Proper 19C: Lost and Awakened

Humble Wisdom (Blog)FIRST LESSON:  Jeremiah 4: 11-12, 22-28

Read the passage from Jeremiah

This lament of Jeremiah is part of the larger unit that describes the looming Babylonian threat on the horizon.  In sight of this threat, the people have not heeded warnings and have continued down paths that the prophet feels called to denounce and condemn.  In the context in which this was written, Israel was a virtual land bridge between Asia and Africa, a place of trade between East and West.  Look upon it as a crossroads, as a place where the decision could be made to go one way or the other.

Egypt was the great power to the South and Babylon to the North.  Assyria had just been defeated by Babylon, the monster just north of Israel.  This was a time of rebellion after rebellion against Babylon, to which Babylon acted with greater and greater punitive measures until the Temple was completely destroyed in 587 BCE.  This began nearly three centuries of exile for the people of Israel.  Jeremiah tried to stave off this rebellion against a great power of Babylon and cautioned a more humble approach to international affairs.  He was reminding the people to not act so mighty and powerful and look at what was happening. According to Old Testament commentator R. E. Clements (1988, p. 42): “Jeremiah appears to have addressed a people who were so self-assured in the rightness of their cause, and in the backing God must give to it, that they discounted the serious possibility of harsh Babylonian reprisals taken against them.” 

We are told of a hot wind, an unbearable wind.  This is not a gentle flowing breeze like we begin to get this time of year.  This is the hurricane-force winds that come when we are near the eye of the storm.  This is a wind that is destructive.  Jeremiah saw imminent political and military disaster for his nation and for the world around him.  He was trying a last-ditch effort to turn the tide toward good.  He desired the kings to be more humble and the people more compassionate.  He was trying to open the eyes of his hearers that they might be honest with themselves.  No more looking for someone to blame.  Things were bad.

The prophet depicts a coming destruction of all of Creation, of everything that the people know.  It is literally the “unmaking” of Creation, borrowing some of the same language from the Creation story in Genesis.  But rather than “it is good”, it is proclaimed to be a desolation, an ending.  It is a bleak passage, void of plans for redemption or resurrection.  Instead, we are left with a desolate silence.

Some would take it as a promise of a vengeful God to destroy the Creation that has in essence turned its back on its Creator.  But instead, what if it were a warning? God has given us the power to make decisions, to choose right or wrong.  It is not an easy thing.  Power can be destructive when we choose to use it that way.  Perhaps this is a warning against the ultimate destruction that we humans hold in our hands.  After all, God has entrusted us with this Creation.  What happens when we don’t choose to respond to God’s call?  What happens when we forget who and whose we are?  What happens when we let power get in the way of conversation and greed get in the way of compassion?  We have, then, set our feet on a path of ultimate destruction.

It’s hard to read this and place ourselves in this passage.  It’s so bleak and depressing.  SURELY we’re not that bad.  SURELY this is about another time and another people.  Well, it is.  It’s about a people that were sure that God was on their side no matter what.  They believed that this line of David would never be broken and that God would always dwell with them.  So, when Jeremiah enters, it’s really just downright insulting. (Jeremiah was probably accused of being unpatriotic and unfaithful!)  And yet, we DO somehow belong here.  Maybe we’re a little too sure of our rightness, a little too sure that God is pleased with what we do.  And, uncomfortably, the whole prospect of the unmaking of Creation is looming much more closely to us in our world today as our nation and our leaders make the case for yet another military action.  But we don’t want to hear this in church.  We want to leave feeling better about ourselves.  We want to come and be protected from weapons of mass destruction.

So, did we miss it?  Aren’t Scriptures supposed to have some sort of good news in them?  The good news is that God patiently waits until we turn away from ourselves and toward God. God is always and forever remaking us and unmaking us into what God envisions we can be.  (Hmmm!  Have you ever thought that God might not be unmaking God’s Creation, but rather ours.)  You see, God did not promise that the world would be easy; God did not offer a Creation that did not sometimes shake and tear and come down upon its people and itself; God never told us that the road would be straight and protected.  God promised us that when it was all said and done, we would have life abundant—here, now, for the taking. Life is not easy; life is eternal; and it is very, very good.

 

  • What is your response to this passage?
  • How would this depiction play out in our world today?
  • Where do you see our world in this warning from Jeremiah?
  • What keeps us from turning toward God?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT:  1 Timothy 1: 12-17

Read the passage from 1 Timothy

The two letters of Timothy and the letter of Titus make up what is known as the Pastoral Epistles, meaning that they were addressed to the whole church, rather than a specific group.  This letter is assumed to be pseudipigraphic, not written by Paul but in the form and shape of Paul.  It is a letter to a young person that wanted to further the gospel to encourage and guide him, to remind him that there will always be rough patches.

So here, probably in the words of one of Paul’s apostles rather than Paul himself, we begin with a letter of thanksgiving for Paul’s ministry.  It is likely that this letter stems from the period well after Paul’s death when new generations were having to cope with problems similar to what Paul faced, to cope with the veritable “unmaking” of Creation around them.  For that reason, it also echoes Paul’s sentiment toward fellow children of God.

It matches Paul’s thought that responding to God’s compassion is not receiving a guarantee for a future gift, but taking up an offer of a relationship with God. We are invited in grace to get on board and go along with this God who is on a mission and where there will be a role, often a distinctive ministry, for us. Paul became a model of conversion, a hero for many early Christians and that understanding comes through in the passage.

It is interesting that whoever the writer is sees himself or herself as the ultimate in sinners—the “foremost”, the NRIV translates.  It is the ultimate “lostness”, the quintessential wilderness.  And the fact that we are found is the ultimate “foundness”, the amazing grace that is our lives.

You may or may not know the story of an 18th century slave trader named John Newton.  Sailing back to England in 1748, the ship he was on encountered a severe storm and almost sank.  While in route, he read the Bible and began to think about God and God’s impact on his life.  He would become an Anglican minister.  But it would be years before he finally accepted the fact that the slave trade was wrong and that his life truly needed to turn toward God.  In 1779, Newton wrote the words of his life, a hymn of forgiveness and redemption, regardless of whatever it is we do.  Amazing Grace is one of the most recognizable hymns in the Western world.

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • What does this passage say about our image of God?
  • What is grace to you?
  • Why do we have such a hard time with the fact that grace is “undeserved”?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Luke 15:1-10

Read the passage from The Gospel According to Luke

Lost and Found…the theme appears again and again in the Scriptures.  It is both comforting and disconcerting, because at times we are the found children telling our story and helping others and at other times we are the lost ones, trying to find our way back to God.  The truth is, it is not that our lives go back and forth between the two, but that we learn to live with the two in juxtaposition—both the found children and the lost souls.  We want to be comfortable with the words of this passage, but we’re not…not really.

The shepherd and the woman both show that careful attention to detail that is also known as hard work. Think of all that hiking over hills, the scrambling down creek banks and climbing through brambles: all in search of one sheep that could have nibbled itself into trouble a thousand different ways. Or think of all that housework! Sweeping, moving furniture, rearranging clutter, crawling around on the floor. We can live our whole lives this way, always diligently searching for lost items and responsibly returning them to their correct location: a place for everything and everything in its place. That everything-in-its-place kind of responsibility is not what these searches are about. Instead, the search of the shepherd and the woman are all about joy, a joy that comes with celebration that what was lost is now found.

The truth is, there is a lot of lostness around us.  We try hard to look for God, to find that place where we are both comfortable and committed to God.  But we continue to waffle back and forth between the found children and the lost ones, trying to find our way back home.  We want to be found; we want to feel joy.  After all, it is the foundness that matters, the foundness for which we are searching.  It is the foundness that our faith is about.

We spend a good part of our lives trying to look for God.  And yet, the Scriptures remind us that it is not God who is lost from us but rather we who are lost from ourselves, lost from who God created us to be.  God created us in the image of the Godself.  And in those times when we seem to wander away in the darkness and lostness of our lives, it is God who unmakes us and recreates us once again, gathers us in and again breathes a part of the Godself into our being. Perhaps it is our lostness that teaches us how to be with God.  Because once we lose ourselves in God’s being, once we relinquish control and quit working so hard to find ourselves, once we realize that we are never really lost at all, it is then that we will know that we are always found by God.

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • To what do you equate being “lost”?
  • To what do you equate being “found”?
  • What part of yourself do you need to lose to be found?

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

The word dies whenever reality demands absolute dominion. (Amery, at Yad Vashem (Israel Holocaust Museum))

Give me a transformed and undefended heart. (St. Augustine)

Let yourself get shaken up.  What are you willing to give up to ensure your own unfolding, and the unfolding of what is holy in life?  Where you stumble, here is your treasure.(Joseph Campbell)

 

 

Closing

In the beginning, O God, When the firm earth emerged from the waters of life You saw that it was good.  The fertile ground was moist.  The seed was strong.  And earth’s profusion of color and sent was born.  Awaken my senses this day to the goodness that still stems from Eden.  Awaken my senses to the goodness that can still spring forth in me and in all that has life. Amen.

(Celtic Benediction)

 

 

Proper 18C: Reshaped

Potter's WheelFIRST LESSON:  Jeremiah 18: 1-11

Read the passage from Jeremiah

Once again this week, the prophet Jeremiah presents us with a treatise on judgment, a reminder of what God has done for us in the past, and a call to awareness of what God is doing for us now and what God expects (and apparently is not getting) as our response.  This image of the potter is one of the best-known passages in Jeremiah.  It is comforting to think of God’s hand in our lives, shaping and molding us into what God envisions us to be.  Jeremiah observes this process at work and he begins to see it as a great analogy for the relationship between us and God.  He sees it as the way that God works with nations, with communities, and with each of us as individuals.

Here, God’s people take the role of the clay and God is the Divine potter.  This Scripture is specifically addressed to the “House of Israel”, the people of Judah who are the only remnant remaining of God’s covenant people.  And yet, using the metaphor, sometimes the pot gets marred and misshapen (or perhaps even “overshapen”) on the wheel; sometimes it doesn’t look like what the potter had envisioned at all.  According to the prophet, even the people of God, those who God had intended to plant and to build the Kingdom of God, those who God had called to do God’s work in the world, can suffer the same quandary on the potter’s wheel, becoming misshapen and not shaped to be able to be what they were meant to be.

Remember that a covenant relationship is conditional.  It can be broken by either party.  So the people can choose not to respond as they should and the vessel that the potter began can be destroyed.  The misshapen clay can just be thrown away and a new one put into its place on the wheel.  And the writer of Jeremiah is clear that God has every power to do just that.  But at the end of the passage, we are given a glimmer of hope.  If the people turn, repent if you will, and turn toward God, God, too, will again turn toward them.  Redemption is there for the taking.  And rather than throwing away the misshapen clay, the potter will begin again, adding water (yes, that is an allusion to baptism), and shaping the material into something better than it was in the first place.

I think the point is that the clay is not controlled by the wheel (or the world), but by the potter.  And the potter, the Divine artist, allows the clay to shift and move on the wheel so that the being that is buried deep within itself might be allowed to grow and mature on its own and become what it was meant to be.

It’s a scary ordeal.  What if it doesn’t work out?  Can God start again and mold humanity once more, perhaps into something that is more in line with who we are supposed to be, with who that image of the Godhead represents?  But God has chosen to do something different.  Rather than throwing the clay away, God takes it again and again and again and reshapes it, remolds it, and when the water begins to dry, God adds a little bread and a little wine along the way.  We call it redemption.  God just sees it as a normal act of gracious love toward all of God’s children, the act of saving them from themselves.

 

  • What is your response to this passage?
  • What does this metaphor mean to you?
  • So what does this call us to do?
  • What stands in the way of your yielding yourself to be shaped and molded by God?

 

NEW TESTAMENT:  Philemon 1-21

Read the passage from Philemon

The letter to Philemon (which most scholars think was actually written by Paul) is the shortest and probably the most neglected of Paul’s letters. The letter is supposedly from Paul to a wealthy church leader named Philemon about the return of his runaway slave, Onesimus.  There is some disagreement as to whether or not Paul is arguing for Onesimus’ freedom from slavery or his acceptance back into slavery without recourse from Philemon.  Some have surmised that perhaps Onesimus was sent by Philemon to serve Paul while Paul was in prison.  But it now seems that Onesimus is perhaps a fugitive.  The details are not really obvious, but Paul is obviously attempting to renegotiate the relationship between Onesimus and Philemon, two individuals of unequal status who are certainly brothers in Christ.

Although the letter to Philemon contains no major Christological images, it is nonetheless grounded in an understanding that we live in and for Christ. It is “in Christ” that Paul commands Philemon to “do his duty” so that Paul’s heart might be refreshed. This language of “in Christ” is a reminder that it is by the spirit of Christ that we live and are brought into a relationship of kinship with one another. It is because of this kinship relationship that Paul can dare to “command” Philemon, challenging him as a brother. Philemon is praised for his faith—that is, trust in and loyalty towards—the Lord Jesus.

Now remember that most scholars believe that Onesimus also served Paul, and yet Paul does not see him as anything less than a person.  He loves Onesimus and yet Paul was possibly accepting of a social system that allowed one person to be “enslaved” to another.  It’s a hard thing for us to understand. And yet, Paul’s appeal is on the basis of love.

The letter to Philemon challenges us to discern, in and for Christ, what is the right thing to do. It would be easy if doing the right thing was, for example, taking out the garbage, or helping an elderly person cross the street. It is another when the right thing involves a radical transformation of social relationships: of learning to see people that time and experience have led us to view one way in a completely new way. It is another thing when this radical transformation of social relationships asks us to give up what we have come to view as our rights: to willingly let go of privilege. It is another thing when this letting go of privilege leads us to assume a relationship of kinship—of obligation—with those whom we have formerly viewed with suspicion because we now recognize that we are bound together in Christ.

This short letter gives us a view of the social systems that were in place during Paul’s life.  But it also gives us pause to re-look at the social systems that are in place during our own time.  What does it mean to call someone a “brother or sister in Christ”?  Does it mean to overlook differences or to try to alleviate them all together?  Or does it mean that the diversity that is among us is the way God intended it to be, the way God intended to bring in the very fullness of the Kingdom of God.

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • How do you react to the idea that Paul is possibly advocating for the freedom of one who may have served him as a slave?
  • What message does this passage hold for our time?
  • What does it mean to call someone a “brother or sister” in Christ?
  • What do our social systems say about us as Christians?
  • We tend to be comfortable with saying that slavery is wrong in this 21st century context. But what other “enslavements” do we allow to exist?  How could this short letter speak to that?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Luke 14:25-33

Read the Gospel passage from Luke

This is, needless to say, not an easy passage.  Give up all our possessions?  You’ve got to be kidding!  We need that stuff!  But discipleship is hard.  It’s meant to be that way.

At this point in Jesus’ ministry, the cross is looming so the cost of discipleship and what it entails is moved to the forefront.  As Jesus journeys toward Jerusalem, he is expanding his message of discipleship as sacrifice to those beyond his discipleship circle. In these two parables, unique to Luke, Jesus is not discouraging people from following him. He is discouraging them from following him without realizing or counting the cost.

The verse about hating one’s family members, while harsh, is really just a way to heighten our awareness of what this commitment to Christ means.  “Hate” in the ancient world was more a degree of shame.  If one deserted one’s family beliefs or ways of doing things, one would bring shame upon the family in that social system.  But this is truly single-minded devotion. Jesus is asking people not to “hate” their families, per se, but to weigh the beliefs, systems, and ways of living that their familial structures expect and perhaps be prepared to walk away from some of them (which would, in that culture, incur shame on the individual from that family)

We are to count the cost before we commit.  God’s love provides us with the perseverance and energy to follow Jesus as we live in and into that kingdom (a kingdom that may be in conflict with the political and familial structures in which we are accustomed to residing). We need to view this passage in the context of Luke’s gospel which repeatedly emphasizes the compassion of a God who seeks out and saves the lost, who stands ready to forgive the sinner.   We are not excluded because it’s too hard to earn an entrance; we rather exclude ourselves when we reject the invitation.

The grace of God is not cheap grace. It requires a response. It requires that we let go of everything else.  Earl Ellis claims that “Jesus’ purpose in telling these two parables is not to dissuade prospective disciples, but to awaken half hearted followers to the disastrous consequences of such a path.”  These parables depict a man staring at a foundation he can’t build on and a king contemplating a war in which he is outnumbered two to one. It is a reminder to count the cost before heading down the path, to make sure that we can “afford” to follow Christ.  After all, it means giving up everything else.  It means being willing to go all the way on the journey.  You can’t “sort of” follow Christ.  It doesn’t work.

As the cross looms ahead, the writer of Luke is escalating the depiction of what this Christian walk is.  It is time to decide.  And it’s time to get dressed for the party!

 

First of all, if anyone can get me the address of the lectionary compiler whose great idea it was to have the “hate your father and mother” and “give away your possessions” Gospel lesson hit on the first Sunday of the fall…that’d be great.  I mean, for real?“Welcome back everybody, and especially welcome to all our newcomers today…now on to hating your parents……See you next week?”

Second of all, this lesson is amazing, because Jesus nails it.  The Anglican Church in Baghdad has been bombed five times in the last three years. (Their recent First Communion class remarked that they knew that Jesus was with them, because he protected them from terrorists.) Churches in Egypt—Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican—are being burned and bombed. Two Orthodox bishops in Syria have been abducted, and their fate is unknown.

Being a Christian in the western world may be challenging at times. (I mean sometimes people have the audacity to wish us “Happy Holidays.”) But, in many places in this world being a follower of Jesus comes with costs. Brutal costs.

For some of the earliest Christians, and in some places today, following Jesus means turning away from your family and having your family turn away from you. For most of the apostles, being a herald of the Resurrection meant they were hunted down and put to death.  Sometimes we make our faith out to be this thing where blessing after blessing just showers down on you. Like everything in life just gets “better” and “easier.”

No.  I mean, it IS a blessing, but sometimes those blessings are hard to see. It’s why our faith’s symbol isn’t the smiley-face, but the cross.

What Jesus is telling us in Luke 14:25-33 is that if we’re going to become a follower we need to first estimate the cost. If you were going to build a tower, you’d do that. If you were going to war, you’d do that. (?!)  If you were going to buy a new suit, start a new business, write a new book, or start a family—first you’d sit down and realize how hard it would be, if you could afford it, and whether or not you could withstand the moments of desolation that sometimes don’t seem to stop their relentless crush.

We estimate costs all the time. Is “this” worth the money, the time, the risk? We look at the positives and negatives, and then we make a decision.

Here, Jesus is saying that when we choose to follow him we shouldn’t rush to make a decision. We should first estimate the cost. Because while his grace and love are free—while salvation doesn’t cost us a dime—following him means taking up our cross.

And so, there’s something fitting about this passage hitting on the first Sunday of a new fall.

Welcome back. I hope the summer was good. If this is your first time here—if you’re a “prospective member”—or if you’re an old timer with your name on a pew…welcome. But, remember that this pew, this hymn, this life with Jesus at its center comes with a cost. For real. (“For Real”, by Rick Morley, August 28, 2013, available at http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/2736, accessed 1 September, 2013.)

 

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • What is bothersome about this passage for you?
  • What message does it hold for us today?
  • What does this mean for us who have so much in our lives?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

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)

To show compassion for an individual without showing concern for the structures of society that make [the individual] an object of compassion is to be sentimental rather than loving. (William Sloane Coffin, Credo, 23)

Cheap grace is the grace we bestow upon ourselves.  Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession…Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship)

 

 

Closing

 

Thou takest the pen—and the lines dance.  Thou takest the flute—and the notes shimmer.  Thou takest the brush—and the colors sing.  So all things have meaning and beauty in that space beyond time where Thou art.  How, then, can I hold back anything from Thee?  Amen.

(Dag Hammarskjold, 1905-1961)