Epiphany

Epiphany 4B: A Listening Faith

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can-you-hear-me-nowOLD TESTAMENT: Deuteronomy 18: 15-20

To read the Old Testament Lectionary Passage, click here

The book of Deuteronomy, which means “second law”, is broadly described as the components of the terms of the covenant that was given through Moses at Mt. Sinai between God and the people of Israel. The book begins with a narrative that summarizes the story of Israel’s life in the wilderness and then presents the “law code” as the framework of the remainder of the book. The book was probably not written, though, by either one person or even in one setting or time. It is rather sort of a compilation through which we can understand one of the most formative periods in the development of Israel’s faith.

Up until the time of the passage that we read, there have been essentially three classes of leaders—royalty, priests, and power structures. The passage that we read introduces the idea of public leaders, prophets who would arise from time to time to bring a new word from God that could affect both the national and the private lives of persons in Israel. At this point, they were used to Moses and his particular style of leadership. But someone else would soon be in the leadership position. Essentially, it’s a reminder that true and effective leadership is not about the leader; it’s about the people being led and the message that those people receive.

For the Israelites’ religion, prophets were very prominent. They were usually eloquent speakers and claimed authority that was given by God. They gave expression to the Word of God and were intended to be heard by the people. They effected change. And here, there is an implicit warning against “false prophets”. It is interesting that in this time prophets, who were known to often speak to not only religious issues, but also social and political ones. Prophets spoke for change in the world—the whole world. They were acutely political (of or pertaining to citizens or citizenship.) An interesting question for our time is to ask who our prophets are. Who are the ones calling for total and complete change in the world? Who are the ones calling for justice or peace? To be honest, in both Old Testament times and now, prophets were never that popular. Their message was too harsh, too biting, to close to home. Their message called us to change our lives. But, contrary to the way perhaps I try to imagine God, God is not a perfectionist. I don’t think there’s some static master plan of what the world should someday be. Instead, it’s about listening. It’s about the Creator and the Creation growing into each other. It’s not about keeping up with God. It’s about following wherever God goes. Our faith informs our lives and our lives inform our faith.

William Sloane Coffin said that the final end of life lies not in politics, but the final end of life is concerned with the proper ordering of power to the end that it may enhance and not destroy human life. Only a fool hasn’t learned in the twentieth century that the political order in which people live deeply affects the personal lives they lead…The separation of church and state is a sound doctrine, but it points to an organizational separation. It is not designed to separate Christians from their politics. For our faith certainly should inform our common life, as well as our personal, more private lives.

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What parallels for our time do you see?
  3. Do you think there is a prophetic word of God in play today?
  4. How does this speak to the separation of church and state?
  5. How do you think we know when it IS the Word of God?
  6. What is the cost of following a prophetic voice?
  7. So how does this passage depict leadership? Is that the way we usually think of it?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT: 1 Corinthians 8: 1-13

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

In this passage, Paul attempts to answer a question about eating meat offered to an idol. He takes their question, though, about a specific practice and gives a much wider explanation of moral reasoning and community relations. Eating, then, becomes a metaphor for the larger issues of living as a person of faith within the community. The point is that there is always more to it than just being right. The question is whether we follow knowledge or love.

Typically, the widespread practice of the community was to sacrifice an animal to a deity, burning some of the flesh on an altar, and then eating some of it in a cultic meal, which was always a festive, social occasion. (Yeah, that’s MY idea of a party!) The remainder of the sacrificial animal was sold to the meat market for resale to the public. So believers would have the chance that they might be eating meats that had been sacrificed. The question here is essentially how one honors and protects holiness, lives set apart for God, while one is living in the world with all of the worldly customs and norms.

But, of course, Paul is much more concerned with how believers relate to others and how believers claim to whom they belong. It is not what you eat, necessarily, but what controls and takes over your life. When something takes over your life, begins to run it for you, causes you to change who you are or what you do or how you live before God, then, according to Paul, you have idolatry. You will not be of any good for yourself or for the building up of the faith community. It is not a question of eating holy or unholy meat; it is a question of faithfulness or idolatry.

There’s actually quite a bit here for us. Who is it we follow? (Again, what constitutes leadership for us? It is issues? Beliefs? Power? Do we follow (or vote!) for the one who will change society for the better or the one who will do the most for our lives?) What issues, or causes, or beliefs control our lives? What is so important to us that we might risk the community relationships surrounding us? Are we more affected by knowledge than we are by love?

The point is that faith is about relationships. It is about relating to the world around us. We are not called to hold ourselves up in some tiny holiness-filled environment so that we can be pure and undefiled. Rather, we are called to go into the world, sometimes with reckless abandon, and take the message of love. It has nothing to do with telling people about God; it has to do with revealing God’s presence in their lives.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What are the “idols” that consume our lives today?
  3. How does that affect ourselves and others around us?
  4. What message does this hold for today?

 

There is a scene in Tom Hanks’ movie, Forrest Gump, that came to mind when I read this text in 1 Corinthians. As a young boy, Forrest has to wear these clumsy, heavy leg braces. For the most part, he doesn’t care. In fact, the braces become so much a part of his life that he doesn’t even realize much how they have trapped and confined him. And then one day, some bullies chase Forrest and he has to run away but the braces slow him down. As the bullies get closer and closer and Forrest struggles to run faster, the braces finally break, fall off his legs, and suddenly he is set free to run fast. The point is this, Forrest never knew what it felt to be free or how fast he could run until he took that step or, in a better sense, was forced to break out of braces, and live differently, to live beyond himself. He never went back to the braces.

 

In 1 Corinthians, the issue was dietary laws. When Paul was asked in Corinth about eating meat sacrificed to idols he said, “This is not a problem. We know that those idols are made of stone or wood. There is no god there. The sacrifice meant nothing. Pass the steak sauce and eat.” There is complete freedom in the gospel to eat meat sacrificed to idols because we are not saved by what we eat or don’t eat.

 

Forrest could have kept those leg braces on his whole life and he wouldn’t have known it. All he would know is what he couldn’t do. He couldn’t run, can’t swim, couldn’t dance, couldn’t play ball, couldn’t cross his legs, couldn’t put his foot behind his head, or couldn’t do yoga. He would spend his life defining himself by what he couldn’t do. There are Christians like that. They define themselves by what they can’t do. Can’t drink, can’t smoke, can’t dance, can’t play cards, can’t watch movies. Oh, we are long past talking about circumcision and dietary laws but the same issue is at stake. Freedom. What am I allowed to do? If I am saved by grace, then am I free to do as I please? There is an old, subtitled movie called Babette’s Feast. It is the story of a woman, Babette, who has escaped the French Revolution with nothing but the clothes on her back. She ends up in a very small, parochial Danish village where she is employed by two spinster sisters whose minister father founded the village. The town has no joy. Religious rules are overbearing. Pleasure, music, laughter, and frivolity are vices to be scorned. There is a deep, heavy shroud of weariness blanketing all the people. Babette is an accomplished chef but is told to prepare each day a thin broth with bread. When she suggests some variation in the meal, she is quickly told that such pleasures are not of God. This is a place defined by what they cannot do. One day, Babette receives news that she has won the French lottery. The amount of money that she now has will enable her to move from that dreary village and reestablish her life wherever she wants. Faced with all of this freedom, she makes her choice. Babette takes all of her winnings and purchases the most extravagant food from live quails and turtles to unusual spices and seasonings. For the next week, she prepares the most exquisite feast that this village has ever had. And they come. They come hesitantly at first but then through this feast, open up with conversation, laughter, and joy that they have never before experienced. The only problem is that Babette is once again penniless. She has used her freedom as a servant to her neighbors. But in doing so, she not only set herself free but allowed this small village to taste the true freedom of life in the Spirit.

 

(Excerpt from “The Struggle for Freedom”, by Scott Suskovic, available at http://www.sermonsuite.com/free.php?i=788031597&key=h4Nhveasvp1vrfaL, accessed 23 January, 2012)

 

 

GOSPEL: Mark 1: 21-28

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

After Jesus called the first disciples, which we read last week, they made their way to Capernaum. He enters the synagogue there and astonishes the crowd with the authority of his teaching—teaching that brings him constantly in conflict with the scribes, who were the resident “experts” in interpreting the Law. For the scribes, Jesus’ activities and teachings posed a threat to their traditions.

As for the man who Jesus healed, the whole idea of someone with unclean spirits (or who was essentially “impure”) entering the synagogue was against the law as it existed. This person was an interruption. He didn’t fit. He didn’t belong. But not only did Jesus acknowledge him but he also healed him. For the writer of Mark, this was a great depiction of Jesus’ authority; after all, this is the authority to which even the impure, even the unclean, even the demons listen. You will remember that in The Gospel According to Mark, the heavens were ripped open upon Jesus’ baptism, upon the beginning of his ministry. The world as it was known was ending. Continuing that understanding, for the Gospel writer here, the end of these demons, the end of evil, signifies that the worldly age is coming to an end. Evil is being broken and redeemed. This whole idea of exorcism is odd for us, but the point is that God is bringing everything into the Kingdom of God. All of earth, with everything that is wrong, and all of the earthly power structures are being recreated and redeemed.

So, really, was it a demonic possession or just a voice competing with the one to which the demoniac should have been listening? And if that’s the case, then where are we in this story? Jesus brought an unquestioned authority to his teaching. What was that? Well of course, it was the word of God? But what does that mean? It was not an overpowering; it was not a violent overtaking; it was a silencing. Maybe that what we’re called to do. Maybe that’s how God speaks—in the silences, when we’re listening. Shhh! Can you hear me now?

You see, Jesus’ teaching was not just about words; it was instead about transformation. It was about taking that which we perceive did not belong and speaking Creation once again.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. How does this relate to our world today?
  3. How are we called to silence the voices of this world?
  4. What voices are we called to silence?
  5. What voices are we called to empower?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius—and a lot of courage—to move in the opposite direction. (E.F.Schumacker)

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

 

My ego is like a fortress. I have built its walls stone by stone to hold out the invasion of the love of God. But I have stayed here long enough. There is light over the barriers. O my God…I let go of the past. I withdraw my grasping hand from the future. And in the great silence of this moment, I alertly rest my soul. (Howard Thurman)

 

 

Closing

 

“Silence! frenzied, unclean spirit,” cried God’s healing, holy One. “Cease your ranting! Flesh can’t bear it. Flee as night before the sun.” At Christ’s voice the demon trembled, from its victim madly rushed, while the crowd that was assembled stood in wonder, stunned and hushed.

Lord, the demons still are thriving in the grey cells of the mind: tyrant voices, shrill and driving, twisted thoughts that grip and bind, doubts that stir the heart to panic, fears distorting reason’s sight, guilt that makes our loving frantic, dreams that cloud the soul with fright.

Silence, Lord, the unclean spirit, in our mind and in our heart. Speak your word that when we hear it all our demons shall depart. Clear our thought and calm our feeling, still the fractured, warring soul. By the power of your healing make us faithful, true and whole.

                        (Thomas H. Troeger, 1984, The United Methodist Hymnal # 264.)

Epiphany 3B: Becoming Who You Are

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Image of ChristOLD TESTAMENT: Jonah 3: 1-5, 10

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

The book of Jonah is a strange story told in just forty-eight verses. There is little documentation as to who wrote it, under what circumstances, when it was written, and, for some, even why it was written. The story is of a fictitious character named Jonah, perhaps named and derived from the prophet Jonah, son of Amittai. But the folkloric and almost comedic tone of the story suggests that it may come from an independent tradition of the telling of miraculous tales. No one really knows, though, what genre or story-type would have sparked this book.

Leading up to our reading, the story is told of Jonah, who is a pretty well-known prophet as Old Testament prophets go not, probably, because of what he did or what he said but because of what lore says happened to him. Because, you see, Jonah was not the most willing of prophets. When God told him to go to Ninevah, Jonah didn’t question or hesitantly stammer out the list of weaknesses that made him unlikely for this mission. No, Jonah ran away! He went and found a ship and tried to sail away from God. And then, in the midst of a fierce and terrifying storm, Jonah fell asleep. So believing that he may have with his actions brought this calamity upon others, Jonah volunteered to be thrown into the sea. Well, you remember the rest of the well-known story: Jonah was swallowed by a fish, he prayed and prayed and remembered his God who had done so much in his life, and then the fish regurgitated him onto the beach. You know…apparently being a prophet is sometimes messy business!

Actually the “messy” part of this story is that Jonah’s acts not only got himself into trouble, but also endangered others. It’s a hard lesson. We are not lone rangers in this world. What we do, what we choose to do, and sometimes when we try desperately to save ourselves from change, we endanger others.

So the next time the Lord spoke to Jonah, calling him to go to Ninevah and tell them to change, Jonah obliged. He probably wasn’t that happy about it but, after all, once you’ve been thrown up by a fish, you pretty much listen. So he went to the people of Ninevah. Now Ninevah was a major city—lots of commerce and wealth. They pretty much had it all figured out. But somewhere deep inside of them, something was missing. There was still poverty; there was still inequality; and there was still the sense that this was not all there was. So they listened to Jonah. More importantly, they heard Jonah. After all, they were headed for destruction. So they vowed to change, donning sackcloth and fasting and begging God for forgiveness. When God saw that they really got it, that they really intended to change, God saved them from themselves.

In Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, Father Mapple, the preacher at the Whaleman’s Chapel in New Bedford, names “willful disobedience” as Jonah’s sin. He observes that God more often commands than seeks to persuade because what the deity wants of us is too hard for us. “And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists.” (From The New Interpreter’s Bible, p. 501) While that may sound a bit harsh to our grace-filled 21st century ears, I think there is some truth to it. Sometimes God must do something a little rash to get our attention, to jolt us out of our complacency, to, in effect, will us to “disobey” ourselves, to change pathways from the one on which we travel, and follow where God leads.

Truthfully, though, the whole story is sort of a caricature. I think those who desperately cling to literalism would struggle a bit with this story. A big fish? Really? And an entire city on the brink of hell suddenly repent? Really? Maybe we CAN just chalk it up to grace. You know, amazing things happen on this journey of faith, things that we do not expect, things that we do not plan, things that make no sense. Divine mercy and compassion always win. Maybe that’s the moral of the story. And, when it’s all said and done, when we just can’t seem to make it work, just can’t seem to get on the road, God lovingly chases us down and walks with us to the right place. In Feasting On the Word, Donna Schaper reminds us of the old Jewish proverb that reads: “Whenever someone says, “I have a plan,” God laughs.”

And when it’s all said and done, Jonah really doesn’t change all that much. I don’t think Jonah is in line for sainthood any time soon. He’s like most of us. Maybe that’s the point too. God calls us all. And if we mess it up or just flat run away, God always gives us another shot. And even those of us who do everything we can to avoid where God is trying to take us can end up saving a city (if we don’t get swallowed up first!)

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What message does it provide for you?
  3. How would you respond to Melville’s notion of “willful disobedience”?
  4. What parallels for our time do you see?
  5. What is our Ninevah?
  6. Do you think there is a prophetic word of God in play today?
  7. What does this say about our own calling from God?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT: 1 Corinthians 7: 29-31

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

For Paul, there was a sense of urgency here. He believed, it seems, that the “end of time” as we know it was coming quickly. Paul assumes here that although individuals are called by God, they also make choices for which they are responsible. Here, Paul is warning against being entrapped by the world’s values and not paying attention to what was coming. Paul urged his readers to remain unchanged even in the midst of a changing world. For him, believers need to keep a “long view”, without letting the world drag them down or away. Paul did not think that the world was objectionable or irrelevant but, rather, not the focus of where we should be living. For Paul, the new Creation is beginning to break in and we should be living “as if” it has already happened.

Well, on the surface, it seems that this Scripture was proved wrong. After all, here we sit nearly 2,000 years later, world essentially intact. And yet, it’s not wrong. We have been promised that there is something up ahead. Our faith tells us that at some point the Kingdom of God will come in all of its fullness and, in effect, I guess, “swallow up” (pun intended!) the world as we know it. Paul is not like those few in our current day that attempt to pin point the exact time when this will all happen. Paul just wanted to believe that it was coming AND that it was happening as we speak. It’s a message of transformation. It’s a call to live into it, to live as if the Kingdom of God has come. It’s not a threat; it’s a promise—and an incredible one at that! The Kingdom of God will come in God’s time and at the appropriate time. And whether or not it happens on your way home, tomorrow, or 3,000,000 years from now, it really is imminent. It’s the stuff that our faith is about.

The point is that we are called to live eschatologically, into the future coming of God’s Kingdom. And knowing the certainty and the imminence of, we are called not to remove ourselves from this world but to align its being with what we know is coming. We are called to live “as if” it has already happened.

 

“Let it be told to the future world … that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive… that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].” (Thomas Paine, “The Crisis”, written December 23, 1776.)

 

America, In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

 

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

 

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

 

This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

 

President Barack Obama

Inaugural Address, January 20, 2009

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. How do you think this relates to our lives today?
  3. What would that mean to you to “live as if”?

 

 

GOSPEL: Mark 1: 14-20

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

Jesus’ first disciples are fishermen from Capernaum, a settlement that stretched along the lakefront. He calls two pairs of brothers—Peter and Andrew and James and John. The story is written in the familiar “call” formula used throughout the Scriptures: (i.) Setting—Fishermen by the sea; (ii.) Summons—Come and follow; and (iii.) Response—They left and followed. The fact that the men drop both occupation and family obligations demonstrates for this Gospel writer that their call comes from God. In fact, it indicates that Peter and Andrew left immediately to follow Jesus. Needless to say, this calling to follow Jesus represented an extraordinary interruption in one’s life and may possibly have even been offensive. For fishermen, a departure might have put the welfare of the entire family at risk. But Jesus provides a “substitute” for their current occupation—becoming, now, “fishers of people”. It doesn’t mean, here, that we are all called to be “fishers of people”. It just means that the gifts we have, God is prepared to use. It means that our calling is not to be something we’re not, but to become fully who we are.

But there’s something else at work here too. The story represents that these were relatively prosperous fishermen, implying that for that culture, the disciples were not uneducated or impoverished. They were not out of work. They actually had a pretty lucrative fishing business. (Boy, what is the deal with fish this week?) But the point is that they actually had something that they had to give up to follow Jesus. They had to give up the lure of this world—money, security—to become who they were meant to be. You know, God never promised that this road was easy; the promise was that it was the one that was right, that was who we are. And, really, if it was easy, why would we need faith at all?

And yet, this call story is not so drastically removed from our own. We are called each and every moment to change pathways, to become who we really are. But it means that we have to give up this self that we’ve created, this self that we’ve tried so hard to fit into this world. We have to follow. And that’s what discipleship is all about. It is not what we do; it is who we are.

 

The Christian writer, Barbara Brown Taylor, tells in one of her books about a time in her life when she was struggling mightily with sense of call. She simply could not figure out what it was that God wanted her to do and be. Did God want her to be a writer? Did God want her to be a priest? Did God want her to be a social worker? Did God want her to teach? She simply didn’t know. And in her frustration and exasperation, one midnight, she says, she fell down on her knees in prayer and said: “Okay, God. You need to level with me. What do you want me to be? What do you want me to do? What are you calling me to do?” She said she felt a very powerful response, God saying, “Do what pleases you. Belong to me, but do what pleases you.” She said it struck her as very strange that God’s call could actually touch that place of her greatest joy, that she could be called to do the thing that pleases her the most.

Another Christian writer, Frederick Buechner says, “Our calling is where our deepest gladness and the world’s hunger meet.” Think about that. “Our calling is where our deepest gladness and the world’s hunger meet.” But there are other times when God’s call does not come so much from a place inside of us but comes from a place outside of us. Sometimes we’re being called to places we never dreamed we’d go, to do things we never dreamed we’d do, to say things we never dreamed we’d say. (From “Where You Never Expected to Be”, a sermon by Dr. Thomas Long, October 22, 2006, available at http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/long_5004.htm, accessed 14 January, 2012.)

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What does this tell you about your own discipleship or your own calling?
  3. What is the difference between the notion of being a disciple as what we do and the idea of being a disciple as who we are?
  4. How does that change our view of our own calling?
  5. Do you feel like you’ve given anything up to follow Christ?

 

 Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

Call is something you must do to save your life. (Dr. Virgil Howard, Perkins School of Theology)

 

The desire to fulfill the purpose for which we were created is a gift from God. (A.W. Tozer)

 

Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you. (Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, 3)

 

 

Closing

 

You must give birth to your images. They are the future waiting to be born. Fear not the strangeness you feel. The future must enter you long before it happens. Just wait for the birth, for the hour of new clarity…Amen. (Rainer Maria Rilke)