Who is Jesus?
There are many answers to that question.
In our modern days, we pretty much define ourselves. But in ancient Palestine, one’s identity was given by others—who they thought you were, you were. We see this notion reflected in the scriptures over and over, as characters are introduced—most of them without names. A woman with a bleeding disorder, a Geneserene demoniac, a little boy, a centurion, a Samaritan woman, a scribe. Who they are is determined by those others who define them.
So, who is Jesus? To the people in his time, Jesus was a Nazarene, from Galilee. The son of Joseph the carpenter, and of Mary. They had watched him grow up. They had hired him to make things for them. He was like any other neighbor and tradesman. So, when he started to teach and do signs of wonder—they were perplexed by this aberration from their comfort zone. And when he taught in their synagogue, saying that the scriptures came to pass as he read them, they said, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” Then they went to throw him off a cliff. They said he had a demon. They said he had lost his mind. They didn’t know who he was anymore.
“Who do the people say that I am?” Jesus asks of his disciples, again identity was traditionally conferred upon one by others. The answers? John the Baptist. Elijah. Jeremiah. One of the prophets, they don’t know which. The answers revealed their confusion and their inability to locate this man within the confines of their own experience and the limits of their descriptive language. They just couldn’t place him. He was an enigma.
“But who do all of you say that I am?” is Jesus’ follow-up question to the disciples. Because they know him differently. They’ve seen and heard some fantastic things. Miraculous healings, new and authoritative teachings, They had witnessed Jesus getting the better of powerful people—Pharisees, scribes, priests. And they had observed him deal compassionately with the poor, the sick, and the outcasts of society. They knew more about Jesus, and could describe him better than anyone else in all of Israel, save for his mother. Still, the disciples hesitate when asked this question. Who is Jesus—who is this person who called them away from their livelihoods and led them all over the countryside, preaching repentance and the good news of the coming of the kingdom ?
Finally Peter, big old loveable buffoon Peter, answers. But instead of something wildly inappropriate, what he says is profound. His answer is the first creed of the church. “You are the Messiah, Son of the living God.” Even Jesus is taken aback by the truth of the claim. “You didn’t come up with that yourself, Peter,” he says, “and you didn’t learn that from someone else. No, such an answer can only come from God!” Jesus is defined by no one but God alone. But even that definition is bound to be challenged. Others have already decided just who the Messiah will be, and it does not include eating with sinners and touching lepers and preaching against the religious status quo. Jesus tells his disciples to keep the Messiah stuff to themselves.
So, who is Jesus? The scriptures are filled with titles and names for Jesus. Lord, Son of God, Son of David, Son of Man, son of Mary, bright morning star, Emmanuel, redeemer, savior, King of Kings, King of the Jews, rabbi, teacher, friend, Prince of Peace, Lamb of God, healer, Wonderful Counselor, mediator, high priest, master, the Word, the way, the truth, the life, the resurrection and the life, the Good Shepherd, The Vine, The sower of seeds, and exorcist. To name but a few. But that’s what the bible says about Jesus. But who do you say that he is?
Who is Jesus in our modern world? If he were here in this room today—would we recognize him? Would we listen to him as he implored us to sell everything we own and give the money to the poor? As he led us not to green pastures and beside still waters, but into conflict with the powers and principalities of a world turned away from God? Or would we “throw him off a cliff?”
Would we even know Jesus? Or would our own constructions of Jesus, our own personal Jesus, the toned down, undemanding, sanitized, non-controversial Jesus of our imaginations prevent us from seeing Jesus as he is known to the Father and the Holy Spirit? Who is Jesus? Is he who we want him to be? No, he is I AM. He is who he will be.
That doesn’t sit well with our modern day society. It demands everything and everyone be labeled and categorized, So who Jesus is ranges from Messiah and Son of the living God, to great teacher, to moral leader, to legendary figure, to just a man. The way Jesus is depicted in art reveals a lot about who people say Jesus is. The slide show you are seeing shows Jesus reverently, and somewhat irreverently—but both tell us something about how people perceive Jesus.
Even the silliest one—which perhaps you couldn’t read, the one that depicted Jesus playing hockey with a little boy, who yells, “I didn’t know you played hockey,” to which Christ replies, “It’s easy when you’re Jesus. LOL!” Even that dubiously denoted work of “art” shows that Jesus is perceived as being able to do anything. Even play hockey!
Some of the other pictures are familiar and comfortable—Jesus with the children, Jesus teaching. Jesus standing at the door, knocking. Some seek to show another facet of Jesus—the laughing Jesus, the angry Jesus, the compassionate Jesus. Some see Jesus’ face in different shades—white, brown, black. Some are of what I would call the genre “Pop-Jesus,” which represents Jesus as a pop icon, an fashionable accessory to a full life. Some mock Jesus, much as the Roman soldiers did when Christ was crucified, revealing a segment whose disbelief is both profound and outspoken.
Which depictions of Jesus attract you? Which offend you? Why do they offend—because they are irreverent, or because they show a side of Jesus that seems “un-Jesus-like?” Who do you say that the Son of Man is?
Like with Peter, the answer comes to us, not from our own imaginations, and not from someone telling us what to believe. It comes from God. God alone defines the Son of Man for us. God puts it in our hearts that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. We experience Jesus. And by that I mean that in our lives there are moments where Jesus is revealed to us. This happens in many different ways. In family and friends who gather together to be with a loved one who’s dying. In the lyrics of a praise song or hymn. Through the act of serving others altruistically. By the witness of our parents and elders. In the sacraments—the waters of baptism that instill the Spirit within us, and the table of the Lord, around which all the people of God of all times and places gather as one. Jesus is revealed to us so that we may believe and confess him as Lord and savior.
So who is Jesus? To you? Think of your answer for today, this minute, in just a word. And then when you have it—call it out. Now tell it to your neighbor. And now repeat after me:
Jesus, you are the Messiah,
The Son of the living God.
You are Lord.
You are Lamb.
You are my redeemer.
You are my hope.
You are life.
You are Jesus,
Messiah, Son of the living God!
Amen.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Faith question 1
What happens to us when we die?
That's a good question, and a somewhat confusing one.
Of course the answer is "we go to heaven," but that doesn't tell us when, where, how, why, and who. Let me try to reduce some of the confusion, while prefacing my remarks with the caveat that no one knows everything for certain. The scriptures speak in metaphor for the most part--using images and words we can understand to describe a reality that's beyond all earthly comparisons. Jesus himself was not too detailed in his descriptions of the kingdom of heaven--again he used analogy, simile, and metaphor to reveal the principles of God's reign. So there are certain things we can say for sure, and a whole lot we just could never grasp, or we don't need to know--based on what we do. Let's have a look...
When? Of course after we die--but is it immediate? Jesus' words from the cross, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise." suggest an instantaneous transition. In Paul's letters, however, Paul writes of the Day of the Lord--when all those who have died in Christ will rise and be caught up in the skies. Which is right? First, we need take into account that in the original language of Koine Greek, the New Testament had no punctuation. So adding it can sometimes shape belief in one direction or another. Look how the meaning changes when the comma is moved: Truly I tell you today, you will be with me in paradise. So when do we go to heaven? This is a little complicated but here's what I think. On earth, alive, we are in the confines of time--an hour is an hour, a day is a day. When we die we "step" outside of time. So our bodily resurrection occurs without time as a frame of reference. It is as if it were immediate. We rest in peace on earth, waiting, but exist in eternity already.
Who? Only those who recognize Jesus as Lord? What about those who never heard of Jesus, those who die before hearing, or those who refuse to hear? This is where Lutheran theology is really helpful. "I believe of my own understanding or strength, I can not believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, or come to him..." It's not our doing--God in Christ saves. Those who haven't heard and those who die before they are baptised aren't penalized for what was beyond their control. And those who follow other religious paths--from what we know about God (who will be all in all, who so loved the world, who opened his arms to all on the cross) we can confidently leave such matters up to God's goodness. Those who reject God, who have turned their back on God--that's one description of hell--being apart from God. But the creed tells us that even those in hell are not given up for lost, but are released by the crucified and risen christ.
Why? This one is easy. Becuase Jesus died on the cross and was raised from the dead, our sins are forgiven and we are given new life that lasts beyond time. Why does God do this? Love is the only answer!
Where and what? What is heaven like, where is it? The simple answer to this is--we don't know exactly. What we do know is that all that is wrong with our temporal world is redeemed "in" heaven. Most of our intuitions about heaven are suggested by scriptures trying to describe the indescribable, or to make a point about the differences between heaven and earth.
This is a big topic and a short essay. Again what we don't know is oversahdowed by what we do know--that God is love, and that when we die that love does not. We become part of it.
That's a good question, and a somewhat confusing one.
Of course the answer is "we go to heaven," but that doesn't tell us when, where, how, why, and who. Let me try to reduce some of the confusion, while prefacing my remarks with the caveat that no one knows everything for certain. The scriptures speak in metaphor for the most part--using images and words we can understand to describe a reality that's beyond all earthly comparisons. Jesus himself was not too detailed in his descriptions of the kingdom of heaven--again he used analogy, simile, and metaphor to reveal the principles of God's reign. So there are certain things we can say for sure, and a whole lot we just could never grasp, or we don't need to know--based on what we do. Let's have a look...
When? Of course after we die--but is it immediate? Jesus' words from the cross, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise." suggest an instantaneous transition. In Paul's letters, however, Paul writes of the Day of the Lord--when all those who have died in Christ will rise and be caught up in the skies. Which is right? First, we need take into account that in the original language of Koine Greek, the New Testament had no punctuation. So adding it can sometimes shape belief in one direction or another. Look how the meaning changes when the comma is moved: Truly I tell you today, you will be with me in paradise. So when do we go to heaven? This is a little complicated but here's what I think. On earth, alive, we are in the confines of time--an hour is an hour, a day is a day. When we die we "step" outside of time. So our bodily resurrection occurs without time as a frame of reference. It is as if it were immediate. We rest in peace on earth, waiting, but exist in eternity already.
Who? Only those who recognize Jesus as Lord? What about those who never heard of Jesus, those who die before hearing, or those who refuse to hear? This is where Lutheran theology is really helpful. "I believe of my own understanding or strength, I can not believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, or come to him..." It's not our doing--God in Christ saves. Those who haven't heard and those who die before they are baptised aren't penalized for what was beyond their control. And those who follow other religious paths--from what we know about God (who will be all in all, who so loved the world, who opened his arms to all on the cross) we can confidently leave such matters up to God's goodness. Those who reject God, who have turned their back on God--that's one description of hell--being apart from God. But the creed tells us that even those in hell are not given up for lost, but are released by the crucified and risen christ.
Why? This one is easy. Becuase Jesus died on the cross and was raised from the dead, our sins are forgiven and we are given new life that lasts beyond time. Why does God do this? Love is the only answer!
Where and what? What is heaven like, where is it? The simple answer to this is--we don't know exactly. What we do know is that all that is wrong with our temporal world is redeemed "in" heaven. Most of our intuitions about heaven are suggested by scriptures trying to describe the indescribable, or to make a point about the differences between heaven and earth.
This is a big topic and a short essay. Again what we don't know is oversahdowed by what we do know--that God is love, and that when we die that love does not. We become part of it.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Cheap Veep
"To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. My God, I put my trust in you..." Psalm 25
Are you on the list of people who will be texted the name of Obama's running mate before the press has it? It's another layer of mystery, intrigue, and speculation over what is really a mundane decision. Who will be "number 2?" It's interesting, and I'm sure it's important in the respect that the Vice President may become President in a tragic situation, but - my word - what alotts hoopla over this! Everyone knows the Veep lurks in the shadows of government while his president gets all the good press! It can't be that hard a job--people even volunteer to be VP of the church council!!
Hold onto that thought.
A while back a popular bumper sticker read, "Jesus is my co-pilot!" I always considered that to be faulty theology. If you truly are a disciple, then your place is following not leading. "Jesus, savior, pilot me" as the words to the famous hymn go. If Jesus is in the number two position in your life, then that means you're following your own flight plan--which might be okay in calm weather, but when the turbulence of life hits, it's a comfort to know that Jesus is at the controls.
The other day, Pastor Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback megachurch in California, and author of The Purpose Driven Life, interviewed both candidates--asking them about the issues in relationship to a faith perspective (admittedly of a more conservative nature). Basically, my feeling is that he was trying to determine if they put matters of Christian faith first, or make them second tier in their decision-making. Was Jesus just a running mate, a cheap Veep, or did the candidates put him first in their lives?
Well, I fear it's not as easy to determine as all that. Couldn't people of faith be on either side of an issue--even based on the same scriptures? We've seen that even within the ELCA--which one might say is a fairly homogenous entity. Does this mean that all is relative and there is no absolute truth? I don't think so. What I think is that there has to be conversation and moral deliberation between people of different opinions. And that includes more listening then speaking. We need to listen to one another and find common ground in our faithful witness. Instead of drawing lines in the sand. To do this, we need the presence of Jesus to guide us, and the example of his life, death, and life to inform us.
That's why it's important that Jesus come first in our lives.
(And by the way--my guesses for VP choices are: R- Mitt Romney, D- Joe Biden)
Are you on the list of people who will be texted the name of Obama's running mate before the press has it? It's another layer of mystery, intrigue, and speculation over what is really a mundane decision. Who will be "number 2?" It's interesting, and I'm sure it's important in the respect that the Vice President may become President in a tragic situation, but - my word - what alotts hoopla over this! Everyone knows the Veep lurks in the shadows of government while his president gets all the good press! It can't be that hard a job--people even volunteer to be VP of the church council!!
Hold onto that thought.
A while back a popular bumper sticker read, "Jesus is my co-pilot!" I always considered that to be faulty theology. If you truly are a disciple, then your place is following not leading. "Jesus, savior, pilot me" as the words to the famous hymn go. If Jesus is in the number two position in your life, then that means you're following your own flight plan--which might be okay in calm weather, but when the turbulence of life hits, it's a comfort to know that Jesus is at the controls.
The other day, Pastor Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback megachurch in California, and author of The Purpose Driven Life, interviewed both candidates--asking them about the issues in relationship to a faith perspective (admittedly of a more conservative nature). Basically, my feeling is that he was trying to determine if they put matters of Christian faith first, or make them second tier in their decision-making. Was Jesus just a running mate, a cheap Veep, or did the candidates put him first in their lives?
Well, I fear it's not as easy to determine as all that. Couldn't people of faith be on either side of an issue--even based on the same scriptures? We've seen that even within the ELCA--which one might say is a fairly homogenous entity. Does this mean that all is relative and there is no absolute truth? I don't think so. What I think is that there has to be conversation and moral deliberation between people of different opinions. And that includes more listening then speaking. We need to listen to one another and find common ground in our faithful witness. Instead of drawing lines in the sand. To do this, we need the presence of Jesus to guide us, and the example of his life, death, and life to inform us.
That's why it's important that Jesus come first in our lives.
(And by the way--my guesses for VP choices are: R- Mitt Romney, D- Joe Biden)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
A Firm Foundation
To read this Sunday's scripture click here:
http://divinity.library.vanderbilt.edu/lectionary/apentecost/aProper16.htm
If you build a house with no foundation, that house is susceptible to damage or even destruction. It has no stability and is shaken by the least tremor, and rots away from contact with the earth.
If you build a faith without a foundation, that faith is susceptible to damage and destruction in times of calamity, and is shaken by doubt and eventually rots away from contact with the world.
That's the thread I see running through the lessons this week.
- Isaiah calls upon Israel to remember their ancestors' faith and claim it as their inheritance--a firm foundation for times of trouble and a source of joy at all times.
- Jesus establishes the church on the statement of faith that Peter gives in response to the question "Who do you say that I am?"
- Paul writes that the foundation of a faith played out in the world is being a "living sacrifice," dedicating our whole beings to Christ and using our gifts in service to him.
- Psalm 138 rejoices in the relationship we are blessed to share with God--a relationship in which God listens to us and acts on our behalf. This is the "house" that is built on the foundation of faith.
Who are your "ancestors" in the faith--people who really influenced you on your journey?
Who do you say Jesus is for you?
What are your gifts that you can share in building up the church?
http://divinity.library.vanderbilt.edu/lectionary/apentecost/aProper16.htm
If you build a house with no foundation, that house is susceptible to damage or even destruction. It has no stability and is shaken by the least tremor, and rots away from contact with the earth.
If you build a faith without a foundation, that faith is susceptible to damage and destruction in times of calamity, and is shaken by doubt and eventually rots away from contact with the world.
That's the thread I see running through the lessons this week.
- Isaiah calls upon Israel to remember their ancestors' faith and claim it as their inheritance--a firm foundation for times of trouble and a source of joy at all times.
- Jesus establishes the church on the statement of faith that Peter gives in response to the question "Who do you say that I am?"
- Paul writes that the foundation of a faith played out in the world is being a "living sacrifice," dedicating our whole beings to Christ and using our gifts in service to him.
- Psalm 138 rejoices in the relationship we are blessed to share with God--a relationship in which God listens to us and acts on our behalf. This is the "house" that is built on the foundation of faith.
Who are your "ancestors" in the faith--people who really influenced you on your journey?
Who do you say Jesus is for you?
What are your gifts that you can share in building up the church?
Monday, August 18, 2008
Outside In (sermon 08/17/08)
Where do you get your news? Television? “Fair and balanced,” or the other one? Radio? Anyone count on the radio to keep them in the know? The internet! Blogs, and vlogs, and RSS feeds, social networking systems, and streaming quicktime video on the old broadband. (I have no idea what that is—broadband. Is that like The Dixie Chicks? Where do you get your news? It’s estimated that a good percentage of our young adults rely on Jon Stewart and Steve Colbert for their national and world news. And those shows are news satires!
Does anyone get their news from this—a newspaper? I know, I know, it’s archaic, it’s full of ads, the type is too small, and the ink gets all over your fingers. And more importantly, there’s no “breaking news” coverage with cool graphics and theme songs. A newspaper only contains news that’s locked in place by the shackles of time, frozen forever in the cold river of past experience. That and the comics—gotta see what ol’ Garfield’s up to today.
Anyway! It’s that quality of being able to represent a specific moment in time that interests me today. A moment in time—what was happening, who was who, and so on. If I wanted to know what Amherst was like in the 1940’s, I would only have to strain my brain enough to get my bod over to the library and rummage through the back issues of the local paper. Newspapers are artifacts that reveal the economic, political and, even more so, the social aspects of specific moments in time. They tell us what our society is, or was, like.
Each year since I don’t know when, one of America’s great newspapers, The Washington Post, takes a newsprint snapshot of daily life in our fair country, putting out a list that is the ultimate indicator of just where society is right now, after taking into consideration its recent past. You know this prestigious and frightfully important sociological record of American life, right? The name of the list is In and Out. Brilliant! Second only to Letterman’s Top Ten.
So here, without further ado, is what’s in and what’s out for 2008. Well maybe just one bit of ado. And that’s just to let you know I’m actually headed somewhere with all this-so sit tight! What’s in and out for 2008…
• Ecotourism is out. Staycations are in.
• Wanting to be president since you were five is out. Wanting to be Oprah since you were five is in!
• Miles Drentel is out. Don Draper is in.
• OMG, look at my Dad’s jeans! Out. In: OMG, look at my Dad’s Facebook page! (OMG being of course Oh My Gosh)
• Speaking of Facebook…Sudoku is out. Scrabulous is in. (Until it was out due to copyright issues.)
• And finally…Out—Kids addicted to Wii. In—Grandmas addicted to Wii.
Ahhhh, to be in! That’s everyone’s secret wish, isn’t it? To be in! To cease being an outsider—a geek, a nerd, a loser—and to instead hang with the “in” crowd. To bask in the reflected glory of that stellar gathering of … well—innies! To be with it, up to date, hip, cool, rad, awesome, dope, baaad, I’m afraid I don’t know the “in” word to use about being in.
I guess that’s because I’ve always been somewhat of an outsider myself. Not way outside—not like in the wilderness, not the deep, dark jungle of outside—but definitely in the outskirts of in-ness—the suburbs of cool. A moderate outsider. Like I was usually picked next to last for dodge ball teams. I didn’t hang out at school after the bell—I went home and watched The Munsters. I was in the marching band, not on the football squad. I was in the chorus of the school’s musical—never a lead.
But I did have some “in” qualities. I liked to crack jokes in class—even at the least opportune times. That won me some innie admiration—and a few hours detention! I drew a good caricature of Mr. Heroy the math teacher. That gave me some street cred. And I played guitar—always a plus in any social situation.
So, I wasn’t all that nerdy. In fact, I was up just close enough to the in crowd that I could catch the sweet, elusive, and heady fragrance of popularity, and I longed to be in there with them. I was like the little street urchin, face pressed against the cold glass of the restaurant window, staring with deep desire at both the feast and feasters.
Let me in! Let me in! (Oh, sorry—lost my composure for a second there!)
But you get the picture. Those on the outside are destined to dream of one day being inside. And those on the inside are obligated to keep others out. That’s the way it works. Otherwise out would be in and in would be out and other confusing stuff like that—there’s just no way around it. So there’s an in crowd for just about any cultural sector—be it fashion, academia, the playground, sports teams, the office, church, ah…what? Did I say church? I hope I did cause that’s what’s written here.
Yes, there is a tendency towards labeling the “in” and “out” even within the religious realm. The firm foundation for this is, perhaps surprisingly, scriptural. God chooses Abraham, out of whom is raised a people who are favored by God above all others. Israel is “in.” God’s holy people. Everyone else—gentile, not Jew, outsiders.
Now, from God’s perspective this isn’t a bad thing. But in the hands of human beings such information can go to one’s head. And it did. The people of Israel got cocky—and they laid a thick layer of exclusivity over the simple commandments that God gave them to order their lives.
To be “in” was now a matter of how well one kept the “law,” strict codes designed to ensure that there be no possible was a commandment would be breached. This, unfortunately, had the effect of alienating some of their own crowd. Making insiders out. Like the woman with hemorrhages—unclean because of blood flow. She’s out. The ten lepers—unclean because of their condition. They’re out. Or the disciples themselves. Today’s gospel picks up right after the disciples have a run in with the Pharisees—the “innie police.” They ask Jesus why his disciples don’t follow the ritual of hand washing before meals. For them, this places Jesus’ friends decidedly out.. What did Jesus have to say to that?
Speaking to all the Pharisees rules and regulations regarding eating—what you could eat, where, when, how, and with whom—Jesus negated each and every one, saying cleverly that it’s not the food or unwashed hands that go in your mouth that makes one “unclean.” It was what came out of the mouth, brought up by the heart turned to evil—that’s what defiled a person. In simpler terms, for Jesus, being out has to do with being opposed to God. Being in is to be caught up in God’s love. And God wants all that’s out to be in. All in all.
That’s a radical notion for us humans. We’re so focused on being in and keeping those we consider to be out, out, that we sometimes fail to recognize that, as we say in the Eucharistic prayer, “on the cross Jesus opened his arms to all.” For those Pharisees that meant adherence to their restrictive codes didn’t define Israel as God’s people. God defined that.
And from what the gospel says today, that definition was even more expansive than Jesus realized. The Canaanite woman is worse than unclean—she is a pagan. About as far outside as you could get—plus she has a sick daughter. She comes to Jesus asking for the child’s healing. Jesus’ reply? The equivalent of, “Sorry, not my table.” She persists, he resists. She begs. He insults. She is humble, he is, well, it seems to me Jesus is changed by this encounter. Looking at her, a foreign pagan woman, he is inspired to see instead a child of God. And, at that moment, the mission of God breaks loose from Israel and spills out into the rest of the world. God in Christ is turning the outside in!
How does this impact us—here, today? Well, obviously it is the explanation of how we became part of God’s chosen people. The love flows first into Israel and then out to the world. Paul calls this being grafted on to God’s people.
But this topsy-turvy notion of radical inclusivity is far broader than simply that. So often in the church we look at the people beyond the sanctuary walls as outsiders, who are somewhat inferior due to the fact that they aren’t “one of us.” They are the ones we are to separate ourselves from, for we hold to a higher standard. All while we are talking about evangelism and how we need more members. We want more people to be in, but we want them to be “in” people—and we want them to come in. We don’t think we should go out there to get people in here.
Today’s gospel gives us an opportunity to open our minds to the expansion of our mission here in southern New Hampshire. Lately we’ve been focused on our definition of “in.” A building, pastoral care, Christian education, a place in which we have a place. We established a church here—a place where the word of God is heard and preached and where the sacraments are made available.
It is a good church—a strong church, a generous church, a spirit led church, a servant church. A church that we believe people should want to be “in.” And some who visit here do, and some don’t. And some who come in and become members—some will stay, and some will leave. Caring for these is part of our mission.
But there’s more to it than that. Because what the story of the Canaanite woman teaches is that for God, the outside is in. Which means our vision for mission needs to broaden to accommodate the “outsiders,” for they are the ones whom Jesus came to give the good news to. Outside is in.
The first lesson puts it this way: “the house of the Lord shall be a house of prayer for all the people.” We need to open our eyes to the vast potential of this congregation and determine ways in which this house of God can be for those outside. Ways in which we can get outside of our inside-ness, and welcome the community into a relationship with us, based not on their jumping through hoops to be “in” with us, but based on God’s inclusion of them already!
For that’s the good news that we proclaim today. That with God there is no inside or outside, there’s only God’s side. Amen
Does anyone get their news from this—a newspaper? I know, I know, it’s archaic, it’s full of ads, the type is too small, and the ink gets all over your fingers. And more importantly, there’s no “breaking news” coverage with cool graphics and theme songs. A newspaper only contains news that’s locked in place by the shackles of time, frozen forever in the cold river of past experience. That and the comics—gotta see what ol’ Garfield’s up to today.
Anyway! It’s that quality of being able to represent a specific moment in time that interests me today. A moment in time—what was happening, who was who, and so on. If I wanted to know what Amherst was like in the 1940’s, I would only have to strain my brain enough to get my bod over to the library and rummage through the back issues of the local paper. Newspapers are artifacts that reveal the economic, political and, even more so, the social aspects of specific moments in time. They tell us what our society is, or was, like.
Each year since I don’t know when, one of America’s great newspapers, The Washington Post, takes a newsprint snapshot of daily life in our fair country, putting out a list that is the ultimate indicator of just where society is right now, after taking into consideration its recent past. You know this prestigious and frightfully important sociological record of American life, right? The name of the list is In and Out. Brilliant! Second only to Letterman’s Top Ten.
So here, without further ado, is what’s in and what’s out for 2008. Well maybe just one bit of ado. And that’s just to let you know I’m actually headed somewhere with all this-so sit tight! What’s in and out for 2008…
• Ecotourism is out. Staycations are in.
• Wanting to be president since you were five is out. Wanting to be Oprah since you were five is in!
• Miles Drentel is out. Don Draper is in.
• OMG, look at my Dad’s jeans! Out. In: OMG, look at my Dad’s Facebook page! (OMG being of course Oh My Gosh)
• Speaking of Facebook…Sudoku is out. Scrabulous is in. (Until it was out due to copyright issues.)
• And finally…Out—Kids addicted to Wii. In—Grandmas addicted to Wii.
Ahhhh, to be in! That’s everyone’s secret wish, isn’t it? To be in! To cease being an outsider—a geek, a nerd, a loser—and to instead hang with the “in” crowd. To bask in the reflected glory of that stellar gathering of … well—innies! To be with it, up to date, hip, cool, rad, awesome, dope, baaad, I’m afraid I don’t know the “in” word to use about being in.
I guess that’s because I’ve always been somewhat of an outsider myself. Not way outside—not like in the wilderness, not the deep, dark jungle of outside—but definitely in the outskirts of in-ness—the suburbs of cool. A moderate outsider. Like I was usually picked next to last for dodge ball teams. I didn’t hang out at school after the bell—I went home and watched The Munsters. I was in the marching band, not on the football squad. I was in the chorus of the school’s musical—never a lead.
But I did have some “in” qualities. I liked to crack jokes in class—even at the least opportune times. That won me some innie admiration—and a few hours detention! I drew a good caricature of Mr. Heroy the math teacher. That gave me some street cred. And I played guitar—always a plus in any social situation.
So, I wasn’t all that nerdy. In fact, I was up just close enough to the in crowd that I could catch the sweet, elusive, and heady fragrance of popularity, and I longed to be in there with them. I was like the little street urchin, face pressed against the cold glass of the restaurant window, staring with deep desire at both the feast and feasters.
Let me in! Let me in! (Oh, sorry—lost my composure for a second there!)
But you get the picture. Those on the outside are destined to dream of one day being inside. And those on the inside are obligated to keep others out. That’s the way it works. Otherwise out would be in and in would be out and other confusing stuff like that—there’s just no way around it. So there’s an in crowd for just about any cultural sector—be it fashion, academia, the playground, sports teams, the office, church, ah…what? Did I say church? I hope I did cause that’s what’s written here.
Yes, there is a tendency towards labeling the “in” and “out” even within the religious realm. The firm foundation for this is, perhaps surprisingly, scriptural. God chooses Abraham, out of whom is raised a people who are favored by God above all others. Israel is “in.” God’s holy people. Everyone else—gentile, not Jew, outsiders.
Now, from God’s perspective this isn’t a bad thing. But in the hands of human beings such information can go to one’s head. And it did. The people of Israel got cocky—and they laid a thick layer of exclusivity over the simple commandments that God gave them to order their lives.
To be “in” was now a matter of how well one kept the “law,” strict codes designed to ensure that there be no possible was a commandment would be breached. This, unfortunately, had the effect of alienating some of their own crowd. Making insiders out. Like the woman with hemorrhages—unclean because of blood flow. She’s out. The ten lepers—unclean because of their condition. They’re out. Or the disciples themselves. Today’s gospel picks up right after the disciples have a run in with the Pharisees—the “innie police.” They ask Jesus why his disciples don’t follow the ritual of hand washing before meals. For them, this places Jesus’ friends decidedly out.. What did Jesus have to say to that?
Speaking to all the Pharisees rules and regulations regarding eating—what you could eat, where, when, how, and with whom—Jesus negated each and every one, saying cleverly that it’s not the food or unwashed hands that go in your mouth that makes one “unclean.” It was what came out of the mouth, brought up by the heart turned to evil—that’s what defiled a person. In simpler terms, for Jesus, being out has to do with being opposed to God. Being in is to be caught up in God’s love. And God wants all that’s out to be in. All in all.
That’s a radical notion for us humans. We’re so focused on being in and keeping those we consider to be out, out, that we sometimes fail to recognize that, as we say in the Eucharistic prayer, “on the cross Jesus opened his arms to all.” For those Pharisees that meant adherence to their restrictive codes didn’t define Israel as God’s people. God defined that.
And from what the gospel says today, that definition was even more expansive than Jesus realized. The Canaanite woman is worse than unclean—she is a pagan. About as far outside as you could get—plus she has a sick daughter. She comes to Jesus asking for the child’s healing. Jesus’ reply? The equivalent of, “Sorry, not my table.” She persists, he resists. She begs. He insults. She is humble, he is, well, it seems to me Jesus is changed by this encounter. Looking at her, a foreign pagan woman, he is inspired to see instead a child of God. And, at that moment, the mission of God breaks loose from Israel and spills out into the rest of the world. God in Christ is turning the outside in!
How does this impact us—here, today? Well, obviously it is the explanation of how we became part of God’s chosen people. The love flows first into Israel and then out to the world. Paul calls this being grafted on to God’s people.
But this topsy-turvy notion of radical inclusivity is far broader than simply that. So often in the church we look at the people beyond the sanctuary walls as outsiders, who are somewhat inferior due to the fact that they aren’t “one of us.” They are the ones we are to separate ourselves from, for we hold to a higher standard. All while we are talking about evangelism and how we need more members. We want more people to be in, but we want them to be “in” people—and we want them to come in. We don’t think we should go out there to get people in here.
Today’s gospel gives us an opportunity to open our minds to the expansion of our mission here in southern New Hampshire. Lately we’ve been focused on our definition of “in.” A building, pastoral care, Christian education, a place in which we have a place. We established a church here—a place where the word of God is heard and preached and where the sacraments are made available.
It is a good church—a strong church, a generous church, a spirit led church, a servant church. A church that we believe people should want to be “in.” And some who visit here do, and some don’t. And some who come in and become members—some will stay, and some will leave. Caring for these is part of our mission.
But there’s more to it than that. Because what the story of the Canaanite woman teaches is that for God, the outside is in. Which means our vision for mission needs to broaden to accommodate the “outsiders,” for they are the ones whom Jesus came to give the good news to. Outside is in.
The first lesson puts it this way: “the house of the Lord shall be a house of prayer for all the people.” We need to open our eyes to the vast potential of this congregation and determine ways in which this house of God can be for those outside. Ways in which we can get outside of our inside-ness, and welcome the community into a relationship with us, based not on their jumping through hoops to be “in” with us, but based on God’s inclusion of them already!
For that’s the good news that we proclaim today. That with God there is no inside or outside, there’s only God’s side. Amen
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Peace and War
The Olympics are about peaceful competition--people doing their best and achieving all sorts of measures of excellence. Politics are not supposed to intermix with the pure motives of the games.
But this time, as in just about every Olympiad past, the world intruded. China's political situation visa vie Tibet, and their less than stellar record on human rights were glaringly and unavoidable visible, despite the government's far-reaching attempts to project a different image of itself. Then Russia made a military incursion into its neighbor, Georgia, and pictures of bombed out buildings and refugees vied with medal ceremonies for the top spot on the evening news. It seems the spirit of the games is nothing less ephemeral than just that.
Perhaps the "peace" of the Olympics is ultimately unsatisfying because it is an incomplete peace. God's peace, to the contrary, is not. It is a fuller conception of peace that might be better described as "well-being." In God's peace all are at rest, because all experience God's abundance. Each has total wellness of body, mind, and spirit. There is no unrest because all share equally in the goodness that God has given us. There is no enmity for all are reconciled through Christ. When we share the peace of the Lord at the beginning of the Lord's Supper, it is that peace we both convey upon one another, and call upon God to provide for us.
Because this peace can not come from competing--not in sports or militarily, not even in diplomacy (though that is the best recourse leading to that kind of peace). No, the peace of God can come only from God--we can either help it along, resist it, or get out of its way! How do we help God provide peace for the world?
It's called "hastening the kingdom." Blessed by God and equipped for ministry, we strive to reproduce here on earth what Jesus represented as the kingdom of heaven. This we do by sharing resources, working for justice, and loving both neighbor and enemy.
Perhaps this little story will explain it metaphorically. It was the day of the Special Olympics and the runners were ready for the fifty meter run. The pistol cracked, the runners took off, and the race was on--five young boys with Down's Syndrome running their hardest towards the finish line. Then something happened. One fell down. And then the others stopped, went back to him, gave him hugs until he stopped crying. And then, hand in hand, they ran across the finish line together!
That's the peace which passes all understanding. May God deliver it to us!
But this time, as in just about every Olympiad past, the world intruded. China's political situation visa vie Tibet, and their less than stellar record on human rights were glaringly and unavoidable visible, despite the government's far-reaching attempts to project a different image of itself. Then Russia made a military incursion into its neighbor, Georgia, and pictures of bombed out buildings and refugees vied with medal ceremonies for the top spot on the evening news. It seems the spirit of the games is nothing less ephemeral than just that.
Perhaps the "peace" of the Olympics is ultimately unsatisfying because it is an incomplete peace. God's peace, to the contrary, is not. It is a fuller conception of peace that might be better described as "well-being." In God's peace all are at rest, because all experience God's abundance. Each has total wellness of body, mind, and spirit. There is no unrest because all share equally in the goodness that God has given us. There is no enmity for all are reconciled through Christ. When we share the peace of the Lord at the beginning of the Lord's Supper, it is that peace we both convey upon one another, and call upon God to provide for us.
Because this peace can not come from competing--not in sports or militarily, not even in diplomacy (though that is the best recourse leading to that kind of peace). No, the peace of God can come only from God--we can either help it along, resist it, or get out of its way! How do we help God provide peace for the world?
It's called "hastening the kingdom." Blessed by God and equipped for ministry, we strive to reproduce here on earth what Jesus represented as the kingdom of heaven. This we do by sharing resources, working for justice, and loving both neighbor and enemy.
Perhaps this little story will explain it metaphorically. It was the day of the Special Olympics and the runners were ready for the fifty meter run. The pistol cracked, the runners took off, and the race was on--five young boys with Down's Syndrome running their hardest towards the finish line. Then something happened. One fell down. And then the others stopped, went back to him, gave him hugs until he stopped crying. And then, hand in hand, they ran across the finish line together!
That's the peace which passes all understanding. May God deliver it to us!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Looking In
The lessons discussed this week are: Isaiah 56:1,6-8; Romans 11:1-2a,29-32; Matthew 15:10-28.
The readings this week all speak of God's radical inclusion of those on the outside. Isaiah says that the LORD's house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations. Likewise Jesus realizes in the Canaanite woman's reply to his initial rebuff an expansion of God's favor beyond the people of Israel to include the Gentiles. Paul writes in Romans that this doesn't mean the people of God have been replaced, however--God's call and grace are irrevocable.
What does this mean for us? I'm thinking that we often think of ourselves as either unworthy of being "in" with God, or already there - by our own merit. The former way of thinking is, of course, preferable to the latter--which is Pharisaic (check Jesus' conversation with the disciples early in the passage). But we can have faith that we have been made acceptable to God through Jesus Christ--who included all sorts of "outsiders" in his Kingdom.
When were you an outsider? Did you experience God's radical inclusivity? Think about how you might include in God's love someone on the fringes of life and faith.
The readings this week all speak of God's radical inclusion of those on the outside. Isaiah says that the LORD's house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations. Likewise Jesus realizes in the Canaanite woman's reply to his initial rebuff an expansion of God's favor beyond the people of Israel to include the Gentiles. Paul writes in Romans that this doesn't mean the people of God have been replaced, however--God's call and grace are irrevocable.
What does this mean for us? I'm thinking that we often think of ourselves as either unworthy of being "in" with God, or already there - by our own merit. The former way of thinking is, of course, preferable to the latter--which is Pharisaic (check Jesus' conversation with the disciples early in the passage). But we can have faith that we have been made acceptable to God through Jesus Christ--who included all sorts of "outsiders" in his Kingdom.
When were you an outsider? Did you experience God's radical inclusivity? Think about how you might include in God's love someone on the fringes of life and faith.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Back to Work
Hi folks! I'm back from a rather soggy vacation--but restful.
Something new for the blog...posts will be simultaneously tacked up on the Messiah website. So you can visit there for your snacks, and pick up the latest news from church, see the worship assistant lists, newsletters, announcements, etc all in one stop!Hope that's helpful!
I'd also like to announce a change in content for the blog. I'll be posting as much as possible with my schedule, but on Mondays the post will be the sermon from the day before, Tuesdays will be a look at the lessons for the next Sunday (to get you thinking--and me too), Wednesdays will be about a current event and how it intersects with our faith, Thursdays will either be a bible study or the answer to a faith question. Friday through Sunday are wild cards!I hope to be using more media in my posts--MP3s, videos, pictures, art.
So, back to work. If you're on vacation this week, sorry about the rain left over from mine! Be well, have faith, serve the Lord!
Something new for the blog...posts will be simultaneously tacked up on the Messiah website. So you can visit there for your snacks, and pick up the latest news from church, see the worship assistant lists, newsletters, announcements, etc all in one stop!Hope that's helpful!
I'd also like to announce a change in content for the blog. I'll be posting as much as possible with my schedule, but on Mondays the post will be the sermon from the day before, Tuesdays will be a look at the lessons for the next Sunday (to get you thinking--and me too), Wednesdays will be about a current event and how it intersects with our faith, Thursdays will either be a bible study or the answer to a faith question. Friday through Sunday are wild cards!I hope to be using more media in my posts--MP3s, videos, pictures, art.
So, back to work. If you're on vacation this week, sorry about the rain left over from mine! Be well, have faith, serve the Lord!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Rain, rain go away!
Here we are on the third week away from home and almost every day has been rainy! Here's the view from our porch at the lake house...
Still, I won't complain--it's been a restful time.
Soon it will be back to civilization!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Do you believe in miracles? (sermon 8/3/08)
Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
08.08.08. Do you know what I’m referring to? Let me give you a hint…(Olympic theme). 888. That’s the opening day of the Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. Coming up this Friday. So there’ll soon be hours of television coverage of events—swimming, diving, track and field, team sports like softball and basketball, and of course that timeless classic Olympic sport—beach volleyball! Not to mention the gymnastics. I’d like not to mention them, since they overshadow most of the other less popular sports like the equestrian events and archery for instance. That and I find gymnastics to be frightfully boring. Sorry, I’m just saying—it does nothing for me. It’s okay if you like it—just me, not so much.
In fact, truth be told (and church is the place for truth) truth be told—I don’t find the Summer Olympics to be enjoyable much at all. You won’t find me glued to the old flat screen, watching China and Japan battle it out for Ping Pong gold. I won’t be rushing out to get HDTV so I can count the beads of sweat on the weightlifters’ mighty brows. I just don’t find the summer games to be terribly compelling. Maybe it’s because it’s summer and it’s hot and I’m cranky.
Because I don’t feel the same way about the Winter Olympics. Those I love. Slalom, the super G, ski jumping (the thrill of victory the agony of defeat), the luge, biathlon, and curling (which, by the way is still only a demonstration sport!). The sports are just way cooler in my humble opinion. And the athletes are way more colorful as well. Who could ever forget the Jamaican bobsled team, for instance, or Eddie the Eagle, or Tomba.
And, of course, the 1980 American Olympic hockey team—made up of college students, not professionals like it is now. Kids really, vying for Olympic glory against the mighty Soviet Union team in the semifinals, and the Finnish team for the gold. Who can forget those last ten seconds of the final game? America up 4 to 2 after trailing the Finns for most of the game, crowd going wild, announcers screaming the countdown—6,5,4,3,2,1 and then one of them breaking in over the buzzer that ended the game, shouting, “Do you believe in miracles? Yes! Unbelievable!” The United States had been granted a miracle—a win over Finland. (Sorry Arja!)
And what I want to know is this: Do you believe in miracles? Well, do ya?
Biblical miracles, that is. Like in today’s gospel, in which Jesus serves over five thousand folks dinner al fresco. On the menu… five loaves of peasant bread and two dried fish, graciously donated by a young boy in the crowd. Slim pickings for such an endeavor. Hardly enough for just Peter, to say the least. But somehow, it was enough…and there were twelve super-sized doggie bags filled with leftovers once every one had had their fill. (Someone had a tasty leftover fish sandwich that night!) Jesus had fed a multitude with a handful of food! A miracle! A miracle?
Most of us have no problem believing in Jesus as the Son of God. But the miracles of Christ—they present a problem for our scientific reasoning minds. So, some interpret this fantastic feeding as a “lesson in sharing.” The thought being that when Jesus had the crowd sit down for supper, and he publicly blessed the little boy’s meager, yet enthusiastically offered loaves and fishes, it shamed those who had also brought food along with them but hid it for themselves. Shamed them into pulling out their loaves, fishes, tuna sandwiches and hardboiled eggs to share with their neighbors. Somehow this seems more plausible for those who are a little uncomfortable with Jesus’ miracles.
And, just like with Olympic gymnastics, you can hold to that theory if you want and I promise not to order you burned at the stake. But it seems to me to be what theologians like you and I would call a “hermeneutical jump,” an “exegetical leap”—or, to use the vernacular, reading between the lines. Down south they’d put it this way—“That dog just won’t hunt!” Do you believe in miracles? I don’t think so.
What is a miracle after all? Philosopher David Hume wrote that:
A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable, that all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless it be, that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of these laws, or in other words, a miracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever happen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man, seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: because such a kind of death, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that appellation....
So a miracle is something that defies experience grounded in the laws of nature. It’s something that has no logical, natural explanation. Like turning water into wine. Like healing a blind man. Like calming the wind and waves of the sea. Like raising the dead. Like feeding five thousand men with the equivalent of a value meal from McDonalds. In Hume’s thought, these all would qualify as miracles—if they proved to be true.
And how does one go about “proving” a miracle? Hume answers this as well:
The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention), 'That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavours to establish....' When anyone tells me, that he saw a dead man restored to life, I immediately consider with myself, whether it be more probable, that this person should either deceive or be deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really have happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other; and according to the superiority, which I discover, I pronounce my decision, and always reject the greater miracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous, than the event which he relates; then, and not till then, can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.
If the miracle not being true is more implausible than the miracle itself, then you
can say you’ve got a miracle on your hands. Using Hume’s definitions and theories, then, the likelihood of a miraculous event are slim to none—even biblical ones. So, parting of the Red Sea? More likely the wind and the currents did it. Noah and the flood? Melting polar icecaps are a reasonable explanation. Jesus walking on the water and Peter sinking? Didn’t Jesus tell him where the stepping stones were? Feeding five thousand with loaves and fish? They shared—makes sense.
Except that is not what the text says! It says Jesus took the food, looked up to heaven, blessed it, and then broke it into pieces for the disciples to hand out to the people And all ate and were filled. That’s what Matthew says. That’s what Mark says too. And Luke. And even the gospel of John reports this occurrence. It’s the only miracle story to make it into all four accounts of Jesus’ ministry. In biblical scholarly circles, that spells confidence high of the event having happened.
Do we have proof? Quite the contrary, according to Hume. But we don’t need proof. Why not? Because, as even Hume admits, religion requires not reason and logic, but trust and faith. Faith in that which cannot be seen, heard, or explained away by human beings. Miracles, it has been said, are experienced most through eyes of faith—in which even the mundane can be miraculous, and the miraculous can become mundane.
So is that the “moral of the story?” That we should have faith and believe in miracles? That if we say, “I believe in miracles!” loud enough and long enough our wish will come true like with Tinkerbell at the end of the play Peter Pan? That God will provide miraculously for those in need—even those in need of a win over the Finnish hockey team? (again, sorry Arja!)
We know, through experience, that this isn’t the way the world works, nor is it how miracles work. Five thousand not counting the women and children were fed that night in Israel. That doesn’t mean they never went hungry again. And there are millions of people starving to death—right now—and God doesn’t feed them miraculously.
We say things like, “God will provide,” and “God never gives you more than you can bear.” We sing hymns that say, “I’m leaning on the everlasting arms—what have I to fear…safe and secure from all alarms?” Do we find any of these to be the way we experience hardship and loss and pain? Do we see it reflected in our world? No…and yes.
No, we aren’t cured or fed by platitudes, and though we may be comforted by a familiar hymn, there’s part of us, I think, that just can’t believe God is even present, much less in their corner, doing something!
But yes. Yes, with the strength of a community of believers surrounding us, we can experience peace and fulfillment where it seemed impossible to do so before. The sick can experience healing, if not a cure. The hungry can be fed, if we have the will to do it. There can be heartache and strife in our lives, and still we can feel cradled in God’s arms through the arms of another.
Yes, Virginia, there is a God and we know that God is loving and cares for the creation, especially for us. We know because the miracles point to it—even if you don’t believe they actually occurred, or if you want to explain the away logically. The miracle stories of Jesus are a testimony—a testimony that Jesus of Nazareth, is God’s Christ, and even more so, with the Father and the Spirit, Jesus is God! A testimony that comes to us over the ages, through the mouths of hundreds of witnesses to the gospel, passing through the pens and minds of those who captured it for eternity on paper. Jesus told his followers that if they could not believe through his words in teaching with parables—then to believe because of the signs. In the same way, I encourage you to use the miracle stories as signs. Signs of a reality that is here now in Jesus Christ. Signs that point to the way God’s kingdom will operate, some day. Signs that reveal the kingdom operating in our broken world already in fits and starts. Forget proof and logic and believe that this story shows us a God who is compassionate, who works to relieve people’s problems, who uses a scarcity of earthly things to do things abundantly, who uses followers to distribute blessings to everyone, and who feeds us still with bread broken and wine poured.
Do you believe in miracles? This sermon perhaps raises more questions than it gives answers. Sometimes a sermon does that. But questions of faith will always outnumber the answers we come up with. And sometimes the answers we come up with are fairly ambiguous. And that’s okay. It’s when we think we got it all figured out that the real problems begin! AMEN
08.08.08. Do you know what I’m referring to? Let me give you a hint…(Olympic theme). 888. That’s the opening day of the Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. Coming up this Friday. So there’ll soon be hours of television coverage of events—swimming, diving, track and field, team sports like softball and basketball, and of course that timeless classic Olympic sport—beach volleyball! Not to mention the gymnastics. I’d like not to mention them, since they overshadow most of the other less popular sports like the equestrian events and archery for instance. That and I find gymnastics to be frightfully boring. Sorry, I’m just saying—it does nothing for me. It’s okay if you like it—just me, not so much.
In fact, truth be told (and church is the place for truth) truth be told—I don’t find the Summer Olympics to be enjoyable much at all. You won’t find me glued to the old flat screen, watching China and Japan battle it out for Ping Pong gold. I won’t be rushing out to get HDTV so I can count the beads of sweat on the weightlifters’ mighty brows. I just don’t find the summer games to be terribly compelling. Maybe it’s because it’s summer and it’s hot and I’m cranky.
Because I don’t feel the same way about the Winter Olympics. Those I love. Slalom, the super G, ski jumping (the thrill of victory the agony of defeat), the luge, biathlon, and curling (which, by the way is still only a demonstration sport!). The sports are just way cooler in my humble opinion. And the athletes are way more colorful as well. Who could ever forget the Jamaican bobsled team, for instance, or Eddie the Eagle, or Tomba.
And, of course, the 1980 American Olympic hockey team—made up of college students, not professionals like it is now. Kids really, vying for Olympic glory against the mighty Soviet Union team in the semifinals, and the Finnish team for the gold. Who can forget those last ten seconds of the final game? America up 4 to 2 after trailing the Finns for most of the game, crowd going wild, announcers screaming the countdown—6,5,4,3,2,1 and then one of them breaking in over the buzzer that ended the game, shouting, “Do you believe in miracles? Yes! Unbelievable!” The United States had been granted a miracle—a win over Finland. (Sorry Arja!)
And what I want to know is this: Do you believe in miracles? Well, do ya?
Biblical miracles, that is. Like in today’s gospel, in which Jesus serves over five thousand folks dinner al fresco. On the menu… five loaves of peasant bread and two dried fish, graciously donated by a young boy in the crowd. Slim pickings for such an endeavor. Hardly enough for just Peter, to say the least. But somehow, it was enough…and there were twelve super-sized doggie bags filled with leftovers once every one had had their fill. (Someone had a tasty leftover fish sandwich that night!) Jesus had fed a multitude with a handful of food! A miracle! A miracle?
Most of us have no problem believing in Jesus as the Son of God. But the miracles of Christ—they present a problem for our scientific reasoning minds. So, some interpret this fantastic feeding as a “lesson in sharing.” The thought being that when Jesus had the crowd sit down for supper, and he publicly blessed the little boy’s meager, yet enthusiastically offered loaves and fishes, it shamed those who had also brought food along with them but hid it for themselves. Shamed them into pulling out their loaves, fishes, tuna sandwiches and hardboiled eggs to share with their neighbors. Somehow this seems more plausible for those who are a little uncomfortable with Jesus’ miracles.
And, just like with Olympic gymnastics, you can hold to that theory if you want and I promise not to order you burned at the stake. But it seems to me to be what theologians like you and I would call a “hermeneutical jump,” an “exegetical leap”—or, to use the vernacular, reading between the lines. Down south they’d put it this way—“That dog just won’t hunt!” Do you believe in miracles? I don’t think so.
What is a miracle after all? Philosopher David Hume wrote that:
A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable, that all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless it be, that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of these laws, or in other words, a miracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever happen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man, seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: because such a kind of death, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that appellation....
So a miracle is something that defies experience grounded in the laws of nature. It’s something that has no logical, natural explanation. Like turning water into wine. Like healing a blind man. Like calming the wind and waves of the sea. Like raising the dead. Like feeding five thousand men with the equivalent of a value meal from McDonalds. In Hume’s thought, these all would qualify as miracles—if they proved to be true.
And how does one go about “proving” a miracle? Hume answers this as well:
The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention), 'That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavours to establish....' When anyone tells me, that he saw a dead man restored to life, I immediately consider with myself, whether it be more probable, that this person should either deceive or be deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really have happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other; and according to the superiority, which I discover, I pronounce my decision, and always reject the greater miracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous, than the event which he relates; then, and not till then, can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.
If the miracle not being true is more implausible than the miracle itself, then you
can say you’ve got a miracle on your hands. Using Hume’s definitions and theories, then, the likelihood of a miraculous event are slim to none—even biblical ones. So, parting of the Red Sea? More likely the wind and the currents did it. Noah and the flood? Melting polar icecaps are a reasonable explanation. Jesus walking on the water and Peter sinking? Didn’t Jesus tell him where the stepping stones were? Feeding five thousand with loaves and fish? They shared—makes sense.
Except that is not what the text says! It says Jesus took the food, looked up to heaven, blessed it, and then broke it into pieces for the disciples to hand out to the people And all ate and were filled. That’s what Matthew says. That’s what Mark says too. And Luke. And even the gospel of John reports this occurrence. It’s the only miracle story to make it into all four accounts of Jesus’ ministry. In biblical scholarly circles, that spells confidence high of the event having happened.
Do we have proof? Quite the contrary, according to Hume. But we don’t need proof. Why not? Because, as even Hume admits, religion requires not reason and logic, but trust and faith. Faith in that which cannot be seen, heard, or explained away by human beings. Miracles, it has been said, are experienced most through eyes of faith—in which even the mundane can be miraculous, and the miraculous can become mundane.
So is that the “moral of the story?” That we should have faith and believe in miracles? That if we say, “I believe in miracles!” loud enough and long enough our wish will come true like with Tinkerbell at the end of the play Peter Pan? That God will provide miraculously for those in need—even those in need of a win over the Finnish hockey team? (again, sorry Arja!)
We know, through experience, that this isn’t the way the world works, nor is it how miracles work. Five thousand not counting the women and children were fed that night in Israel. That doesn’t mean they never went hungry again. And there are millions of people starving to death—right now—and God doesn’t feed them miraculously.
We say things like, “God will provide,” and “God never gives you more than you can bear.” We sing hymns that say, “I’m leaning on the everlasting arms—what have I to fear…safe and secure from all alarms?” Do we find any of these to be the way we experience hardship and loss and pain? Do we see it reflected in our world? No…and yes.
No, we aren’t cured or fed by platitudes, and though we may be comforted by a familiar hymn, there’s part of us, I think, that just can’t believe God is even present, much less in their corner, doing something!
But yes. Yes, with the strength of a community of believers surrounding us, we can experience peace and fulfillment where it seemed impossible to do so before. The sick can experience healing, if not a cure. The hungry can be fed, if we have the will to do it. There can be heartache and strife in our lives, and still we can feel cradled in God’s arms through the arms of another.
Yes, Virginia, there is a God and we know that God is loving and cares for the creation, especially for us. We know because the miracles point to it—even if you don’t believe they actually occurred, or if you want to explain the away logically. The miracle stories of Jesus are a testimony—a testimony that Jesus of Nazareth, is God’s Christ, and even more so, with the Father and the Spirit, Jesus is God! A testimony that comes to us over the ages, through the mouths of hundreds of witnesses to the gospel, passing through the pens and minds of those who captured it for eternity on paper. Jesus told his followers that if they could not believe through his words in teaching with parables—then to believe because of the signs. In the same way, I encourage you to use the miracle stories as signs. Signs of a reality that is here now in Jesus Christ. Signs that point to the way God’s kingdom will operate, some day. Signs that reveal the kingdom operating in our broken world already in fits and starts. Forget proof and logic and believe that this story shows us a God who is compassionate, who works to relieve people’s problems, who uses a scarcity of earthly things to do things abundantly, who uses followers to distribute blessings to everyone, and who feeds us still with bread broken and wine poured.
Do you believe in miracles? This sermon perhaps raises more questions than it gives answers. Sometimes a sermon does that. But questions of faith will always outnumber the answers we come up with. And sometimes the answers we come up with are fairly ambiguous. And that’s okay. It’s when we think we got it all figured out that the real problems begin! AMEN
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