Kingdom of God

Proper 15C: Learning a New Song

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Vineyard
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FIRST LESSON:  Isaiah 5: 1-7

Read the passage from Isaiah

This passage is one of the best-known oracles of the eighth century prophet and summons its Judean audience to judge the legal complaint of a would-be vintner who lavishes care upon his vineyard but only harvests bitter and useless grapes.  It begins with a song and the writer takes up the role of a minstrel.  It sets the stage for what we think is going to be a wonderful feel-good love song that that brings visions of beauty and love and goodwill, a rich ritual celebration, because this is normal for Biblical literature.

But that is not the song we hear; because, unlike most of the Hebrew love poetry, this song quickly loses its beauty and sensuality and gives way to a sort of judicial oracle.  The “Song of the Vineyard” becomes a parable of judgment against the Hebrew people for their continued disobedience of God.  The words of this song remind us that God did not merely create humanity and then set down Creation with everything that was needed for our enjoyment.  The passage tells us that God expects something from us.  God invites us to a new vision of the world around us.  That is the song that we are about to hear.

Remember that this part of Isaiah is generally assumed to be set in the 8th century, probably sometimes between the death of King Uzziah of Judah and the final fall of Judah in 701 BCE.  During this time, Judah became a vassal of Assyria and fell into practices that were not in accordance with what we would call a right relationship with God, practicing social oppression and allowing social injustices to pervade their society in what the prophet saw as an out and out rejection of God.

The parable begins with a portrayal of a vineyard nestled on a lush and fertile hill.   The image of the fertile soil depicts an image of growing, ongoing life.  There is nothing stagnant about God’s gift of Creation.  According to the passage, the owner has “dug it and cleared it of stones.”  This implies that God has worked for this—this is not just some “haphazard” act of Creation.  God has planted this lush, green vineyard with choice vines, those deep red vines, capable of producing the best and sweetest of fruits and the finest wines.

The song continues as the owner builds a watchtower in the vineyard, which housed a wine vat.  Think about it.  This image of the watchtower is one of a permanent, immovable point that is higher than everything surrounding it.  The whole vineyard can see this watchtower and from this tower, then, it is possible to view the entire vineyard.  But it is more than a place of mere observation.  It includes a wine vat, or winepress.  This watchtower, then, is the place to which the harvest is brought, peeled, and aged.  It is the place where the harvest is converted to a finely aged wine.  It is the central point, the place where all come to be “aged”, changed into God’s people.  For the Old Testament Hebrews, this was the temple, the center of society.  It was for them that highest holy place where all came to worship God and to be formed into right relationship with their Creator.

God had done everything necessary and expected it to yield the choicest of fruits.  But something went wrong and the harvest was one of wild, sour grapes which, though edible, are not fit for the making of fine wines.  This is probably the key to the passage, for it is here that it is evident that the vineyard is useless without the harvest—it is just land; it is here that we are reminded that God’s Creation is meant for our response.  God expects something of us.

And then the song changes key.  And now we begin to get a little uncomfortable.  “And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah…”  “And now inhabitants of the vineyard that God has created…”  It is at this point that it becomes apparent that the parable is no longer just a nice little entertaining story but is rather an indictment and denouncement of the injustices that had overtaken this society.  You know, for me, this sudden change in person and structure of the passage almost implies that those hearing it just weren’t getting it.  They had gotten so wrapped up in the story that they hadn’t yet realized that it was about them.

And then at the end for those who are apparently really slow on the uptake, the prophet explains it all: the vineyard is indeed Israel and its people are the Lord’s “pleasant planting”.    The implication is that the inhabitants and laborers of the vineyard are no longer even listening to God.  They have treated others badly, even being guilty of the act of oppression or the passive act of closing their eyes or turning their backs while social oppression happens around them.  They have allowed the vineyard to be swallowed up and overtaken by their own greed, self-centeredness, and perhaps even fear.  They have taken what God has provided but have not responded to God’s call to action in faith.  So what began as a glorious love song is now waiting for a harmonious chord once again from the people of God.

 

  • What is your response to this passage?
  • Where do we see ourselves in this passage?
  • What more was there to do that God has not done?
  • Why has it turned out like this?
  • Why is it hard for us to listen to condemnation like this?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT:  Hebrews 11: 29-12:2

Read the passage from Hebrews

This week’s Lectionary passage continues with our so-called “roll call” of the faithful.  Think of it as our family photo album, as the writer of Hebrews (we don’t really know who that is) brings into our memories the snapshots of the faithful that came before us.  Remember that Hebrews was probably written to a small band of new Christians who were suffering persecution and feeling isolated.  So as we look at this remarkable family the writer of Hebrews sketches, we discover two portraits of faith. One portrait is full of images of triumph: conquering enemies, obtaining promises, shutting the mouths of lions, even gaining victory over death. But the other portrait is filled with images of suffering: public mocking, imprisonment, beating, stoning, homelessness, violence, and death. Our lives are always a mixture of successes and failures, of ups and downs.  But the writer of Hebrews mixes the categories because our lot in life is not a measure of our faithfulness.

The passage becomes a word of encouragement for struggling Christians. If we are struggling, and someone tells us that the true mark of faithfulness is suffering, we might despair. Must our suffering continue forever? If we are struggling and someone tells us that the true mark of faithfulness is triumph and victory, what hope is there for us? But the mixing of suffering and triumph gives us a word of hope: faithfulness shines both in suffering and in triumph, both in sorrow and in joy.  Faith trusts God and God’s promises even when it doesn’t make much sense.  We are in good company.  We are never alone.

We are reminded that there is work to do, a race to run, so to speak.  Think of it as a marathon—sometimes invigorating, sometimes grueling, sometimes crowded, sometimes lonely, but always fixed on what is to come.   So we are exhorted to lay aside those things that might trip us up or weigh us down.  And before us, as laid out by the writer of Hebrews is Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.  Pioneer, here, is the Greek word archegos, which means author, beginner, instigator.  In the context of a race, the archegos is the team captain, the trailblazer. The writer also depicts Jesus as the perfecter—the one who fills in what is lacking in our faithfulness or our work.  He takes our incomplete faith and makes it whole.  And, for us Christians, there is also the awareness that Jesus, too, has traveled this road.

This passage is read a lot in conjunction with funerals.  You can see why.  But it is also a reminder of our connection through Christ to all those past, present, and future and the fact that we are expected to actually do something, to actually participate in the life we’ve been given, to join in this long list of saints and become part of them.  In remembrance, we find our calling to go forward and be who God calls us to be.

Some of you may remember the movie “Dead Poets Society.”  The movie stars the amazingly talented Robin Williams.  Williams plays John Keating, a high school English teacher at an all-boys private academy, who is committed to helping his students take advantage of life’s opportunities.

There is a compelling scene in the movie when Keating leads his class out into the foyer of the building where old photographs of graduating classes from decades past cover the walls.  As the boys study the portraits of the classes who had graduated generations before them, Keating remarks that the men in those pictures were just like them, full of hope and ambition.  Then Keating asks his class, “Did they wait till it was too late to realize their full potential?”  

Then he tells the class that if they lean in close they can hear a message from the men in these pictures.  So they lean in and Keating whispers, “Carpe Diem.  Carpe Diem.  Seize the day, boys.  Make your lives extraordinary.” (From “Postcard from Heaven”, a sermon by Rev. Dr. Charles Reeb, August 15, 2010, available at http://day1.org/2111-postcard_from_heaven, accessed 11 August, 2010.)

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • What does comfort does this give you?
  • What discomfort does this give you?
  • We Protestants don’t have a lot of “saints” or “heroes” that we’ve publicly recognized. We try to be a bit more inclusive.  So who are the “saints” in your faith story?  Who are your heroes?  Why are they on that list?
  • What would that look like to make your life extraordinary?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Luke 12:49-56

Read the passage from the Gospel According to Luke

Needless to say, this is a hard passage.  We’d rather read of unity and harmony and Jesus instead says that apparently we’re just going to have to live with divisions and disharmony.  Here, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem towards his demise.  So it is apparent here that Jesus is weighing two types of peace—one secular, the other sacred.  The truth is, Jesus did NOT come to bring peace to those in power or to bring comfort to the comfortable.  Jesus came to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable”, to loosely quote a journalist of 100 years ago or so.  Remember that Jesus had in mind a completely new vision, not a “peaceful” earth such that we know.

This is hard for us.  We tend to want an empathetic God, a God who is nice to everyone.  But how in the world, then, would the earth truly get redeemed?  Jesus is combating forms of authority and power that do not fit in with that vision of a wholly-redeemed earth.  The passage begins with the words, “I came to bring fire to the earth.”  That does not sound good.  It sounds much more like confrontation and conflict.  So how can this be good news?  Our answer depends on the way we view the world and the way we view God.  If the world was exactly the way it should be, then this passage would make no sense.  But if the world is marred by oppression and social injustices and killing and war, what would that say about a God who would just let that be?  Jesus is not coming to disturb and bring havoc to a “nice” world; he came to redeem the one we have.

This is a call to fragmentation for the sake of ultimate wholeness.  It is a call to tear down in order to build up.  It is a call, once again, to “die to self”, to let go of what we know and what we have created and what walls we have constructed, and put our faith wholly in the wholly-redeeming God that we know.  It is a call to give your life for the mission of Christ in the world.

 

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • What makes this so difficult for us to hear?
  • What does “redemption” mean to you?
  • What does “peace” mean to you?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

We all desperately want peace…that is why “Shalom” is such an oft-repeated word.  For, even as a simple greeting, it embodies deep yearning and solemn promise.  So the ancient sage Hillel insisted that it is not enough to simply want peace, to hope for peace, even to pray for peace; he taught us to “love peace and actively pursue peace.”  (Wayne Dosick, in Dancing with God)

If the poor, the women, and the dispossessed sat at the tables where theological decisions are made, there would be a different set of sins. (Joan Chittister, Called to Question)

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny.  (Martin Luther King, Jr., 20th century)

 

Closing

…The world has become so strange, and our place in it so tenuous, where gray seems clearer than the white purity of our hopes, or the darkness of our deathly passions.  There is so little agreement among us, perhaps so little truth among us, so little, good Lord, that we scarcely know how to pray, or for what to pray.  We do know, however, to whom to pray!

We pray to you, Creator God, who wills the world good; We pray to you Redeemer God, who makes all things new.  We pray to you, stirring Spirit, healer of the nations.  We pray for guidance, And before that, we pray in repentance, for too much wanting the world on our own terms.  We pray for your powerful mercy, to put the world—and us—in a new way, a way after Jesus who gave himself, a way after Jesus who confounded the authorities and who lived more excellently.

Whelm us by your newness, by peace on your terms—the newness you have promised, of which we have seen glimpses in your Son who is our Lord.  Amen. (Walter Brueggemann, from Prayers for a Privileged People, p. 65-66)                      

 

Proper 10C: WHO, then, IS my neighbor?

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Good Samaritan Showing MercyFIRST LESSON:  Amos 7: 7-17

To read the passage from Amos

The Book of Amos is included among the twelve minor prophets, called “minor” not because they are less significant but because the writings are shorter than Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel.  In ancient Judaism, these shorter prophetic writings were part of one scroll in the Temple.

Supposedly, Amos was called from his life as a shepherd in Judah to speak the word of the Lord to the Northern Kingdom of Israel.  He was probably more likely a person of some standing who traded sheep and goats in the agricultural market. During this time, the Northern Kingdom was experiencing a time of great prosperity under King Jeroboam, and they assumed that their power and privilege was a blessing from God to them as the chosen people.  But in their prosperity, they had forgotten the poor and the suffering and neglected to share their fruits with those in need.  Their religious observance had become rule-driven and devoid of social justice.  This is what prompted Amos’ message.

This passage from Amos is actually a depiction of Amos’ third vision in the midst of a total of five visions.  The vision is of God, the Divine Builder, standing beside a wall with a plumb line.  A plumb line is part of an ancient bit of construction technology, not really necessary with today’s advanced building methods.  The plumb bob is a heavy piece of lead in the shape of an inverted raindrop.  The point of the plumb bob, in perfect line with the plumb line, marks a perfect vertical drop between where the line begins and the ground below.  Used by stonemasons and builders for centuries, it would provide a measure for a perfectly straight wall.  So if something is “out of plumb”, so to speak, it is crooked, imperfect, unsightly, and may even be potentially dangerous.  The point is, sloppiness can skew or distort the entire picture.

So, the vision is of the Lord standing by a perfectly-constructed wall with a divine plumb line that will measure how “plumb” the people are.  According to the prophet, what is out of “plumb”, what is not the way it should be, will fall away.  Amos spells out a dire vision for the future of Israel:  the queen would become a prostitute, the royal children dying by sword, and the people of Israel taken into exile by foreigners.

So Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, reports to King Jeroboam II that Amos is conspiring the king’s death and Israel’s fall.  In doing this, the center of Israel is misunderstood as Jeroboam, and the sanctuary as the king’s.  There is a failure to recognize here that everything is really God’s.  Israel has forgotten its builder.

Amaziah tells Amos to leave and return to Judah and not bother the “status quo” in Israel.  He assumes that Amos is a “professional prophet” that can return and get his bread in Judah.  But Amos was not part of the religious establishment.  His legitimacy as a prophet comes from the fact that he IS an outsider (a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees).  Amos’ power is to disturb the status quo with his prophecy.  And in 721 BCE, the Northern Kingdom would fall into the hands of Assyria.

Amos’ words do not deny God’s Presence but rather the people’s (us?) unwillingness to live lives that reflect that presence of justice and mercy.  But God does not close a Divine eye to injustice.  Because, you see, it just doesn’t fit with the vision that God holds for the world and for us.  Amos just had the courage to speak the truth.

 

1)      What is your response to this passage?

2)      What does that image of the “plumb line” mean for you?

3)      How would our own society or our own church or even our own lives fare with this “plumb line” standard of measurement?  How does this speak to our culture today?

4)      Why is it so hard for us to hear and heed prophetic warnings?

5)      What is the difference between a question of perfection and a question of justice?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT:  Colossians 1: 1-14

To read the passage from Colossians

Colossians is one of those letters that is attributed to Paul but that there are some doubts as to whether or not Paul actually penned the epistle.  It is one of those that is considered a “disputed” letter of Paul.  The practice was not uncommon to attach a teacher or mentor’s name to a work out of respect or reverence.

It begins with the author giving thanks for the faith of the people at Colossae.  The letter is complimentary of them, for they have shown love to others and it goes on by urging them to see themselves as part of something bigger that is expanding as time goes on.  The mention of Epaphras might even indicate that this person is the author of the letter and that he is using it to connect himself to Paul, but that is just speculation by some commentators.

The latter part of the passage that we read begins to reveal a key theme in the entire letter.  Against the claims of intruders who confuse this newfound faith with new theories and demands, the writer prays that the Colossians might have wisdom and knowledge and strength to hold fast in their faith.  He wants them to not get stressed over the intrusion of these other views, but to have peace in their own convictions in God who makes a place of belonging for each of us.

Colossians is written to Gentile Christians and the author is claiming that there is a place for them among the holy and chosen ones of Israel.  They, too, will share in the inheritance of a relationship with God that faith brings.  Here, coming to faith means moving from a system of authority and power into the realm and kingdom of Christ, which is characterized by love.  Here, believers will find redemption and forgiveness of sins.

Some are saying that God’s love is not so free, but depends on religious rites and achievements which must be performed if we are to be sure of getting past the powers which hold sway in this universe. The result can be religious preoccupation with our own destiny. We can become busy trying to justify ourselves and lose our perspective of what faith really is. We can do that by performing religious rites or doing many other things “religiously”. We can even make ourselves busy with overwork (even with church work!) to achieve that sense of being valued and ultimately coming through and finding a place of worth. Colossians is proclaiming a generous love which says: stop all this and believe in grace! You don’t have to become religious in this way. On the contrary, you can be liberated from such religion to be free to respond to God and others and yourselves with joy!  For the writer of this letter, hope in the present is grounded in our hope for the future.

Essentially, the writer is calling the Colossian believers to look at themselves.  What is it that they are known for—being “religious” or being “faithful”, being “good” or being “loving”?  It’s an interesting question.  How is your church described by those on the streets outside?

 

1)      What meaning does this passage hold for you?

2)      What, then, does this passage claim that faith is and what does it claim faith is not?

3)      What does the notion of “inheritance” mean for you?

4)      Why is it so difficult for us to not fall into the presumption that we need to somehow “earn” our place with God by being religious or being good?

5)      For what do you think our church would be known?  How would others characterize us?

 

 

GOSPEL: Luke 10: 25-37

To read the passage from the Gospel According to Luke

This is, of course, a familiar text.  So familiar, in fact, that we may or may not hear it completely.  We know what happens:  a man gets beat up and left for dead; a priest sees him and passes by; a Levite sees him and passes by; a Samaritan sees him and helps him.  The Samaritan wins the contest.

We read that it begins with a test of Jesus, perhaps a way of trying to catch Jesus up in his own words.  Because this well-learned person, this lawyer, this expert in the Law of Moses, already knew the answer to the question before he asked, these words so much a part of the Jewish faith.  “So, then, Jesus, (he asks smugly) what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.”  Indeed, you shall love God with everything that you are.  And, just as importantly, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

But just having the right answer does not necessarily mean that we know God.  And when the man is told by Jesus to “Go and do,” he responds with his own tripping question.  “And who is my neighbor?”  Because in the learned man’s mind and in the society in which he lived his righteous and good life, some were considered acceptable neighbors and others were not.  Some were considered clean and righteous and worthy of respect according to religious law and some were not.  So, he thought, it is important for Jesus to of course clarify the directive to love your neighbor.  Well, of course, the expected reply would be something like “your relatives and friends; those who live their lives the way you do in respectable and acceptable ways; those who think like you and believe like you—THOSE are your neighbors.

But Jesus, in true Jesus-fashion, turned the assumed law upside down.  Because it is not about laws; it is about love.  And so Jesus tells what is now for us a familiar story.

The road that goes down from Jerusalem to Jericho is 17 miles long, dropping about 3,000 feet.  It is hazardous and filled with thieves and robbers, who beat and strip this man and leave him for dead.  Now note that Jesus leaves the man undescribed.  Jewish listeners would probably have assumed that he was one of them.  But, in all honesty, he could be anyone—no ethnicity, no particular religion, no certain economic status.  All we know about him is that he is just our neighbor.  In essence, Jesus is saying “I do not know his name because it doesn’t matter.  He is anyone who lies in need at life’s roadside.”

The first person that happens by is a priest.  He saw the poor man, but he passed by on the other side.  Now, in defense of the priest, religious law dictated that he could only touch those who were clean unless he washed again before he went to the Temple (but of course, we could beg the question of “How hard would that really have been?”).  Then a Levite passes by, also on the other side of the road.  As one who assisted the priest, perhaps he saw the priest pass by and assumed that he needed to do the same. (But then, that too, is really just an excuse.  If the priest had jumped off the cliff, would the Levite have done that?)

And then a Samaritan approached the wounded man.  Now you have to understand that the relationship between the Samaritans and the Jews was anything but friendly.  Both believed in God and both had a monotheistic understanding of the one true God, the YHWH of their shared belief.  But where the temple of YHWH for the Jews existed on Mount Zion in Jerusalem, the Samaritans instead worshipped God on Mount Gerazim near the ancient city of Shechem.  Though both were bound by the Law of Moses, each believed that their line of priests and their way of religious understanding was the right one.  What began as an argument in semantics some 1,000 years before the birth of Christ had escalated into a relationship based on hatred and violence and the perceived notion that the other was unacceptable.

But here is this Samaritan—an outsider, an undesirable—treating and bandaging the man’s wounds, risking defilement (probably even risking infection).  He then picked up the man and took him to a place of shelter, giving the innkeeper money out of his own pocket for the man’s lodging.  He did more than just supply band-aids, though.  He entered the man’s life and shared his own life with him.  Go and do likewise.

The point is that it is no longer enough just to be nice.  It means that it is not enough to give out the time and money and love that we can spare.  It means that this story is no longer about figuring out who your neighbor is.  It means, rather, that we are called to enter our neighbor’s life and allow them to enter ours.  It means that we realize that, as this passage says, love of God and love of neighbor are inseparable.  It means that we can become “fully human”, “fully made in the image of God” only by allowing ourselves to enter each others’ lives.

There is an African proverb that says, “I am human only because you are human.”  We need to see one another as neighbors in order to experience the community that God created for us.  We are all part of the neighborhood.    We are all called to be a part of each others’ lives.  Go and do likewise.

So, who, then, IS my neighbor?  Whose life am I called to enter and invite to enter mine?  Well, what this parable says is that the question is essentially moot.  Turn and look at the person next to you.  That is your neighbor.  Do you see the woman crossing the street looking for the food pantry?  She is your neighbor.  Do you see the person with whose lifestyle you do not understand, possibly do not condone?  Do you see the child in Africa, hungry with no safe water to drink and no real shelter?  That child is your neighbor.  Turn and look at the person on the other side of you.  Each and every one of God’s children is your neighbor.  Maya Angelou said that “I note the obvious differences between each sort and type.  But we are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”  This parable defines everyone—friend, enemy, foreigner, threat—as “neighbor”.  And then tells us, that we shall love our neighbor as ourselves.

And by loving our neighbors with the same intensity and fervor that we love ourselves, there is no longer room for greed, self-promoting egoism, or violence.  There is no longer room for the prioritizing of our resources.  There is no longer room to value one life over another.  The road is no longer wide enough to simply pass by on the other side.  There is no person who is anything less than a neighbor.

Yes, sometimes, being a true neighbor is controversial and even dangerous business.  Sometimes being a neighbor means risking or even giving up part of yourself.  Henri Nouwen said, though, that “only when we have the courage to cross the road and look into one another’s eyes can we see that we are children of the same God and members of the same human family.”

 

1)      What meaning does this passage hold for you?

2)      What preconceived perceptions are usually attached to this story?

3)      With what character do you most identify in this story?

4)      So, who, then, is your neighbor?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

There can be little growth in holiness without growth in a sense of social justice. (Edward Hays)

 

To believe you can approach transcendence without drawing nearer in compassion to suffering humanity is to fool yourself.  There can be no genuine personal religious conversion without a change in social attitude. (William Sloane Coffin, Credo)

 

I note the obvious differences between each sort and type.  But we are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike. (Maya Angelou)

 

 

Closing

O God of every nation, of every race and land, redeem your whole creation with your almighty hand; where hate and fear divide us, and bitter threats are hurled, in love and mercy guide us, and heal our strife-torn world.

 

From search for wealth and power and scorn of truth and right, from trust in bombs that shower destruction through the night, from pride of race and station and blindness to your way, deliver every nation, eternal God, we pray.

 

Keep bright in us the vision of days when war shall cease, when hatred and division give way to love and peace, till dawns the morning glorious when truth and justice reign, and Christ shall rule victorious o’er all the world’s domain.

 

Amen.

(William W. Reid, Jr., “O God of Every Nation”, 1958, UMH # 435)