Watts "The Real Secret of Life"

He's Absolutely Right!

"Last and First" given 9/20/15

            Did you play much baseball when you were a kid?  I’m sure that all the men have played. And probably most of the women as well. I certainly can recall a few co-ed games when I was a kid growing up back in the dark ages. We would play at recess, in Gym class, and on an old deserted lot halfway down the alley. No Little League, though. The neighborhood was a bit too tough and too diverse for anything that organized.

            One thing that sticks out in my childhood baseball memories, no matter where we played, was the way the games started. Two boys, who were always the best athletes, or the natural leaders, would be, by consensus the team captains. One would toss a bat into the air upside down. The other would catch it, and then they would alternate placing hand over hand until they reached the very tip of the handle.

            Then the worst part of the game would begin. Everyone would form a line in front of the two captains and they would begin to pick players. The winner of the bat toss picked first. Invariably, he’d pick his best friend, who invariably would be the best player still in line. Then the other captain would pick. Back and forth they’d go. And if you weren’t such a terrific baseball player, you’d stand there, hoping desperately to be picked before you had to face the humiliation of being one of the last ones standing there. That’s when the picking would slow down, while the two captains, with whispered comments from their teams, would divvy up the last few klutzes and stray girls.

            It was mortifying—even if you knew that you weren’t particularly good at baseball.  And nothing ever worked to spare you that experience. ESP, friendship, will power, bribery— nothing could get you picked early. You’d stand there, praying to be chosen. If you were really lucky that day, you’d get picked before the girls. If you were really unlucky, you’d suffer the shame of being picked last—after the klutziest girl.

            Then the team that had lost the initial bat test would get to bat first. If you were on the team that was going to play the field, you had another embarrassment coming. The captains, of course, would always pitch. Then the kid they had picked first would invariably play Shortstop—where you had to be fast, or Catcher where you had to be strong. Then the rest of the infield would be assigned. First, Second, Third. If there were a lot of kids in the game, even the outfield would be assigned— Left, Center, and Right. And then you and the other leftovers heard the most terrible words in all sports. 

“Go play long.” That meant that your basic job was going to be chasing the homeruns that the Captains and Shortstops hit out of the field and into the alley. And while you were trying to do that, everybody would stand there screaming at you for running too slow and not throwing the ball back hard enough to prevent the other side from scoring four runs—because after all, those moments only come when the bases are loaded. (I think that’s one of Murphy’s Laws).

The rest of the time you were expected to pay attention to the game, shouting encouragement and chasing any fly balls that came your way. But that’s kind of hard to do when you’re playing long. Even the most avid baseball fan will admit that the game can move slowly at times. And if you’ve never had the experience, let me assure you that no baseball game ever looks as slow or as boring as one viewed from right field.

You’re out there, as Peter, Paul and Mary put it, “watchin’ the dandelions grow.” It’s easy to lose interest in the game and start to daydream. And that of course, is exactly when the other team’s captain hits a homerun over your head while you’re daydreaming and you end up having to chase it. (That’s another of Murphy’s Laws).

How did the bases get loaded? I didn’t see that! The only way out of the shame and boredom of playing long is to show some baseball ability. And who can acquire ball playing skills stuck out there in far right field? It’s enough to kill any future interest in baseball that you might have, frankly.

I suspect this is a pretty wide spread experience, growing up in the USA. And on reflection, it’s perfectly understandable that those skilled and fortunate team captains would pick the good players first. They’ve been raised, as we all have, in a society that emulates the winner. They don’t want to lose even a sandlot baseball game. That would be humiliating for them. Far better to humiliate the kids who aren’t good at sports in the first place. After all, they’re used to it. 

Even in organized games coached by adults, in leagues where everybody is supposed to get to play, that competitive principle will show itself. It seems as if nobody plays anything for fun—or even just for the love of the sport. Winning is everything. I don’t care what the teachers and scoutmasters and parents say, any kid would rather have a first place trophy than an award for sportsmanship.

Maybe that’s part of what’s behind the recent upswing of interest in individual sports like running, bicycling, aerobics, Yoga and Tai Chi. The aim is not to do better than somebody else—the aim is do better today than you did yesterday. That can be a welcome change, believe me.

But even those of us who forswear the competitive ethic still have a little bit of it in us. We all want to excel. We all want a bit of recognition for our accomplishments. That’s why even the most non-competitive serious runner will enter a race. We tell ourselves we’re only competing against our selves. But we’d all like the feeling of beating somebody else—at least once. 

Even Jesus’ disciples weren’t immune to that temptation. Mark tells us in this morning’s Gospel reading how one day James and John approached Jesus, asking for a promise that they would have places of honor in his coming glory. It’s not clear exactly what they understood that anticipated glory would be. Were they seeking the glory of heaven? Or were they seeking earthly recognition in a glorious People’s Judaic Republic of Palestine with Jesus as Messianic Ruler? It doesn’t really matter, because in either case, the sons of Zebedee were after the same thing— power, recognition, glory, authority, perks, fancy titles, and prestige.

They wanted to be in the middle of things. They wanted to pitch— or at least play shortstop. No right field for the Zebedee brothers!  Nossir! They were no dummies. They could tell that this Jesus was something special. They realized Jesus wasn’t just blowing smoke when he spoke about his coming Realm. Whatever that would turn out to be, they wanted an important place in it.

They weren’t gonna get stuck playing long. Let Thomas, or Matthew or somebody else get stuck out beyond right field getting bored. No, James and John were going to be right in the heart of the action—or they were going to know the reason why!

But Jesus threw them a curve.

“You have no idea what you are asking of me! Can you drink the cup of sacrifice that I drink? Can you withstand the baptism of suffering?” And when they persisted, Jesus must have shook his head sadly and told them, “You will indeed have a share in my cup and my baptism. But it’s not for me to say who will sit on my right and my left.”

Later, in front of all his followers, Jesus tried to make clear to them the true cost of discipleship. His was not going to be an earthly reign—at least, not as they understood it. His coming realm was not going to be dominated by the clever and the well connected, or the ambitious, or the most talented, or those with the most seniority. even.  His realm was not going to be led by those with the correct interpretation of Scripture or the most learned Theology.

“The last shall be first.” He told them. The glory of His Kingdom would not be a glory or prestige and titles and privileges for the high and the mighty. In the New Jerusalem He was building, there would be no high and mighty. The angels and saints wouldn’t get to ride in the front of the heavenly bus while the ordinary saved and forgiven would have to sit in the back.  The glory of His call was a call to the glory of serving others. His call was and is a call to the glory of giving, not receiving.

If you want to pitch on Jesus’ team, you’re playing in the wrong sandlot.

His Kingdom was and is not built by those who sought to exalt themselves. To lead is to serve. The place of honor would not be the head table; it would be the kitchen, scrubbing dishes. The greatest reward is not a plaque on the wall—it’s a dishcloth. 

         Jesus does not call us to follow so that we can feel self-satisfied, or pious, or more religious, or more spiritual than the person in the next pew or even feel good because we’re saved. Jesus doesn’t care which spiritual gifts you think you’ve got, or what mystical or charismatic experiences you’ve had.  Jesus isn’t looking for those who want to be served. Jesus seeks those who wish to serve.

            You and I are called to a different ball game, with different rules, played on a different field-- in this life, and in the life to come. Jesus invites us to form with Him a different sort of community, a different kind of institution. In His church, each person should be cherished and used and appreciated and encouraged to reach their full potential in Christ. Everyone must have all the opportunities they need to grow, to lead, to contribute, to learn, and above all to serve as much and as best as they can.

            Everybody gets a turn at bat. Nobody has to play long. No one is excluded from the heart of Christ’s community. The contribution of each brother or sister, veteran or rookie, young or old, adult or child, humble or great, is welcome and needed.

            Jesus wants to join with Him in building a community based around unselfish service— and nothing else. In such a community, nobody collects titles, or privileges, or prestigious offices, or authority.  And nobody gets stuck doing a job, playing a position they’re not interested in or burned out in. And there is no one yearning to play, languishing in right field, bored and only half watching the game.

            Our Lord doesn’t care that we’ve been around the congregation longer, or been saved longer, or are better educated.  Jesus isn’t interested if we’ve been to seminary, or are sure we know better than anyone else what His church needs.  Christ calls you and I to be a community that is welcoming, equitable, respectful to all, fair to all, and nurturing to all. And He promises us that— miracle of miracles, if we join Him in building it, such an unlikely, impractical community can and will grow.

            “The last shall be first.” We’re all called to serve in different ways. Sometimes it is a call to responsibility and trust. Other times, not.  We may be called to contribute our talents in music, or bookkeeping, or teaching or preaching or cooking, or art.

We might be called to lend our professional expertise. We might be called to offer the voice of hard-won experience. Or we might be called to change our negative outlooks. Or we might be challenged to try something totally new to us—a ministry we would never have imagined ourselves doing in our wildest dreams.

            It might be a call to go on an Mission trip, or join a Bible study, or volunteer at the food pantry, or sing in the choir, or help out at our fundraisers, or take a church office. It might be a call to scrub the kitchen floor. It might be a call to become a Scout Leader, or a foster parent, or a literacy tutor, or to get involved with those working for a more just world.

              “The last shall be first.”  Sometimes our call is a call to do exactly what we’re already doing—only better. Other times we’re called to change, to make room for another, to try something different— even when we’re competent and comfortable in the role we’ve been playing for so long.  

Jesus calls us to serve— not to be served.  But it won’t necessarily be where we want to serve. It will be where the Spirit leads-- where Christ Jesus needs us the most.     

  

            

Colbert: Where faith, logic and humor meet

Love Others

"A Harvest of Goodness" given 9/13/15

            Wouldn’t it be great if God actually had promised us a rose garden?   Or, failing that, wouldn’t it be nice if you and I were always able to simply cope and prevail when nothing in this life seems to be going smoothly?

Wouldn’t it be terrific if you and I could live in such a way that nothing that this broken and imperfect world threw at us would ever upset us? Wouldn’t it be great if our lives weren’t “thrown for a loop” at times?  No accidents, no one we care about getting Cancer or MS or Lupus, no unanticipated bills, or traffic tickets, or colicky babies, or bounced checks, or spilled milk, or missed periods.        No kids totaling the car. No family members drinking too much. No teen-agers taking up smoking. No nosey or noisy neighbors.  No body getting under our skins and driving us crazy. What if nothing could ever disrupt our poise or disturb our inner peace, or threaten our ability to cope-- without Prozac?

            Wouldn’t it be nice to live on this planet and feel confident in the fact that you are doing everything that you reasonably can do, not to pollute it? Or live with your diet without problems or guilt?  Or feel that you’re getting enough exercise? Or know that you’re doing your best to buy American? Or at least to not consume products from nations with repressive political regimes?

 How about being able to parent without guilt or second thoughts?  How about feeling satisfied that you are not unintentionally doing anything that will one day cause your children to grow up and become neurotic, dope-smoking nebbishes who will blame you for their uncontrollable impulses to paint themselves blue and squawk like a chicken every full moon? Or worse, become professional wrestlers?  Or worst yet, become street mimes?

                How nice it would be to know that you are doing your best, and that’s all anyone could ask.  How nice to feel justifiable satisfaction about the contribution you make to better this world, or at least to your family, through your vocation?          

            What would it take for us to be able to live like that?  Remember Summertime? The living easy, a rich daddy, and a good-lookin’ momma? Unlimited financial resources of our own? A high IQ?  Influential friends at the top? A prep school education topped off with an Ivy League degree?   

            Conventional wisdom--the wisdom of this world—plain old common sense would dictate that all of those would be a good start. But according to James’ Epistle—to live and be well takes something that none of these can bring us or buy us. To live that way takes what the ancient Hebrew sages called “Wisdom”. 

            Wisdom was always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, how to present yourself so that you would come out on top. Wisdom was the ability to always make the right decision in the perplexing problems confronting you in your life. Wisdom would not let you down.

            Wisdom was what allowed King Solomon to pull off his bluff about cutting the baby in two. He knew in his wisdom that it would never come to that. He knew in his wisdom that the real mother would give up her claim in order to save the life of her child.

            Our world is a lot more complex than that of the ancient Hebrews. Our temptations are a lot more sophisticated—and a lot more insidious. Our pressures are far more intertwined and inter-related. Our existence is, in many ways far more tentative and fragile than was that of King Solomon. Achieving that sort of wisdom in every single one of all the conflicting spheres of our modern lives is flatly impossible and mutually exclusive.

In our world, the two women would probably have had to share custody.  In our world, before he knew what was happening, King Solomon would have been indicted for potential child abuse. He would undoubtedly have to face a recall vote for even suggesting splitting the baby!  And Arnold Schwartzenegger would end up running against him for king.

Let’s face it friends. An absolutely perfect life is unattainable by human beings.

But the Gospel of Jesus Christ affirms that living a meaningful life of faith in this world is possible.  Jesus taught us and modeled for us what it means  to live a life that is truly kind and gentle and compassionate in this world.  So doing our best, striving to live and be in the world based on example of our Savior is not only worthwhile, but possible!

            Of course, we’ll slip and fall occasionally! Things will not always go the way we like. There is no promised rose garden for us in this world. Tragedies may come. Undeserved suffering may come. Your and my Baptisms in Christ do not  guarantee an invisible shield surrounding us and protecting us from sin and sorrow in our everyday existence. 

            You and I are not necessarily going to live long and prosper, protected from tears and trials because we follow Jesus. Quite the opposite.  We were promised our share of trials and troubles of this life—and then some. Jesus warned us of the distinct possibility of persecution and humiliation precisely because of this sinful world’s hostility to our witness to Him.

            But we were also promised the strength to prevail in life’s challenges through the under-girding Presence of the One who made us.  We were promised the example and love of a Savior who will walk with us through it all.  We were promised the power of God’s own Holy Spirit to strengthen us. Whenever you and I honestly, and prayerfully strive to be faithful, we are promised the inner resources, most especially the gift of divinely inspired wisdom, in order to help us do our best.

            Scripture has always proclaimed wisdom to be a heavenly bequest to human beings from their Creator. Wisdom comes to us only through as .grace--an undeserved Spiritual Gift endowed out of the sheer generosity of God’s Spirit to meet our trials.

            True human wisdom is always a reflection of Divine Wisdom.  God’s Wisdom was in fact, understood to be so powerful, so present in the Creator’s very nature, that it was seen as being not only in God, and of God,  but literally with God—alongside God as well.

            In The Book of Proverbs , Divine Wisdom is personified as a member of God’s Heavenly Court— not a consort or companion goddess, but God’s very first creation— feminine energy standing alongside the Maker since the very beginning of Creation,  and ever present at God’s side as chief counselor.

            Wisdom calls out. Understanding raises her voice.

            I was created as the beginning of God’s workings.

            I was brought forth before God’s deeds of old.

            I was fashioned from eternity,

from the beginning, before the world began…

            I was there when the heavens were established,

            and when the horizon was set on the face of the deep.

           

            I was beside The Creator then, like an artisan,

            God’s delight day after day, playing in God’s presence all the time,

            delighting in the children of humanity.

            That’s a lovely metaphor.  It’s poetry of course.  But it’s comforting poetry. And it’s both illuminating and inspiring to imagine Lady Wisdom as the midwife of Creation. . The ultimate source of all the knowledge and insight and experience that can allow us to  successfully cope is in fact, accessible and friendly to us.

In the Book of Job we read,  “Where does wisdom come from? Where is the source of understanding? It is hidden from the eyes of every living creature.” 

            The Spirit of Divine Wisdom may indeed delight in us, and in our world.  But she is hidden from us, blocked from our view by our all-too human “common sense”. a.k.a. “the wisdom of this world”—which is really the everyday ignorance and short-sidedness, and prejudice, and greed, that we usually allow to run our lives. 

            Job reminds us that it is God and God alone who can show us the path to true wisdom, and is indeed it’s ultimate source. “The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom”

In this morning’s Scripture reading, James says it well.  “Where jealousy and selfish ambition hold sway, there is uproar and every kind of evil practice.”

James isn’t just talking about some hypothetical situation here. It’s likely the author of the Epistle is addressing a real life dispute in a real live church. James’ words are relevant in our modern church.

A church fight had arisen in this un-named First Century congregation as a result of contradictory teachings or goals or styles among two factions vying for leadership.  This congregation was being torn apart by all that divisiveness and stress between these two squabbling cliques. How were the faithful in the middle, to know who is right, who to follow?

We don’t know who the factions were, and it really doesn’t matter anymore. What we do know is that one clique of these would-be leaders based their claim on their deep personal spirituality—their mystical access to superior knowledge and insight. Yet James points out that this group behaved arrogantly and condescendingly.  They schemed, they backbit, they bullied, they slandered, and they lied. They back stabbed, they derided, and belittled. Surely this behavior does not reflect wisdom in any sense.

Those on the other side of the argument claimed that they had the right to lead based on their personal integrity and piety, their personal reputations. That second group James would tell us, were not truly wise either. Their so-called wisdom was clearly not from God.

Theirs was nothing but the human-based so-called wisdom of this world— a.k.a “common sense”— don’t trust anyone too different, we’ve always done it that way, we tried that once and it didn’t work, if you want something done right—do it yourself, it’s not what you know—it’s who you know, and the ever-popular golden rule of earthly wisdom-- he who has the gold makes the rules.

At bottom, the true goal of the wisdom of this world is to gain the upper hand.  It’s based on an arrogant mistrust of the insights and abilities and intelligence and motives of everybody else but me. It is divisive and self-serving and destructive in individual human lives. In the end, our so-called human wisdom can only be demonic and valueless to the congregation, to us, to the family, to the church at large and ultimately to the planet itself.

A couple of years ago, I saw a documentary interview with Robert McNamara. Remember him—JKF and LBJ’s Secretary of Defense?. During the interview, McNamara was talking about the lessons life had taught him in hindsight. One of the lessons was “Rationality cannot save us.”  He spoke of the Cuban missile crisis—Kennedy was a rational man, he said. Kruschev was a rational man. Castro was a rational man. None of them wanted to destroy the world. But in the end,  it was not their rationality nor their desire to avoid war that saved us.

McNamara claimed it was sheer dumb luck that saved the world. As a Christian I would want to give the credit to the invisible hand of God, working subtly behind the scenes. But the point is that when the chips were down, human rationality—the wisdom of this world--was not sufficient to preserve the world from nuclear holocaust.

          Remember near the end of the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy and her friends have brought the broomstick of the wicked witch to the wise and powerful wizard asking that he grant their requests—brains and courage and heart and home? As the wizard stalls for time, Toto pulls back the curtain revealing that the magnificent wizard is nothing more than a humbug-- a man who has everyone fooled.

         Like little Toto, James is pulling back the curtain on the world’s wisdom and exposing it as for what it really is--wisdom de jour— insufficient and useless at best--

based upon a consensus of people who convince everyone else that they are right.  

            James reminds us that true wisdom always and only comes from God. The proof of its’ Divine origin is that it is characterized by peace.  True wisdom will always strive to bless us and bless our life together with peace. Not with peace that is merely the absence of fighting, but with the peace of Christ. Shalom— in which the best interests of all—dignity and equity and justice and peace and freedom are honored and served.

Those who seek Christ’s Shalom will seek it peaceably, not deviously, says James. We seek peace by praying and living peaceably—guided by the Divine Wisdom. We are afraid to place the good of others before our own good. Our lives are characterized by a true commitment to the growth of others, of the congregation, of the family, of the nation, of all individuals in faithfulness.  We look to tomorrow, not yesterday. We deal in hope, not anger.

Shalom is sown through the seeds of sharing and giving, not through taking and hoarding. When Wisdom reigns, worship, teaching, preaching, witnessing, loving, relating, reaching outward and nurturing inward—all that the community does becomes an instrument of peace.

If you and I are ever to become the people that God is continually calling and empowering us to become—we must learn to be peacemakers first. If we are ever to grow in wisdom as human beings in the love of God and in service to self and others, we must learn to sow Shalom, guided by the gifts of Lady Wisdom. We must share our bounty, raise our children, nurture those we love, witness to our faith—peaceably. True wisdom, given in our lives through the grace of Christ Jesus, will ultimately always yield for us a harvest of goodness and righteousness. 

Happy Labor Day!

Jesus Said No! Given 9/6/15

            Jesus said “NO”. He refused to heal. He was on retreat, and had been working very hard. He had been preaching and healing and teaching at breakneck speed.  He had done a couple of miracles, fed a crowd of five thousand, He had even calmed a storm.

            Yet it's clear from the Gospel that Jesus was still waging an uphill battle to proclaim the Good News in the face of the criticism and opposition of the Pharisees. And he was struggling against the just plain orneriness of so many everyday people of Israel. All that must have pained Him a great deal. It was, after all, for the lost sheep of Israel that He'd come.

 Clearly Jesus saw His primary earthly mission as being first to his own people. As a human being, Jesus came onto this earth a Jew, steeped in the historic faith of Isreal.  And He focused his teachings on that particular people, in that particular place, at that particular time in history.

            But so many of them had been saying “NO” to Jesus and his teaching.   Jesus must have been feeling the need just to get away.  Just to take a break, to regroup, to be somewhere else where everybody wasn't either continually putting the arm on him for  miracles or else trying to nit-pick the message he was trying to bring. And so Jesus seeking a bit of respite, Jesus had ducked away from the Jewish areas to the coastal region of Tyre and Sidon.  It wasn't very likely that he'd be recognized there. 

            But even here, in this historic region where the pagans lived, it turned out that He couldn't get away for a little mini-retreat. Matthew tells us how Jesus was walking down the road with the disciples when some strange woman approached him.

            "Hail, Son of David!" She cried. "Have mercy." Most commentators make point out of her form of address. "Son of David" was a royal, Jewish Messianic title that the disciples weren't even extending to Jesus at this point.

            Despite that, Jesus just kept walking.  But the woman kept on shouting, begging, nagging Jesus to come and heal her mentally disturbed child.  She was persistent, so annoyingly persistent that the disciples finally asked Jesus to tell her to shut up and clear out. But Jesus simply continued to ignore her.

            She wasn’t a Aramaic-speaking,  or Greek-speaking Jew, or even a Samaritan. Mark calls her “Syro-Pheonician”. Matthew simply calls her a “Canaanite”.  Both descriptions underline her different-ness. She was one of those indigenous, non-Jewish Semitic peoples who’d lived side by side with the Jews in the land since the Exodus. And still do.

In modern day Israel she’d be referred to dismissively as an “Arab”. Or more politely, a “Palestinian”.  Whatever you want to call her, she was an outsider. She was a gentile. She was a woman. She had borne a child that was abnormal. This poor lady had three strikes against her before she opened her mouth. For her, a gentile and a pagan to appeal to Jesus as Son of David--whatever way she understood it--was for her to appeal to a God who was not her own--a God her History told her was strange and hostile to her and her people.

             And Jesus used her mistake.

"I came for Israel's lost children. It's not fair to take food intended for children, and feed it to the dogs."    But she retorted, 

"I know you came for those children.  But what about my child?  Are there no leftovers at the table of the children of the rich?  Are there no table scraps for the stray dogs outside the door? Help me, give me the crumbs you would throw away."

            At this point, you kind of have to like this lady. She may not be a Jew, but she has chutzpah. She may be a foreigner and a pagan, but she's also a mother and she's ready to take on this foreign holy man in a verbal duel believing He can help her child. She’s got guts. And like the Marines say, “guts is enough”. 

            Surprisingly, Jesus said “NO”.  Worse, he was downright snotty to her. That just doesn't fit with anything you and I ever learned about Him in church and Sunday School.  It doesn't square with the Savior we know in our hearts.  It doesn't fit with the Lord whose very life and ministry teaches us that God's grace is accessible to all peoples. It just doesn't seem right or proper that some poor woman would have to endure being ignored, and rudeness, and finally have to engage in a   battle of wits in order to coerce Jesus into healing a child.

            It's a scandalous text. Jesus said “NO”. Could Mark have made up the story, put that “NO” into Jesus' mouth in order to grind some particular theological ax? The problem with that  is that this story is also found in Matthew. So it's likely that Jesus really did tell this Canaanite/Palestinian/Lebanese/whatever-she-was woman “NO”

            Why would He do a thing like that?  Why would Jesus say “NO” to this poor woman?  And by the way, why is it that Jesus sometimes seems to say “NO” to us in our lives and our trials?  Hmmm. There are some possible explanations. Whichever explanations you and I seize upon will say something about who we are, and who Jesus is in our lives.

            Maybe Jesus was just "miracled out" that day-- too exhausted from the hectic demands and pace of his ministry.  He was there looking for some peace and quiet, after all.  As his anger in the Temple courtyard and his grief at the grave of Lazarus show, the earthly Jesus was fully human-- and fully subject to the limitations of this frail human frame.

            Maybe Jesus was testing the woman's faith--lots of believers think that all the illnesses and sorrows and challenges that come to them are personal tests of faith from God, or Jesus. Maybe Jesus intended to heal her daughter all along, and he was using the conversation to make a point about the inclusiveness of the Gospel. But frankly, both of those possibilities reflect a pettiness that I do not see in Jesus.

Maybe Jesus had simply not yet, gotten around to trying to heal the whole world.  Maybe He was still trying at that point, still working and praying and hoping to minister to in depth and transform that community with which he had a primary relationship. Maybe Jesus knew what some of us forget—that it's folly to try to be so concerned with people in far away places, if in the process we ignore the pressing needs under our own noses.

 "Bloom where you are planted", says the old saying.  You and I are called by our circumstances and our life situation to focus our ministry and attention here--on our own particular corner of God's world first.

            Of course, we can't totally cut off our concern for those beyond our family, our community, our congregation. But time and again, Jesus taught us that we need to heal our own broken-ness before we can bring wholeness to others.  Our Lord knew that we  must first set our own houses in order, tend our own gardens, transform our own communities, remove the log from our own eye, change ourselves before we set out to change the whole world.

            Or perhaps, just perhaps, the Creator was using this Gentile woman to tell the earthly, human Jesus that the time had come to escalate His ministry beyond the boundaries of Israel and out into the world. There are times in our lives when the needs of others, the cries of the outsiders, simply will not be denied.  God quite often uses the cries of outsiders in need to confront us and deepen our ministries as believers by broadening our understandings of who exactly is inside, and who exactly is outside—our family, our community, our congregation

            The Grace of our God will always seek to break forth and reach beyond the immediate circle.  The Love and Power of our Redeemer is in fact, the only power that can break all the bounds of race and color and creed and ancient enmity and move into the hearts of men and women.  If we’re listening, sooner or later you and I will hear that call to extend our ministry and mission to the world at large. Along with affirming that Jesus came as Israel's Messiah, and our Redeemer, we must also affirm that He came as Savior of the world. 

            Jesus had been struck by this Palestinian woman's words--and struck by her faith.  Yet he stuck to his “NO”. He still refused to give up on Israel. He didn't change his route. He didn't touch the child. The child wasn’t there. He didn't go to her home where the child was.  No prayers, no laying on of hands, no smearing of His saliva on the child's tormented forehead.  In an almost matter of way, he simply told the woman,

            "Woman, you have great faith. You believe in my mission to the Jews. You believe in my power among the gentiles. It is YOUR faith that will help you. What YOU want will be done."

            And the woman's daughter, who had been possessed by the spirit of madness for years and years, was healed by her mother's faith.

             It was not to torment this woman that Jesus said “NO”. It was not to discriminate against her. He must have known that she believed in Him—or at least in the possibility of Him and His mission. Otherwise why would she have spoken to a foreign holy man?

So perhaps Jesus said “NO” in order to call forth that hope, that possibility of  faith He saw in her heart and couple it with the determination and love for her child he saw in her actions. And perhaps that's another of the reasons that Jesus sometimes says “NO” to our prayers-- to challenge and call forth our faith, our power, our “YES”.

            Salvation, the love of God is a gift freely offered to all.  But each one must respond. God's deepest desire is to save all people. That is eternal and irrevocable. That is the very nature of our God.  But the gift must be accepted-- freely ratified in love by each person so blessed.

            Like the Palestinian lady, we must respond and believe.  Like Jesus, we must be willing to broaden the circle of our concern.  If there's a moral to her story it's a moral about the power of faith.  The faith of this pagan, foreign woman overcame the barrier between male and female, the barrier between Jew and Gentile, the barrier between broken-ness and wholeness.  The faith of this woman healed her child.

            Brothers and Sisters, we preachers talk a lot about the faith that heals.  But what is that faith? We say if you haven't got faith you have nothing.  James tells us that faith without works is dead. But the question remains.

            What is “Faith in God”?  Is it no more than an intellectual affirmation that the universe was created, rather than an accident? What does it mean for you and I to say Christ is Lord? Is it simply a matter of choosing to accept that once upon a time there really was a real live human being known as Jesus Bar-Joseph of Nazareth who left us the example of a life lived for others, and taught some wonderful spiritual truths?  Or is there something more to this faith business?

            Do you recall the time that Jesus chastised the people in his own hometown for their lack of faith in him? What do they say in response?

             "Where does he get these ideas? Isn't this the carpenter's son? Isn't this Mary's boy? Isn't this James and Joseph's brother? Don't we   know him and all his sisters?"

            They didn't believe in him. Much less did they believe in his Divine origin and His cosmic possibilities. They thought he was just another obscure Jewish peasant like themselves—a nobody.  And not believing in Him, or in His roots in God, they couldn't believe in  themselves, or in their roots in God. Much less in their own possibilities. So they said “NO” to Jesus. They reasoned, "He's just like us, a nobody--ignorant, useless, helpless, and hopeless."

            And of course, that very reasoning made them into ignorant, useless, helpless,  hopeless nobodies. Their “NO” killed possibility-- it murdered hope in their lives. That's why they could not even be healed.  Had they been able to believe in Him, they would have believed in themselves.

            But the Palestinian woman, a gentile, mother of a deranged child, a genuine nobody in everybody else’s eyes, did believe in him. She could say “YES” to Jesus. Because she believed in herself.  She knew she was somebody. She believed that she could bridge the gap between herself and Jesus. She believed that she could get this foreign holy man to heal her child.  And she believed Jesus had the power from God to do it. How great was her faith indeed!

She prevailed. She knew that Jesus could heal, and figured that He would not refuse if she called upon him in the name of His Divine mission. Yet in the end, it ended up being her own faith that healed her child.

            If you and I believed in Jesus like that, we would also believe in ourselves. If we believed in His power like that, we would also believe in our own power. And we would believe in our freedom too. And we would believe in our responsibility, and in our love, and in our hope, and in our possibilities, and in our forgiveness. 

Above all, we would believe in the God within us. We would say “YES” to the One who is the Source of all gifts and of all possibility. We would say “YES” to the imago dei, the spark of the Divine that dwells in all of our hearts and lives. Remember how Jesus told the disciples in John that they would able to do even greater things than He— if they only believed?

And our lives would begin to change.  Because once we'd really said “YES” to Jesus—“YES” to hope and faith and possibility— “YES” to Repentance and Redemption and Transformation and Salvation— you and I would, as a matter of course, find ourselves out in this broken world, healing and touching, saving and transforming and redeeming it, day and night— in His name. Amen.        

Your Religion

Bonhoeffer

"Be Doers" given 8/30/15

      A lot of Christians don’t like James. His message isn’t always the most comfortable one to hear—especially if we take it seriously.  A lot of preachers don’t like him either. His Epistle is really not much more than a collection of brief, quotable little sayings that are true enough, but we all know them. And even if we’ve never heard them, they’re so straightforward and  self-evident that once you have heard them, there’s not a whole lot more left to say.

     That’s the kind of passage that’s hard to preach on. Once you’ve said it, you’ve said it.  And then, what else is there to say? Preachers like to expound on texts that are unfamiliar and challenging, or peopled with colorful characters, or with a message that stretches the imagination and yet lends itself to clear and cogent lessons that nevertheless make both listener and preacher have to think a bit.

     Let’s face it-- if the whole Bible were like James’ epistle we wouldn’t need sermons—or preachers either. Who needs a preacher to remind you of what you already know?  No preacher is ever going to be particularly comfortable with a feeling of not being needed. Maybe that’s why Luther called James “an Epistle of Straw”.

            On the other hand, maybe that’s precisely why we ought to pay some attention to James and his message—especially on this particular saying. Because we already know it.  And comfortable or not, knowing that you and I are called to be doers of the word and not just hearers isn’t too hard for us. Agreeing with that proposition isn’t too much of a problem for us. It’s the doing of it that’s the problem for us.

            After all, Jesus wasn’t always very interested in making people comfortable with his message. Jesus wasn’t always particularly interested in people acknowleding the truth what he was saying—or even agreeing with him. He wasn’t after agreement, or intellectual assent. Jesus was after disciples.  You won’t find him asking his listeners: “Don’t you agree?” or “Does that sound reasonable to you?” or “Are you okay with that?”  What Jesus was continually saying to his listeners was “Follow me.”

            Yet so many of us want to come at Scripture head first--literally.  We encounter a particular text, and we want to ask, “Now how could that have happened?” or “Lets see, what do I think about that?” and lastly “what’s that mean?”   But Scripture doesn’t just want us to understand.  It wants to be used—to be put into action.

So you and I end up stepping back, and thinking and reflecting-- instead of implementing.  The Bible doesn’t call us to sit back and ponder its message. The Bible calls us to get up out of our pew and get moving. We want to question and study and analyze Scripture— but Scripture longs to be lived out.

            Ask a group of church-going Christians what they look for in a sermon—and one of the answers you will most often hear is something along the lines of,  “I like a sermon that helps me think about things in a new way.”  Or maybe, “I like a sermon that shines new light on the Bible for me.”  We all like a sermon that will engage our minds, spur our reflections. Many of us want to be stimulated intellectually from the pulpit almost as much as we want to be touched spiritually.

            That sounds pretty good to me.  That’s the kind of sermon I aim to preach. I like it when people come up after worship and tell me the sermon made them want to think again about the text, or issue, or topic. The truth is, there is something in so many of us that loves to think Worship is all about sitting, and listening and thinking and  taking in.   In other words-- not doing anything about it.

            Maybe that’s what James’ Epistle is talking about when it links our inaction to deceit. “Be doers of the word, not just hearers who only deceive themselves.”  Ouch.

            We like to deceive ourselves into thinking we’re practicing the faith when all we’ve really done is listen, ponder, reflect and agree. That’s the old “spiritual filling station” view of church. We come to church on Sunday to get filled up with Jesus, in order to have the power to get through the rest of the week.  

If James were here, we might well ask what’s so deceitful about that?

            “Whatta ya got against filling stations, James?”  And if James were here, he would probably answer  (I think):

            “Look how passive you are! You’re receptive, but you’re not active.   You come to church and you sit back and you say, Okay preacher, Okay musicians, Okay choir,  here I am.  Do it to me. Fill me up. Don’t just listen.  Do!”

            James would ask us if the mark of a good church—if  the test of good worship is really what happens here every Sunday morning at 9:30 AM?  Or is the mark of a good church, doesn’t the real test of our worship lie in what you and I do with the rest of our week?   Someone once said that after all is said and done, more is said than done.

            Friends, whether you and I like it or not, the truth is that the world outside these four walls judges not just our congregation, but the very Gospel of Jesus Christ on the basis of what sort of lives that Gospel has produced in you and me. Do our lives look anything at all like the life of the Savior whom we praise on Sunday morning?  Have our songs and prayers here changed us, brought us closer, made us more and more into those whom we profess to be?  If he were here, James would tell us that is the test. 

            But you and I already know that.  Maybe we’re not always comfortable with the knowledge— maybe that’s why many of us are uncomfortable with James. We may not always act like we believe it.  But the truth is that you and I know very well that any sermon which is seen being actively lived out in deeds of love and justice and kindness is a heck of a lot more effective than one which is merely spoken and heard. 

St. Augustine wrote:

“What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten top the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want.  It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men (and women). That is what love looks like.”

How many people in these towns over the years, do you suppose, have come to Christ Jesus because of the way someone identified with this congregation(or any other congregation for that matter)  related to them outside these walls—blessing them with kindness and consideration and justice and peace in their ordinary day to day relations? 

How many people in 60046 have been blessed— blessed in ways we cannot imagine by the warmth and care and witness of our ministries?  Blessed by our support of the pantry, our time given as scout leaders or foster parents, or hospital volunteers or just our willingness to listen, to be a friend, to reach out?            And how many of those who have been ministering to them have been blessed by the courage and kindness and the faith of the families they’ve ministered to?  How much have they grown in faith and in discernment, and how much have learned about the world, and life, as they uncovered the real heart of the Gospel by the very act of giving of themselves for the sake of others?

  On the other hand, how many people in our communities over the years, do you suppose, have been turned off by the church, turned away from Jesus because they have been hurt or scandalized by the actions, or worse the inaction on the part of someone from this congregation (or any other local congregation) who professed to follow Jesus? How much damage to the cause of Christ have we done over the years by hearing the word only and refusing to do it?

 And this just about concludes this morning’s message-- a sermon that no matter how eloquent it is or isn’t will not be judged by you who have heard it.  And this also practically concludes our worship. But again, whether or not this was a good sermon, or a good service, or a “good Sunday” is yet to be seen. 

The test of this sermon, the real mark of whether or not this was a “good” service of worship, or a “good” Sunday is about to come upon us.  No, it’s not how you feel or what you think right now.  And it’s not the size of the offering, either.

You’ve already written your checks, I’m sure. You already agree with the sermon, I suspect.  You already understand James’ point—whether or not you are comfortable with it.  Agreement and understanding and comfort are not the issue.  The real issue-- the real problem for us all is, what will you and I do with what we have just said, sung, and heard?

Until one is committed

there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back,

always ineffectiveness.

Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation)

there is one elementary truth

the ignorance of which kills countless ideas

and splendid plans:

that the moment one definitely commits oneself

then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one

that would never otherwise have occurred.

A whole stream of events issues from the decision

raising in one’s favor all manner

of unforeseen incidents and meetings

which no man could have dreamt

would have come his way.

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.

Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.

Begin it now.                            -Goethe