Suffering

Proper 7B: Unharbored

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"Storm Before the Calm", Lucy Dickens at www.lucydickensfineart.com
“Storm Before the Calm”, Lucy Dickens at http://www.lucydickensfineart.com

OLD TESTAMENT: 1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

Those of us who grew up going to Sunday School remember stories about David and Goliath. David was the youngest “little brother” of Jesse’s eight sons, relegated to errand boy status, while his older brothers battled the Philistines as manly soldiers. Twice the writer describes David as “only a boy.” The narrator pictures David as “ruddy and handsome,” hardly the traits of a warrior. When his brothers berated him when he delivered reinforcements to the front lines, he responded plaintively, “Can’t I even speak?” Saul’s armor was so big on him that he couldn’t move. Then, of course, there was his famous slingshot that he wielded to slay the nine-foot Goliath who had “defied the armies of the living God”.

The punch line about David and Goliath was something to the effect that God uses insignificant people and unlikely means to accomplish improbable feats. It has been used for generations to open up tiny minds to the majesty and greatness of the Lord’s power. That is certainly true. But there’s one horrifying detail in the story that my Sunday School teacher skipped. David “took hold of the Philistine’s sword and drew it from the scabbard. After he killed him, he cut off his head with the sword”. (a little over the top, don’t you think?) David then displayed Goliath’s head in Jerusalem, brandished it before King Saul, and kept his sword in his tent as a souvenir. By decapitating Goliath, David wanted to “show the whole world that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by the sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands”.  It was his way of claiming his God as God.  It was a testament of insurmountable faith in the face of the insurmountable.

This is essentially one of those so-called “texts of terror”. We struggle between its claim of impressive and authentic faith and out and out violence. You might dismiss the decapitation of Goliath as patriotic fiction or legend, but that takes the easy way out; for some reason, we have included this story (and other disturbing ones) in our sacred canon. That does not mean that God necessarily approved of it, of course.  It was, though, part of the human culture of the time.

The truth is, most of us identify with David.  Regardless of our place or status in this society, we think we’re the “little guy” on the righteous side of justice.  But violence in God’s name often knows no boundaries.  All religions have engaged in terror in the name of God, in the name of their religion.  Why is this?  And how can we tell when we cross that line?  Martin Niemoller, who protested Hitler’s anti-Semitic measures once said, “It took me a long time to learn that God is not the enemy of my enemies. He is not even the enemy of his enemies.” Ann Lamott says that “when God hates all the same people that you hate, you can be absolutely certain that you have created him in your own image.”

But this story of David leaves us with one claim: Perhaps we should judge religions by their most authentic examples of faith than by their worst corruptions. There is also a difference in evil acts committed by religious people and evil acts committed in the name of religion. Charles Kimball, in his book When Religion Becomes Evil, cited what he saw as eight warning signs that depict that evil has become religious and that religion has become evil. They are:

  • Fanatical claims of knowing and understanding absolute truth.
  • Blind obedience to totalitarian, charismatic, and authoritarian leaders or their views that undermines moral integrity, personal freedom, individual responsibility, and intellectual inquiry.
  • Identifying and rationalizing “end times” scenarios in the name of your religion.
  • Justifying religious ends by dubious means.
  • Any and all forms of dehumanization, from openly declaring war on your enemy, demonizing those who differ from you, construing your neighbor as an Other, to claiming that God is on your side alone.
  • Pressure tactics of coercion, deception, and false advertisement.
  • Alienation, isolation and withdrawal from family, friends and society, whether psychologically or literally.
  • Exploitation and all forms of unreasonable demands upon one’s time, money, resources, family, friendships, sexuality, etc.

Perhaps the question that we need to ask ourselves, hard as it is to ask, is whether or not the way we live out our faith and our belief system is really a faith-filled and grace-filled way of being God’s love in the world.  In other words, what does the way we live say about our understanding of God and the message that God has for all?   The truth is, David wasn’t completely at fault.  We can’t blame him totally.  He was scared, scared that his very life and the way he lives it would be taken away.  And he was, after all, defending God.  (Hmmm…is that what we’re called to do?  Does God really need defending?)  But those five smooth stones were his way of doing that.  He probably really believed, right or wrong, that he was doing what God called him to do and defending his faith against a huge obstacle, against a seemingly insurmountable challenge.  Maybe the question that we should ask is what defending our faith actually does to our faith.  Where is the line between what God calls us to do and what we think God calls us to do?  Where is the line between who God calls us to be and who we envision ourselves to be?

 

  • What is your response to this passage?
  • Where do you see yourself in this story?
  • What can we bring to our own culture and society and world from it?
  • What does the way we live say of God’s message in the world?
  • In what ways does our way of “being” Christian not depict God’s message in the world?
  • Are we called to defend God or defend our faith? What does that look like?

 

NEW TESTAMENT: 2 Corinthians 6: 1-13

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

This passage actually puts us in the middle of some complex communication. In other words, we’re sort of coming into the middle of it. This is toward the end of Paul’s argument describing and defending his and his coworkers’ ministry to the congregation at Corinth. Paul does not argue but instead comes at the issue from a number of different perspectives. He exhorts the Corinthians to view their ministry as embodying the work, if not the very being, of Christ and to act appropriately in response to the grace that they have received through Christ. Paul contends that accepting the grace of God for oneself corresponds to opening wide your hearts to those doing ministry.

He asserts his and his coworkers’ legitimacy as ministers of Christ and at the same time shows their care for the community as beloved children of God. This also implies that good and legitimate ministry does not always mean success. That was not Christ’s story for ministry. This means that we cannot always measure authentic ministry in terms of numbers, enthusiasm, or dollars. These are possible outcomes but do not necessarily define authenticity or “success”.

The Gospel is often explained in terms of blessings, a Gospel of Success. “Believe in Jesus and all your worries will fade away.” (Or believe in God and God will stand up for the little guy, in the case of the take on David and Goliath) And yet, many times, ones troubles multiply BECAUSE they are Christian. Jesus never promised that if we believe in him our life will by “joy, joy, joy”. No, the Christian walk is both glory and dishonor. There is a sense where our life is lived possessing everything, but having nothing. We will have to carry this tension with us always while in this “mortal frame.” Doing the splits is not easy, but it is how we must live life – one foot in heaven and one on earth.

Paul tells his readers to “open wide” their hearts and to see that salvation is right in front of them. It cannot be measured. It just is. That is the Gospel and that is how we should live and model our behavior.

 

  • How does this passage speak to you?
  • What, then, is “fruitfulness” in ministry?
  • What do you think most people think of when they hear the word “ministry”?
  • How does the “Gospel of Success” get in our way as ministers of the Gospel?
  • What would that mean to “open wide” our hearts to the salvation that is right in front of us?

GOSPEL: Mark 4: 35-41

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

This passage comes immediately after Jesus’ telling of the Parable of the Sower. So after a long day of teaching the crowds, Jesus needs a break. He initiates a trip across the Sea of Galilee with the disciples and other boats, making a small entourage. A great windstorm arises, so great that the waves crash against the boat and water begins to fill up the boat. Even the experienced fishermen in their midst could do nothing.

So they turn to Jesus. Jesus will save them. “Jesus, save us!” And there is Jesus, sound asleep on the boat cushion at the rear of the boat. You can imagine what the disciples thought. “Are you kidding me? Here we are, dying, and you are asleep! What are you thinking? Get up and save us! Get up now!” Now, odd as this may be to us, you can’t really blame Jesus. He had to be tired. He had been teaching in the hot sun and the crowds just wouldn’t leave him alone. So, he lay down and he rested. Everything would be alright. And then he is jolted awake by these whining disciples who can’t seem to take care of themselves or each other. “Good grief,” he thought, “have you learned nothing from me?”

So he got up and with a simple word, the storm subsided. And they floated for a few moments, not saying a word to each other, as the boat floated as if on glass. Then Jesus turned to them. “Have you no faith?” Well this was truly a little much. Who was this man that even the sea and the winds obey his voice? You’ll remember that in many ancient myths, the god of the sea is the god of chaos. We cannot control the water. So, as you can imagine, the disciples came to the sudden realization that no one other than God has the power to tame and order chaos.

What is interesting is that Jesus suggests they go just as the sun was setting (darkness) and set off to the other side (the unknown) and while on the trip, a storm came about (peril). And through it all, Jesus rested, confident not only in God but in the disciples themselves. Now, our experience has been that Jesus does not usually do things that are not intentional. What does all this mean? God had entrusted the disciples with a faith. Jesus knew this. But, instead, the disciples let fear get in the way of trusting not only in God but in their own faith.

I think we miss something if we reduce this story to pure wonder and miracles.  We miss the journey of faith.  It also can lead to what I think is just sort of bad theology.  If God is only here to make storms and destruction disappear, then why Katrina?  Why the recent earthquakes and tornadoes and devastating floods?  Why are there difficulties at all in our lives?  Because faith in God does not change the scenery.  It shows us the way through it.  We were never meant to stay safely and predictably in the harbor.  Have faith in the faith that God puts in you to walk with God through all of life.

In this passage, Jesus is not leading the disciples into danger. Frederick Buechner says that Christ is instead saying to them, “Go…Go for God’s sake, and for your own sake, too, and for the sake of the world. Climb into your little tub of a boat and keep going… [because] Christ sleeps in the deepest selves of all of us, and…in whatever way we can call on him…to give us courage, to give us hope, to show us our way. (Frederick Buechner, from Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons)

The winds will still rage.  The waves will fill our boat with water until we are sure that we will die.  And the boat will rock until we can stand it no more.  Emmet Fox said this: “Suppose your whole world seems to rock on its foundation. Hold on steadily and let it rock, and when the rocking is over, the picture will have reassembled itself into something much nearer to your heart’s desire.” For you see, my friends, this is life.  And all that is life has God in its very being.  We are not on the journey alone.  God has given us unharbored faith and has faith in us that we will use it and come through the storm.  As Jesus showed us, it is our faith in God and in the faith that God has in us that in the midst of the darkness, at the height of the storm, we will be able to breathe the words, “Peace!  Be still!”   Have faith in the faith that God has in you!

  • What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  • How does this speak to you about your own faith?
  • What does this say about our own life?

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

It’s when we learn faith that happiness comes—real happiness, that underlying descant of the soul that tells us over and over again that what is, in some strange, unexplainable way, is good.  Most of all, faith tells us that what is, is more than good.  It is becoming always better.  In ways we never thought possible.  And how can that be?  Because God’s ways are not our ways.  It is in the depths of darkness that we learn faith; it is in retrospect that we come to recognize love in darkness.  (Joan Chittister, Called to Question, 213) 

Nothing worth doing is complete in our lifetime; Therefore we are saved by hope.  Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;  Therefore, we are saved by faith.  Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.  Therefore, we are saved by love.  No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness. (Reinhold Niebuhr)

God’s love goes before us in a way we can never fully name. (Anne Carr)

 

Closing

 

As we sit in the palm of your hand, loving God, may we continue to see your strength revealed in the vulnerability…The dying, the crying, the rising of your people. May our seeing thus inspire our acting. Amen. (Katherine Hawker, 1997)

Lent 2B: Paradox and Laughter

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paradoxes-crossOLD TESTAMENT: Genesis 17: 1-7, 15-16

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

First of all we need to be aware that we have left out part of this passage. But the passage contains God’s promise to Abraham, a promise that is everlasting. Essentially, God promises to be God to Abraham and Abraham’s offspring. What is omitted from our lectionary is the way that the covenant is to be lived out for Abraham and those that came after him in the Jewish faith—land, offspring, circumcision. It is not that the directive to circumcise becomes a condition of the covenant itself, but rather a sign of the relationship.

The passage was probably written during the time of exile in Babylon. In the sixth century before the birth of Christ, Israel was devastated by the destruction of their city and its temple, the center of life, both political and religious. You know they were wondering where the covenant was. So the Priestly writer reminds them that God is there, that God promised an everlasting covenant, that God promised to always be with them and that God has faithfully kept that promise. This was a promise to hold on to even in the midst of the darkness of exile. It is a way of establishing (or re-establishing) the people’s identity. First, God appears to Abram and announces God’s presence. Abram falls on his face, incredulous at who is actually speaking to him. And with the covenant, Abram becomes Abraham and Sarai becomes Sarah. The covenant signifies a shift in who they are. God promises that Abram will have descendants. And they laughed. Well, of course they laughed. It was ridiculous. Abram and Sarai were old. All logic told them that their childbearing years were not just running out but were way behind them. It just didn’t make sense. But surprisingly, God often doesn’t make sense.

And by retelling the covenant, by reminding the people over and over again of this everlasting promise, it lives. This becomes a personal story of God’s faithfulness to the people. The covenant moves into the future tense. It becomes something for which we are waiting and moving toward, which makes sense to read it during our season of Lent. (And, as we know, Abraham and his family that received this covenant never saw it come to fruition. It was enough to just live with the promise. It is a lesson to us all.) And it then calls us to look at our own covenant and our own relationship with God, as well as our own sign of that covenant in our baptism.  That’s the crux. Truthfully, the promise means nothing without that relationship, without our entering into relationship with God and living the promise itself.

This passage is the story of Abraham’s identity. Abram and Sarai are named “father of many people” and “princess of many”. Now Abraham and Sarah have a new identity, an identity that comes from this established relationship. The names and the new identity were bestowed by God but they come to be as they are lived out in relationship. That is what it means to be a covenant people. For Judaism, this is the establishment of their identity as a people. This is where they become the children of Abraham and the religious community is defined. And living out that identity is about believing and trusting in this promise that was given through Abraham.

In this season of Lent, we, also as covenant people, stop and take a good hard look at our identity, at the way our relationship with God is lived out in our lives. The promise given Abram was, when you think about it, at least far-fetched and on some level downright ludicrous. But then, most of God’s promises are. We miss reading the part of this story where Abram fell down laughing. And when he told Sarai, she did the same. Was it nervousness, disbelief, or something else that brought laughter? We in our 21st century boxes probably think it a little irreverent. After all, would you dare laugh at God? Well, good grief, don’t you think God is laughing at us sometimes? Perhaps laughter is what brings perspective. It brings humility; it brings a different way of looking at oneself. Reinhold Niebuhr wrote, “Humor is the beginning of faith and laughter is the beginning of prayer.”

Abraham laughed. Sarah laughed. And I’m betting God laughed. (You can just imagine the inside joke between the three: “This is going to be good. No one will ever believe this could happen.”) Maybe laughter is our grace-filled way of getting out of our self and realizing that, as ludicrous and unbelievable as it may be, God’s promise holds. Maybe it’s our way of admitting once and for all that we don’t have it all figured out, that, in all honesty, we don’t even have ourselves figured out, that there’s a whole new identity just waiting for us to claim. In this Season of Lent, we are called to get out of our self, to open ourselves to possibilities and ways of being that we cannot even fathom. Go ahead and laugh. It is only the beginning. The promise holds.

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What meaning does the covenant hold for you?
  3. In what ways does the covenant shift who we are?
  4. What does this say about relationship with God?
  5. What does the idea of God not really making sense mean to you?
  6. What does the idea of the covenant living in “future tense” mean for you?

 

NEW TESTAMENT: Romans 4: 13-25

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

Paul suggests here that faith is and has always been the primary basis of a relationship with God. This makes it possible for him to put Jews and non-Jews on the same level. What matters for both is faith. What matters is the belief that God can do what seems impossible, what doesn’t make sense. For Paul, this was the point of Jesus’ coming. He understands Jesus’ death as an inclusive representation of all humanity. He entered into death which he sees all humanity condemned by its own sinfulness and then rose from the dead. All human beings, then, through Jesus resurrection can enter into relationship, into covenant with God.

In our pragmatic 21st century minds, sometimes it is much easier to grasp at the obvious and to make that the basis of our belief. But, as Paul reminds us, if our whole faith system depends on nothing more than adhering to the set of laws or interpretations that have been laid down by those that came before us, what good is faith? Remember that faith is about relationship. The law is not bad. In fact, it’s usually a necessary construct to help us understand, to help us point to that which we believe. But it is not the end all. It is not the God who offers us relationship.

There is a story told among Zen Buddhists about a nun who one day approached a great patriarch to ask if he had any insight into the Nirvana sutra she had been reading. “I am illiterate,” the man replied, “but perhaps if you could read the words to me I could understand the truth that lies behind them.” Incredulous, the nun responded, “If you do not know even the characters as they are written in the text, then how can you expect to know the truth to which they point?”

Patiently the patriarch offered his answer, which has become a spiritual maxim for the ages: “Truth has nothing to do with words. Truth can be likened to the bright moon in the sky. Words, in this case, can be likened to a finger. The finger can point to the moon’s location. However, the finger is not the moon. To look at the moon, it is necessary to gaze beyond the finger, right?” (from a commentary by Daniel G. Deffenbaugh, available at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=3/4/2012&tab=3, accessed 27 February, 2012.)

Now I don’t think Paul would in any way dismiss religion or even the rules. He’s just reminding us that they have their limitations. They are not God. In fact, it is easy for them to become idols of worship in and of themselves (and last I read that was frowned upon!). But they have their place. They provide a systematic way of at least attempting to understand something that, in all honesty, really makes no sense to us. (And, to turn it around, professing to be “spiritual and not religious” actually has a good chance of becoming a religion in and of itself.) An authentic faith, it seems, is one that weaves what doesn’t make sense into understanding, laughter into prayer, and a grace-filled encounter of the Divine into our everyday life. It is about both transcendence and meaning and, on a good day, the weaving together of the two into a Holy Encounter with the Divine Presence that it always in our life.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What meaning does this “inclusiveness” mean for you?
  3. What does this say to you about covenant?
  4. In what ways do we “idolize” our religion?
  5. In what ways are the “rules” of religion important?
  6. For you, what does an “authentic faith” mean?

 

GOSPEL: Mark 8: 31-38

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

Here, when Jesus begins to speak of his suffering, Peter will have none of it. Jesus rebukes him, then, with the familiar phrase directing Satan to get behind him. Rather than an anthropomorphic view of evil, this is more than likely a way of Jesus reprimanding Peter for espousing human values, rather than God’s. The writer of Mark’s Gospel makes us think about our own faith. The passage portrays Jesus as a model for the disciples. Each time Jesus speaks of himself as the suffering servant, we find the disciples preoccupied with the opposite, or with what makes sense to them in terms of the world in which they live. But Mark tells us that true disciples should be ready to take up their own cross.

It is the ultimate paradox, as many things of faith are. We have to lose our life to find it, die to live, and give up everything to gain everything. (Who writes this stuff?) Essentially, discipleship is an out and out clash between the values of the world and the things that God holds dear. After all, we are told to protect our own first; Jesus said to give yourself away. We are told to save ourselves first; Jesus compels us to risk our life to save another. (It would be like the flight attendant telling you to put the air mask on your neighbors first and then, when everyone is set, go ahead and put your own on. Well, that would never happen!)

Now this was as foreign to those first disciples as it is to us. The disciples, like us, aspired to power and greatness for themselves as well as for Jesus. Like us, they probably wanted to be on a winning team. And, like us, they did not want themselves or those that they loved so dearly to suffer. But Jesus would have none of it. And it was hard to fathom that Jesus would, in their view, give up so easily. So who could blame Peter? He’s just like us! Even in this day, most of us are still looking for Super Jesus to come and make everything OK. But that’s not what we’ve been promised. That’s not what this way to the cross means. And to dismiss it with Anselm’s 11th century notion of Jesus being killed as a substitute for us sort of takes us off the hook. What happened to that relationship thing? We’re not asked to just believe in Christ; we’re asked to follow….all the way to the cross.

Now most of us are probably not going to be asked to give up our life for another. After all, we live pretty safely and pretty comfortably in the big scheme of things. So, what does that look like for us? What does it look like to bear our cross? Now I’m not talking about the cleaned-up, shiny cross at the front of the sanctuary! I’m talking about Golgotha, about standing up for what is right and for one’s beliefs whether it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or just downright dangerous. And even though most of us will probably never be hung on a cross for what we believe, we are called to live with different values, to let go of the things that impress the world—power, greatness, financial security, etc.—and to follow where God leads.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. So, what does that mean, to “take up one’s cross”?
  3. What is one denying by doing that?
  4. What are you being called to give up in your life to follow where God leads?
  5. How much of your life are you willing to relinquish to follow Jesus to the cross?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

Faith without humor becomes fanaticism; humor without faith becomes cynicism. (Conrad Hyers)

 

Spirituality basically teaches us that the inside of things is bigger than the outside. (Richard Rohr in Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality)

 

We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us. (Joseph Campbell)

 

Closing

O God, from whose eyes the measure of our faith is not hidden, wrench from us now all religiosity, all rules and regulations of our scheduled selves that separate us you’re your Holy Spirit.

 

O God, who calls each of us by name to be the church, give us love enough to make a difference, give us vision enough to follow, give us endurance enough to hold steadfast in the face of the unholy.

 

O God, who claims us as disciples, bless us now and touch us with your holiness that we might have commitment enough to be good news to [all the world]. Amen.

(Excerpt from“Have Mercy on Us”, from Kneeling in Jerusalem, by Ann Weems, p. 35)