Maybe this story of his transfiguration does more than just remind us that we have been changed too. Maybe it also reminds us that, as we get dressed in the morning, we're really putting on our superhero outfits before we go out and save the world.
Now, you may not be stronger than a locomotive or faster than a speeding bullet or able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but you can do things that the people in this world need quite a bit more. You can bring that same healing and hope that Jesus brought to us. For we are no ordinary people: through Jesus our Savior we are transformed into the Body of Christ himself.
And so he now calls us to put on our superhero suits (which look surprisingly like our own clothes) and go out and be the transfigured people that we truly are.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
You Belong
1 Corinthians 3:1-9
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Sometimes, when I preach from one of the letters of Paul, I have the urge to qualify it first. As in our lesson today, I feel I need to remind everyone that Paul was writing to a specific group of people (that aren’t you), in a specific place (that isn’t here), about specific issues (that you may or may not be dealing with). In other words, today’s lesson isn’t necessarily about you. The letters of Paul can feel scolding sometimes, so remember: it may not be about you. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the reason he is writing this letter to the Corinthians is not something I think he would say to you.
The problem that the church in Corinth was dealing with was their divisiveness. From our text today, it seems that they had divided themselves up amongst various Christian teachers, Paul being one of them. That problem is not really a thing you are struggling with right now: not only are you not fighting over Christian theology, you seem to get along pretty well. In fact that may be one of this church’s best attributes: we genuinely like each other and this is an environment where we can have different opinions and ideas and still be welcomed; that’s not something all churches can claim.
But just because you are not fighting with each other doesn’t mean there isn’t a Word from God here for us. So no, you don’t get a complete pass this morning; neither do you need to start quarrelling in order to receive this Truth.
Today Paul also tells the church in Corinth something that every disciple of Christ in every church needs to remember. Paul’s answer to their arguments over who it was they followed, was to tell them that they were missing the point. Namely, that it’s not so much about whose teachings you follow or even about being right; it’s about remembering to whom you belong. And you belong to God: in Jesus, you have been bought and paid for; it is the Spirit of God who causes you to grow; and it is that same Spirit that calls you to continue God’s kingdom-work in this world. But before you go, remember that you belong to God.
I don’t believe that, when Paul was writing his letters, that he thought of it as “writing the Bible.” To Paul, I’m sure this was just a letter; he wasn’t thinking, “Hey, this stuff’s pretty good. Someone should save it as Scripture and pass it along from generation to generation.”
But at the same time, Paul’s writings are not “just letters;” this is no casual text you send off to your friend to ask her if she wants to go for lunch. No, as I said before, there were serious issues going on if Paul sent you a letter. Having been through a few, I can tell you that church conflict is no small matter. Paul cared about these people and he cared about the continuation of the gospel that he had personally proclaimed there. I’m sure he thought deeply about how to address these issues; I’m sure he chose his words very carefully; and I’m sure he sought the Spirit of God to guide him as he set out to write these letters. And of course it’s that same Spirit that makes books like First Corinthians so much more than just a letter. In these letters we also find a Word of God that is eternal.
Now I mentioned before that I don’t think we are a conflicted congregation like the Corinthian church was. But at the same time, there is a strange comfort in knowing that, when churches do become divided, it’s nothing new. Even in the earliest of churches, they were already arguing and dividing themselves up. Personally, I think the early church had more-interesting reasons for fighting than we do; I mean you don’t read about them arguing over things like worship music style, or new carpet color, or who gets to use the vacuum cleaner (I have actually seen all of those split churches). But there is a comfort in knowing that church leaders like Paul have always been battling the spirit of division that afflicts so many churches still today.
We still divide ourselves over so many things: we divide ourselves over theology and church government into separate denominations; even within our community, we divide ourselves into smaller congregations by worship styles, age, probably even politics, and so much more. If we’re not careful, any number of things can still divide us.
I appreciate how Paul seems to say that this kind of unity is not something we reach overnight: he says this kind of quarrelling is a sign of spiritual immaturity. And what is “immaturity,” if we’re doing it right, except a series of steps toward “maturity?” It is a journey; we will get caught up in other peoples’ factions; and hopefully we will repent and—by God’s help—we will continue to grow. But spiritual maturity is not an accident; it’s a thing we work towards on purpose. There’s a reason why, in the Pastoral Prayer I pray every week, that I include a prayer for the larger Church, not just our church: The Church, both in this room, throughout this community, and throughout the world. I pray this mostly as a reminder to myself. I want to remember that I am not divided even from the other followers of Christ, both here and throughout the world.
I was introduced to another pastor named Brian by a mutual friend a while back. Unfortunately, because of that same spirit of divisiveness, the church he was at decided they no “longer required his services.” So, instead of uprooting his family in search of another calling, he decided to stay here and start something new. It’s not exactly a church, but it’s not exactly not a church. He’s seeking to do the work of Jesus. So do you know what I do? I pray for him. He’s not competition, he’s a fellow-worker in the fields of Jesus. I see how many people are lost in our community and I pray he plants.
So we strive to be unified, not only with each other, but also the followers of Jesus everywhere. If nothing else, this passage reminds us not only how we struggle to for unity, but why. This is a good reminder, but there is also a Truth to remember here that is even more important than the unity: it reminds us of who we are. We belong to Christ. Above all else, we belong to God through our Savior.
In verses six and seven, Paul reminds us that people and ideas don’t cause us to grow, God does that. Paul says, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.” Now, we don’t know a lot about this Apollos—spoken well of in the Book of Acts and it perhaps a convert of Paul—but it seems that his message was just different enough from Paul’s that it caused some debate.
And so Paul’s answer to this argument is to remind them that they belong to God first. Because belonging to God is even more important than being right. Because belonging to God is why we live and why we have eternal life. Belonging to God defines who we are as servants. Belonging to God defines what we are called to do and be in this world as we seek to grow in our maturity and serve our Savior ever-more faithfully.
And so let us strive to remember that we do not belong to ideas or teachers or denominations or even churches; but we belong to God. And by the Spirit of our Risen Savior, may we continue to grow in him; even as he uses us to share his Truth throughout our lives.
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Sometimes, when I preach from one of the letters of Paul, I have the urge to qualify it first. As in our lesson today, I feel I need to remind everyone that Paul was writing to a specific group of people (that aren’t you), in a specific place (that isn’t here), about specific issues (that you may or may not be dealing with). In other words, today’s lesson isn’t necessarily about you. The letters of Paul can feel scolding sometimes, so remember: it may not be about you. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the reason he is writing this letter to the Corinthians is not something I think he would say to you.
The problem that the church in Corinth was dealing with was their divisiveness. From our text today, it seems that they had divided themselves up amongst various Christian teachers, Paul being one of them. That problem is not really a thing you are struggling with right now: not only are you not fighting over Christian theology, you seem to get along pretty well. In fact that may be one of this church’s best attributes: we genuinely like each other and this is an environment where we can have different opinions and ideas and still be welcomed; that’s not something all churches can claim.
But just because you are not fighting with each other doesn’t mean there isn’t a Word from God here for us. So no, you don’t get a complete pass this morning; neither do you need to start quarrelling in order to receive this Truth.
Today Paul also tells the church in Corinth something that every disciple of Christ in every church needs to remember. Paul’s answer to their arguments over who it was they followed, was to tell them that they were missing the point. Namely, that it’s not so much about whose teachings you follow or even about being right; it’s about remembering to whom you belong. And you belong to God: in Jesus, you have been bought and paid for; it is the Spirit of God who causes you to grow; and it is that same Spirit that calls you to continue God’s kingdom-work in this world. But before you go, remember that you belong to God.
I don’t believe that, when Paul was writing his letters, that he thought of it as “writing the Bible.” To Paul, I’m sure this was just a letter; he wasn’t thinking, “Hey, this stuff’s pretty good. Someone should save it as Scripture and pass it along from generation to generation.”
But at the same time, Paul’s writings are not “just letters;” this is no casual text you send off to your friend to ask her if she wants to go for lunch. No, as I said before, there were serious issues going on if Paul sent you a letter. Having been through a few, I can tell you that church conflict is no small matter. Paul cared about these people and he cared about the continuation of the gospel that he had personally proclaimed there. I’m sure he thought deeply about how to address these issues; I’m sure he chose his words very carefully; and I’m sure he sought the Spirit of God to guide him as he set out to write these letters. And of course it’s that same Spirit that makes books like First Corinthians so much more than just a letter. In these letters we also find a Word of God that is eternal.
Now I mentioned before that I don’t think we are a conflicted congregation like the Corinthian church was. But at the same time, there is a strange comfort in knowing that, when churches do become divided, it’s nothing new. Even in the earliest of churches, they were already arguing and dividing themselves up. Personally, I think the early church had more-interesting reasons for fighting than we do; I mean you don’t read about them arguing over things like worship music style, or new carpet color, or who gets to use the vacuum cleaner (I have actually seen all of those split churches). But there is a comfort in knowing that church leaders like Paul have always been battling the spirit of division that afflicts so many churches still today.
We still divide ourselves over so many things: we divide ourselves over theology and church government into separate denominations; even within our community, we divide ourselves into smaller congregations by worship styles, age, probably even politics, and so much more. If we’re not careful, any number of things can still divide us.
I appreciate how Paul seems to say that this kind of unity is not something we reach overnight: he says this kind of quarrelling is a sign of spiritual immaturity. And what is “immaturity,” if we’re doing it right, except a series of steps toward “maturity?” It is a journey; we will get caught up in other peoples’ factions; and hopefully we will repent and—by God’s help—we will continue to grow. But spiritual maturity is not an accident; it’s a thing we work towards on purpose. There’s a reason why, in the Pastoral Prayer I pray every week, that I include a prayer for the larger Church, not just our church: The Church, both in this room, throughout this community, and throughout the world. I pray this mostly as a reminder to myself. I want to remember that I am not divided even from the other followers of Christ, both here and throughout the world.
I was introduced to another pastor named Brian by a mutual friend a while back. Unfortunately, because of that same spirit of divisiveness, the church he was at decided they no “longer required his services.” So, instead of uprooting his family in search of another calling, he decided to stay here and start something new. It’s not exactly a church, but it’s not exactly not a church. He’s seeking to do the work of Jesus. So do you know what I do? I pray for him. He’s not competition, he’s a fellow-worker in the fields of Jesus. I see how many people are lost in our community and I pray he plants.
So we strive to be unified, not only with each other, but also the followers of Jesus everywhere. If nothing else, this passage reminds us not only how we struggle to for unity, but why. This is a good reminder, but there is also a Truth to remember here that is even more important than the unity: it reminds us of who we are. We belong to Christ. Above all else, we belong to God through our Savior.
In verses six and seven, Paul reminds us that people and ideas don’t cause us to grow, God does that. Paul says, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.” Now, we don’t know a lot about this Apollos—spoken well of in the Book of Acts and it perhaps a convert of Paul—but it seems that his message was just different enough from Paul’s that it caused some debate.
And so Paul’s answer to this argument is to remind them that they belong to God first. Because belonging to God is even more important than being right. Because belonging to God is why we live and why we have eternal life. Belonging to God defines who we are as servants. Belonging to God defines what we are called to do and be in this world as we seek to grow in our maturity and serve our Savior ever-more faithfully.
And so let us strive to remember that we do not belong to ideas or teachers or denominations or even churches; but we belong to God. And by the Spirit of our Risen Savior, may we continue to grow in him; even as he uses us to share his Truth throughout our lives.
Lightly Salty
Matthew 5:13-20
5th Sunday in Ordinary Time
In my preparation for this morning, I read a commentary that took the first part of our Scripture lesson to mean that we are to strive to be the salt of the earth; that we are to strive to be, in our daily living, the light of the world; and that’s how I’ve always tended to read this passage. But when I read it in this commentary this week, it occurred to me: that’s not what the text actually says. I know it’s a small distinction, but Jesus doesn’t tell us to try to do anything here; he says you are the salt of the earth; he says you are the light of the world.
Now clearly, when Jesus calls us salt and light, it’s a parable. And like any parable, it can have a variety of meanings: for example, both salt and light are both valuable to other human beings and even essential for keeping us alive. But similarly, like any parable, there are limits to how many meanings you can take from this metaphor as well: for example, even though too much salt and too much light will also kill you, I don’t think that was what Jesus was getting at.
No, it seems the most obvious meaning is that we’re to draw from this parable is that you are important to God; you were made for a purpose. And unlike actual salt and light, you have a choice: you can choose not to be the people you were created to be. You can deny your saltiness, if you want to; you can hide away your light. But why would you want to? That’s not who you are. You are salt and you are light; so go and be the salty lamps you were made to be. Okay, it sounds weird when you put it like that, but I think you get the point: Jesus isn’t calling us to be anyone other than who we were created to be. You are made to show the goodness of God, so let us learn to be ourselves.
Our lesson today is an excerpt from the Sermon on the Mount. In fact, it’s rather early-on in the sermon: Jesus has only just finished the Beatitudes; he has merely set the tone of the sermon by turning common-sense on its head. He began by telling his disciples and this great crowd of people that – in the kingdom of heaven – those that they would regard as “cursed” are actually “blessed” by God. “Blessed are the poor in spirit;” “Blessed are those who mourn;” “Blessed are the meek;” “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” You get the point: those who are lowly in this “kingdom” are the blessed ones in God’s. And it seems that the opposite might be true as well.
Jesus often goes after the religious leaders of his day so we almost don’t notice it when he takes a shot at them in our lesson today. “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven;” that line would have caught the attention of crowd… especially the scribes and Pharisees in the crowd.
The scribes and Pharisees, of course, get a bad reputation in the Gospels; and they probably deserve it. But I also feel I need to defend them sometimes: because they meant well. You see, at this point in Israel’s history, they people of God have been occupied and dominated and oppressed ever since the Babylonians conquered them. For generation upon generation they have been a subjugated and conquered people; and in Jesus’ day, it was more of the same under the Romans. It’s not hard to imagine how this might begin to affect you as a people once called “Chosen” by God.
In Jesus’ day, there were three general responses to this national crisis. First, here was the pragmatic approach: simply cooperate with the Romans; go along and make the best of it; and who knows, maybe your cooperation will get you a profit while you’re at it. This was the response of people like the temple priests and those they called the Herodians.
A second response was kind-of the opposite of that: to rebel; to fight the powers that be, even though you know they are a lot more powerful than you. And who knows, maybe God will finally notice your struggle and crush your enemies like in the good-old-days. They called these kinds of people “zealots” (and, by the way, Jesus had one or two as his followers). And although there were a lot of different kinds of zealots, they all wanted the same thing and they wanted to fight for it.
And then there were people like the scribes and the Pharisees: their response to the Roman occupation was a kind of spiritual “circling of the wagons.” They saw the sin of conspiring with the Romans, but they also saw the futility of fighting against them. And so they walled themselves off spiritually and followed the letter of the law. And in so doing, they sought to keep the sin of the world at bay while – at the same time – keeping their own identity as God’s people.
So you can see that these were tough times for the Israelites. There was no perfect response to their current situation, but at least they meant well. In fact, it kind of reminds me of what it’s like to be a Christian in America these days: but I suppose it’s not always easy to be the people of God in any day; leading us to the question that the followers of Christ have always asked; “How do we live both in this ‘kingdom’ and God’s at the same time?” Do we compromise; do we try to relate the gospel to the world by trying to be like the world? Do we revolt; do we – in a sense – go to war with the world; finding our identity in opposition to the world around us? Or do we, like the scribes and Pharisees, seek a holier path? Do we mind our own business, focus our attention on being holier than the world around us, and then wait for Christ to come back and rescue us?
I admit that, even though I know that last one is the wrong answer, I find it appealing. I know the next part of this sermon so I already know they’re wrong, but I respect what the scribes and Pharisees were trying to do: while waiting for God to do something about the sin of the world, they sought live as righteously as they could. What they didn’t realize, though, is that God was already doing something about the sin of the world.
Now of course, when we talk about possible responses the Roman oppression and the sin of the world, you can probably guess that Jesus will take a totally different approach: Jesus will not compromise the righteousness of God like the Herodians do; God’s law is God’s and there is no compromising God’s law. And not only will he not fight against the powers that be – like the zealots do – he calls his followers to love their enemies and pray for them. And unlike the scribes and Pharisees – whose righteousness is about isolating themselves and waiting for God to arrive – Jesus shows us that God is already here; that righteousness isn’t about waiting it out, but it’s about living in the kingdom of God right here, right now.
In other words, simply living right is not enough. It’s not enough that we be upright, moral, and righteous people. It’s not enough that we hold up here with other pious people, preserving our Christian heritage. That’s the righteousness of scribes and Pharisees and it’s a righteousness that our Savior calls us to exceed. Their righteousness is not what Christ calls us to do and it’s not what we’ve been created to be. Theirs is a so-called righteousness that loses its saltiness; theirs is a righteousness that hides itself under a basket. The righteousness that our Savior taught – the righteousness of the kingdom of heaven – is one that lives out the law as it was meant to be lived out: in the world, making the world a better place, and living like God’s kingdom has come and we are living in it.
Jesus calls us the salt of the earth and the light of the world; and as I’ve said, there are a lot of ways we might interpret this parable. But for today I would offer just this observation: one thing we often overlook when we talk about salt and light is that, not only are these things essential for our survival, they also make life better. I mean, how great is salt! We put it on everything for a reason. And light! Have you ever considered how much better life is because there’s light? Sure, you’d have a hard time getting around without it, but light is so pleasant. Just ask my pets as they’re fighting for the last sunny spot by the window every afternoon; light is great.
God hasn’t simply put us in this world to bring life to it as salt and light do; God has made us to make the world better like salt and light do. One thing we often overlook is that salt and light are also quite pleasant. So let us live out the true righteousness of God; living today in the very kingdom of heaven that our Savior proclaimed; and let us remember that when we do, we are being the people that we are created to be.
5th Sunday in Ordinary Time
In my preparation for this morning, I read a commentary that took the first part of our Scripture lesson to mean that we are to strive to be the salt of the earth; that we are to strive to be, in our daily living, the light of the world; and that’s how I’ve always tended to read this passage. But when I read it in this commentary this week, it occurred to me: that’s not what the text actually says. I know it’s a small distinction, but Jesus doesn’t tell us to try to do anything here; he says you are the salt of the earth; he says you are the light of the world.
Now clearly, when Jesus calls us salt and light, it’s a parable. And like any parable, it can have a variety of meanings: for example, both salt and light are both valuable to other human beings and even essential for keeping us alive. But similarly, like any parable, there are limits to how many meanings you can take from this metaphor as well: for example, even though too much salt and too much light will also kill you, I don’t think that was what Jesus was getting at.
No, it seems the most obvious meaning is that we’re to draw from this parable is that you are important to God; you were made for a purpose. And unlike actual salt and light, you have a choice: you can choose not to be the people you were created to be. You can deny your saltiness, if you want to; you can hide away your light. But why would you want to? That’s not who you are. You are salt and you are light; so go and be the salty lamps you were made to be. Okay, it sounds weird when you put it like that, but I think you get the point: Jesus isn’t calling us to be anyone other than who we were created to be. You are made to show the goodness of God, so let us learn to be ourselves.
Our lesson today is an excerpt from the Sermon on the Mount. In fact, it’s rather early-on in the sermon: Jesus has only just finished the Beatitudes; he has merely set the tone of the sermon by turning common-sense on its head. He began by telling his disciples and this great crowd of people that – in the kingdom of heaven – those that they would regard as “cursed” are actually “blessed” by God. “Blessed are the poor in spirit;” “Blessed are those who mourn;” “Blessed are the meek;” “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” You get the point: those who are lowly in this “kingdom” are the blessed ones in God’s. And it seems that the opposite might be true as well.
Jesus often goes after the religious leaders of his day so we almost don’t notice it when he takes a shot at them in our lesson today. “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven;” that line would have caught the attention of crowd… especially the scribes and Pharisees in the crowd.
The scribes and Pharisees, of course, get a bad reputation in the Gospels; and they probably deserve it. But I also feel I need to defend them sometimes: because they meant well. You see, at this point in Israel’s history, they people of God have been occupied and dominated and oppressed ever since the Babylonians conquered them. For generation upon generation they have been a subjugated and conquered people; and in Jesus’ day, it was more of the same under the Romans. It’s not hard to imagine how this might begin to affect you as a people once called “Chosen” by God.
In Jesus’ day, there were three general responses to this national crisis. First, here was the pragmatic approach: simply cooperate with the Romans; go along and make the best of it; and who knows, maybe your cooperation will get you a profit while you’re at it. This was the response of people like the temple priests and those they called the Herodians.
A second response was kind-of the opposite of that: to rebel; to fight the powers that be, even though you know they are a lot more powerful than you. And who knows, maybe God will finally notice your struggle and crush your enemies like in the good-old-days. They called these kinds of people “zealots” (and, by the way, Jesus had one or two as his followers). And although there were a lot of different kinds of zealots, they all wanted the same thing and they wanted to fight for it.
And then there were people like the scribes and the Pharisees: their response to the Roman occupation was a kind of spiritual “circling of the wagons.” They saw the sin of conspiring with the Romans, but they also saw the futility of fighting against them. And so they walled themselves off spiritually and followed the letter of the law. And in so doing, they sought to keep the sin of the world at bay while – at the same time – keeping their own identity as God’s people.
So you can see that these were tough times for the Israelites. There was no perfect response to their current situation, but at least they meant well. In fact, it kind of reminds me of what it’s like to be a Christian in America these days: but I suppose it’s not always easy to be the people of God in any day; leading us to the question that the followers of Christ have always asked; “How do we live both in this ‘kingdom’ and God’s at the same time?” Do we compromise; do we try to relate the gospel to the world by trying to be like the world? Do we revolt; do we – in a sense – go to war with the world; finding our identity in opposition to the world around us? Or do we, like the scribes and Pharisees, seek a holier path? Do we mind our own business, focus our attention on being holier than the world around us, and then wait for Christ to come back and rescue us?
I admit that, even though I know that last one is the wrong answer, I find it appealing. I know the next part of this sermon so I already know they’re wrong, but I respect what the scribes and Pharisees were trying to do: while waiting for God to do something about the sin of the world, they sought live as righteously as they could. What they didn’t realize, though, is that God was already doing something about the sin of the world.
Now of course, when we talk about possible responses the Roman oppression and the sin of the world, you can probably guess that Jesus will take a totally different approach: Jesus will not compromise the righteousness of God like the Herodians do; God’s law is God’s and there is no compromising God’s law. And not only will he not fight against the powers that be – like the zealots do – he calls his followers to love their enemies and pray for them. And unlike the scribes and Pharisees – whose righteousness is about isolating themselves and waiting for God to arrive – Jesus shows us that God is already here; that righteousness isn’t about waiting it out, but it’s about living in the kingdom of God right here, right now.
In other words, simply living right is not enough. It’s not enough that we be upright, moral, and righteous people. It’s not enough that we hold up here with other pious people, preserving our Christian heritage. That’s the righteousness of scribes and Pharisees and it’s a righteousness that our Savior calls us to exceed. Their righteousness is not what Christ calls us to do and it’s not what we’ve been created to be. Theirs is a so-called righteousness that loses its saltiness; theirs is a righteousness that hides itself under a basket. The righteousness that our Savior taught – the righteousness of the kingdom of heaven – is one that lives out the law as it was meant to be lived out: in the world, making the world a better place, and living like God’s kingdom has come and we are living in it.
Jesus calls us the salt of the earth and the light of the world; and as I’ve said, there are a lot of ways we might interpret this parable. But for today I would offer just this observation: one thing we often overlook when we talk about salt and light is that, not only are these things essential for our survival, they also make life better. I mean, how great is salt! We put it on everything for a reason. And light! Have you ever considered how much better life is because there’s light? Sure, you’d have a hard time getting around without it, but light is so pleasant. Just ask my pets as they’re fighting for the last sunny spot by the window every afternoon; light is great.
God hasn’t simply put us in this world to bring life to it as salt and light do; God has made us to make the world better like salt and light do. One thing we often overlook is that salt and light are also quite pleasant. So let us live out the true righteousness of God; living today in the very kingdom of heaven that our Savior proclaimed; and let us remember that when we do, we are being the people that we are created to be.
Do, Love, Walk
Micah 6:1-8
4th Sunday in Ordinary Time
The other day, one of my kids asked me what “karma” was. It kind-of caught me off guard; not really a concept we talk much about at my house. But I want to encourage their curiosity – I enjoy that they’re always learning about new things – so I wanted to give some sort of answer; but, because I’m me, I also wanted to mention that I also don’t really believe in it.
I explained that it’s an idea found in Eastern religions that says everything balances out; that if you do bad things, bad things will happen to you; and if you do good things, good things will happen to you. But then I added that things don’t seem to work out that way in the real world; I don’t want to discount someone’s faith just because I don’t understand it, but that’s not how I see the world working and it’s not what I believe about God. I see really bad people doing bad things all the time getting away with it; and profiting from their bad deeds too. I see really good people, who do good for others, suffering every day by no fault of their own. So from my perspective, karma just doesn’t seem to be a reasonable way to explain the way the world works.
And then he said, “Okay, so karma isn’t why the Broncos aren’t playing today?”
From our perspective, we want there to be a connection between the good things we do – the faithfulness that we show to God – and the good things God brings us. But in this life anyway, that connection doesn’t usually exist; which makes God a bit hard to gauge, right? If the things that happen to you aren’t about how God feels about you, how do you know that you’re doing things that make God happy? How do you know that the things you are doing aren’t making God mad?
Well, as our Scripture lesson this morning reminds us, you already know those answers. And as this Table reminds us, God hasn’t just told you what is expected of you; God has shown you. God has shown us, over and over again – and especially through the gift of our Savior – that what is expected of us is to show the same love to others that we have received.
The book of Micah may not be the most well-worn books of the Bible; you may have heard this passage before, but I doubt everyone here has read through the book cover-to-cover. If you do decide to read through the book, it’s not a tough read; it’s only seven chapters long. Micah is one of the twelve “Minor Prophets:” called “minor” because the amount that they wrote, not by their importance. But if you do read Micah, you should know that it’s not a happy book; the message that God gives Micah to proclaim is a lot like the message God gave to other prophets of Micah’s time (like Hosea, Isaiah, and Amos). The message was basically, “Things are going to get worse.”
I mentioned that it sometimes seems tricky to know if God is happy with what you’re doing or not; and I suppose the obvious exception to that is if God just tells you, say through a prophet. The setting to our lesson this morning seems to be a courtroom; God has had it with the people and God is filing a lawsuit. There are charges being leveled and a judgment will follow.
That’s really the point of prophetic messages like this: something awful is about to happen and this is one of those rare times when it is because of something people have done; it’s as close to karma as the Bible gets. Something awful is about to happen so God sends the prophet to explain why. So unlike the idea of karma, this is a lesson; it’s not really justice, it’s not really balance; God is mad and God wants you to learn why. God wants the people, when this bad thing happens, to learn from it. And better yet, because we also have the words of the prophets, we might learn it too without ever having to go through these bad things.
So, what is this bad thing, anyway? Well, like any prophet of doom, the message was basically “the end is near.” There have been forty years of prosperity and peace that are now coming to an end. And apparently, because everything was going so well, the people had forgotten to listen to God. It’s this thing we do: when our lives are hard, when we are in the midst of life’s struggles, we are plenty-devout. When we are lost, abandoned, wounded, and alone – when we know we need the power of God – we are on our knees! But when things are great, that may not be such a priority.
So for forty years the people of God have been caught up in the “good life” and they’ve stopped listening to God. In fact, things have been so good that they’re actually surprised to find out that God is angry with them; that God is about to evict them from the Promised Land. So what did they do that so upset God that they were about to be taught a tough lesson? What was it that God is charging them with – more importantly, what is it that we should avoid doing?
Well according to our text today, they had forgotten The Story. Micah references various stories, including a rather obscure story from the Book of Numbers [chapters 22-24] (I recommend it, by the way; there’s a talking donkey). But for our purposes, I think we can infer from these references the whole of the biblical story; from Genesis through Revelation. I think we can take from this that the people of God had forgotten to remember all that God had done for them; how many times God had saved them, and led them, and fed them, and nurtured them; and when things got easy, they forgot.
But worse than that, when they forgot what God had done, they also forgot what God wanted them to do. I’ve been reading through the Bible lately, cover to cover; it’s something I’ve been doing occasionally since I was a kid. I’m not sure I’d recommend it, especially when you get to books like Leviticus. I just finished Leviticus and it’s a horrible read: it’s tedious, it’s repetitive, and it makes Moses look insane. And although I think there reasons why we need the book of Leviticus, it’s not fun to read. When you look at all of the things that the Lord seems to require, you see that it’s just impossible. Fortunately, in passages like the one before us today, the Bible also tells us that leading a life that is pleasing to God is a lot simpler than Leviticus: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.
Of course, Jesus put it in a similar way, but even simpler than that: love God with all you are and love your neighbor as yourself. But to remember even these simple expectations of God – as our lesson today shows us – we first remember what God has done for us. We remember the love of God, even when things are good, because that love helps us to remember to share it with those around us.
It is a lesson we learn regularly here at this Table. Here we remember once again the depth of God’s love; a God who would become one of us and give his life for us. And as we remember that love, may we be renewed – with the guidance of his Spirit – as we share that same unconditional love, mercy, and self-sacrifice in all we do and say.
4th Sunday in Ordinary Time
The other day, one of my kids asked me what “karma” was. It kind-of caught me off guard; not really a concept we talk much about at my house. But I want to encourage their curiosity – I enjoy that they’re always learning about new things – so I wanted to give some sort of answer; but, because I’m me, I also wanted to mention that I also don’t really believe in it.
I explained that it’s an idea found in Eastern religions that says everything balances out; that if you do bad things, bad things will happen to you; and if you do good things, good things will happen to you. But then I added that things don’t seem to work out that way in the real world; I don’t want to discount someone’s faith just because I don’t understand it, but that’s not how I see the world working and it’s not what I believe about God. I see really bad people doing bad things all the time getting away with it; and profiting from their bad deeds too. I see really good people, who do good for others, suffering every day by no fault of their own. So from my perspective, karma just doesn’t seem to be a reasonable way to explain the way the world works.
And then he said, “Okay, so karma isn’t why the Broncos aren’t playing today?”
From our perspective, we want there to be a connection between the good things we do – the faithfulness that we show to God – and the good things God brings us. But in this life anyway, that connection doesn’t usually exist; which makes God a bit hard to gauge, right? If the things that happen to you aren’t about how God feels about you, how do you know that you’re doing things that make God happy? How do you know that the things you are doing aren’t making God mad?
Well, as our Scripture lesson this morning reminds us, you already know those answers. And as this Table reminds us, God hasn’t just told you what is expected of you; God has shown you. God has shown us, over and over again – and especially through the gift of our Savior – that what is expected of us is to show the same love to others that we have received.
The book of Micah may not be the most well-worn books of the Bible; you may have heard this passage before, but I doubt everyone here has read through the book cover-to-cover. If you do decide to read through the book, it’s not a tough read; it’s only seven chapters long. Micah is one of the twelve “Minor Prophets:” called “minor” because the amount that they wrote, not by their importance. But if you do read Micah, you should know that it’s not a happy book; the message that God gives Micah to proclaim is a lot like the message God gave to other prophets of Micah’s time (like Hosea, Isaiah, and Amos). The message was basically, “Things are going to get worse.”
I mentioned that it sometimes seems tricky to know if God is happy with what you’re doing or not; and I suppose the obvious exception to that is if God just tells you, say through a prophet. The setting to our lesson this morning seems to be a courtroom; God has had it with the people and God is filing a lawsuit. There are charges being leveled and a judgment will follow.
That’s really the point of prophetic messages like this: something awful is about to happen and this is one of those rare times when it is because of something people have done; it’s as close to karma as the Bible gets. Something awful is about to happen so God sends the prophet to explain why. So unlike the idea of karma, this is a lesson; it’s not really justice, it’s not really balance; God is mad and God wants you to learn why. God wants the people, when this bad thing happens, to learn from it. And better yet, because we also have the words of the prophets, we might learn it too without ever having to go through these bad things.
So, what is this bad thing, anyway? Well, like any prophet of doom, the message was basically “the end is near.” There have been forty years of prosperity and peace that are now coming to an end. And apparently, because everything was going so well, the people had forgotten to listen to God. It’s this thing we do: when our lives are hard, when we are in the midst of life’s struggles, we are plenty-devout. When we are lost, abandoned, wounded, and alone – when we know we need the power of God – we are on our knees! But when things are great, that may not be such a priority.
So for forty years the people of God have been caught up in the “good life” and they’ve stopped listening to God. In fact, things have been so good that they’re actually surprised to find out that God is angry with them; that God is about to evict them from the Promised Land. So what did they do that so upset God that they were about to be taught a tough lesson? What was it that God is charging them with – more importantly, what is it that we should avoid doing?
Well according to our text today, they had forgotten The Story. Micah references various stories, including a rather obscure story from the Book of Numbers [chapters 22-24] (I recommend it, by the way; there’s a talking donkey). But for our purposes, I think we can infer from these references the whole of the biblical story; from Genesis through Revelation. I think we can take from this that the people of God had forgotten to remember all that God had done for them; how many times God had saved them, and led them, and fed them, and nurtured them; and when things got easy, they forgot.
But worse than that, when they forgot what God had done, they also forgot what God wanted them to do. I’ve been reading through the Bible lately, cover to cover; it’s something I’ve been doing occasionally since I was a kid. I’m not sure I’d recommend it, especially when you get to books like Leviticus. I just finished Leviticus and it’s a horrible read: it’s tedious, it’s repetitive, and it makes Moses look insane. And although I think there reasons why we need the book of Leviticus, it’s not fun to read. When you look at all of the things that the Lord seems to require, you see that it’s just impossible. Fortunately, in passages like the one before us today, the Bible also tells us that leading a life that is pleasing to God is a lot simpler than Leviticus: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.
Of course, Jesus put it in a similar way, but even simpler than that: love God with all you are and love your neighbor as yourself. But to remember even these simple expectations of God – as our lesson today shows us – we first remember what God has done for us. We remember the love of God, even when things are good, because that love helps us to remember to share it with those around us.
It is a lesson we learn regularly here at this Table. Here we remember once again the depth of God’s love; a God who would become one of us and give his life for us. And as we remember that love, may we be renewed – with the guidance of his Spirit – as we share that same unconditional love, mercy, and self-sacrifice in all we do and say.
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