Lent 3A: Thirsting Anew

03-19-2017-Lent 3AOLD TESTAMENT:  Exodus 17: 1-7

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

The Book of Exodus stands at the center of Israel’s faith tradition, primarily because so much of it is about the Exodus, itself.  The Book of Exodus begins the work of Moses.  The Book carries themes such as liberation, law, and covenant.  As to the arrangement of the Book of Exodus itself, the first 15 or so chapters are essentially a narrative about liberation.  (Essentially the deliverance of the Hebrews…the “Let My People Go” theme.).  Then beginning mid-way through Chapter 15, the tone shifts to the question of “Is the Lord Among Us or Not?” Following that is the charter of the holy nation, the pattern of the tabernacle, and then sections on sin and restoration and Israel’s obedient work.

The passage that we read is set in this second section and is part of what is sort of a “wilderness journey”.  Here, Israel’s life in the wilderness is very precarious.  There is no water to drink, no resources for living, and (easily) they begin to doubt God’s existence.  They think that God has deserted them.  Here they had done exactly what God had said and now it seemed that they were being left to die in the desert.  They complain to Moses, but Moses cannot make water.  He does not want to be blamed.  You know that Moses probably just wanted to run away, to get away from all of the complaining.  He also reprimands the Israelites for criticizing him and for testing Yahweh.  In essence, it seems that he, if only for a moment, equates his own leadership with that of God.

The second exchange includes God and produces a life-giving outcome that Moses could not produce alone.  The problem was solved!  In verse 7, the names given to this place mean “test” (Massah) and “quarrel” (Meribah).  The narrator turns the problem back toward the people.  In essence it becomes a story of “unfaith”.  What got in the way was not God’s lack of response but, rather, the Israelites lack of trust of God.  This story of “unfaith” sort of critiques that view of religion that judges God by whatever outcome the asking community received.  God does not reward and punish people based on whether or not they deserve it.

Now, in Israel’s defense, this was true thirst.  In this passage, I don’t think “thirst” implies a metaphorical spiritual thirst.  They needed water.  This story is set in the wilderness.  It’s hard for us to imagine true wilderness—no resources, no direction, nothing to sustain us.  And the desert must be the wilderness of all wildernesses.  Without trees, there is no way to gauge where you are or how far you’ve come.  Any shadow or dark spot is worthy of suspicion as something of which you must be aware.  And rather than the path being hard to see or hard to tread, it is continually changed by the winds and sands.  And yet, wilderness is over and over again the setting through which people find their faith.

Implicit in this story is an account of egos being tripped up—both for Moses and his followers.  The Israelites thought they deserved something better.  They thought that if they followed God and did what they were called to do, God would reward them.  They didn’t have the faith to know that God was with them.  They wanted it NOW.  And for Moses, he fell into the trap of thinking that he was doing everything right, that the people should just shut up and listen to him.  He forgot that he was instrument of God.

The image of thirsting is profoundly human.  It is a deep human need.  But when our needs become more important than the source from which we came, then fears and panic set in.  Alexander Baillie says that “one needs to keep on thirsting because life grows and enlarges.  It has no end; it goes on and on; it becomes more beautiful…One cannot be satisfied until one…ever thirsts for God.”

This is considered one of those “murmuring” stories of the Old Testament.  We do the same thing.  Perhaps our complaining and our murmuring gets in the way of our hearing God.  Several years ago, I was sitting in a room at Lakewood UMC in North Houston listening to interviews of ministerial candidates.  It was apparently a children’s choir room.  There was a sign on the piano that said “Listen louder than you sing.” Now if you’ve ever sung in a choir, you know EXACTLY what this is saying.  (Shhh!  Listen, feel the energy that the choir holds, the music that we can only create together.)  But I think it fits great with this passage.  What would have been different if Moses had done that?  What would have been different if the Israelites had done that?  What would be different if we did that?  

  1. a.      What is your response to this passage?
  2. b.      In what ways are the Israelites a mirror image of our own lives today?
  3. c.       What is your image of the wilderness here?
  4. d.      What is your image of the “path” down which God leads us?
  5. e.       What does our thirst have to do with our faith and our relationship with God?

 NEW TESTAMENT:  Romans 5: 1-11

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

This section of Romans begins a section on what Paul called the “true humanity” of God’s people in Christ.  There begins more of a focus on the connection that humanity has through Christ, rather than focusing on Jesus himself.  Essentially it is about what follows once one is justified by faith.  For Paul, this is the “new Exodus”.

The passage that we read focuses on a new relationship of love on both sides—both humans and God.  So God’s justice has led to that perfect peace.  (Keep in mind that this “perfect peace” is set in the midst of Rome, where Augustus Caesar had established the Roman Pax, which sought to move in on the entire world.  It doesn’t mean the same for us, but Paul essentially takes the “motto of the day” and turns it toward belief in God’s coming peace.)  Paul focuses on this as a different kind of peace, one that places its hope in glory, but one that will include suffering as part of that larger hope.  Paul maintains that we should indeed celebrate this suffering.  He claims that suffering produces patience, which produces character.  Indeed, suffering deepens hope.  Like the passage from Exodus, this thought denies that idea of God having some sort of reward and punishment system.  Instead, God enters our suffering with us.  And being in a “right relationship” with God means that we embrace all that is God—even the God who stays in the midst of suffering.

Walter Brueggemann claims that “suffering produces hope”.  He points out that the Jewish community has memories of the exile, of deep and profound suffering and that Christians have the memory of the cross.  It means that we engage so deeply in the suffering of the past and the suffering of the present, that we imagine something new.  Thomas Merton says that “the Christian must not only accept suffering:  [the Christian] must make it holy.”  That is probably strange to most of us.  Suffering is bad; suffering is unwarranted; suffering is something that we all try to avoid.  And yet, suffering happens.   I don’t think it’s helpful to dismiss it as the “will of God”, as if God is somehow sitting off somewhere calculating who to inflict next.  God is not like that.  We all have needs.  We will all suffer.  And where is God?  There…the place God is…is in the midst of all of the suffering.  God walks with us through it, loving us and holding us, and gives us a glimpse of what is to come.  God, remember, was there, even on the cross.  If nothing else, the suffering in the world reveals the heart of God, reveals all this is holy.  Paul said it better:  suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope…God’s love poured into our hearts.  He was right.  It is a celebration.  Because, you see, when we suffer, when we hurt, when the comforts of our lives are even momentarily stripped away, we are capable of seeing hope.  We are capable of imagining something new. From the darkness, we are finally capable of seeing and knowing the Light.  Suffering changes our perspectives and reframes what comes next in our lives.  It once again reminds us what God has done and what God will do. And it gives us the ability, finally, to see things differently.

God is continually giving newness.  God is continually reframing every moment of our life until all of Creation has been brought about right.  God is continually giving us the opportunity to glimpse what lies ahead, to see beauty even before it exists.  Even in this season of Lent, when we are surrounded by reminders of suffering, we are given holy glimpses of what is ahead.  If you count the 40 days of Lent, they do not include Sundays.  The Sundays of Lent are known as “little Easters”, opportunities to glimpse and celebrate the Resurrection even in the midst of the darkness.  That is the cause for celebration about which Paul wrote.

  1. a.      What is your response to this passage?
  2. b.      What does that “perfect peace” look like for you?
  3. c.       What is your image of suffering and how it relates to hope?
  4. d.      What meaning does that hold for us during this Lenten season?

GOSPEL:  John 4: 5-26 (42)

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

In this passage, Jesus’ ministry enters a new stage.  He leaves the confines of traditional Judaism and turns to outsiders, those who his Jewish contemporaries would have rejected.  First on the list are the Samaritans.  The less than civil relationship between the Jews and the Samaritans dated back at least 1,000 years before the birth of Christ.  Both believed in God.  Both had a monotheistic understanding of the one true God, the YHWH of their shared tradition of belief.  But where the temple of YHWH for the Jews existed on MountZion in Jerusalem, the Samaritans instead worshipped God on MountGerizim near the ancient city of Shechem.  And with that, a new line of religious understanding was formed.  The Samaritans believed that their line of priests was the legitimate one, rather than the line in Jerusalem and they accepted only the Law of Moses as divinely inspired, without recognizing the writings of the prophets or the books of wisdom.   What started as a simple religious division, a different understanding of how God relates to us and we relate to God, eventually grew into a cultural and political conflict that would not go away.  The tension escalated and the hatred for the other was handed down for centuries from parent to child over and over again.

So, here is Jesus breaking all of the boundaries of traditional Judaism.  He, unescorted, speaks to a woman.  He speaks to a woman of questionable repute.  And he speaks to the enemy. The truth is, there is nothing about this woman that is wrong or sinful or anything else that we try to tack on her reputation.  This woman was just different.  Her life had been difficult.  She lived in darkness.  And the most astonishing thing is that this seemingly low-class woman who is a Samaritan becomes the witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Once again, the Gospel is found not in Jerusalem and notMt. Gerizim but in our shared existence as part of this “new humanity”.

Now, the woman does miss Jesus’ point.  She looks upon Jesus as some sort of miracle worker, rather than seeing that he offers a new way of being.  Even this story deals with suffering—the woman surely suffered.  Good grief, she was there by herself—couldn’t even face the crowd.  And Jesus—well Jesus was just thirsty.  We all have needs; we all have fears—that is the nature of our true humanity.  And maybe the story teaches us that from our need we will realize who God is.  This woman’s new life begins when she recognizes Jesus’ true identity.  Maybe that’s our problem.  We are still looking for the Jesus that will make our lives easier rather than the one who will give us new life. 

  1. a.      What is your response to this passage?
  2. b.      Where do you find yourself in this story?
  3. c.       Where is Jesus once again today placed behind those boundaries of respectable and ordered faith?
  4. d.      What Lenten message does this bring about for us?

  

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 Thou hast made us for Thyself, and we cannot find rest until we find it in Thee. (St. Augustine of Hippo)

Too many of us panic in the dark.  We don’t understand that it’s a holy dark and that the idea is to surrender to it and journey through to real light. (Sue Monk Kidd)

The spiritual life does not come cheap.  It is not a stroll down a Mary Poppins path with a candy-store God who gives sweets and miracles.  It is a walk into the dark with the God who is the light that leads us through darkness. (Joan Chittister, Called to Question: A Spiritual Memoir, p. 91)

Closing

O come, let us sing to the Most High, Creator of the Cosmos;  let us make a joyful song to the Beloved!  Let us come to the Radiant One with thanksgiving, with gratitude let us offer our psalms of praise!  For the Beloved is Infinite, the Breathing Life of all.  The depths of the earth belong to Love; the height of the mountains, as well.  The sea and all that is in it, the dry land and air above were created by Love.

O come, let us bow down and give thanks, let us be humble before the Blessed One!  For the Beloved is Supreme, and we, blessed to be invited to friendship as companion along the Way!  O that today we would harken to the Beloved’s voice!  Harden not your hearts, as in days of old, that you be not separated from Love.  Be not like those who hear the Word and heed it not, thinking to be above the Most High.  For life is but a breath in the Eternal Dance, a gift to be revered with trust, an opportunity to grow in spirit and truth, That in passing into new Life, you enter into the Heavenly City.  Amen. (“Psalm 95”, in Psalms for Praying:  An Invitation to Wholeness: An Invitation to Wholeness, Nan C. Merrill, p. 197-198)

Advent 2A: When the Road Changes Directions

Fork in the desert roadOLD TESTAMENT:  Isaiah 11: 1-10

Read the Old Testament Passage

Remember the background of the book that we know as Isaiah.  They are probably three separate groups of writings.  The first (Chapters 1-39) was probably written about the 8th century BCE and includes the writings of the person that we know as Isaiah, the Prophet.  It reflects the time leading up to the exile and the sense of God as creator of the whole world is reflected.  The second part (Chapters 40-55) is probably from the end of the exile and the third part (Chapters 56-66) was probably written about 520 BCE when the people began reshaping their community following the exile.

When reading the Book of Isaiah, it is important to try to view this without our Christian “hindsight” lens reshaping what it was meant to be.  It was not originally meant as a foretelling of Jesus’ birth.  It is a story of God’s deliverance and redemption, but the notion of Christ as the redeemer was imposed by later New Testament writers.  This passage that we read is extremely well-known by probably both of our traditions.  The unifying theme is, of course, the coming Reign of God.  Isaiah saw the Davidic monarchy as Yahweh’s means of implementing Yahweh’s will, first for Judah and Jerusalem, and then for the whole world.  It looks toward the rule of one whose life and rule is shaped by God.  This is the part that many more fundamentalist Christian believers will assume to be Jesus Christ, prompted, for the most part, by the writer known as Matthew.

The second part promises the Reign of God in the order of creation with the establishment of peace and tranquility among all creatures.  Here, the “world” is understood as God’s Creation.  The vision of the new order for all the world is set forth.  Essentially, it is the hope for that which is “uncommon”, a reordering, if you will, in our world.  By putting these two parts together, we’re left with a view of the relationship among justice, mercy, and peace in human society and harmony in the natural order.  Essentially, “if you want peace, if you desire the fullness of the Reign of God, work for justice and unity.”

We are reminded of the many predators that are in our world.  After all, it is important to name and place them.  But, here, the predators, those things that we have just learned to accept as the “order of nature” or the “order of humanity”, along with everything and everyone else, are transformed.  And a little child shall lead them?  Like the calf, lamb, kid, and ox, the child here stands for the vulnerable, finally living in a safe and peace-filled world.  This, of course, is what we Christians see in Christ—the vulnerable, peace-loving child who ushers in the peace of God and leads the rest of creation onto transformation.  And, further, this New Creation, this New Kingdom, will encompass not simply the future of God’s people but of all nations and all of creation.  It is the universal vision of hope for the world.  We read this text in Advent as a new generation that lives between two times—we celebrate the coming of Christ and we look forward to the promised final consummation of God’s peaceable Kingdom yet to come.  We stand in liminality, on a veritable threshold between what is and what will be.

In essence, the Advent, or “coming” (Latin), that we celebrate is about three comings—the remembrance of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, the recognition of the coming of the very presence of God into the world, and the anticipation of the final coming of God’s Kingdom for which we all wait.  When the peaceable Kingdom comes to be, all of these comings will be one, and Advent will be complete.  It is then that the things that we have accepted as “natural” in this world will become the abnormal and the things of which we only dream will be life as we know it.

Here’s the hard thing about this text in all its beauty: the little child has come to us — two thousand years ago and counting — and we have not yet made it to God’s holy mountain. The cows are still grazing in the fields waiting to be processed into cheap beef for our hamburgers. The lamb is still getting shorn to make clothes that will last less than a few seasons. Children don’t come anywhere near a snake’s lair because they don’t play anywhere outside much anymore.

And righteousness? Justice? We are so drunk on the process of hurting and destroying one another that we can no longer see past the ends of our military-might-political-fight-I-am-always-right noses. Death tolls rise, wars rage on, hunger and sickness strike day after day…and we have lost sight of the mountain altogether.

If the little child has come, and shall lead us, did we simply not follow? Did we miss our chance? Did we get lost along the parade route and never realize the party broke up? ‘Tis the season to dream big dreams and hope big hopes. But the hardest question remains: Why is the earth not yet filled with the knowledge of the Lord? (From “ This Branch is Slower Than Christmas”, by Danielle Shroyer, available at http://thehardestquestion.org/yeara/advent2ot/, accessed 1 December, 2010.)

            Perhaps the reason that the earth is not yet filled with the knowledge of the Lord, that the Reign of God has not come into its fullness, that poverty and homelessness and injustice and war still exists is because we do not dare to imagine it.  This is not some vision of an inaccessible utopian paradise; this is the vision of God.  It is worth waiting with hopeful expectation.  The passage that a shoot shall come out the stump and a branch shall grow out of the roots.  In other words, life shall spring from that which is dead and discarded.  Because in God’s eyes, even death has the foundation, the roots of life.  We just have to imagine it into being.  So, imagine beyond all your imaginings; envision a world beyond all you dare to see; and hope for a life greater than anything that is possible.

  1. What are your thoughts about this passage?
  2. What is your image of the “peaceable kingdom”?
  3. What is your vision of the “ideal ruler”?
  4. With what hope do you identify in that “peaceable Kingdom” about which we read?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT:  Romans 15: 4-13

Read the New Testament Passage

Remember that the main theme of Romans is that God’s gospel unveils God’s righteousness, so this reading is indeed fitting for this season.  In this letter, Paul concentrates on the Gentile audience, not because he thought the Jews had denied Jesus but because he truly thought that for God’s reign to be ushered in to fullness, the whole world must come into the picture.

The passage that we read begins with Paul’s explanation of the Scriptures as instructional and from which we can gain hope.  It is interesting that, compared to many modern-day thoughts about Scripture, there is nothing here portraying Scripture as any sort of moral code or outline for living a godly life!  Rather, Scripture’s primary purpose is to create hope.  Then he turns to a prayer for unity and harmony.  This is actually Paul’s regular appeal, whether or not he thinks a congregation is divided.  It was important to him, though, that the church come to a “common mind”, a “common worship”, and, therefore, “one voice”.  He then begins with what most call the “messianic” welcome, open to all people.  He then launches into an explanation of the basis for that “messianic welcome”.  Paul celebrates the theme of this united worship with three biblical quotations–Psalm 18: 49, Deuteronomy 32, and Isaiah 11: 10 (part of our Old Testament passage).  The passage is ended with the hope that, for Paul, was always present.  For Paul, this hope can only be realized through an awareness of our shared story of hope in God and by emphasizing two things–pleasing others instead of ourselves and praising God in unity and harmony.  Hope, for Paul, is communal.  It is only realized within the community that we share.

So, the advent of Christ does not just belong to one group.  There is no group that is more privileged than another.  All are invited; all are included; indeed, all are expected to be a part of it.  That is the hope of the world.  The Kingdom of God would never be complete otherwise.

The sign above Dante’s hell reads “Abandon hope all you who enter here.”  To enter one’s hell is to give up hope and to give up hope is to enter one’s hell.  But we are instead called to “abound in hope”, to live as though our lives depends on it.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe life depends on our hope for something more, our willingness to trust in God’s vision for what we will be, and to have faith in the faith that God has put in us.

 

  1. What are your thoughts about this passage?
  2. What do you think “unity” and “harmony” mean in our world today?
  3. What does hope mean in our world today?
  4. Soren Kierkegaard said that “hope is the passion for the possible.” How does that change your view of hope?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Matthew 3: 1-12

Read the Gospel Passage

John the Baptist was a significant figure even in his own right.  He was a Jewish prophet with his own message and disciples who was ultimately executed by Herod Antipas.  He had his own movement, which continued long after the Resurrection and into the beginning of the Christian community.  The description here depicts John as sort of a wild, hairy man, not at all part of elegant society.  He definitely identified more with the wilderness than ordinary society.  But here, John is cited as a “precursor” of the greater one to come.

John definitely saw an impending time of judgment for those who did not know God.  The image of the ax at the root of the tree indicates the judgment that is already prepared and is just waiting to begin.  The whole idea of “repentance” that John emphasized is not one that we good Methodists often focus on.  It sometimes sounds a little too “hellfire and brimstone” for us. But repentance means turning around, a new mind, a change of direction.  It means throwing off those things that bind us to the life we know for those things that point to a life with God.  It does not mean that God has finally won us over; it means, rather, that our own self, our own story, has finally come to be.  Just being there is not enough; just having Abraham for your ancestor is not enough.  You must change your life.  There are no favorites.  This includes everyone.

The idea of the wilderness is a whole other concept.  Think about the wilderness—it calls us into things outside our normal routines, outside of the establishments that make up our lives.  It calls us to a cleansing, to a repentance and acceptance of life anew.  Essentially, John’s message was to “prepare”; in the wilderness prepare for the coming of the Christ; in the wilderness be washed clean; in the wilderness, change your life so that you will be ready to receive Christ.  John probably would be labeled today as a liberal evangelical, challenging the conservatism of his day and yet his ideas and his theologies are not new.  At their very core is the heart of the Gospel itself.  In Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon wrote (without identifying which one of them thought it) that “indeed, one of us is tempted to think there is not much wrong with the church that could not be cured by God calling about a hundred really insensitive, uncaring, and offensive people into ministry.”

This is a good reading for Advent because the season is not only about beginnings, but also about transitions, about changes, about finding a new way—the Way of Christ.  John’s wilderness sermon points beyond himself to God.  Whatever our message is going to be, it is not going to be found in ourselves.  We are not the message. The church is not the gospel.  The community of faith is not the savior. Preaching worthy of the name strives to point ever and always to Jesus.  He should increase in every sermon, and the preacher, and even the church, should decrease. (Mark E. Yurs, in “Feasting on the Word”, Year A, Volume 1, p. 49)

We have become so accustomed to the idea of divine love and of God’s coming at Christmas that we no longer feel the shiver of fear that God’s coming should arouse in us.  We are indifferent to the message, taking only the pleasant and agreeable out of it and forgetting the serious aspect, that the God of the world draws near to the people of our little earth and lays claim to us.  The coming of God is truly not only glad tidings, but first of all frightening news for everyone who has a conscience. (From “The Coming of Jesus in our Midst”, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in Watch for the Light:  Readings for Advent and Christmas, December 21)

Maybe that is why, to us, John’s message seems so “over the top”.  Maybe he saw the same thing that Bonhoeffer did—that this vision of God that is coming closer to us each and every moment, that little by little is taking hold, will shake the world as we know it to its core.  Because God’s vision and the way the world lives cannot exist together.  The stump will die and from it, all of Creation will be resurrected.  The Way of Life is found by turning and changing and accepting life anew.

 

  1. What are your thoughts about this passage?
  2. What does “repentance” mean for you? What stands in the way of that for you?
  3. Where, for you, is the desert or wilderness that calls you out of your normal routines?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God where we met thee, Lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.  Shadowed beneath thy hand may we forever stand true to our God, true to our native land.  (James Weldon Johnson)

No language about God will ever be fully adequate to the burning mystery which it signifies.  But a more inclusive way of speaking can come about that bears the ancient wisdom with a new justice. (Elizabeth A. Johnson)

 

Believers know that while our values are embodied in tradition, our hopes are always located in change.  (William Sloane Coffin)

 

 

Closing

In each heart lies a Bethlehem, an inn where we must ultimately answer whether there is room or not.  When we are Bethlehem-bound we experience our own advent in his.  When we are Bethlehem-bound we can no longer look the other way conveniently not seeing stars, not hearing angel voices.  We can no longer excuse ourselves by busily tending our sheep or our kingdoms.

 

This Advent, let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that the Lord has made known to us.  In the midst of shopping sprees, let’s ponder in our hearts the Gift of Gifts.  Through the tinsel, let’s look for the gold of the Christmas Star.  In the excitement and confusion, in the merry chaos, let’s listen for the brush of angels’ wings.  This Advent, let’s go to Bethlehem and find our kneeling places.

                        (“In Search of our Kneeling Places”, Ann Weems, in Kneeling in Bethlehem, p. 19)