Sermon: Do Not Be Terrified

Gospel Text: Luke 21:5-19

Lectionary: Year C, Proper 28

Weather forecasts, financial market forecasts, interest rate direction forecasts, political polls, sports result predictions: these are a few of the many ways that we try to bring a little certainty into an uncertain world. We might have some vested interest in certain outcomes. Some predictions have better success than others. Some types of things we are interested in predicting are trivial while others have more far-reaching life consequences. 

Our brains are wired to favor certainty. Uncertainties and ambiguities demand more mental energy, and we can only handle so much of that before our psyches are exhausted. When we experience or hear things that unsettle us, our natural inclination is to find the least costly way to resolve the discomfort and return us to a place of certainty and security. 

For Jesus’ disciples, their Temple was heart of their religious, social, and political lives. It was the place where they came to meet and worship God. It was the basis for many or perhaps all of the traditions and rituals governing their social interactions. And it was a symbol of their national identity and unity, even if they were in reality, subjects of Rome. 

When Jesus seemingly off-handedly mentions that the Temple will be utterly destroyed, it is a shock to their understanding of their world. It introduces a threat and uncertainty in their entire view of life that they need resolved. 

Two-thousand years later, from our perspective, it might seem that the destruction of the Temple shouldn’t elicit such a strong emotional response. There really isn’t an equivalent that we might readily identify with. But perhaps suggesting that America and the American way of life will be utterly destroyed by a foreign power, and that all of us will be exiled away, might be a close analogy. If that doesn’t seem like the end of the world, is there anything else that would? Or for some others, being told that their family will be torn away from them, never to be seen again might elicit a similar kind of response. 

Note too, how Luke begins this passage:

21:5 When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God…

This was not just another building. It was a sacred treasure, dedicated to God. For the Temple to be destroyed as Jesus said would seem to imply a complete abandonment by God.

I think it is with a deep sense of terror and panic that the disciples ask Jesus when this will happen and what signs they should expect leading up to this cataclysmic event. After all, this is Jesus who just spoke of the destruction, and they know he is no ordinary man. He is at least a prophet of God, if not something more. 

It is curious that what Jesus says next seemingly has nothing to do with what his disciples asked. Jesus doesn’t say anything about the when or what, but goes and offers a warning about those who claim to speak in Jesus’ name and claim to have inside knowledge about what is about to happen.

Modern neuroscience has shown that when our brains are affected by fear and threat and when there is a strong emotional reaction, it wants to act instinctively to protect the person. Higher-order thinking and discernment take longer to process, going through a longer path, and it takes effort to suppress the initial, instinctive reactions. And so reasoned decisions takes a back seat to instinctive responses. The brain wants to return as quickly as possible to a safe and comfortable place, and if an easy, inexpensive path is offered, the tendency is to take it. Even if it means the path leads to longer term problems. Even if in hindsight it is a bad choice. Even if it means accepting falsehoods.

Another cognitive pattern research has shown is that the brain assigns greater weight to what it first hears. So perhaps that is why Jesus offers the warning first, before he responds more directly to his disciples’ question. By giving the warning first, it is the strongest piece of information that is associated with the context of the destruction of the Temple. The brain stores memory by context: sight, smell, sounds, and emotion. Jesus’ warning is stored in his disciples’ minds in association with the Temple and the terror and panic associated with its destruction. Whenever the context is recalled in the future, the warning too, will be present as one of the most important pieces of information associated with it. 

The message given by Jesus would then appear to be that when we are faced with something that terrifies us, where we might want to instinctively resort to fight or flight, to give enough time to allow our higher-order reasoning to process the information. “Don’t go after the first person or thing that seems to offer a solution and a way out,” Jesus seems to be saying. Just because something or someone is offering to improve your feeling of comfort and security doesn’t mean they have your best interest in mind. 

Only after this does Jesus begin to speak about some signs. These signs include increasing conflict and violence among nations and peoples; increasing incidents and intensities of natural disasters; and ominous signs and portents in the heavens. But don’t be terrified. And the end is still a ways off. 

But even before all that occurs, his disciples will experience persecution and possibly even death. Friends and family could turn against them. Don’t see this as a calamity, but see it as an opportunity to testify about Christ. And don’t worry about preparing in advance, because Christ will supply the necessary defense that cannot be refuted. 

One way of transforming terror and fear is to reframe it. First, Jesus sets expectations about some of the things that will happen. And then he offers a different way of looking at what initially can be seen as a negative experience. At the heart of Christ’s gospel is that even the greatest evil can be redeemed and transformed. The primary demonstration of this is, of course, Jesus’ death and resurrection, but here Jesus seems to be offering another way in which his disciples can play a part in the grand narrative of redemptive grace. 

We now come to the last two verses for today:

21:18 But not a hair of your head will perish. 

21:19 By your endurance you will gain your souls.

How can Jesus say that “not a hair of your head will perish” when he had just also said that some listening may be put to death? I think that the key to understanding this apparent paradox is to go back to the start of today’s passage where Jesus predicted that the Temple would be utterly destroyed. In comparison, those who faithfully endure will be preserved, even beyond physical death. Everything about them will be preserved and restored in the full realization of the kingdom to come. So much so that even the exact number of hair will remain. 

The physical structure of the Temple, where people have given their treasures and dedicated them to God, will be destroyed. Not even one stone will be left on top of another. In stark contrast, the person and being of Jesus’ disciples will be preserved, down to the very last hair. 

It is this knowledge and hope that has sustained the church of Jesus Christ through two millennia of trials and tribulations from both within and without. This is the basis on which individual Christians and communities of faithful have kept their courage when by all appearances, their cause seemed lost.

Fear can be contagious. But so is courage. 

A healthy Christian community is a courageous one. It absorbs the fears and terrors brought by individuals and transmits courage in return. 

When for so many of us, the world seems like a very scary place and getting scarier with each passing day, it is easy to succumb to fear and terror. We might resort to anger. Or maybe depression. Or disassociating. Or any number of unhealthy coping methods. Just to get through another day.

We need hope and courage to replace our fears. Yes, individuals can each ask God for courage. But it seems that the primary task of transmitting hope and courage is given to the body of Christ. Hope and courage are learned by living in community with others who possess them. 

My exhortation and prayer for you this morning is that this church be known as the community where hope and courage vanquishes fear. May we fully live out Jesus’ command to us, “Do not be terrified.”

Sermon: Empires

Isaiah 1:10-20; Romans 12

The Southern Kingdom of Judah. Date: approximately sometime between 783 and 686 BCE. The kings during this period: Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah. The international situation: Neo-Assyrian empire controls much of the Fertile Crescent. 

The kingdom of Judah is under threat from the powerful Assyrian empire. But they, the Judahites, are a chosen people and a nation that has Yahweh on their side. They have the temple and they faithfully conduct worship and offer sacrifices to Yahweh. They observe the festivals as required by the Torah. So why are they under threat and fear?

The prophet Isaiah is given a vision and explains what Yahweh has revealed. 

You think you are more righteous and moral than the peoples and nations around you. But you aren’t. Your rulers would be entirely at home in Sodom. And lest the rest of you common folk think that you’re not like your rulers, guess what? You would fit right in with the people of Gomorrah. (About a century after Isaiah, another prophet, Ezekiel, will proclaim, “This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy.” [Ezekiel 16:49])

You think that your pious worship and regular offerings are what I want. But they’re not! You make a show of attending worship, of asking for my blessing at public events, saying pious public prayers, and making offerings at the temple. But aren’t they really all about you? You want to paint a picture to outside observers about how good and faithful to me you are. You want to use my name to “sanctify” your words and deeds. You want to assure yourselves that I’m on your side by invoking my name.

But I’m not! I despise your offerings. Your worship is an abomination. Your prayers are like cursing to my ears. 

Your hands are covered in blood: the blood of widows and orphans, the blood of those who are starving, the blood of those you overwork for too little pay. And it’s not just those who are the rulers and those who are powerful who are guilty. The rest of you are too. All of you who benefit from the status quo, who remain silent in the face of evil – you are complicit and guilty, too. 

“Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” (Isaiah 1:16-17)

If you turn away from evil, I will forgive. I will take away your guilt and restore your community. But if you continue to refuse, you will reap the consequences of your injustice. Your injustice will be returned to you. 

Jumping forward 700 years, we come to the early Christian church in Rome. The Apostle Paul has not been here, but he has written a letter to them. Christians, particularly modern ones like us, have interpreted this letter to be a theological treatise on justification and righteousness through faith. But in the then-historical context, good argument can be made that Paul is writing the Roman church to entreat them to be a people of Christ-like justice in the middle of an empire that is unjust. The word translated into English as “righteousness” equally has the meaning of “justice.” In fact, in many non-English translations, such as Spanish, the word used is “justice.” The word that in English is translated as “wickedness” should really be read as “injustice.”

After eleven chapters of historical and theological arguments for why the gospel of Jesus Christ is about justice, in chapter 12 Paul exhorts the Roman church to be the kind of people who live these principles of justice and thus create a new community of love against the powers of the empire. 

Jumping forward again, now to the present day. We too, are people living in the middle of an empire. In that way we are like the community to which Paul wrote. But also like the ancient kingdom of Judah, we are living in a society and a nation that has traditionally believed to have been specially chosen, even ordained by the will of God. Rulers and commoners have and continue to appeal to God and invoke God’s name in public. Leaders have sought the blessing of the religious, and the religious have been more than willing to offer their blessings in return for future access to power. Politics has sought to “baptize” their actions through appeal to scripture and God. 

What would Isaiah say to us today if he received a vision from God? What would the contents of Paul’s letter say to us if he were writing to us? 

We might protest that we aren’t like the people of ancient Judah, and we might disagree that our society is anything close to pagan Rome. But do we have grounds to protest and disagree? 

As I see what is going on in this nation and the world today, I am dismayed and angered. We do have blood on our hands. We are complicit in the evils of our society. We are living in an empire dedicated to powers of death and destruction: destruction of life, creation, community, relationships. We have redefined “justice” to merely mean “following the law.” 

What Paul wrote to the Roman church remains valid for us.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect… Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good… Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all… ‘If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.’” (Romans 12:2, 9, 13-17, 20-21)

In Romans Disarmed: Resisting Empire, Demanding Justice, Sylvia Keesmaat and Brian Walsh offer an updated reading of Romans 12 and 13 that might be imagined if Paul were addressing present-day North American Christians. This is based on the Jewish practice of targum where the reader of scripture does not simply read, but explains and reinterprets scripture as they read. This is necessary to both explain ancient contexts that were lost, words and concepts that might be alien, and to offer application of the text to the present day. 

I wish we had the time to read all of it, because it is very powerful, but it is very long. So I’ll read portions of it in the remaining time that we have.

Therefore, sisters and brothers, friends in Christ,

If it is true that Jesus the Messiah is Lord,

and that no other leader,

or nation, or ethnic identity,

or institution, or system of economics,

or political structure can demand your ultimate allegiance;

If it is true that the gospel of Jesus is truer, more radical,

and more transforming than any other grand narrative or worldview on offer;

If it is true that this gospel has the power to disarm all legitimations of violence,

to overthrow all scapegoating, ethnic exclusion,

through the loving and inclusive embrace of Jesus;

… 

If it is true that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Messiah Jesus, our only rightful Lord;

neither death nor life, 

neither persecution nor the surveillance mechanisms of the state,

neither violence nor unemployment,

neither deportation nor imprisonment,

neither ridicule nor terrorism;

If it is true that in a post-truth world

the depths and riches and wisdom and knowledge of God are unsearchable;

and if it is true that in a world of Market supremacy

that glorifies brash displays of gold-plated opulence

we stubbornly confess that all things are from God,

through God, and to God,

and that all true glory is God’s and God’s alone;

If all of this is true…

Then I urge you with everything that I have,

I appeal to you,

I call out to you,

in response to this radical, life-transforming good news of Jesus,

To offer up your bodies,

not simply your piety and your devotional life,

but your very bodies;

To offer up your bodies,

not your Twitter account, nor your online signature,

but your bodies put on the line for the sake of the gospel;

To offer up your bodies,

not your armchair punditry,

but the totality of your embodied existence;

Indeed, to offer up your bodies,

the body of Christ,

the body politic of the incarnate Word,

assembling here and there in cells of resistance,

gathering to be formed in subversive discipleship,

coming to worship the One who liberates in the face of oppression,

the One who embodies justice and calls us to

lives of his inclusive and costly justice;

… Offer up your bodies as nothing less than a living sacrifice.

While you know that your whole economy is rooted in self-interest,

and you have heard from the most recent emperor

that we are to put our own interests and the interests of the nation first,

I call you to sacrifice those interests.

We are not called to sacrifice the most vulnerable in our world.

We are not called to sacrifice compassion through closing of our doors to the most marginal.

We are not called to sacrifice creational care through the quick extraction, movement, sale, and use of fossil fuels.

We are not called to sacrifice truth for the sake of deceitful lies.

We are not called to sacrifice neighborliness on the altar of ethnic and racial scapegoating.

We are not called to sacrifice generosity before the false god of the Market for the sake of the enrichment of the 1 percent.

We are not called to sacrifice justice in the name of a violent patriotic nationalism.

No, my friends, if there is to be a sacrifice,

then, following the crucified One, we are it.

Indeed, without a discipleship of living sacrifice, 

we make a mockery of the cross,

cheapen the riches and depths of God’s mercy,

domesticate and tame the radicalism of the gospel,

and tragically miss the meaning of the “therefore”

with which we have begun.

… 

Living sacrifice.

That is a life acceptable to God, true to the call of the gospel.

And that, my friends, is spiritual worship.

That’s right, bodies offered as living sacrifices is the heart of spiritual worship,

while bodies conformed to the consumptive patterns of this world

can never be living sacrifices. 

…

So don’t be conformed to the empire, my friends,

but be transformed by the kingdom.

Do not have minds conformed to the reigning ideologies,

but experience, in this praxis of living sacrifice,

nothing less than the renewing of your minds.

…

Renewed minds,

liberated imaginations,

for a restored creation,

for a discerning resistance,

for lives of justice,

for subversive hospitality,

for radical peacemaking.

Renewed minds,

imaginations no longer shaped by dead-end narratives 

of progress, colonialism, civilization,

but transformed by the grand story of redemption.

Renewed minds,

rooted in the story of Jesus, not the president,

the story of creation, not our nation,

the story of love, not self-interest.

…

In the face of an identity politics that wants to separate us from one another,

the body of Christ consists of a beautifully diverse and inclusive membership.

In the face of the fragmentation and divisiveness of our times,

we are “re-membered,” made whole and one, through our membership in this body.

…

In this time of divisiveness, we need to be members of the body.

In this time of crisis, we need all the gifts that we bring

to be placed in service of the body of Christ,

not the dominant body politic of our time.

…

Let’s begin by getting beyond a pious sentimentality of love.

If love is genuine,

if love is really willing to go the distance for the beloved,

if love is to be more that a secondhand emotion,

then to deeply love we must learn how to hate what is evil.

That means that love requires the naming of names.

Love does not play nice.

There is too much at stake for that.

If we are to love in a time of hate,

then we need to paradoxically hate that hate

and name it for what it is.

If we are going to love women,

we must hate misogyny.

If we are going to love our Muslim neighbors,

we must hate Islamophobia.

If we are going to love the Indigenous peoples of this land,

we must hate colonialism, its persistent wound, 

and the way that we remain the beneficiaries of colonial systems.

If we are going to love our LGBTQ+ siblings,

we must hate homophobia and transphobia.

If we are going to love those of different ethnicities than our own,

we must hate racism.

If we are going to love the voices of our neighbors,

we must hate systems that disenfranchise voters. 

If we are going to love generosity and equality,

we must hate economic structures that willingly sacrifice the poor

and a caste system that enriches the very few at the expense of the very many.

If we are going to love those who suffer displacement and injustice,

then we must hate the geopolitical and economic-military forces

that render whole peoples homeless and refugees.

If we are going to love kindness,

then we must hate forces of violence and torture,

whether they by ISIS, CSIS, or the CIA.

If we love our creational home,

then we must hate ways of living that cause its rape and destruction.

You see, my friends, if love is genuine,

then we must hate what is evil

and hold fast to what is good.

…

And if that way of living brings persecution,

if online trolls, vigilantes in the neighborhood,

or the security apparatus of the state should come down hard on you,

then invite them in for coffee,

invite them to the potluck dinner,

ask them to share their story with you.

I know that this is dangerous.

It may be that they will murder you while you pray.

But it is better to bless them,

to open the hand to them,

so that they might be ashamed for their hatred

and perhaps converted to the way of love.

We are all about hating evil,

but we are called to the hard work of loving evildoers.

And since we are all about blessing,

we do not call down curses on our enemies.

…

Like the Pax Romana before it, the Pax Americana 

was always a fraud.

And as its façade falls off,

as the ugly face of empire is revealed,

the violence will escalate.

In the face of such violence,

we embrace the gospel of peace,

the reconciliation of enemies,

the disarming of the empire

as it collapses all around us. 

…

So, dear friends, in these violent times,

in the face of enemies who will seek to overwhelm you,

remember this:

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

You see,

Goodness is stronger than evil,

Love is stronger than hate.

Light is stronger than darkness,

truth is stronger than lies.

Peace is stronger than war,

reconciliation surpasses revenge.

And generous hospitality

disarms enmity.

…

I know that for many of us it feels like the night is endless,

and there is no day in sight,

no slight glimmer or dawn on the horizon,

not even the morning star is visible to you.

I know that even the morning star can be hidden

in the clouds of despair and sadness,

blocked by the overcast of deep darkness.

But if you can see just beyond the range of normal sight,

if you can see with the eyes of faith,

if your imagination has been set free,

if your minds have been renewed,

if you can discern the times…

you will see against the grain of the times,

against the imperial evidence amassed against you;

you will see that the night is indeed far gone

and the day is near.

So living in faith

and embracing the politics of love,

let us say to the darkness, “We beg to differ,”

and live as in the day.

Romans Disarmed: Resisting Empire, Demanding Justice; pp. 297-319.

Sermon: Diversity is a Divine Value

Sermon: Diversity is a Divine Value
Text: Genesis 11:1-9; Acts 2:1-21
Lectionary: Year C, Pentecost Sunday

皆さん、お早うございます。今日は又この教会でお説教をすることが出来て大変ありがたいと思っています。それでは、今日の聖書朗読の創世記の11章から始めます。

I’m sensing and seeing confusion and bewilderment in your faces. What just happened? Was I speaking another language, speaking in tongues, or just spouting gibberish? Perhaps a few of you might have recognized some of what I said. I’m guessing though that for most of you it made no sense at all. So hold on for the next several minutes to those thoughts and what you felt as we go through today’s sermon.

What did I say to you? It was in Japanese and I said, “Good morning everyone. I am feeling very grateful for being invited again to offer this morning’s sermon. Let’s begin with what we read from Genesis chapter 11.”

The story of the Tower of Babel is a Hebrew origin story of how multiple languages and cultures came to exist all over the earth. It attempts to offer reasons why there are multiple languages rather than a single common one.

Just as well as this story is familiar, it has been a source of many interpretations, some better than others. It’s been used as a polemic against technology. It’s been used to denounce human pride. It’s been described as a curse against humans, which the Day of Pentecost reversed.

The text begins, “Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there.” We observe that at the onset in this story, it is a single people with a common language and culture. They all moved together into a plain in Shinar and built a community there.

It should be noted that this story is an origin story about one aspect of what one ancient people group believed about how different cultures came about. It does not mean that there was only one culture and language across the entire, literal earth. The previous chapter in Genesis, chapter 10, already describes the spreading out of people and nations. What we are seeing is two different stories addressing different aspects of origins.

The text continues, “And they said to one another, ‘Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.’ And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar.” The people discovered that the area had good resources for constructing permanent dwellings.

The text continues on, “Then they said, ‘Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves…’” The people decide that a city is what they need and a grand, central edifice.

At this point we notice the phrase in English, “and let us make a name for ourselves.” This has often and traditionally been interpreted as the hubris of the people at Babel. And certainly argument for this interpretation can be made, including the observation that this Genesis text’s final form was most likely put into place during the Babylonian exile of the Jews. There they would have seen the grand city of Babylon and her many high Ziggurats, so the editors of this Genesis text certainly would have had motivation to include a polemic against urban pride.

But more recent biblical scholars have noted that “make a name for ourselves” is not a phrase that is associated with self-pride in the rest of the Old Testament. It is rather a phrase more commonly associated with identity and legacy. It is a phrase that seeks to answer the questions, “Who am I? And what will happen in the future?”

The Genesis text continues to offer us the reason why the people wanted to build a city and a tower: “‘… Otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.’” Commentaries note that what this story describes is a people in fear — fear of the unknown, fear of being scattered away from their familiar surroundings and culture, fear of the future, fear of losing what they have built for themselves, fear of change. The city and the tower, they see as building a source of civic identity, solidifying their culture, and codifying for future generations what it means to be them.

It’s in response to this that God comes down to see what the humans are doing. It should be noted how ironic it is that the supposed tower to the top of the heavens (meaning where gods reside and where the people intended the tower to reach) is so far below that God has to come down to see it. Another point to note is that this tower, even if it was successful, would not have been intended for people to go up to where God is. The IVP Bible Background Commentary explains,

The central feature of these early cities in southern Mesopotamia was the temple complex. Often, the temple complex was the city. The temple complex in this period would have been comprised of the temple itself, where the patron deity was worshiped, and, most prominently, by the ziggurat. Ziggurats were structures designed to provide stairways from the heavens (the gate of the gods) to earth so that the gods could come down into their temple and into the town and bring blessing. It was a convenience provided for the deity and his messengers… There were no rooms, chambers or passageways of any sort inside. The structure itself was simply made to hold up the stairway. At the top was a small room for the deity, equipped with a bed and a table supplied regularly with food. In this way the deity could refresh himself during his descent. None of the festivals or ritual acts suggest that people used the ziggurat for any purpose. It was for the gods. The priests certainly would have to go up to provide fresh supplies, but it was holy ground. The ziggurat served as the architectural representation of the pagan religious developments of this period, when deity was transformed into the image of man. (Note on Genesis 11:4, IVP Bible Background Commentary, Old Testament.)

Putting together these various parts of this story, what seems to be happening is that the people who are afraid of very many things that are beyond their control, seek to build a place where God would be obliged to come to them and give them blessings, including security. By having a deity that would reside with them, they would procure an identity and the deity would communicate whatever it is that they wanted through their messengers.

The Genesis text uses the personal name of the Hebrew God, Yahweh. Other deities of Mesopotamia might have been fine with the proposal and plan of the people, but Yahweh is not. Yahweh is not restricted to a people or a geography. He is the God of all peoples, and any attempt to control or use him is thwarted. Yahweh foresees the dangers of uniformity. When people become fixated on uniformity of culture, things do not end well. For this reason Yahweh confuses the language of the people.

Dr. Christena Cleveland, social psychologist and associate professor of the practice of organizational studies at Duke Divinity School, in her book Disunity in Christ, writes about the dangers of homogenous, monoculture:

These days, Christians can easily go their entire lives without spending time with those who are different from them. Unfortunately, the more we spend time with people who are essentially identical to us, the more we become convinced that our way of relating to both Jesus and the world is the correct way. Over time, our convictions grow stronger and our attitudes toward different ideas and cultural expressions of worship become more negative. 

Social psychologists call this phenomenon group polarization. In the absence of diverse influences, homogenous group members tend to adopt more extreme and narrow-minded thinking as time passes… 

What begins as seemingly harmless homogeneity often snowballs into distrust, inaccurate perceptions of other groups, prejudice and hostility… 

When we adopt a unique group identity and surround ourselves with similar ingroup members, we essentially create our own alternate universe in which we believe that the standards, ideals and goals of our ingroup should become the new “normal”—not only for our specific subgroup but for the entire larger group, including the outgroup.

Conversely,

Research shows that diverse groups are better groups—diverse groups come up with more creative and more effective ideas than groups composed of similar people…
Diverse groups that fully live out the biblical mandate to unite under one household of God will reap the benefits of increased learning, increased creativity and more effective problem solving… 

The more we interact with those who are different, the more we can respond to the needs of those who are different.

In other words, diversity is necessary to a healthy society and a healthy church. A healthy spiritual community must value diversity — not only in words but also in practice. Why? Because our God values it. God values diversity so much that a pursuit of homogeneity was deliberately thwarted by God.

Now we jump forward a few millennia to the Day of Pentecost and Acts chapter 2. Let’s read the first few verses again,

1 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Going back to the start of this sermon, all of a sudden I started speaking in Japanese. What were some of the thoughts going through your mind as you experienced this? Think about that as I read again the next few verses.

5 Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13 But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

If you’ve ever traveled some place where English is not the primary language and where you don’t understand the language that is used, you recall that most of what you hear is just noise. But if you hear someone speaking English, your ears suddenly perk up and start scanning for the source.
In my case, the same is true of Japanese. I can be in a crowded airport, such as Sea-Tac, where the majority are speaking English. I understand but because the conversation is not relevant to me, I ignore it. But if I overhear a conversation in Japanese, all of a sudden my hearing is attuned to it.

I suspect that is what the crowd in Jerusalem experienced. They were hearing Greek and Aramaic all around, but when those from outside the regular Greek and Jewish areas suddenly heard their native language, their attention was riveted to the source. At the same time others were confused, especially those who knew the disciples. In one sense, this was a little bit like what happened at Babel: all of a sudden the disciples were speaking in languages they had never known before, and hearers were hearing languages being spoken by them, who until just a moment ago had never been known to speak those languages.

But contrary to what some interpretations have explained Acts 2 as a “reversal of Babel,” they did not suddenly collapse into a single, united language. Diversity is maintained, but each hears the same good news of Jesus in the context of their language and culture.

The value of diversity and its importance is continued in Peter’s address to the Jews,

17 ‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.

The proclamation of the gospel won’t be limited to just a narrow group of people but will be to everyone and for everyone. The new community of Jesus Christ will include every person, regardless of gender, age, or socio-economic status. A few chapters later in this same book of Acts, the boundaries will be expanded further to include all nationalities and cultures.

Diversity is a foundational value and a necessary principle of God’s community. It was included in the “pre-history” section of Genesis and it is reaffirmed in the founding of the Christian community.
Human nature runs contrary to diversity. We don’t like differences and ambiguity. We want sameness and certainty. But through the gift of the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ to his people, we can overcome our sin-influenced natures and become open and inclusive.

Quoting from Dr. Cleveland once again,

The blueprint of the household of God looks nothing like the blueprints of our own cultural and social cliques. If we want to know how to embody the household of God, we need look no further than to Jesus. While on earth, Jesus modeled this new reality by connecting with every type of person around—conservative theologians, liberal theologians, prostitutes, divorcees, children, politicians, people who party hard, military servicemen, women, lepers, ethnic minorities, celebrities and so forth—and inviting them to be part of his group and to work together to bring wholeness to their cracked and crumbling world. After Jesus ascended into heaven, this continued to be his modus operandi for doing miraculous things in the world. It seems as though the early leaders of the church would agree…

To respond to God’s call fully, we need to express our interdependent diversity in individual churches, denominations and organizations as well as in the worldwide body of Christ. We must be connected to those who are different within our respective churches and we must be connected to those who are different in the larger body of Christ… 

The homogenous, culturally isolated church, denomination or organization is not truly participating in the body of Christ… 

The metaphor of the body of Christ explicitly articulates the need to value different perspectives—to be ideologically interdependent. When we enter crosscultural situations with the belief that our cultural group is holding one piece to the puzzle, we can confidently make our contribution while also looking for and valuing the contributions that other groups make, and as a result, the barriers between us and them begin to fall down.

Pentecost Sunday is an annual commemoration of the beautiful diversity that we have within our community. Pentecost Sunday is also an annual reminder that Christ is who brings unity while bringing forth the blessings that come from our diversity. We are each different, beautiful, valuable, and necessary; yet we remain united and one in Christ. May Jesus’ prayer of John 17:20-23 be fulfilled in us:

20 “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, 21 that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, 23 I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

Sermon: The Fox and the Hen

Sermon: The Fox and the Hen
Lectionary: Year C, Lent 2
Text: Luke 13:31-35

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

If we were to summarize Jesus’ life in one sentence, that might be a strong candidate for consideration.

We might also say that Jesus was rather familiar with being misunderstood, with being falsely accused of acting improperly and out of wrong motivations, and even of being aligned with the devil.

When, after forty days in the wilderness, Jesus was tempted to take an easy way at the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus remains committed to his path and work. And later, as in today’s reading, he is warned to flee to save himself, Jesus still remains committed to his path and work.

Scholars have noted that the Luke’s gospel is headed toward Jerusalem from the very beginning. Jerusalem is the center of Jewish religion and devotion.  The journey is made explicit in chapter 9, verse 51 and the rest of the gospel is told within a framework of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where Jesus was presented to God after his birth. Jerusalem is where Jesus went when he was twelve years old and found himself among the teachers in the temple. Jerusalem was the home of Jesus’ divine Father. But it would also be Jerusalem that would be responsible for killing Jesus.

It seems that those more politically connected understood where Jesus’ path would lead, if he chose to keep on it. Some Pharisees come to warn Jesus that he is rubbing the powers-to-be the wrong way. Those who hold power, and especially those who hold it tenuously, are threatened by what they perceive to be competitions and destabilizing forces. Herod Antipas, a son of Herod the Great, was a tetrarch (ruler of a quarter part) of Galilee and Perea. He was only there because only because the Romans allowed it. If they thought he was ineffective or worse, he could easily be replaced. Jesus, with his gospel of liberty and deeds of freeing people from oppression and disease, could easily become a destabilizing entity.

Whatever these Pharisees’ ultimate motivation was, they were correct that Herod was a legitimate threat to Jesus’ safety. The prudent thing would have been for Jesus to tone things down, accommodate the establishment, and perhaps move out of the area for a while, at least until Herod cooled down. After all, didn’t that work for Jesus and his parents when he was an infant, when they fled to Egypt from Herod the Great?

In the Bible, when individuals are faced with threats, sometimes the right decision is to flee. At other times, the correct decision is to stay the course. There is no single correct response. That’s where wisdom, through the Holy Sprit, enters and we are to use the brains God has given to evaluate the situation and come to what we believe is the best response.

In the case of Jesus, in today’s text, he stays the course. Jesus understands the risks.The costs of turning away are greater than costs that would be paid by his own safety and life. He also knows that leaving the region of Galilee will not change his ultimate destiny in Jerusalem. He also seems to understand and know that his life will not end until all the established powers – political, religious, Roman, and Jewish – feel threatened by him and come together to decide his fate. And that can only happen in Jerusalem.

Jesus sends his reply back to Herod, essentially telling him that as destructive (“fox”) as he is, he wields far less power than he thinks he has. Jesus will continue to exercise his power of freeing people from captivity to oppressive powers and physical ailments until he reaches Jerusalem. Jesus may also be indirectly telling Herod that he really should not be worrying about Jesus, because the nature of Jesus’ power is far different from the kind of power with which Herod is familiar. Yet the irony is that Jesus’ power, although not directly threatening worldly power, does undermine and eventually destroy it. For the power of inclusiveness, egalitarianism, and unconditional love ultimately destroys any kind of hierarchy and privilege that are the foundations of worldly power.

It’s about this point in the sermon where I’m supposed to begin talking about how and why all this is relevant to us today. But to be honest, I found it to be difficult to find a point in which to bring it into our context. After all, none of us are Jesus, and prophets are a rare occurrence. I doubt any of us are facing direct threat to life and safety from powerful people. I don’t think any of us are on such a defined and time-limited mission like Jesus was.

But maybe we are like the Pharisees in today’s text. When we encounter someone aggressively pushing against accepted power systems and structures, and forcefully calling for reform and justice, what is our response? We acknowledge to ourselves that their position is right, but also feel that their methods make us uncomfortable. And so, especially if they are close to us, like family or close friends, we advise toning down the rhetoric, perhaps suggest utilizing more traditionally acceptable actions for change, and so on. This wouldn’t be unprecedented: Jesus’ own family thought he had gone crazy and tried to have an intervention to try to get him to act more “normal.”

Maybe we need to ask ourselves why we (I) have such a difficult time with those who believe passionately about something and act accordingly. Is it because they challenge my complacency, or challenge the benefits I receive from being more accommodating and acceptable to societal norms? Am I afraid of what the disruption might result and being caught in any potential backlash?

Maybe we think that because things have always worked that way, whatever “that way” might be, that to try to change it is fruitless, or at least something that can only happen gradually. Maybe in our acquiescence of “how things are” we’ve lost the urgency that real people are suffering from oppression and injustice.

In a different gospel story, when Peter tried to dissuade Jesus from following the path set before him, Jesus rebuked Peter as an adversary. Peter had a vision of where Jesus and his movement would go, but when Jesus told him otherwise, Peter didn’t like it. Maybe we are like Peter more than we’d like — we want to advise a “safer” course when we encounter those who are passionately following the call to bring deliverance and healing to the world.

Could it be that in our desire to live quiet, peaceful lives, we’ve inadvertently become stumbling blocks to needed change? Have we advised caution when instead we should have been encouraging someone to follow their passion for helping people, however dangerous the path might have seemed?

But what if we are that person that is called? And really, in one way or another, aren’t we all? When we choose to take the Christian name and join the community of Christ, aren’t we agreeing to journey with Christ, wherever that may lead?

What kept Jesus on track and not dissuaded from the path he was on? Jesus understood who he was, what his task was, and what genuine power was.

Luke’s gospel is the only one that narrates Jesus’ Jerusalem visit at twelve years, but even at that point, Jesus was on his way to understanding his identity. He already knew his relationship to God. By the time he began his public ministry, even the devil could not sway Jesus from the path he had chosen.

Luke’s gospel also uses words in describing Jesus, in which they describe his developing and maturing understanding of his purpose. In today’s text, when Jesus says that “on the third day I finish my work,” the word “finish” indicates bringing to full maturity and completion. What this tells me is that Jesus’ understanding about where his mission would lead and how his life would end was not necessarily fully known to him from the beginning, but that it developed throughout his life. So when some Pharisees came to warn him, I believe it was a genuine temptation for Jesus to take a different path.

But Jesus also understood what his task was. Jesus came to reveal the truth about God, and that was through his work of bringing deliverance to the captives of the multitudes of demons of life and healing to the sick. Jesus’ relationship with God secured his identity and informed his knowledge about God.

Jesus understood that God’s power is not a power-over, that is power that coerces and controls, but rather, a power-with. Power-with is power that raises all to an equal footing; power that protects, just as a mother hen tries to protect her chicks from a marauding fox; power that will sacrifice itself so that others will have the opportunity to experience liberty and healing.

For Jesus to turn aside and follow a different path, a path of self-preservation, would have been to admit that God’s power was insufficient to heal the ills of this world and save it. It would have been acknowledgment that Caesar and Herod did, in fact, hold the reigns of true power. But just as Jesus did in the wilderness temptations  at the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus stood fast against the renewed temptation to follow a different path.

As we journey through the season of Lent, I suggest we reflect on a few things.

First, have we succumbed to the temptation to play it too safe when it comes to following Christ? Second, have we been stumbling blocks in the path of others trying to follow Christ by advising a “safer” course of action? Perhaps the sacrifice of Lent for some this season is to “give up” the default of choosing the path of apparent safety.

Third, do you know who you are in relation to God? What is your confidence in God? Fourth, do you know what your role is in God’s desire to reveal God’s nature to the world and bring all under God’s wings of protection? Fifth, and final point to reflect upon: are you clear on the nature of the types of power that exist and which one comes from God? Perhaps a spiritual discipline to take up this Lenten season is to reacquaint ourselves with the life of Jesus and relearn how he related to God and to the powers of this world – perhaps by reading through one of the gospel accounts.

Let us be willing to allow God to bring us under God’s wings. Let us be willing to allow God to reprioritize our lives and journeys. May we be among those who gladly say, when Christ returns, “Blessed is the one who ones in the name of the Lord.”

Sermon: God Among Us

Lectionary Year C, Epiphany 6
Luke 6:17-26

God Among Us

A lofty God is much easier to handle and live with. That’s the picture the Beatitudes recorded in Matthew gives us. In Matthew’s version, when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up a mountain and the disciples came up to see him. In response Jesus offers his disciples an idealistic, spiritual vision of his kingdom: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled…”

But Luke’s recording of the Beatitudes is different. Jesus is among the crowds and travels down with them to a level place. Jesus is not lifted above the crowd. Jesus is one among them. Jesus is approachable. Merely touching him brings forth healing power from him. And the way Luke begins the Beatitudes offers a hint into what Jesus was doing among the crowd.

Luke introduces the Beatitudes by writing, “Then he looked up at his disciples and said…” Not only was Jesus among the crowds on a level place, he appears to be stooping down to minister to those around him. Jesus is on the ground and physically below his disciples. He must raise his eyes to look up at his disciples. It is a complete reversal of the setting that is found in Matthew.

When Jesus does speak, Luke’s version of the Beatitudes does not attempt to spiritualized away the difficulties of life. In Luke’s recording Jesus says, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled…” In Matthew, the Beatitudes are lofty, idealistic philosophy — Jesus speaks in abstract, religious terms. In Luke, Jesus speaks directly to his disciples in immediate, physical terms.

Matthew’s Beatitudes read more comfortably. It read more like moral philosophy and something that we might strive toward, but we don’t necessarily expect a complete fulfillment until some distant future.

Luke’s Beatitudes are uncomfortable. Jesus is speaking to you — to me. And whereas Matthew omits any kind of woes, Luke carefully balances four blessings with countering four woes: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry…”

Luke’s Beatitudes are uncomfortable, because for most of us sitting here we identity more with the conditions that bring woe than with the blessings. How many of us are so destitute that we are begging for handouts on the streets? How many of us are so destitute that we would sell our own bodies or our children just to survive? How many of us are so hungry that we would search bags of garbage and dumpsters for a scrap of spoiled food? How many of us face the hopelessness and desperation of having the powers and structures of society turned against us? How many of us are recipients of public spite, exclusion, and slander for speaking out against injustices and standing with the desperate and marginalized?

On the other hand, how many of us live in relative comfort? How many of us worry about being homeless and out on the streets? How many of us had a good dinner last night? How many of us have full refrigerators and pantries? How many of us are generally living a good life, where despair and hopelessness are far from our thoughts? How many of us are respected members of community?

On balance, it seems that as individuals and as a faith community, we find ourselves on the “woe” side rather than on the “blessings” side of Luke’s formulation of the Beatitudes. It isn’t surprising that the more spiritualized Matthean version is the one we hear more. After all, all of us can honestly claim that we are “poor in spirit” and “hungry for righteousness.” But Luke doesn’t offer us that option, and so we must sit in the discomfort and with questions about what we are supposed to do with this text.

One possible interpretation is a very literal one. I point to a later section in this very same Lucan gospel where Jesus seems to advocate and praise such a literal application. In chapter 18 we read about the rich ruler:

18 A certain ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 19 Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 20 You know the commandments: ‘You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honor your father and mother.’” 21 He replied, “I have kept all these since my youth.” 22 When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “There is still one thing lacking. Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” 23 But when he heard this, he became sad; for he was very rich. 24 Jesus looked at him and said, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! 25 Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

26 Those who heard it said, “Then who can be saved?” 27 He replied, “What is impossible for mortals is possible for God.”

28 Then Peter said, “Look, we have left our homes and followed you.” 29 And he said to them, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, 30 who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come eternal life.”

A couple of the most notable examples who literally followed Jesus’ words just read include Francis and Clare of Assisi. Each was born into wealthy families but left their families and what they could have inherited and vowed themselves to severe poverty to serve the poor through service and prayer.

Again, we are forced to sit in discomfort as we ponder the Beatitudes of Jesus.

Another way to read this is to see it as time and culture bound. In other words, the words which Jesus spoke and Luke wrote down are specific to the historical period and people that is being addressed. Whether the early or later authorship dates of Luke are considered, both fall in periods during which followers of Jesus were at best seen as oddities and at worst seen as danger to the establishment. There may not have been prolonged and systematic persecution of the church, but they would have been targets of harassment and occasional persecution at the hands of both fellow Jews and Romans. The lengthy fourth blessing about being hated, excluded, and defamed seems to emphasize this historical circumstance about the audience community.

It should, therefore, not be surprising that the Beatitudes seek to bring comfort to those who are suffering and being slandered. It should not be surprising that woes are directed against those who are probably seen to be the instigators against Jesus’ followers, who laugh and mock them, and who are the respected citizenry and who hold power in society.

It would be easy to dismiss the Beatitudes as not that applicable to us. We live in very different circumstances from its original audience. Or we might say that it is applicable to present-day Christians who are experiencing the things described in the Beatitudes, but not to the rest of us. We could say that the words are meant to offer comfort and promise of divine attention, but it bears little practical relevance for most of us.

This too, is uncomfortable, because now we are dismissing an entire scripture passage as having little relevance to present-day life.

Maybe the discomfort is the point of this passage. The unease and tension that we feel as we wrestle with this difficult text may be the point. We prefer settled interpretations and answers, but instead the words of Jesus invite us into questions and dialogue. We are encouraged to approach the text from many angles.

A rhetorical, literary structural perspective offers a third way.

The carefully constructed parallelism between the blessings and the woes are patterned after prophetic utterances found in the Old Testament. As with the prophets of old, Jesus is portrayed by Luke as announcing a reversal of fortunes. Those who have been oppressed and marginalized, Jesus offers relief and comfort. To those who have lived in comfort, Jesus prophesies discomfort and ruin. Jesus tells his hearers that contrary to what is often believed, God is among the poor and hungry, rather than with the rich and full. God identifies with those who are reviled and rejected by society. Just as Jesus stopped down to care for the hurting and suffering, God is found among the despised and diseased.

Perhaps the questions to be asked of this passage is this: Where are we looking for God to show up? Among what kinds of people are we expecting to find God’s blessings?

What seems to be the case according to these Beatitudes is that the groups that we typically think of as “blessed,” the life circumstances that we often label a result of God’s “blessings,” are in fact, not. Instead, those who seem to be suffering the most are the recipient of God’s blessings. Those who are least in control of their own fates are the most blessed by God. In God’s economy, those who appear to have the least have the most, and those who appear to have the most don’t have anything. I think we’ve been trained to think about God’s kingdom as a better, more improved version of what we have now. But it is a complete reversal.

The Church is a manifestation and a breaking-in of the kingdom of God into this world. Since the kingdom of God is a reversal of the priorities and fortunes of this present world, what should the church look like? What should the church’s priorities be? What kinds of activities should the church be involved in? Where and among whom should we be spending our time?

Today’s text isn’t comfortable, and I don’t think it’s meant to be. It is there to wake us up and lead us to examine our priorities, both individually and corporately. Jesus has described whom God calls blessed. Where are we in relation to that? Are we God’s blessing to the world?

Whatever the verdict of our own self-examination, we can be sure that God can work through our sincere efforts. God’s grace and power is larger than any of our shortcomings and failings. We need new minds to even think about a world ordered completely upside down from what we know. That is the kind of “repentance” God desires in us – a completely new way of thinking. Through the words of today’s Beatitudes, let us begin to allow God to change our minds and thoughts.