Tuesday, December 20

LUKE 1:26-38

²⁶In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, ²⁷to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary.²⁸And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." ²⁹But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. ³⁰The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. ³¹And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. ³²He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. ³³He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." ³⁴Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" ³⁵The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.³⁶And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. ³⁷For nothing will be impossible with God." ³⁸Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.

In our first year homiletics class at Columbia Seminary, we found new ways to explore scriptural texts that are well-known and commonly-read.  One can easily skim over important details, because we've heard this story before- every year in Advent.  Our minds gravitate toward particular doctrinal points: virgin Mary and barren Elizabeth both giving birth to children (and not just any children, but Jesus and John the Baptist); the angel Gabriel speaks to Mary and says, "Do not be afraid."  However, when each character in this story is assigned to your goofy seminary friends and the whole story is dramatized, this passage takes on new life.  

Suddenly the angel seems to have such an important speaking role- is he supposed to be super-excited when delivering the news to Mary, or extra-sensitive?  Wait, how does the "power of the Most High" overshadow Mary exactly (stage directions please!)?  Joseph just stands off at a distance the whole time- this is really Mary's show, and she does marvelously well with comprehending the angel and even giving permission for this craziness to move into her home.  Our classmate who portrays the ancestor David seems to hang over the scene- does this really symbolize how Israel saw itself in those days?  Always looking up and longing to return to the glory days of King David when they were not under foreign occupation or Roman taxation?  What if Mary hadn't given those famous last words: "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word?"  Would the angel have stayed to convince her?  Was she chosen because God knew Mary would respond with such deep faith?  

All these questions float to the surface, and the best way to explore these questions is to read within the context of the rest of the gospel.  The author of Luke felt it was necessary to tell about the birth of Jesus and introduce the symbolism of the ancestral line of David, the miraculous births, and the visit from the angel.   If one was accustomed to hearing only the later life of Jesus, this would be the back-story, but it's not a disconnected back-story.  It points to the life and miracles and teachings of Jesus.  It points to Jerusalem.  It points to a cross.  And thankfully, it points to the resurrection.  As we continue on the journey of Advent, I hope that we see this not as the final holiday of a previous calendar year (interrupted by New Year's resolutions), but as the first holiday of the liturgical year.  It's not a disembodied story that ends once we have to change our wall calendars.  We've just starting this journey with Jesus, and we do not fully know where Jesus will take us.

As the coming of Christ is near, how will our lives continued to be disrupted and diverged because we walk with Christ?

Tuesday, December 13

MATTHEW 24:32-44

³²"From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. ³³So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates. ³⁴Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. ³⁵Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

³⁶"But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³⁷For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. ³⁸For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, ³⁹and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. ⁴⁰Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. ⁴¹Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. ⁴²Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. ⁴³But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. ⁴⁴Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.

I admit that this is a common passage of scripture from my childhood, and it has come to mean so many different things in my life, depending on which church I attended or which preacher I heard.  It's not uncommon in some places in the South for people to say, when setting an appointment with a friend in the future, "I'll see you then if the creek don't rise and the Savior don't come first."  As a child, I always worried that Jesus would return at an inconvenient time, like when I was angry with my brother or when I was in the shower.  The Left Behind series and rapture theology didn't help my troubled mind very much.  
As an adult, the second part of this reading troubles me much less than the first part: "Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place."  I tend to think: "It's been a couple thousand years, Jesus; did you get stuck in the Christmas shopping traffic?"  Or when we await for Jesus and the coming of the fullness of the kingdom of heaven, are we taking him too literally here, that "this generation" is really a much longer period of time than we originally expected?  In particularly the history of the United States, there have been many prognosticators who have claimed that the world will end with our generation- that we are the culmination of all human history (that's how important we are!!).  They've all been pretty much wrong, and we're left asking, "How Long, O Lord?  Will you forget us forever?"  Are we waiting for heaven and earth to pass away first?  Did Jesus return (or does Jesus return every time peace is established, reconciliation occurs, forgiveness is granted, and healing is allowed), and we missed him?  What does Advent teach us about the nature of waiting that is not easily accessible in our hectic (and very important) lives?  


My hardest question: "Did you come already, Jesus, and we didn't recognize you?  Or has the time not yet come?"

another Thursday in Advent

The lectionary today gave us a fitting psalm for Advent reflection; but is it a song of celebration or a song of anticipation/plea to the Lord?  Is this after "the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion," or when Israel is still in the darkness and waiting on deliverance, hopeful that the Lord who is faithful will yet still deliver them?  The first three verses sound like it's already happened, and the last three verses indicate it hasn't happened yet.  Is this a fitting eschatological hymn for us as we wait for the coming of the Lord? 

Psalm 126

¹   When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion,
          we were like those who dream.
²   Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
          and our tongue with shouts of joy;
     then it was said among the nations,
          “The LORD has done great things for them.”
³   The LORD has done great things for us,
          and we rejoiced.

⁴   Restore our fortunes, O LORD,
          like the watercourses in the Negeb.
⁵   May those who sow in tears
          reap with shouts of joy.
⁶   Those who go out weeping,
          bearing the seed for sowing,
     shall come home with shouts of joy,
          carrying their sheaves.

Tuesday, December 6

^{Psalm 33:18-22}

¹⁸  Truly the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him,
          on those who hope in his steadfast love,
¹⁹  to deliver their soul from death,
          and to keep them alive in famine.

²⁰  Our soul waits for the LORD;
          he is our help and shield.
²¹  Our heart is glad in him,
          because we trust in his holy name.
²²  Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us,
          even as we hope in you.

This excerpt from Psalm 33 (in the daily lectionary) resonates quite well with our waiting and longing for the coming of Christ.  Notice verse 20, and the use of "Our soul waits for the Lord..." and "Our heart is glad in him..." (emphasis added).  As Western thinkers, it's easy to grasp the concept, even if still highly abstract, of my soul and my heart.  My soul doesn't have to wait for anyone else to get with the game.  My heart prays, waits, hopes for the coming of Christ this Advent.  But what is our soul/heart anyway?  Is it some communal spirituality?  Is it a statement of belief or doctrine?  Is it simply a reflection of our communal priorities?  Can we find it in our annual budget?  Who determines "our soul?"

Remember that this is a psalm, a song, and in our context these verses might be comparable to congregational hymn singing.  We're not collectively singing "I" but "we."  But who are we?  We aren't just a group of I's.  We are something particular and distinct as a group that cannot be understood in the singular.  Like a mixed chorus of melodies and harmonies, we sing our own individual lines, yet they fit together to create something much more wonderful and beautiful.  Notice that this psalm says less about who "we" are and more about who God is.  Is our identity then rooted in God's identity?  John Calvin opens his Institutes of the Christian Religion by asserting that "without knowledge of self there is no knowledge of God."  He continues, "indeed, our very being is nothing but subsistence in the one God."  So who are we, but chosen and called by God to be God's people, delivered from "death" and "famine?"

As we journey through the season of Advent, and God is revealed again to this world of death and famine,  who has God called us to be?

Devotion for November 29

As a reader of the daily lectionary and a fan of a blog called The Hardest Question, this is my attempt to combine the two as part of the daily email devotion (at least on Tuesdays).

Out of all of today's lectionary passages (there are several), I can't help but focus on the passage from Amos (3:1-11) because it seems like such an unlikely scripture reading for the beginning of Advent.  Here's what it says:

¹Hear this word that the LORD has spoken against you, O people of Israel, against the whole family that I brought up out of the land of Egypt:

²You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities. ³Do two walk together unless they have made an appointment? ⁴Does a lion roar in the forest, when it has no prey? Does a young lion cry out from its den, if it has caught nothing? ⁵Does a bird fall into a snare on the earth, when there is no trap for it?  Does a snare spring up from the ground, when it has taken nothing? ⁶Is a trumpet blown in a city, and the people are not afraid?  Does disaster befall a city, unless the LORD has done it? ⁷Surely the Lord GOD does nothing, without revealing his secret to his servants the prophets. ⁸The lion has roared; who will not fear? The Lord GOD has spoken; who can but prophesy?

⁹Proclaim to the strongholds in Ashdod, and to the strongholds in the land of Egypt, and say, "Assemble yourselves on Mount Samaria, and see what great tumults are within it, and what oppressions are in its midst." ¹⁰They do not know how to do right,  says the LORD, those who store up violence and robbery in their strongholds. ¹¹Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: An adversary shall surround the land, and strip you of your defense; and your strongholds shall be plundered.

When I think of Advent and waiting for the coming of the Christ child, none of this comes to mind actually.  When I think of Christmas shopping to happy tunes, holiday cards from family wishing me peace and glad-tidings, or the smells of hot apple cider while laughing with friends, I don't think much about having my defenses stripped or my strongholds plundered.  

But when one reads the birth narrative of Jesus in Matthew or Luke, one realizes that there was certainly conflict, violence, tragedy, and death around the birth of the Christ.  Mary, the young kinda-unmarried woman, is pregnant by the power of God (I bet her parents took the news well).  Herod decides that infanticide is morally acceptable.  This leads the newly-born Jesus and his family to become refugees.  The shepherds themselves are not the sort of visitors who could afford to stop by Target along the way and pick up some nice gifts wrapped in shiny Santa Claus paper.  There is a lot of poverty, oppression, and violence in this story, and yet the conflict doesn't just come from the people who loath to see God as Immanuel come into the world.  Mary's famous magnificat talks about how God, in the coming of Jesus, "scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts," "brought down the powerful from their thrones," and "sent the rich away empty."  It's a song more fitting for an OWS protest than a Goldman Sachs Christmas party gift exchange.  The season of Advent might share more with the worldview of Amos than we think.

Amos, starting in the third chapter, gives this memorable line: "You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities."  "To know," here, means more than mere acquaintance.  The NIV says, "You only have I chosen..."  This line conveys a sense that we are called to a higher standard of care for our neighbors, a knowledge we have come to possess through knowing a person rather than a book of doctrine, and yet we still pretend we can veil ourselves and keep our self-centered ways.  We can see God face-to-face, yet we hope our faces aren't shining too much when we're back to the daily grind.  Amos then spends the next 6 verses establishing his legitimacy as a prophet, which later in the book seems to be a big problem.  But then he turns back toward the accusation of widespread oppression, violence, and robbery among the people.  These, we can presume, are some of the "iniquities" of which Amos speaks.  

We know our 21st-century world is not so different.  It takes maybe 10 minutes of national and international news to know that oppression, violence, and robbery are normative to this world.  We are prone to think that once the Christmas carols play on the radio 24/7 and the twinkling lights are hung neatly on the front porch and church-going becomes compulsive for our more reluctant relatives that somehow the peace of Christ temporarily wins over the deep chasm of violence.  Yet we also see it doesn't.  It's like we do not know how to do what is right.

Maybe we've got this whole Advent thing twisted around a bit.  The peace of Christ is indeed present, but it's not because the world has got its affairs in order by getting into the "Christmas spirit," but in spite of the violence of the systems of this world.

My hardest question: What if Jesus comes not during our quiet, reverent hymns of praise in order to be our God-of-convenience, but instead comes amidst the oppression, violence, and greed of a corrupt world in order to show us a radical new way of being in relation with God and each other?  Is Amos a more fitting text to bring us into the "Advent spirit?"

music and justice

My relationship with the violin has recently shifted from something like Amos 5:21-24 to something like Psalm 146.  For a time, I burned with the conviction that it should stop starvation and extreme poverty.  It should bring about social and economic justice.  It should institute world peace and usher in the fullness of the kingdom of God in our midst.  Now that I realize it cannot accomplish these things alone, nor I, it is clear that is does sing something core about our common humanity and the beauty of God, and it really does quite a marvelous job at that.

photo credit: Julie Drewes, Wartburg College

Sabbath

My new definition of Sabbath: intentionally telling my inner Protestant work ethic that it will never completely run my life and that it will not define me in the slightest.  There is more to who I am than my productivity level and the number of things checked off the list.  It means taking time to be, even when there are things waiting to be done.  The last four months have been an intensive exercise in legitimating and affirming Sabbath time in my life...

And life is still good.

"The politicization of faith profanes the sacred."

Photo from Rick Perry's Rally (AP photo)

My Take: Don’t be fooled by candidates’ God talk

"When religion becomes merely another political trick, we all lose. The politicization of faith profanes the sacred."

This second sentence keeps me up at night.

On the one hand, I agree with the context of this article.  The field of candidates for president have been playing up their Christian publicity, because "after being a Republican, the best predictor of someone being a Tea Party supporter is whether a person has a desire to see religion significantly impact politics."  Even Ron Paul (who named his son after a-theist Ayn Rand) has started a new campaign to get support from Evangelical voters.  When political candidates in recent years used their "faith" as a cheap ploy to get mindless masses of sorta-Christian voters to vote for them (sometimes because their pastors tell them it's part of getting into heaven), I determined that the separation of church and state was absolutely necessary.  Those "Christian" leaders went on to do everything they could to destroy the poor, the marginal- God's beloved children.  Making their faith a political tool for personal gain, these candidates/leaders profaned the sacred.

On the other hand, I am bound as a Christian to advocate on behalf of the poor, the marginal- God's beloved children.  If I am to have the heart of God, whom I know in Jesus Christ, as revealed in the scriptures, I must offer the care and concern for those people who are so deeply and historically oppressed by our government and society.  If I can offer that care through my vote- by putting into office the candidate who will care for God's beloved people, I will.  No, I've never found a perfect candidate, but considering how deeply divided this society is around us, I will compromise toward the candidate who shows more promise of bringing health and well-being to both wealthy and poor.  I will also hold that candidate/leader accountable.  But am I politicizing faith?  Do I profane the sacred?  Jesus was crucified on a Roman political symbol of oppression.  Jesus talked political, not only with Roman authorities but with religious authorities.  Jesus politicized faith- and in my faith understanding, he is the Sacred.

How then do I nuance my faith, that I get angry when candidates for office pander for "religious" votes in order to be elected into office- then destroy God's people, yet I vote others into office according to my faith?  Is it the matter of authenticity?  Genuine faith vs. manipulative faith?  How does the notion of evangelism get caught up in this?  Do we vote our faith as an arm of "the sharing of the Good News?"  Is that necessarily a bad thing?  Can it be a good thing, based on a particular understand of what the "Good News" is?

No, I don't really have many well-formed answers; mostly questions.  This is messy stuff.  It sometimes keeps me up at night.  I'm sure I have much room for growth here.  I had determined in seminary that I can and must be politically-active, for the reasons mentioned before, but that it must always be kept severely in check, lest I become what I fear most: the one profaning the sacred by profaning God's people.  I share this inner dialogue with you, dear blog reader, because we don't always give much thought to how we constantly pick and choose, and nuance, our decisions.  Why do you vote the way you do?  How do cultures, society, campaigns, prejudices nuance your thinking?  When thinking about prayer in schools, or chaplains in Congress, or the presence of the flag during worship in a church sanctuary, we often have strong opinions one way or the other.  What about our broad, sweeping votes for this candidate or the other (or a third party)?  Do we export our religion into politics, but not really import politics into religion?  What do you think?

Impressions

Lake Huron

 I've been hanging out with my friends in Michigan this week, in a city on lake Huron, south of the Mackinaw Bridge to the UP.  It's my first time in Michigan, and my first time to this nautical city, but there have been some really wonderful things that I want to share:

1) Church bells (in this case, electronic chimes) are wonderful.  Not only do they mark the passage of time through the day, they have an old-world character that reminds me that we aren't that far from our brothers and sisters in Christ across the ages- from those many generations who have worshiped in the massive cathedrals in the Old Town in Vilnius, to those living near the missions in Texas and on the historic and changing boundaries between one world and another, East and West, North and South, Native and Colonial- there were always bells.  Bells, of course, are also used by a variety of faiths and traditions, and many of us find/look for similar aspects of the Holy One in the ringing of bells.  These chimes take on a special character though when ringing out a good hymn.  On Saturday, they rang out a haunting hymn, that I didn't know, in a minor key.  It brought me to tears; it didn't really matter that they are electronic chimes rather than real bells, or that it was a Presbyterian Church rather than a Roman Catholic Church, or that it was in Michigan and not in Vilnius.  It was a thing of beauty.

2) Ecumenicism is also a beautiful thing.  Seeing my ecumenically-minded friend be ordained and installed as the Teaching Elder (Minister of Word and Sacrament) at this church, with so many members present, and with so many clergy from different traditions- it also wanted to make me cry.  The Laying on of Hands, which looks funny from the outside- like the gifts of the Spirit are being transferred onto this new member of clergy through biological electrical signals- took on such a depth of meaning when it was clergy from PCUSA, ELCA, UCC, RCC (Sister Mary was there, and even though she's not ordained, she fills the role of priest where there is otherwise no priest).  Yes, I just listed mostly Mainline Protestant denominations, but knowing historically how hard it is to get clergy in the same room and agree on anything, knowing that these folks are so willing to support each other as clergy of another denomination is special.  I also think it's telling that each came wearing his/her own cloth (Presbyterians in their black robes, Lutherans in their white robes, etc.), and never at any point did anyone feel the need to modify their own faith, their own identity in order to accommodate anyone else.  Sister Mary didn't need to cease to be Catholic in order to celebrate this ordination/installation service at a PCUSA church.  No one else had to become particularly Catholic in order to accommodate her.  When I think of Interfaith activities, people get so uptight about accommodating- either being for or against it- when no one really needs to sacrifice their own beliefs in order to be in dialogue with people of other faiths.  We can respect each other and maybe even worship together, and still not be exactly like each other.  Maybe we need to think of that within our own denomination when conflict arises?

3) Family is such a gift.  Good colleagues and friends are also a gift.  The latter tends to be more fluid and changing, and that's alright.  But family members get to remember all the good and difficult times that brought circumstances to this place- what a joy to finally arrive at this trail marker!  It took a lot of work, prayer, providence to get here.  In a way, I felt like I was passing my friend off to the congregation- I got to share in so many of the good and difficult times of seminary, a fleeting time really, but now you will be the partners in crime...err..ministry, and you get to support each other in God's call to these people in this place.  As a representative of our many seminary friends (most of whom could only be present in spirit), I symbolically passed him off to you, Congregation.  Be kind, listen, grieve together, rejoice together, and listen for God's voice together. 

Nautical symbol featured even on the bench next to the lake!

4) Symbols are important to identity.  I love finding a community's symbols- this city is the "Nautical City," and the symbols are everywhere: in the parks, along the streets, on the ceiling beams of the church, in the building materials, within the culture.  There is still only one place in the world which seems to mask or manipulate local identity: suburbs that were conceived only as bedroom communities.  Everyone else seems to know who they are.  It's not a surprise that most of the deepest existentialist thinkers among my personal friends have been from suburbs.  Their crisis of identity has been life-long.  They were born into it.  I think I'm also talking about myself here.  This is probably why I still look to coffee shops as spiritual centers, places of existential conversations, places to work out symbolism, identity, faith.  I still see the potential in bringing together the safety and sanctuary of the church and the conversation and fellowship of the coffee house.  Apparently, so has everyone else.

5) Life moves on, and it doesn't look the same for everyone.  I'm so excited and proud for my friend to be ordained, even though my call hasn't brought me there yet.  It's a little frustrating for me, that I've come so far to even affirm that God might be calling me to be a woman and ordained as a minister in a church, to have journeyed so far on the seminary/educational end and the ordination prep through my Presbytery, yet here I'm ready for that call (so I think!) and I don't think it's here yet.  I know I could do what many, but not everyone by any stretch, have done, which is pursue the call even when it's not necessarily there.  Ministers have told me how they just agreed to a call at any church, one that eventually ate them up and spit them out.  I don't think God calls people to be burned out in the ministry.  God might turn burn-out into something good, but I don't think it's an end unto itself as part of God's intention.  So I balance caution with enthusiastically looking intently for an actual call.  Then I get these glimpses of that call- one way bigger than me- one that includes a whole community- and I rest assured that it's there, that God hasn't forgotten me, but it will take time.  For this transient, shallow-rooted 27-year-old, there is time.  Maybe there won't be time...who knows....but I can get things started and see what happens.  I don't have to develop a mission ex nihilo, lest it be only my own and not God's mission.  God is already here, and I'm excited to look for the signposts, the symbols, the activity, and join up with that.  I truly believe my friend has followed the movement of God here, and in a very traditional way within the church, which is why I celebrate so whole-heartedly.  But not every call looks the same.

Where are the girls?

I was having a discussion with a friend the other day about a pastor she met who sounded more like a used car salesman than an ordained minister.  Having my theories, I responded that when a little boy grows up in a congregation and tries to sell everyone some Jesus, people naturally affirm, "Well, he'll make a great pastor someday!"  In reality, pastors come from many different backgrounds, including as car salesmen in their first careers, and this statement may not be entirely true.  I have seen the "young preacher" types before though, and it wasn't necessarily a predestined calling for these boys because they were natural leaders, knew their Bible all that well, or had the most pure thoughts.  They just knew how to talk to people well.  They were extroverted.  They struck people as confident.  Sometimes they were pastors' kids.  They knew it was safe, even praiseworthy, to talk about Jesus in church.  Some actually became fantastic ministers.  Others not so much.

I wondered then, from my relatively new context of the PCUSA, how do congregations nurture their little girls who seem called to church leadership, or who display an early call to the pulpit?  I never really saw this when I was growing up, and I haven't seen it much in the last four years, but it's quite telling that there are more female M.Div. students at the seminary where I studied than male students.  Many of my female friends from seminary largely had no idea what it is like for those potential female leaders in churches that consider it un-Biblical to ordain them.  These lovely friends often acted like I was from another planet when I was trying to confront my own issues of my unworthiness to God's call to preach and teach and be "The Reverend."

Then I read this article today about PEW's (Post-Evangelical Women) and the experience of going from "silent in church" to "the preacher."  There's a great deal of truth here.  I'm reminded that one female Christian, perhaps many, can have extraordinarily different experiences between churches, not because they are all so different but because they are perceived by the others around them in drastically different ways.  So I ask in all naivete, how do churches who ordain women (and have for a while) identify those girls who seem early on to have a call from God to preach?

*Photos were taken by me in the church where I preached for my supervised ministry internship during my seminary studies.  It's one of the early places where I struggled to find my voice.

Jesus and the ruler

There's an on-going debate in my house about the usefulness of a particular passage found in the 3 synoptic gospels for "the rich."  The passage, with interesting variations between gospels, can be found in one form in Luke 18:18-27: (http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=182070449)

18 A certain ruler asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ ¹⁹Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. ²⁰You know the commandments: “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honour your father and mother.” ’ ²¹He replied, ‘I have kept all these since my youth.’ ²²When 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.’ ²³But when he heard this, he became sad; for he was very rich. ²⁴Jesus looked at him and said, ‘How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! ²⁵Indeed, 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?’ ²⁷He replied, ‘What is impossible for mortals is possible for God.’

Traditional interpretations have taken this passage in a few directions:
1) You really can't be rich and follow Jesus/enter the kingdom of God.  Really...sell (most of) what you own.  Right now.  Go.  This interpretation gets trickier when even many among the poor in the US realize how much wealth they have in relation to the rest of the world.  Working for more than a dollar a day?  You might want to join the sell-off now.
2) Don't worry about anything but verses 26 and 27, about how it's impossible to save yourself (by selling all you possess).  God will save you because it's only possible for God to save anyone, including the wealthy.  Don't worry if you're reading this passage while sipping a $200 bottle of wine on an ivory couch on your 80' yacht.  Don't worry if you steal from the poor, step over them at your gates, build a life resembling Solomon.  God's still got your back!  
3) What do the words "wealthy" and "poor" really mean?  They are relative, abstract terms.  Just as the poor in America still make more than many middle-class workers in other country, yet the poor in this country still go hungry, can't get the medical care they need, etc- clearly "rich" and "poor" are relative terms.  Is it a self-label?  You're only rich if you think you are rich?  And the same with poor?  So, you can still enjoy the wine, couch, yacht if you look at your wealthier neighbors and realize how poor you are in relation to them?  Maybe it's confirming that I really shouldn't pay any attention to the poor, lest I learn how rich I truly am.
4) Really, "wealth" is a spiritual word.  We're all wealthy in something- good health, strong education, loyal friends, tons of children/grandchildren, diversity of skills.  Abundance comes in so many shapes.  No one is really lacking in some kind of wealth or abundance.  Even food on our table is a wealth, an abundance.  This passage isn't so much about eternal life or following Jesus as much as it is about learning to thank God for your blessings.  The only person who fails to do that is someone who says what they have isn't enough.  Lots of money but poor health, please don't bother God with that!  Lots of children but no money?  Count your blessings that you aren't alone, at least!
5) The kingdom of God is already here (as well as not yet here), and it's not so much about the hereafter as it is about how the wealthy will never choose, on their own, to enter the kingdom of God here in this place because they view themselves as self-sufficient and the kingdom of God is more about inter-dependence.  Besides, the kingdom of God has been characterized as sitting together at a big dinner table, or engaged in a massive circle-dance, and no wealthy person would want to sit next to someone who worked for them, or cleaned their dishes, in the previous life.  No wealthy person would want to hold hands and dance with a poor person in the ever-expanding perichoresis of the triune God into all of creation.  So it's not God excluding some; it's Jesus merely telling it how it is- that other people make this decision for themselves.  They'd rather be alone, separated out, "in hell" (as eternal separation from God, which also fully means eternal separation from each other), than hang out with people who are "beneath" them.

There are countless other interpretations, but these are some of the more common ones I've heard preached.  Perhaps you have heard other interpretations.  On the megachurch, mega-voice side, I immediately think of David Platt, who addresses the money issue, and Rob Bell, who addresses the eternal life issue (though I've been contemplating the contrast of heaven-bound wealthy believers who think Gandhi is in hell, versus heaven-bound poor who think those rich people who just do lip-service to a prayer/creed and then get dunked for posterity will go to hell, verses Rob Bell claiming that "love wins," versus those millions of Reformed Christians who have been saying for centuries that salvation has always been the act of God in Jesus rather than our own initiative through proclamation of faith/baptism- see predestination....but I digress).

I have been giving thought to the question: "What does it mean to love all people (even those with whom we don't get along)?"  I've addressed the class warfare that seems to dominate the news right now, and the entire soul of Fox News.  There's little that upsets me as much as wealthy people, often those who self-identify as Libertarian, claiming that the poor should rightfully die out of the gene pool and how offering care for these people is not only unnatural, but ungodly.  Yes, we should love the poor, and that involves care for the poor.  It's hard to be a Christian (perhaps as hard as a camel going through the eye of a needle?) and not acknowledge that Jesus talked about care for the poor a whole lot.  Of course, Jesus also addressed money a whole lot.  Thus, we find ourselves at this passage above about how hard it is for a wealthy politician, I mean person, to enter the kingdom of God. 

Does God call us to love wealthy people?  Yesss...I guess.  Does that involve care for them?  Okay, sounds good.  Does that lead to more tax-breaks for the wealthy?  Ummm....not so sure about that.  So what does "care" look like?  A poor musician playing free wedding gigs for people who would otherwise be paying $150/hr per musician and who already paid a ridiculous sum of money for that obnoxious ice sculpture and chocolate fondue fountain?  No...absolutely not.  I can easily take that stand.

So what is care?  Grieving beside someone, regardless of income, investments, 401k's, when their loved one is dying?  Sharing food at the same table, no matter how humble the table?  Inviting people to community events over and over, even though they refuse to come because they think it's somehow beneath them?  Showing they are needed?  Bringing them into the cycle of healing?  Helping them learn to accept care for themselves from others?  Redistributing all the money in this world?  How we answer this question, "what is care," might end up being really important.  It might change how we view care for all people, and not just the wealthy.  I ask this question in my new environment, where international and local missions (in that order) are on the front pages of local magazines.  "We do good work...we care...and we can prove it.  Look- we're in the horn of Africa giving out provisions."  Yes, this is good work, necessarily work.  I'm pretty sure Jesus would all-out approve.  Then again, there's this group of wealthy people in this country who seem hell-bent on introducing some home-wrecking income taxes on the poor when the income for poor people seems to get smaller and smaller, while at the same time lowering taxes on "job creators" (aka-people wealthy enough to own their own businesses in a country where ownership of buildings and capital is perceived as normative but still not all that common when you survey populations) even when doing so in the past didn't result in the kind of job-creation needed. So, while we Christians have Jesus, the scriptures, and a whole long history in the church of care for the poor, I'm still not sure how to care for the rich.  Would Jesus care?  How would Jesus care?  Is this important?  What are the implications for national debate?  Have we simply mislabeled "poor" and "rich" this whole time?  Was Jesus just being "spiritual" about all this?  Is it all self-determination, that what we bind and loose here, we bind and loose in heaven as well?  Do people choose to be rich?

May the debate continue.

update from the silence

The longer I live in general silence, the more I notice what people say.  While I have conceded that I must talk with people during the month- I am living in a new state- one of my goals has been to listen deeply to what other people are saying.

Listening deeply has renewed my interested in semantics.  Why do people choose the words that they use to describe the world?  Is it local culture?  Is it their parents' language?  Is it the language used on the news?  Why do politicians (or their speech-writers) select certain words over others?  Afterall, politicians are in the business of spelling out their positions in order to get a certain crowd to vote for them.  But is our use of language all that diverse?

Yes, however...

There are two particular words that I hate- hate with everything inside of me.  They are common words, used initially by politicians for which I'd never vote.  But now other politicians, for which I would vote, have picked them up and integrated them into their own language.  Are they trying to be "centrist?"  Do they not think about the words they use?  I doubt both of those explanations, but I'm still not sure why they use these two words:

Illegal.  Entitlement.

"Illegal" is the word used to describe my brothers and sisters who are caught up in some unjust laws.  They are undocumented, not illegal.  Have you met an illegal person before?  How can a someone even be an "illegal person?"  It makes them sound like their are illegitimate as people.  Is that the goal with that word, to make them sound like they aren't really human, and therefore may have their human-dignity revoked?  Have you been an illegal person before?  Crossing the border is a misdemeanor, as is speeding.  In that case, I'm illegal, even if I haven't been caught.  I bet you are too.  Immigrants who have been brought into this country, or came here hoping for a second chance at life and eating and raising healthy kids, are not "illegal" as much as they are "undocumented."  If you call one of these brothers or sisters of mine illegal, please do me a favor and call me, and yourself, an "illegal" as well.  Though, I would just prefer you afford us all some humanity.
 

"Entitled."  I've hated this word for a long time.  In seminary, I defined "entitlement" as "it may be good enough for other people, but it's not good enough for me."  As in, "the bad neighborhood might be good enough for those poor people, but I deserve better."  Another distinct variation: "that generic-brand purse may be good enough for you, but only Gucci handbags are good enough for me."

The word makes my skin crawl.  It makes my blood boil.  Who is entitled?  Is it the wealthy non-tax payer who claims that making him pay some taxes is equivalent to the pain of the Holocaust, or is it the family so poor that they qualify for welfare and food stamps, and need them to survive temporary unemployment in a bad economy?  How about a man who was injured while working a dangerous job, and now he qualifies for disability?  How about a woman on maternity leave?  Entitled?  No.  These people don't fit the "entitlement" description. 

When it comes to surviving on a basic level- having enough food to eat, having shelter, protecting and raising healthy children- these people, just because they are people and as such deserved to be respected and offered basic dignity, need to survive.  No one deserves life that more closely resembles death.  Those of us with more than enough resources to survive are obligated by a basic sense of morality and decency and by God to assist them.  I, for one, generally trust our government.  I know that is totally unpopular right now, but our government reaches people to whom I cannot reach as a pastor and as a small-town citizen.  I can reach a lot of Christians, a few non-Christians, and my obligation as a pastor and as a Christian is to care for all of God's children, but I can't reach everyone.  The government can.  I entrust my tax dollars to the government to care for those people I can't reach.  They deserve life, and life in abundance (have you thought of how having any food on your table for dinner is a sign of abundance?  If you haven't thought about that lately, maybe you should give thanks to God for your food tonight.  Thank God for the whole mass of people it took to bring food to your table). 

So to call Social Security, Medicare, etc. "entitlement programs" is to willfully misrepresent the reality of life for the impoverished.  Are they perfect programs?  Do they do what is needed without creating dependency?  No, but that's why you slowly and VERY CAREFULLY revamp them.  Imagine running a non-profit homeless shelter that requires a lot of money to operate.  Afterall, you are housing everyone that isn't being reached by other non-profits, and that's a lot of people.  All the people rejected from other shelters are taken in here.  When values change, the shelter is abandoned and everyone is kicked to the curb.  Yet you haven't found them jobs.  You destroyed most of the public housing slowly over the last few decades.  They have no where to go.  Their deaths are your responsibility (remember, we're still talking about Medicare/Medicaid too).  I thought we were our brother's keeper.  Now you've lost interest in taking care of our brothers and sisters, and for what?  You want more stuff?  You want more money to keep for yourself?  You want more power?  It's convenient for you to have an entire under-class of desperate unemployed people who will do your cheap labor for you?  Are you trying to economically-enslave people, now that we've abolished actual slavery in this country?  What kind of society actually requires a group of people to live in an economically-exploited class?  Are they our "untouchables?"

When we create deficit in our neighbors, by calling our immigrants "illegals" and the poor among us as "entitled," we also create deficit in ourselves.  When we deny the humanity of our neighbor, we deny our own humanity.  The "Good News" that I hear in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is that our old divisions are gone, and the act of restoration of our dignity one day will involve being reconciled to each other (that's right, Fox News anchors.  You'll be sitting next to welfare junkies and illegals at the table in the kingdom of God.  Or maybe it'll be hell for you to sit next to them and embrace them as brothers and sisters?). 

Have you noticed who uses the words reconciliation, community, and dignity?  They also reflect certain values.  Just as "illegal" and "entitlement" can be used a weapons against people, so "reconciliation" and "community" can heal their wounds.  Not to sound too much like a 4th grade teacher...will our words be used to hurt other people, or will they be used to help them heal?

Sermon 8.14.11- First Presbyterian Cedar Falls

Scripture Readings in dialogue:

Reader 1: Luke 15:11-24 (from Table)

Reader 2: Proverbs 3:1-12 (from Pulpit)

Reader 3: Genesis 45:1-15 (from Font)

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Reader 1: Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. (Lk 15:11-13)

Reader 2: My child, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commandments; for length of days and years of life and abundant welfare they will give you. (Pr 3:1-2)

Reader 3: Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who stood by him, and he cried out, “Send everyone away from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence. (Gen 45:1-3)

Reader 2: Do not let loyalty and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good repute in the sight of God and of people...Honor the Lord with your substance and with the first fruits of all your produce; then your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will be bursting with wine. (Pr 3:3-4, 9-10)

Reader 1: When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. (Lk 15:14-16)

Reader 2: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and turn away from evil. It will be a healing for your flesh and a refreshment for your body. (Pr 3:5-8)

Reader 1: But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’” (Lk 15:17-19)

Reader 3: Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, 'Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children's children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there- since there are five more years of famine to come- so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.' (Gen 45:4-11)

Reader 2: My child, do not despise the Lord's discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves the one he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights. (Pr 3:11-12)

Reader 1: So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. (Lk 15:20-23)

Reader 3: And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. You must tell my father how greatly I am honored in Egypt, and all that you have seen. Hurry and bring my father down here.” Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him. (Gen 45:12-15)

Reader 1: ...for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate. (Lk 15:24)

Sermon:

In our scripture-reading today, we heard three different scripture texts woven together so that they might speak to each other and to us in a new way. I don't know about you, but I heard 2 distinct voices speaking out of that interweaving.

One voice was characterized mostly by the Proverbs reading, about trusting in the Lord over yourself, remaining faithful and loyal, and ultimately having food security because you followed the law- the law which really is for your own good.

In Proverbs 3, verses 9-10, I can't help but hear an “If...then...” clause: “[If you] honor the Lord with your substance and with the first fruits of all your produce; then your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will be bursting with wine.” Or in the words of Psalm 23- your “cup runneth over.”

This voice is echoed in Genesis by the initial reaction of Joseph's brothers to the revelation that their long-lost brother, Joseph, whom they once tried to kill and then decided to sell into slavery...yeah that Joseph...he's standing here in front of them. Hmm.. wait, what was that about loyalty? Faithfulness? I think they might be saying “uh-oh” in their heads. The gravity of the law is now standing in front of them, confronting them in a way; they thought it was a bad situation for them in their drought-plagued homeland. Little did they know that the law would catch up with them in Egypt. I wonder if they thought about Joseph after selling him into slavery- it seems like Benjamin and Joseph were close, but what about the others? Did they ever feel guilty about what they did to Joseph? Did they assume it would never come back to haunt them? That he would never come back to haunt them? Before understanding what Joseph was saying to them, they had their dreaded “uh-oh” moment.

Also sustaining the first voice within the readings is in the parable of the Prodigal Son from the Gospel of Luke. The younger son already had his “uh-oh” moment and now he finds that his only employment opportunity leaves him food-insecure. He knows he had plenty of resources before, and he wasted them “in dissolute living.” What was that about not leaning on your own understanding...about how acknowledging God will lead to straight paths, without deviation into poverty and food-insecurity and who-knows-what-else? Hearing the proverb about barns-a-plenty and bursting vats of wine, trusting in the Lord and not yourself...it must leave him feeling pretty mucky, besides the fact that he was in the swine yard. You can hear the muckiness in the scheme that he devises: go back to the father he has so deeply betrayed and beg for forgiveness. Beg for a job as a hired servant. Anything for some security and food. He is condemned by the law and yet trying to survive.

The paralysis of knowing the condemnation of Joseph's brothers and the prodigal son in the eyes of the law, and the knowledge of their hopelessness and insecurity, is joined with yet an even deeper layer.

Verse 3 from the Proverbs reading said: “Do not let loyalty and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.” This sounds familiar, right? The Proverbs audience would remember that this sounds a lot like when Moses was delivering the Torah to the people Israel, and said: “Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates” (Deut 6:8-9). While Moses lived, indeed, many generations after Joseph and his brothers, the same idea was floating around before. The brothers had tried to kill Joseph. The act of selling him into slavery, in itself, was a sort of death-sentence for Joseph- so they thought. God, however, seems to have foiled their plans by bringing Joseph up in power in Egypt, to be in charge over all that stuff he talked about in the scripture reading. Joseph now stood as their last chance to find food and survive the drought. Would he strike them down now? Would he let them starve slowly and painfully? Would he avenge the evil his brothers did to him? It's not looking good for the brothers at this point.

Likewise with the Prodigal Son- he also found himself (perhaps completely by his own doing) on the wrong side of the law. Even asking for half his inheritance from his father in the first place was breaking the commandment of honoring one's father and mother. A writer on the parables, Bernard Brandon Scott, equates this request in the ancient mindset as telling his father to “drop dead.” In a way, the father gave half his life at the request of his son. The son took that life and spent it in “dissolute living.” While it's not entirely clear what “dissolute living” means here (the older brother claimed it was on prostitutes, but it's not clear that that accusation was truth or the embellishment of an angry brother), it is clear that he didn't use his father's gift in any valuable way. Imagine the son feeding the pigs and meditating on our proverb from today's reading: “My child, do not despise the Lord's discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves the one he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights.” If his father is benevolent and still took delight in the son upon his return, it's not clear what sort of “discipline” would be awaiting him. Not only that, but technically, had this whole episode never happened and both sons obediently held out for the father's eventual death, the older son would have by custom received two-thirds of the father's wealth, and the younger son would have shared the other third with any other siblings. Therefore the son-of-dissolute-living also stole from his brother as well. But it only gets worse for this wayward son. The punishment for this crime against his family is death. His crimes, without necessity of trial, will render unto him a death-sentence. A member of the family or community is obligated to kill him upon his return, in order to restore their honor and for the law to be maintained. “Uh-oh.”

So, I said there were 2 voices that came out of this interweaving of texts. Let's talk about the 2^nd voice.

The 2^nd voice is found primarily in two places within these readings: in the words and actions of Joseph and of the father of the exploitative son. It's something of a counter-witness to the original “if...then...” clause. Remember? [If you remember the proverb's teaching and keep the commandments, then “length of days and years of life and abundant welfare they will give you.” If you keep loyalty and faithfulness bound around your neck, then you will find favor and good repute before God and people. If you honor the Lord with your substance, then you won't find yourself feeding pods to the pigs while you go hungry. Think of it as conditional grace.]

No, the 2^nd voice says something else. Joseph said to his brothers: “do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.” Then Joseph says: “God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God.” Then Joseph tells his brothers: “I will provide for you there- since there are five more years of famine to come- so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.” This really throws off our neat and tidy “If...then...” clauses. So, if you sell your annoying little brother into slavery, the kind of slavery that was an almost-guaranteed death-sentence, then your brother will turn around and save your life. Wait, how does that work again? That makes no sense! Think of it as unconditional grace.

Now, I might be pushing it a little, but I don't think Joseph's method of offering his brothers unconditional grace is as easy as he is making it seem. I've never had anyone try to sell me into slavery before, but I've heard women speak about their experiences of being sold into modern-day slavery and their experiences of human trafficking. They tell stories of pimps and johns, abuse, lies, threats, isolation. The question comes up: how do they forgive those who kept them in bondage? I don’t think God calls us to blind, mindless forgivness in the face of evil. However, I think Joseph had an easier time than this. This scenario of modern-day slavery is not something Joseph would have faced as a man in Pharoh’s household. Even though Genesis chronicles some difficult events for Joseph, he does become, as he says, “a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt.” Becoming so powerful, he says, was clearly evidence of the work of God. Still, Joseph shows signs of having thought long and hard about why he ended up a slave in Egypt. While it's not clear if his brothers thought much of him after they ditched him, it's clear that he's been working through all these events for a while. Can you imagine the scene? He clears the room, and then cries out so loud that Pharaoh's whole household can hear it! His brothers don't know it's him yet. Then his first words of identity-revelation to them are: “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” His brothers must be thinking: “Joseph? Joseph who? What are you talking about? What do you mean “is your father still alive?” What's going on? Wait...Joseph? Our brother? But he's dead. He can't be you.” Clearly, Joseph has been dealing with his feelings about his brothers' betrayal for a long, long time, but his brothers are completely overwhelmed with shock.

Still, after all that time, time he could have used stewing in the bitter juices of hatred and revenge, Joseph shows compassion to them. He shows grace. Unconditional grace. This is clearly not grace because of what they did, but grace in spite of what they did. And in the process of reconciliation, the brothers are delivered out of the hands of the law and the grip of poverty and starvation, and into the hands of grace and a life of sufficiency (maybe even a life of abundance).

Turning back to the father of the prodigal son- remember that this is a parable that Jesus is telling to the crowds of 1^st century Palestine, after telling two other parables about rejoicing over finding a sheep and a coin that had been lost but are later found by their owners. Remember, the prodigal son was starving in a foreign land. He devised a scheme to go back home and beg to be a servant, since his father's servants still at least had something to eat. Whether he knew it or not, though, he was entering a trap. Returning to his community meant a death-sentence.

Imagine then that he's walking up the lane. Perhaps no one has seen him yet. Or perhaps he had been spotted and the mob was gathering. Then...his father sees him. This could be the end.

But then, in a moment of reckless abandon and sheer grace, the father runs to meet the son. He literally throws himself around the son, not only to embrace him in welcome but to protect him from harm. Our parable theologian Bernard Brandon Scott reminds that this was not the most flattering scene for the father- it was behavior not particularly befitting an “honorable oriental gentleman.” But notice that Jesus says that the father was “filled with compassion.” The father intends to do anything it takes to save the son's life. It's not the end, but a new beginning. The son starts on his script about not being worthy and wanting to be a servant, but the father doesn't even seem to be listening. He's too busy telling his servants to put the best robe on his son, put a ring on his finger (a symbol of status and importance) and sandals on his feet. On top of that, get the fatted calf ready for supper. Oh yeah, there's gonna be a party tonight!

But at this point, the son didn't even get through the script he had worked out when he was starving in the pigpen, and now he's received as a beloved son. Did he cry? Was he too baffled to cry? Jesus doesn't tell us. We know the party starts and everyone is invited, even the angry older son, but we don't know how the story goes on from here. I would like to think the younger son feels humbled, now that he's wearing the robe, ring, and sandals that are the inheritance of his older brother. All these good things...they really-really don't belong to him. He is given these things out of grace and he did not do anything to deserve them. They were given in spite of his actions. Unconditional grace.

From the father's perspective though, he might still remember when his younger son asked for the inheritance, asked for what was essentially the father's very “life.” Interestingly, when the son comes strolling back home without a penny to his name, his father runs after his son as if running to reclaim his very life. His son has become an essence of his life. It wasn't about the money. The father has become reunited and whole, because he has been reconciled to his lost son. The father is found, because the son is found. In reconciliation, they are both delivered from the rupture of their relationship.

Theologian Paul Tillich speaks of grace in his sermon, aptly named “You are Accepted” like this:

“In grace something is overcome; grace occurs “in spite of” something; grace occurs in spite of separation and estrangement. Grace is the reunion of life with life, the reconciliation of the self with itself. Grace is the acceptance of that which is rejected. Grace transforms fate into a meaningful destiny; it changes guilt into confidence and courage. There is something triumphant in the word 'grace': in spite of the abounding of sin, grace abounds much more.”

I think we see this in our own lives and the lives of those around us too. We hear the story of unconditional grace in the story of the mother and her teenage son, who both need deliverance from the death-grip that drugs have had on the teenager. You can hear it in her voice when she says, “I won't give up on you. If I could infect you with the love I have for you, so that you might learn to love yourself, I would.” We hear the story of unconditional grace in the story of the man who drives his sister to every doctor in the state in order to get the diagnosis she needs, the medicine she needs, in order that she might heal. No, we don't tend to be perfect in these situations. In fact, we tend to mess up like crazy because these aren't easy times and we've never had to deal with this before and it's too much stress and she really is quite selfish and so many other reasons. Still, as we see the in-breaking of the kingdom of heaven in our midst in the stories of the Old and New Testaments, in the pieces of the stories of people we know, in the little glimpses we see in our own lives, we see this beautiful, messy, real thing called compassion, called unconditional grace, called deliverance.

Note that while the law certainly has it's place, in particular to show us how it is that we should live a life of love for God and neighbor, that grace is found more often in the midst of relationships. It is in our relationship with the triune God: Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, that we learn about this unconditional grace. It is within our relationship with God that we experience first that grace, that compassion, that deliverance. Earlier in the service this morning, we confessed our sin before God and each other in prayer, and afterward we were all assured of our pardon from that sin. I'll tell you a little secret: we preachers and liturgists actually prepare the assurance of pardon ahead of time. We don't even prepare an emergency you-aren't-going-to-be-pardoned-today speech just in case. God hears our prayers before we even are moved to prayer in our hearts. God forgives us not just once, not just seven times, but seventy times seven. In this spirit of deliverance from the captivity of sin and in the spirit of God's compassion for our messy, broken lives, let us go forth and bring the same spirit to our relationships with one another. Amen.