This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the Fifth Sunday in Lent of Year C, March 25, 2007
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
One of the traditions of the ancient church is the burning of incense. Often when people talk about high church traditions, they use the phrase “smells and bells.” Well, those of us who worship in reformation tradition churches aren’t very well connected to the “smells and bells,” and this isn’t all bad. One of the points of the reformation was that the meanings of the liturgy were lost to the people because only the priests participated in them. In the middle ages, the most significant parts of worship became more of a spectator sport than a participation event.
It’s the difference between watching Monday Night Football on ESPN and playing in a Saturday afternoon pick-up game. Both help give exposure to the mysteries of what’s going on in the sport, but only in participating do the work and the mystery come together into something to truly sink our teeth into. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the font. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the table. This is why we welcome everyone to participate in the work and worship of the congregation.
But in losing the “smells and bells,” we lose a connection to thousands of years of worship tradition. There is an old Anglo-Saxon blessing of incense goes like this:
“May my song rise like incense in thy presence. And for us may it be a perfume of consolation, of goodness, and grace, so that these fumes will drive out every phantom from the mind and body, leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God. May all the attacks of demons fly from this incense like dust before the wind, like smoke before dancing flames.”[1]
The burning of incense is a way of offering, literally raising, prayer and praise. The burnt offerings of the Old Testament were offered for a variety of reasons, all having to do with the worship of the Lord. In the smoke and scent, the worship of the people was lifted on high. It focused the people on the work at hand, worship of the Lord. But there were other scented offerings made in ancient Israel, and this aromatic anointing is what we hear about today in our gospel reading.
Jesus has come to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, where he was served dinner. Some translations lift this up as a special banquet, sort of welcoming the conquering heroes: Lazarus and Jesus, the one who returned from the dead and the one who brought him back. As for me, I prefer the plainer translations, just a supper instead of a banquet. I prefer to think of this as a quiet dinner at home, albeit a quiet dinner with an obsessive-compulsive workaholic hostess, her emotionally theatrical sister,[2] their brother who was recently so dead that he smelled, the Lord our God, and at least one of his closest friends. You know, since this was Judas maybe I should have used finger quotes, you know, “closest friends.” Yeah, some quiet dinner with the old gang.
Suddenly, Mary comes out with a pound of costly perfume made from pure nard worth three-hundred denarii. To get an indication about how much this cost, the average worker earned one denarius a day with a six day work week. Three hundred denarii would take fifty weeks, nearly one full year to earn. Closer to home, the median household income in Carroll County, Arkansas is around $30,000.00.[3] So imagine going to Dillard’s and paying $30,000.00 for about a pint of perfume. Then imagine using it to wash someone’s feet.
Either Lazarus was loaded, or Mary took this foot washing very seriously.
There is no indication that Lazarus was so rich.
After this most generous act, in the words of the gospel, the house was filled with the aroma of the perfume.
Mary took this valuable offering, this gift of great value, and used it to perform a menial chore. She used it to carry out the duty of a slave;[4] she washed the feet of Jesus. Her extravagance is shown in this ordinary action, an action which gives us a preview of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. But I shouldn’t change the subject. We’ll hear about that on Maundy Thursday when we read John 13.
Of course, Judas is livid. After all, the extravagance of this gift could be better suited to feed the poor, or to line his pockets after he lifts a coin or two out of their common purse. Now, the theft angle not withstanding, isn’t Judas right? Couldn’t the money have been better used to feed the poor? We talk about mission and evangelism all of the time. We talk about getting funds for school supplies for kids whose families can’t afford them on their own. We talk about collecting for the hungry locally, nationally, and internationally. We do more than just talk, we act. We do something about it. So if it seems like Judas has a point, well, it’s because from our point of view he does.
But Jesus turns the tables with the often quoted eighth verse, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This has always bothered me. It seems so callous, and that’s not Jesus’ character.
Something that is missing in the translation is that this is a paraphrase from Deuteronomy 15:11, “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’” Jewish commentaries prioritized acts of compassion, how we open our hand to the poor and needy neighbor, praising the care of the dead above almsgiving.[5] Jesus alludes to this when he says, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” This isn’t a frivolous use of a costly perfume, Mary is taking care of her poor and needy neighbor as Deuteronomy command. So in a way, Jesus is not being callous toward the plight of the poor, he may be reminding listeners, Judas in particular, that caring for the dead should be emphasized over giving to the poor. Get your priorities straight, dear Judas.
But there is something wrong with this logic. Burial anointing begins with the head, not with the feet. The gospels of Mark and Luke get this detail right when Mary breaks open the jar of nard anointing the head of the Lord.
John makes this a little more complicated as Mary anoints his feet. But there may be two things at play here. The first is that Mary is anointing Jesus in preparation of his death. Certainly Jesus and seemingly Mary know that the hour of Jesus’ death is on the horizon. In anointing him, she acts in love as a faithful disciple of the Lord[6] preparing him for the tomb. Something Judas will fail to do so soon. This is noted in the text, Jesus says it plainly in verse seven. But there is another possible facet to this anointing to explore.
The washing of the feet is not how one is prepared for the tomb. It is a sign of courtesy and hospitality, but in Mary’s hands it becomes more. In washing Jesus’ feet, she anoints him to perform his royal work. As the scent of the perfume filled the house, it wasn’t being filled with the aroma of impending death; it was being filled with the smells of new life, a new life in the anointed Christ.
The house was filled with the aroma of service. The house was filled with the aroma of extravagant giving. This new aroma was even able to cover the smell of Judas’ comment. Yes, Mary has anointed Jesus in preparation of his death, but she has also anointed him in preparation of his life, his work, and his coming passion. Her action fills the house with the aroma of love and devotion, not hypocrisy or mourning.
I have filled this house of worship with an aroma of incense this morning. I have done this to add another element of sensory stimulation to our worship. I have done this to add another medium of lifting our worship. In the words of the Anglo-Saxons, “May our song rise like incense in thy presence.” We need to be like Mary, filling the house with the aroma of life in Christ, not with preparation for death. We need to anoint one another, setting aside one another, preparing one another for the work of the kingdom here on earth. Yes, often we will be called to perform extravagant actions doing menial chores, just like Mary. And like Mary, we are to do this in gracious loving service to the Lord and one another.
May our joyful work and our worship fill this house of God, the houses we dwell, and the world we serve like the nard Mary uses to anoint Jesus and the incense we burn leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God.
[1] From The Oxford Book of Prayer, edited by Appleton, George. New York: Oxford University Press found in; Archdiocese of Chicago, A Lent Sourcebook, The Forty Days, edited by Baker, J. Robert, et. al. Chicago: Liturgical Training Publications, 1990, page 147.
[2] “Mary” entry #3, Blair, E. P., Entry editor. The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. Buttrick, George Arthur, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 21st Edition, 1962.
[3] http://www.census.gov/cgi-bin/saipe/saipe.cgi, for Carroll County, Arkansas, accessed March 24, 2007.
[4] Ibid, The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. “Foot Washing” entry, Shepherd, Jr., M. H., Entry editor.
[5] Mays, James Luther, General Editor, Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Sloyan, Gerard, John. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, page 153.
[6] Notes on John 12:7-8, The New Interpreter’s Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, Harrelson, Walter H., General Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2003.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
All That You Leave Behind
This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Year C Lent 4, Sunday March 18, 2007.
Joshua 5:9-12
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
“Remember when you learned how to ride a bicycle?
“You probably began with training wheels. Eventually, when these were removed, things became more difficult. You struggled to stay upright, maybe even falling a few times and scraping yourself. As you practiced, it’s likely that one of your parents walked beside you shouting instructions, encouraging you and catching you as you lost balance. You were scared…but excited! You looked forward to the time when you would succeed, when you would at last ride free on your own. So, you kept at it every day, and eventually mastered the skill of riding a bike.”[1]
Well, master is probably too broad of a word. “Become good” or “improve” are probably better. After watching what some kids do on a bike these days, my definition of “mastering the skill of riding a bike” falls way short of what they consider “mastering the skill.” But neither their mastery of the bike or nor mine would have happened if the training wheels had stayed on the bike.
In everything we do, as soon as we can even imagine taking the symbolic training wheels off of our proverbial bike, we begin to imagine the day when we will at last ride free on our own. We still struggle when the training wheels come off, we fall and we scrape our knees. Even after we become adept riders we get banged up after a fall, especially when we try new and more difficult things. And sometimes the crash and burn can be magnificent.
The important thing to remember is that unless we give up the training wheels, our skills can’t develop any further. We need the assist to learn, but unless we leave the training wheels from our Schwinn Lil Stardust behind, we will never graduate to the Fastback CX racer or the Rocket Disc Mountain Bike.
Life is often defined by what we leave behind. This is never more obvious than when kids go off to camp, or to college. As they leave the nest, the training wheels begin to come off, until, hopefully they establish themselves and begin forging the next link in life’s glorious chain. But it is not so easy. Our Gospel reading today deals with what we keep and with what we leave behind.
Jesus’ parable begins with a young man asking his father for his share of the inheritance. This request wasn’t uncommon in Jesus’ time;[2] younger sons all over Judea were interested in getting their share and setting out to make their claim on life. Or perhaps this younger son was tired of being less than his elder brother in the eyes of the father. Maybe the younger son got into trouble and had to “get out of Dodge.” Regardless, the younger son asks for his share of his father’s belongings.
In this brief exchange, the younger son leaves behind his father, his family, his home, all that is familiar, and any future claim he may have on his father’s estate. But the father knows that he is giving up more than just belongings. The father is giving his son a share of the resources needed to maintain life, the means of subsistence.[3] The son thinks he is asking for stuff, but the father knows he is giving life to his young son yet again.
As for the father, he loses more than just property, he loses his son.
Now it isn’t mentioned in the text, but the older son has a dog in this fight too. When the father chooses to grant the younger son’s wish, the entire estate is divided, including the land. Since the younger brother has no intention of staying on the homestead, the older brother has the right, nay, the responsibility to purchase the land to keep it in the family. So when the younger son leaves, he takes the family’s liquid assets with him. Suddenly, the older son is land rich and cash poor. If liquidity becomes an issue, it’s the older brother’s problem.[4] The older brother doesn’t leave this behind, it’s taken from him.
Then we come to the part of the story that good sons everywhere cheer; the ruin of the younger brother. He gathers together his part of the family wealth, and goes on a journey to a distant country. There he squanders the property on dissolute living. Jesus knows how to turn a phrase, doesn’t he? “Squander” just seems more descriptive than “waste” and “dissolute” can range from inappropriate and undisciplined[5] to degenerate, immoral, debauched, and self-indulgent.[6] Jesus isn’t mincing words. The son has left behind his birthright, his nest egg, and every tangible connection to home. Evidently he also left his moral compass behind when he left his father’s house.
Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to leave behind considering what happens next.
After spending everything freely, famine strikes the countryside and he became needful. So he goes on the road again and he binds himself to a citizen of this country as a hired hand. He has taken the lowest status job possible. Household servants have a roof, subsistence, and a living wage. All the hired man earns is the food he needs to survive, and in this case the food his new master has provided seems meager.[7]
This young man has left behind any semblance of life, simply to exist from day to day. And he exists taking the lowest job imaginable for a Jew; he’s feeding a gentile’s pigs. He has left everything behind, literally getting him nowhere.
He even cries wanting to eat the pods he is feeding the pigs. But he seems to regain a grain of his dignity. He does not eat the pig’s food because it is not offered to him. As hungry and dissolute he may be, he does not steal the swine’s feed from his master. He knows his father’s servants are living better than he is, and it is time to leave his pride and his wild life behind, even if he only does this because of his hunger.
So the young man leaves his pride and/or his shame in the field with the swine. He decides it is better to face the consequences of his actions before his father hoping to become a one of his servants rather than die of hunger. He shows his humility saying he is no longer worthy to be called the son of his father. He leaves his pride and vanity behind realizing that he is not worthy of the son’s life he left behind and squandered. He returns to his father.
But the father has left much behind also. The father waits for his son like the wife of a sailor standing on a widow’s walk waiting in vain for a husband who does not return from the sea. He waits until he sees his son returning from far away. Then, with joy he runs.
Imagine how this looks to the neighbors. This younger son, after a season of riotous living and another season of hunger and pig-work would have looked pretty ragged. There were rumors about what he had done while he was away floating around town; the older brother shows us that. He wasn’t ritually clean. He had become a disreputable character. And the father welcomes him back not in spite of this, but because of this. He was lost, and now he is found, he was dead in the world and is now returned to life in his father’s presence.
So when they come together, the younger son begins his by now well rehearsed apology. But his father has no desire to hear his son’s groveling.[8] The father leaves behind any anger he might have toward his admittedly irresponsible son. He leaves behind the right to say “should have known better.” He leaves it all behind for the right to say I love you and welcome home, welcome back where you belong. Let the celebration begin!
This is where we come to the difficult final act of this drama, the introduction of the elder son. Coming home after a hard day’s work, the elder brother asks one of the servants what’s the ruckus. He is told his brother has returned and there is joyful music and dancing.
Because of his highly developed sense of duty and responsibility, the older brother has been stuck on the homestead and hasn’t even been offered a goat for a cookout with his buddies. He has had to take care of the home while Dad waits on the hill like a shepherd looking for the lost sheep. He has had to face the business when his brother took a significant chunk of the family’s loose change. He has had to hear the reports of how the family wealth and his brother’s youth had been misspent. He comes home to a party with music and dancing, and he is not a happy camper. He has not left his anger behind.
He even faces another possible financial strain. According to the law, the father can restore the younger brother to the family with another full share of the inheritance.[9] No wonder he’s upset.
The father leaves the party to speak with his elder son, but he will not be consoled. As the father affirms the younger son’s return to the home and to life, the elder brother disowns him. The elder brother has now left the younger behind. The father affirms that all he has belongs to the elder son so now is the time to celebrate, not hold a grudge. But this falls on deaf ears.
It is said that multi-part parables can only truly be understood through the last part.[10] In the first parts, the father and younger brother leave a lot of stuff behind. It is in the light of the elder brother’s anger and resentment that the redemption and humility of the younger brother and the generosity of the father become more significant. When we see the contrast we see the difference between life giving light and all consuming darkness.
Earlier I spoke of the economics of inheritance. There are as many theories about how the father’s estate was divided as there are commentaries.[11] But this is just so much math. It is said that economics is the study of the use of scarce resources. And doing the math on the father’s estate and the son’s inheritance, you see the resources are limited. If you have written your will you know the same thing. But when we look at this story from our earthly economic point of view, we miss something important.
When we stick with the vast yet limited resources of this story’s father, we miss that the estate, the generosity, the largess of the Lord our Father is greater than we can ever hope or imagine. Given the infinite power and grace and gifts of God, our inheritance is without measure. In the words of my calculus teacher,[12] half of infinity is still infinity. When we try to put our scarce resource thinking into the infinite graciousness of God, we limit God. But the Lord will not be limited. When we share the gifts of God, we soon learn that God is more than we can ever hope or imagine. But to become heirs in the world of our heavenly Father, we need to leave behind the dissolute living and petty anger of this one.
As we see in the life of the brothers, this is difficult. In the words of a hit song from 2000:
I know it aches
How your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on
Leave it behind
You’ve got to leave it behind
All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you steal
All this you can leave behind
All that your reason
All that your sense
All that you speak
All you dress up
All that you scheme…[13]
There are many, many things that we should leave behind, and more than a few of them are found in this parable. But there is one more thing which gets lost when we focus on the parable instead of its context. In the very beginning of this reading, we are told Jesus was with sinners and tax collectors. Even worse, he was eating with them. For the uber-religious members of the crowd, Jesus was violating all that was good and clean by eating with such disreputable people. In a very real way, Jesus was telling his story in the parable of the father who was so prodigiously generous with his grace and forgiveness that he was willing to accept and restore his disreputable son. It is up to us whether we leave behind our biases and dine with Jesus and the rest of the sinners and the tax collectors or we keep our personal piety like the Pharisees and our anger like the older brother.
There are people all around us who are dead to us, some intentionally, some not so much. We’re human; it’s our way of doing things. But this is not the way of the kingdom of God. In the kingdom there is more than enough life to go around. How we respond to the generous offer of life in our Lord the Father is our choice. It is a choice we make when we come together to share in the bounty of the table the Father sets for us. Come, share, dance, sing, and celebrate because we were once dead, but now in the eyes of the Father we are alive.
[1] From the KraKoosh blog titled “Get Out There & ‘Fail’” http://krakoosh.wordpress.com/2007/03/11/get-out-and-fail/, accessed March 17, 2007.
[2] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=93009411, accessed March 12, 2007.
[3] “bios” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition. Copyright © 2000 The University of Chicago Press. Revised and edited by Frederick William Danker based on the Walter Bauer's Griechisch-deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments und für frühchristlichen Literatur, sixth edition, ed. Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland, with Viktor Reichmann and on previous English Editions by W.F.Arndt, F.W.Gingrich, and F.W.Danker.
[4] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=40793, accessed March 12, 2007.
[5] Cousar, Charles B., Gaventa, Beverly R., McCann, Jr., J. Clinton, Newsome, James D., Texts for Preaching, A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, YEAR C. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994,page 226.
[6] “dissolute” entry from Microsoft Word Thesaurus.
[7] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=23050, accessed March 12, 2007.
[8] Ibid, homileticsonline.com, id=93009411.
[9] Ibid, homileticsonline.com, id=40793.
[10] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=22984, accessed March 12, 2007.
[11] Traditionally, the younger of two sons could inherit one-third of the father’s wealth. According to homileticsonline.com, id=23050 the younger son could have left the first time with only 11% of his inheritance, but if he had been restored to the estate, he could have eventually taken up to 40% of the father’s estate. According to homileticsonline.com, id=40793 he could have taken one third of the father’s estate and then one-third again, or up to 56% of the original split. Regardless, the elder son feels he deserves his righteousness if for the money alone.
[12] Mr. Ronald K. Oetting, sir.
[13] Bono (Hewson, Paul), “Walk On”, All That You Can’t Leave Behind by U2. PolyGram International Music Publishing BV, licensed to Interscope Records, 2000.
Joshua 5:9-12
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
“Remember when you learned how to ride a bicycle?
“You probably began with training wheels. Eventually, when these were removed, things became more difficult. You struggled to stay upright, maybe even falling a few times and scraping yourself. As you practiced, it’s likely that one of your parents walked beside you shouting instructions, encouraging you and catching you as you lost balance. You were scared…but excited! You looked forward to the time when you would succeed, when you would at last ride free on your own. So, you kept at it every day, and eventually mastered the skill of riding a bike.”[1]
Well, master is probably too broad of a word. “Become good” or “improve” are probably better. After watching what some kids do on a bike these days, my definition of “mastering the skill of riding a bike” falls way short of what they consider “mastering the skill.” But neither their mastery of the bike or nor mine would have happened if the training wheels had stayed on the bike.
In everything we do, as soon as we can even imagine taking the symbolic training wheels off of our proverbial bike, we begin to imagine the day when we will at last ride free on our own. We still struggle when the training wheels come off, we fall and we scrape our knees. Even after we become adept riders we get banged up after a fall, especially when we try new and more difficult things. And sometimes the crash and burn can be magnificent.
The important thing to remember is that unless we give up the training wheels, our skills can’t develop any further. We need the assist to learn, but unless we leave the training wheels from our Schwinn Lil Stardust behind, we will never graduate to the Fastback CX racer or the Rocket Disc Mountain Bike.
Life is often defined by what we leave behind. This is never more obvious than when kids go off to camp, or to college. As they leave the nest, the training wheels begin to come off, until, hopefully they establish themselves and begin forging the next link in life’s glorious chain. But it is not so easy. Our Gospel reading today deals with what we keep and with what we leave behind.
Jesus’ parable begins with a young man asking his father for his share of the inheritance. This request wasn’t uncommon in Jesus’ time;[2] younger sons all over Judea were interested in getting their share and setting out to make their claim on life. Or perhaps this younger son was tired of being less than his elder brother in the eyes of the father. Maybe the younger son got into trouble and had to “get out of Dodge.” Regardless, the younger son asks for his share of his father’s belongings.
In this brief exchange, the younger son leaves behind his father, his family, his home, all that is familiar, and any future claim he may have on his father’s estate. But the father knows that he is giving up more than just belongings. The father is giving his son a share of the resources needed to maintain life, the means of subsistence.[3] The son thinks he is asking for stuff, but the father knows he is giving life to his young son yet again.
As for the father, he loses more than just property, he loses his son.
Now it isn’t mentioned in the text, but the older son has a dog in this fight too. When the father chooses to grant the younger son’s wish, the entire estate is divided, including the land. Since the younger brother has no intention of staying on the homestead, the older brother has the right, nay, the responsibility to purchase the land to keep it in the family. So when the younger son leaves, he takes the family’s liquid assets with him. Suddenly, the older son is land rich and cash poor. If liquidity becomes an issue, it’s the older brother’s problem.[4] The older brother doesn’t leave this behind, it’s taken from him.
Then we come to the part of the story that good sons everywhere cheer; the ruin of the younger brother. He gathers together his part of the family wealth, and goes on a journey to a distant country. There he squanders the property on dissolute living. Jesus knows how to turn a phrase, doesn’t he? “Squander” just seems more descriptive than “waste” and “dissolute” can range from inappropriate and undisciplined[5] to degenerate, immoral, debauched, and self-indulgent.[6] Jesus isn’t mincing words. The son has left behind his birthright, his nest egg, and every tangible connection to home. Evidently he also left his moral compass behind when he left his father’s house.
Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to leave behind considering what happens next.
After spending everything freely, famine strikes the countryside and he became needful. So he goes on the road again and he binds himself to a citizen of this country as a hired hand. He has taken the lowest status job possible. Household servants have a roof, subsistence, and a living wage. All the hired man earns is the food he needs to survive, and in this case the food his new master has provided seems meager.[7]
This young man has left behind any semblance of life, simply to exist from day to day. And he exists taking the lowest job imaginable for a Jew; he’s feeding a gentile’s pigs. He has left everything behind, literally getting him nowhere.
He even cries wanting to eat the pods he is feeding the pigs. But he seems to regain a grain of his dignity. He does not eat the pig’s food because it is not offered to him. As hungry and dissolute he may be, he does not steal the swine’s feed from his master. He knows his father’s servants are living better than he is, and it is time to leave his pride and his wild life behind, even if he only does this because of his hunger.
So the young man leaves his pride and/or his shame in the field with the swine. He decides it is better to face the consequences of his actions before his father hoping to become a one of his servants rather than die of hunger. He shows his humility saying he is no longer worthy to be called the son of his father. He leaves his pride and vanity behind realizing that he is not worthy of the son’s life he left behind and squandered. He returns to his father.
But the father has left much behind also. The father waits for his son like the wife of a sailor standing on a widow’s walk waiting in vain for a husband who does not return from the sea. He waits until he sees his son returning from far away. Then, with joy he runs.
Imagine how this looks to the neighbors. This younger son, after a season of riotous living and another season of hunger and pig-work would have looked pretty ragged. There were rumors about what he had done while he was away floating around town; the older brother shows us that. He wasn’t ritually clean. He had become a disreputable character. And the father welcomes him back not in spite of this, but because of this. He was lost, and now he is found, he was dead in the world and is now returned to life in his father’s presence.
So when they come together, the younger son begins his by now well rehearsed apology. But his father has no desire to hear his son’s groveling.[8] The father leaves behind any anger he might have toward his admittedly irresponsible son. He leaves behind the right to say “should have known better.” He leaves it all behind for the right to say I love you and welcome home, welcome back where you belong. Let the celebration begin!
This is where we come to the difficult final act of this drama, the introduction of the elder son. Coming home after a hard day’s work, the elder brother asks one of the servants what’s the ruckus. He is told his brother has returned and there is joyful music and dancing.
Because of his highly developed sense of duty and responsibility, the older brother has been stuck on the homestead and hasn’t even been offered a goat for a cookout with his buddies. He has had to take care of the home while Dad waits on the hill like a shepherd looking for the lost sheep. He has had to face the business when his brother took a significant chunk of the family’s loose change. He has had to hear the reports of how the family wealth and his brother’s youth had been misspent. He comes home to a party with music and dancing, and he is not a happy camper. He has not left his anger behind.
He even faces another possible financial strain. According to the law, the father can restore the younger brother to the family with another full share of the inheritance.[9] No wonder he’s upset.
The father leaves the party to speak with his elder son, but he will not be consoled. As the father affirms the younger son’s return to the home and to life, the elder brother disowns him. The elder brother has now left the younger behind. The father affirms that all he has belongs to the elder son so now is the time to celebrate, not hold a grudge. But this falls on deaf ears.
It is said that multi-part parables can only truly be understood through the last part.[10] In the first parts, the father and younger brother leave a lot of stuff behind. It is in the light of the elder brother’s anger and resentment that the redemption and humility of the younger brother and the generosity of the father become more significant. When we see the contrast we see the difference between life giving light and all consuming darkness.
Earlier I spoke of the economics of inheritance. There are as many theories about how the father’s estate was divided as there are commentaries.[11] But this is just so much math. It is said that economics is the study of the use of scarce resources. And doing the math on the father’s estate and the son’s inheritance, you see the resources are limited. If you have written your will you know the same thing. But when we look at this story from our earthly economic point of view, we miss something important.
When we stick with the vast yet limited resources of this story’s father, we miss that the estate, the generosity, the largess of the Lord our Father is greater than we can ever hope or imagine. Given the infinite power and grace and gifts of God, our inheritance is without measure. In the words of my calculus teacher,[12] half of infinity is still infinity. When we try to put our scarce resource thinking into the infinite graciousness of God, we limit God. But the Lord will not be limited. When we share the gifts of God, we soon learn that God is more than we can ever hope or imagine. But to become heirs in the world of our heavenly Father, we need to leave behind the dissolute living and petty anger of this one.
As we see in the life of the brothers, this is difficult. In the words of a hit song from 2000:
I know it aches
How your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on
Leave it behind
You’ve got to leave it behind
All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you steal
All this you can leave behind
All that your reason
All that your sense
All that you speak
All you dress up
All that you scheme…[13]
There are many, many things that we should leave behind, and more than a few of them are found in this parable. But there is one more thing which gets lost when we focus on the parable instead of its context. In the very beginning of this reading, we are told Jesus was with sinners and tax collectors. Even worse, he was eating with them. For the uber-religious members of the crowd, Jesus was violating all that was good and clean by eating with such disreputable people. In a very real way, Jesus was telling his story in the parable of the father who was so prodigiously generous with his grace and forgiveness that he was willing to accept and restore his disreputable son. It is up to us whether we leave behind our biases and dine with Jesus and the rest of the sinners and the tax collectors or we keep our personal piety like the Pharisees and our anger like the older brother.
There are people all around us who are dead to us, some intentionally, some not so much. We’re human; it’s our way of doing things. But this is not the way of the kingdom of God. In the kingdom there is more than enough life to go around. How we respond to the generous offer of life in our Lord the Father is our choice. It is a choice we make when we come together to share in the bounty of the table the Father sets for us. Come, share, dance, sing, and celebrate because we were once dead, but now in the eyes of the Father we are alive.
[1] From the KraKoosh blog titled “Get Out There & ‘Fail’” http://krakoosh.wordpress.com/2007/03/11/get-out-and-fail/, accessed March 17, 2007.
[2] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=93009411, accessed March 12, 2007.
[3] “bios” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition. Copyright © 2000 The University of Chicago Press. Revised and edited by Frederick William Danker based on the Walter Bauer's Griechisch-deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments und für frühchristlichen Literatur, sixth edition, ed. Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland, with Viktor Reichmann and on previous English Editions by W.F.Arndt, F.W.Gingrich, and F.W.Danker.
[4] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=40793, accessed March 12, 2007.
[5] Cousar, Charles B., Gaventa, Beverly R., McCann, Jr., J. Clinton, Newsome, James D., Texts for Preaching, A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, YEAR C. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994,page 226.
[6] “dissolute” entry from Microsoft Word Thesaurus.
[7] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=23050, accessed March 12, 2007.
[8] Ibid, homileticsonline.com, id=93009411.
[9] Ibid, homileticsonline.com, id=40793.
[10] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_single_item.asp?item_id=22984, accessed March 12, 2007.
[11] Traditionally, the younger of two sons could inherit one-third of the father’s wealth. According to homileticsonline.com, id=23050 the younger son could have left the first time with only 11% of his inheritance, but if he had been restored to the estate, he could have eventually taken up to 40% of the father’s estate. According to homileticsonline.com, id=40793 he could have taken one third of the father’s estate and then one-third again, or up to 56% of the original split. Regardless, the elder son feels he deserves his righteousness if for the money alone.
[12] Mr. Ronald K. Oetting, sir.
[13] Bono (Hewson, Paul), “Walk On”, All That You Can’t Leave Behind by U2. PolyGram International Music Publishing BV, licensed to Interscope Records, 2000.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Never Give Up, Never Surrender!
Isaiah 55:1-9
Psalm 63:1-8
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
For most people, life is a treacherous sea to navigate. Consider a man who lived through this: He failed in business at age 22, was defeated for the legislature at 23, again failed in business at 25. his sweetheart died at 26, had a nervous breakdown at 27, was defeated in election at 29, was defeated for Congress at 34, was again defeated for Congress at 37, was defeated for Congress a third time at 39, was defeated for Senate at 46, was defeated for Vice President at 47, was defeated for Senate at 49 again; and then he was elected President at age 51. This man was Abraham Lincoln.[1] Lincoln epitomized the spirit of, “Never Give Up, Never Surrender.” Lincoln got knocked about by life and had the perseverance to try and try, and in the case of running for Congress, try again.
“Never give up, never surrender” is a theme in our reading from Luke today. “Never give up, never surrender” is something we need to hear, from our Lord and from one another. “Never give up, never surrender” is something we need to say to one another.
Our reading can be broken into two different pieces, the first focusing on sin and repentance and the other on perseverance.
The first five verses of the selection begin with the people who are present telling Jesus about a group of Galileans who were slain by Pilate. These people are slaughtered with the animals they had brought for the Passover sacrifice at the temple in Jerusalem. It is likely that many Jews had taken exception to Pilate funding public works projects from temple donations. And when their objections became a distraction, Pilate sent his troops into the crowd and dispatched the ringleaders.[2] While there is no specific record of this particular event, Pilate had a tendency toward harsh discipline and violence during his rule. Even if this was not historically accurate, the movie about these events would be “based on a true story.”
So the people asked this question, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” Jesus tells the crowd no, he does not think so.
He then offers another example, an example of eighteen who perished when one of the towers of Jerusalem’s wall, the tower of Siloam, fell. This time Jesus asks them, do you think these people who were crushed under the rubble died because they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? Jesus answers for them. No, he does not think so.
But neither time does Jesus answer the questions with a simple no. He adds to his response, “but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Unless you change, you will die the same way they died. So, how then did they perish?
It is always tempting to say that people died because of their sins, a sort of divine retribution for the shameless. You know, the old, “God’ll get you for that one.”[3] This thought reminds us of John’s gospel when Jesus is asked if a man’s blindness was because of his parent’s sin or his own.[4] And it is so true, none are without sin, but Jesus does not blame their deaths on the degree or amount of their sin. In each case, Jesus tells the crowd that their deaths are not due to being more sinful than their peers.
What their deaths have in common is that they perished suddenly and their devastation is total. Without warning, worshippers in Jerusalem find themselves overcome by the power of Rome by the hand of Pilate’s guard. Without warning, the tower of Siloam collapses on the people taking care of daily business near the old city wall. No chance of repentance remains for these victims. In this way, there is no difference in their deaths. Their deaths are very different; one group died as the result of a politically motivated massacre and the other died in a horrible accident. In these cases, the point is that they perished without repenting their sins, regardless of what their sins were, and to Jesus this similarity is more important than the differences.
Isaiah shows us the means and value of repentance in our Old Testament reading: “Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”
The second half of our reading gives us an image of the Lord’s abundant pardon.
In this part of the reading, Jesus tells the story of a man who planted a fig tree in his vineyard talking to the man who took care of his vines. The land owner has been patient waiting for three years for fruit to appear on the tree. This would not have been unusual. Deuteronomy directs the planter of a tree to dedicate the fruit from the tree’s first three years to the Lord before harvesting any for personal use. But after three years, his tree had yet to produce any figs, so why should it take up valuable space and soil and rain in his vineyard. This precious space should be dedicated to a tree that will produce fruit; this one should be cut down. Then the vine dresser says leave it. Leave it for one more season. I’ll dig around it, fertilize it, and take care of it. If it produces next year then all is well and good, but if not, well then, cut it down.
What an image. The vinedresser tells the master if after a little more care and attention the tree doesn’t repent from its fruitless ways then cut it down. Boy, I’m glad Jesus was just telling a story. Oh wait, he wasn’t just telling a story, this is a parable.
We are called to repentance. We are called to turn from the things that take our attention from the Lord who gives life. The joy in being like the trees in the parable is that we are cared for by the greatest gardener in the vineyard owned by the one who gives life.[5] We are tended with great care; we are planted in the waters of our baptism and fed with the bread and cup of the Lord’s Supper. When we abide in the soils of the Lord our God, we have all that we need.
We are called to turn to live abundantly in Christ, and we are reminded that life is short.
Returning to the parable, the land owner’s patience with a tree that does not bear fruit does not last forever. The intervention of the vinedresser is a great gift, but it does not last forever. The tree’s day of reckoning will come to pass in one more growing season. In the same way, the Day of the Lord is coming, and while it may be mercifully delayed for the unrepentant, we are called to turn to the Lord[6] because in the Lord we bear fruit. Neither political intrigue nor faulty mortar may cause of our deaths, but life is short and can end suddenly.
Grace abounds, but grace is not cheap. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field, it is the pearl of great price, it is the kingly rule of Christ for whose sake people will remove the obstacles which make them stumble. It is the call which causes the disciples to leave their nets and follow. [7] But grace must be sought again and again; it is the gift for which we must continue to ask.
Grace is costly because of what it cost Jesus. If even for just a brief time, it cost Jesus a time away from his rightful place at the right hand of God the father. It then cost him his life on earth, life taken in the most degrading way known to humanity. Grace is costly because of what it costs us. There are times when we walk the path, paying the price of discipleship instead of enjoying the distractions of desire.
The path of grace can never take us from the Lord. And while Jesus can travel it perfectly, we, well… we tend to follow it in fits and starts. There are times we don’t walk the path, we stop. And there are even times when we back pedal from the journey we are called to take.
This is why our journey of faith, our journey of discipleship is just that, a journey. There are seasons when we will bear fruit and seasons when we won’t. While the Lord’s pardon is abundant, it is not without end. When the day of the Lord comes, there will be a reckoning for us as there will be for the fig tree in the vineyard. But we stand resolute that our Lord is ready for us with patience and nourishment for those willing to seek it.
As I was writing this sermon, Turner Network Television, TNT, was showing a 1999 movie called “Galaxy Quest.” It is the story of a group of washed up actors who continue to ride the coattails of an immensely popular science fiction television show. The show was such a popular culture touchstone that even years after the show was cancelled the cast continues to tour science fiction conventions earning personal appearance fees. If you are familiar with the phenomenon of Star Trek since the original series was cancelled in 1969, you have an idea of what they are spoofing. And like so many television shows, this one has a catch phrase that one character uses over and over again. In this case, the line belonged to Captain Jason Nesmith played by Tim Allen. Whenever the crew was in dire straights, the Captain would cry out, “Never give up, never surrender!” Then, as so often happens in television, the crew perseveres to face adventure again.
“Never give up, never surrender” is a theme in our reading from Luke today. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we hear as we are tended to in the garden. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we need to say to one another. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we need to hear from one another. Just as the cast of “Galaxy Quest” faced new dangers weekly; we face danger and temptation constantly. Our attitude can’t be that we have repented so we’re fine. In our world we must continue to turn toward God through remembering our baptism and coming to the table. We need to hear these life affirming words from one another as we continue to turn toward God; as we continue to repent.
As we travel together, we need to resolve to bolster one another because while we are nourished by God we are also to share God’s nourishment with others. God doesn’t give up on us and we can’t give up either.
[1] Attributed to Anonymous, http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln, accessed March 10, 2007, edited to reflect age instead of year.
[2] http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_installment.asp?installment_id=2767 accessed March 8, 2007.
[3] Bea Arthur is Maude.
[4] John 9:2
[5] Ordinarily I do not like to place definite labels onto the principle players in a parable. It offers certainty into the mystery of God which is too presumptuous. Yet today, I take that leap.
[6] Ibid, Homiletics.com
[7] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, Cost of Discipleship, The. New York: Touchstone, Simon and Schuster, 1959, page 45.
Psalm 63:1-8
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
For most people, life is a treacherous sea to navigate. Consider a man who lived through this: He failed in business at age 22, was defeated for the legislature at 23, again failed in business at 25. his sweetheart died at 26, had a nervous breakdown at 27, was defeated in election at 29, was defeated for Congress at 34, was again defeated for Congress at 37, was defeated for Congress a third time at 39, was defeated for Senate at 46, was defeated for Vice President at 47, was defeated for Senate at 49 again; and then he was elected President at age 51. This man was Abraham Lincoln.[1] Lincoln epitomized the spirit of, “Never Give Up, Never Surrender.” Lincoln got knocked about by life and had the perseverance to try and try, and in the case of running for Congress, try again.
“Never give up, never surrender” is a theme in our reading from Luke today. “Never give up, never surrender” is something we need to hear, from our Lord and from one another. “Never give up, never surrender” is something we need to say to one another.
Our reading can be broken into two different pieces, the first focusing on sin and repentance and the other on perseverance.
The first five verses of the selection begin with the people who are present telling Jesus about a group of Galileans who were slain by Pilate. These people are slaughtered with the animals they had brought for the Passover sacrifice at the temple in Jerusalem. It is likely that many Jews had taken exception to Pilate funding public works projects from temple donations. And when their objections became a distraction, Pilate sent his troops into the crowd and dispatched the ringleaders.[2] While there is no specific record of this particular event, Pilate had a tendency toward harsh discipline and violence during his rule. Even if this was not historically accurate, the movie about these events would be “based on a true story.”
So the people asked this question, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” Jesus tells the crowd no, he does not think so.
He then offers another example, an example of eighteen who perished when one of the towers of Jerusalem’s wall, the tower of Siloam, fell. This time Jesus asks them, do you think these people who were crushed under the rubble died because they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? Jesus answers for them. No, he does not think so.
But neither time does Jesus answer the questions with a simple no. He adds to his response, “but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Unless you change, you will die the same way they died. So, how then did they perish?
It is always tempting to say that people died because of their sins, a sort of divine retribution for the shameless. You know, the old, “God’ll get you for that one.”[3] This thought reminds us of John’s gospel when Jesus is asked if a man’s blindness was because of his parent’s sin or his own.[4] And it is so true, none are without sin, but Jesus does not blame their deaths on the degree or amount of their sin. In each case, Jesus tells the crowd that their deaths are not due to being more sinful than their peers.
What their deaths have in common is that they perished suddenly and their devastation is total. Without warning, worshippers in Jerusalem find themselves overcome by the power of Rome by the hand of Pilate’s guard. Without warning, the tower of Siloam collapses on the people taking care of daily business near the old city wall. No chance of repentance remains for these victims. In this way, there is no difference in their deaths. Their deaths are very different; one group died as the result of a politically motivated massacre and the other died in a horrible accident. In these cases, the point is that they perished without repenting their sins, regardless of what their sins were, and to Jesus this similarity is more important than the differences.
Isaiah shows us the means and value of repentance in our Old Testament reading: “Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”
The second half of our reading gives us an image of the Lord’s abundant pardon.
In this part of the reading, Jesus tells the story of a man who planted a fig tree in his vineyard talking to the man who took care of his vines. The land owner has been patient waiting for three years for fruit to appear on the tree. This would not have been unusual. Deuteronomy directs the planter of a tree to dedicate the fruit from the tree’s first three years to the Lord before harvesting any for personal use. But after three years, his tree had yet to produce any figs, so why should it take up valuable space and soil and rain in his vineyard. This precious space should be dedicated to a tree that will produce fruit; this one should be cut down. Then the vine dresser says leave it. Leave it for one more season. I’ll dig around it, fertilize it, and take care of it. If it produces next year then all is well and good, but if not, well then, cut it down.
What an image. The vinedresser tells the master if after a little more care and attention the tree doesn’t repent from its fruitless ways then cut it down. Boy, I’m glad Jesus was just telling a story. Oh wait, he wasn’t just telling a story, this is a parable.
We are called to repentance. We are called to turn from the things that take our attention from the Lord who gives life. The joy in being like the trees in the parable is that we are cared for by the greatest gardener in the vineyard owned by the one who gives life.[5] We are tended with great care; we are planted in the waters of our baptism and fed with the bread and cup of the Lord’s Supper. When we abide in the soils of the Lord our God, we have all that we need.
We are called to turn to live abundantly in Christ, and we are reminded that life is short.
Returning to the parable, the land owner’s patience with a tree that does not bear fruit does not last forever. The intervention of the vinedresser is a great gift, but it does not last forever. The tree’s day of reckoning will come to pass in one more growing season. In the same way, the Day of the Lord is coming, and while it may be mercifully delayed for the unrepentant, we are called to turn to the Lord[6] because in the Lord we bear fruit. Neither political intrigue nor faulty mortar may cause of our deaths, but life is short and can end suddenly.
Grace abounds, but grace is not cheap. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field, it is the pearl of great price, it is the kingly rule of Christ for whose sake people will remove the obstacles which make them stumble. It is the call which causes the disciples to leave their nets and follow. [7] But grace must be sought again and again; it is the gift for which we must continue to ask.
Grace is costly because of what it cost Jesus. If even for just a brief time, it cost Jesus a time away from his rightful place at the right hand of God the father. It then cost him his life on earth, life taken in the most degrading way known to humanity. Grace is costly because of what it costs us. There are times when we walk the path, paying the price of discipleship instead of enjoying the distractions of desire.
The path of grace can never take us from the Lord. And while Jesus can travel it perfectly, we, well… we tend to follow it in fits and starts. There are times we don’t walk the path, we stop. And there are even times when we back pedal from the journey we are called to take.
This is why our journey of faith, our journey of discipleship is just that, a journey. There are seasons when we will bear fruit and seasons when we won’t. While the Lord’s pardon is abundant, it is not without end. When the day of the Lord comes, there will be a reckoning for us as there will be for the fig tree in the vineyard. But we stand resolute that our Lord is ready for us with patience and nourishment for those willing to seek it.
As I was writing this sermon, Turner Network Television, TNT, was showing a 1999 movie called “Galaxy Quest.” It is the story of a group of washed up actors who continue to ride the coattails of an immensely popular science fiction television show. The show was such a popular culture touchstone that even years after the show was cancelled the cast continues to tour science fiction conventions earning personal appearance fees. If you are familiar with the phenomenon of Star Trek since the original series was cancelled in 1969, you have an idea of what they are spoofing. And like so many television shows, this one has a catch phrase that one character uses over and over again. In this case, the line belonged to Captain Jason Nesmith played by Tim Allen. Whenever the crew was in dire straights, the Captain would cry out, “Never give up, never surrender!” Then, as so often happens in television, the crew perseveres to face adventure again.
“Never give up, never surrender” is a theme in our reading from Luke today. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we hear as we are tended to in the garden. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we need to say to one another. “Never give up, never surrender” is what we need to hear from one another. Just as the cast of “Galaxy Quest” faced new dangers weekly; we face danger and temptation constantly. Our attitude can’t be that we have repented so we’re fine. In our world we must continue to turn toward God through remembering our baptism and coming to the table. We need to hear these life affirming words from one another as we continue to turn toward God; as we continue to repent.
As we travel together, we need to resolve to bolster one another because while we are nourished by God we are also to share God’s nourishment with others. God doesn’t give up on us and we can’t give up either.
[1] Attributed to Anonymous, http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln, accessed March 10, 2007, edited to reflect age instead of year.
[2] http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_installment.asp?installment_id=2767 accessed March 8, 2007.
[3] Bea Arthur is Maude.
[4] John 9:2
[5] Ordinarily I do not like to place definite labels onto the principle players in a parable. It offers certainty into the mystery of God which is too presumptuous. Yet today, I take that leap.
[6] Ibid, Homiletics.com
[7] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, Cost of Discipleship, The. New York: Touchstone, Simon and Schuster, 1959, page 45.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Path of the Covenant
This sermon was presented at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the Second Sunday in Lent, March 4, 2007.
Genesis 15:1-2, 17-18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Luke 13:31-35
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
In the church, we often talk about covenant, most often we talk about the covenant of grace, the covenant of Jesus Christ. But in today’s Old Testament reading we get a picture of a different covenant, the covenant between the Lord and Abram.
The covenant in Genesis 15 contains two promises, people and land. Last week’s reading from Deuteronomy reminded us that our ancestor, Jacob, was a wandering Aramean. But this nickname also could have applied to his grandfather Abram who we hear about today. Abram was the original desert wanderer, a term which because of his landless condition literally means “one who is destitute, perishing.”[1] We learn earlier in Genesis that Abram had become affluent with flocks and herds, but he was still without a country to call home. He has wealth, but without a home he is like a plush potted plant that without being replanted in fresh soil will grow until it becomes root bound and dies in its pot.
Our reading begins with Abram receiving the word of the Lord in a vision. Abram is told that his reward will be very great. Abram asks what reward the Lord would give him since he does not have an heir. It is as if he asks the Lord “what good is more wealth if there is no one to receive it when I die?” It may seem a little presumptuous to ask about the relative value of the Lord’s gifts, but Abram has the confidence or the gall to ask. An heir would be very important to Abram. He and his wife Sarai were getting older. It is beginning to appear that his family, his lineage would end with him. His name and the name of his family would be lost to eternity. His wealth and power would go to others, in this case, to a slave of his household.
Here the Lord promises that Abram will have an heir of his own. Abram hears “No one but your very own issue shall be your heir.” He is then told that his heirs will be so vast, that his family would be as numerous as the stars in the heavens. In the ancient culture, progeny is a form of wealth surpassing material goods. Abram believed the Lord, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.
Then the Lord promised the wealth that supports family and livestock alike, land. The Lord promises Abram the land where he stood as his inheritance.
Imagine how Abram felt at that moment, he was promised his greatest desires. He had wealth, now he was promised descendants to share the wealth and land for them to make a home. It must have seemed too good to be true. Then again while Abram faithfully believed, perhaps he had a shadow of doubt like the man with the child in the Gospel of Mark who cries out, “I believe; help my unbelief.”[2] For whatever reason, Abram asks the Lord, “O, Lord God, how am I to know that I shall possess it?”
The Lord orders Abram to bring the elements of the covenant sacrifice. Another way to say making a covenant in Hebrew is cutting a covenant.[3] While the full reason for this expression is unknown, one explanation among many is that in making the covenant, a sacrifice was offered and the parties making the covenant would pass between the cut halves of the sacrificed beasts. Doing this, they symbolically take upon themselves the fate of the animals should they violate the covenant.[4]
The symbolism and the theology of the sacrifice system are pretty far beyond us. So it is probably more than most of us could imagine that Abram took first a heifer, and then a female goat, and then a ram, and split each of them in half. He didn’t have chain mail gloves like many who work in beef processing. He didn’t have power tools or refrigeration. There was no high powered water jet to cut the animals. He had a knife which he used to slaughter and then prepare the animals for the sacrifice. He cut skin, fat, muscle, tendon, cartilage, and organ with his knife to prepare the livestock for the covenant. Imagine the blood, not just on Abram’s clothes but in the mud between his toes. Finally, after several hours or perhaps even days, when the preparations were made, Abram put the finishing touches on the stock; he added a full dove to one stack and a young pigeon to the other. The offering was complete, but until the covenant ceremony was finished, Abram had to drive the buzzards from the carcasses.
In this post industrial-information age society, most people don’t have everyday contact with livestock. But we do have one advantage toward knowing about this system that others do not; we live in an area that has stock production and processing. Several members of this congregation even work in livestock production and processing. Even for those of us who don’t know the industry first hand, we know the smell of the chicken house and the smell of the Tyson plant cutting nuggets on three shifts. In this community, we are more familiar with the smells of livestock preparation than most, but it is still limited. Cutting a covenant was a messy business. So since we know something about the slaughterhouse when we proclaim the fate of the livestock can be our fate too if we violate the covenant, we say a lot.
But there is one more element of cutting a covenant. The covenant is established between the parties after they pass between the halves of the livestock. In this case, we learn only a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, symbols of the Lord, pass between the offering. The Lord establishes the covenant with Abram unilaterally. In this case, only the Lord is bound to provide the promises of the covenant upon the penalty of prior example. The Lord makes the covenant with Abram saying, “To your descendents I give this land.” Passing alone between the halves of the offering, the Lord promises these rewards.
The question then needs to be asked: Why did the Lord make Abram the recipient of such a generous covenant? The promises to the patriarchs, Abram, Isaac, and Jacob, point toward a day when their descendants will make up a populous nation whose wealth and well-being will benefit their neighbors.[5] The promise, the covenant is not so that they will have vast wealth to obliterate their neighbors, it is to be used to benefit their neighbors. Israel understood its existence not as its own accomplishment, but as a life grounded in the Lord’s benevolence.
In the reality of the Roman Empire, life grounded in the Lord’s benevolence had different meanings for different people. Our gospel reading accents this with the words of the Pharisees.
Their screams of “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you!” have a bit of Chicken Little associated with them. There are several theories why the Pharisees would warn Jesus.
Conventional wisdom has the Pharisees warning in a negative light because it comes from the Pharisees, consider the source if you will. The Pharisees were threatened by the teachings of Jesus and they used Herod to get him out of their hair. This is the conventional wisdom, but it is not always supported by Luke’s gospel. Luke’s writings are relatively neutral on the Pharisees, so this may not have been the case.
Another theory is that the Pharisees are attempting to distract Jesus from his divine purpose. If Jesus leaves, his ministry will be thwarted and the Pharisees will have the area all to themselves again. A side benefit is that without Jesus raising the rabble, Herod will leave the Pharisees alone. Again this may or may not be the case.
A third theory is that the warning came from genuine concern. As one commentary says, given “Luke’s ambiguous portrait of the Pharisees, some of whom will align themselves with Jesus, it is likely that the Pharisees in this scene are well-intentioned but lack a full understanding of how Jesus will fulfill God’s will. Given the dim-wittedness of the disciples on this score, we can hardly fault the Pharisees for failing to grasp that God’s purpose is served through the violent death of a prophet.”[6] But this is uncertain too.
So whether the motives of the Pharisees had bad intentions or not, Jesus knew that some of them would tell Herod what was happening just like a younger sibling who tattles at every opportunity. Whether the Pharisees had evil intent or were simply not ready for the new thing the Lord was doing, Jesus would not be turned from his path. Jesus knows his path. He knows where his ministry is leading. He knows that he will not die on this day, or the next, or the next by the hand of Herod. He knows it is not yet his time and this is not his place.
Jesus knows He is God’s blessing through the nation of Israel for the world. Through Him the world is redeemed. Where last week we said that the devil would not define the relationship between the Father and the Son, this week we learn that no human, neither the Pharisees nor Herod, would define this relationship either.
This sacrifice Jesus makes; he makes alone on our behalf. This is the covenant the Lord makes with all creation. As we said in our Call to Worship, “we make our offering with sounds of great gladness, singing and making music to the Lord,” then the Lord alone walks among it accepting it and making it holy.
Jesus is our perfect example, he walks between the sacrifice of two criminals hoisted upon their own petard. He rests between the sacrifice of our world and stands there alone for our benefit. But, this isn’t our focus today.
There is a lot of intrigue in the world of the Pharisees, those of 2,000 years ago and those of today. There are many things that seek to distract us from the word and work of the Lord. But Jesus was not deterred from his mission and we should not be deterred from ours. As the children of God, we are called to be a benefit to our neighbors because our existence is not our own accomplishment. Our life is grounded in the Lord’s benevolence received in the covenant of grace. This is the path of the covenant Jesus walks. We cannot walk it with him, no matter how hard we might want or try. Our path is different; we are not to be turned from our path of honor and service to the Lord for one that is not ours.
Yes, there is intrigue in the temple and in our world. And the promises of the Lord may seem too good to be true. Perhaps even while we believe and it is reckoned unto us as righteousness, there is a nagging grain of unbelief. But through his covenant and his sacrifice, we are able to do more than we ever could without. Let us not be distracted by our world. Let us seek, know and follow our path and follow it as Jesus knew and followed his.
[1] Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A, The New Interpreter’s® Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha. Notes for Deuteronomy 26:5, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1989.
[2] Mark 9:24, NRSV.
[3] Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A, The Interpreter’s® Dictionary of the Bible, Supplemental Edition. George Arthur Buttrick, Dictionary Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1976.
[4] Ibid. NISB, note on 15:9-10.
[5] Ibid, Excursus on “The Promises to the Patriarchs.”
[6] Ibid, paraphrase of the notes on Luke 13:31.
Genesis 15:1-2, 17-18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Luke 13:31-35
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
In the church, we often talk about covenant, most often we talk about the covenant of grace, the covenant of Jesus Christ. But in today’s Old Testament reading we get a picture of a different covenant, the covenant between the Lord and Abram.
The covenant in Genesis 15 contains two promises, people and land. Last week’s reading from Deuteronomy reminded us that our ancestor, Jacob, was a wandering Aramean. But this nickname also could have applied to his grandfather Abram who we hear about today. Abram was the original desert wanderer, a term which because of his landless condition literally means “one who is destitute, perishing.”[1] We learn earlier in Genesis that Abram had become affluent with flocks and herds, but he was still without a country to call home. He has wealth, but without a home he is like a plush potted plant that without being replanted in fresh soil will grow until it becomes root bound and dies in its pot.
Our reading begins with Abram receiving the word of the Lord in a vision. Abram is told that his reward will be very great. Abram asks what reward the Lord would give him since he does not have an heir. It is as if he asks the Lord “what good is more wealth if there is no one to receive it when I die?” It may seem a little presumptuous to ask about the relative value of the Lord’s gifts, but Abram has the confidence or the gall to ask. An heir would be very important to Abram. He and his wife Sarai were getting older. It is beginning to appear that his family, his lineage would end with him. His name and the name of his family would be lost to eternity. His wealth and power would go to others, in this case, to a slave of his household.
Here the Lord promises that Abram will have an heir of his own. Abram hears “No one but your very own issue shall be your heir.” He is then told that his heirs will be so vast, that his family would be as numerous as the stars in the heavens. In the ancient culture, progeny is a form of wealth surpassing material goods. Abram believed the Lord, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.
Then the Lord promised the wealth that supports family and livestock alike, land. The Lord promises Abram the land where he stood as his inheritance.
Imagine how Abram felt at that moment, he was promised his greatest desires. He had wealth, now he was promised descendants to share the wealth and land for them to make a home. It must have seemed too good to be true. Then again while Abram faithfully believed, perhaps he had a shadow of doubt like the man with the child in the Gospel of Mark who cries out, “I believe; help my unbelief.”[2] For whatever reason, Abram asks the Lord, “O, Lord God, how am I to know that I shall possess it?”
The Lord orders Abram to bring the elements of the covenant sacrifice. Another way to say making a covenant in Hebrew is cutting a covenant.[3] While the full reason for this expression is unknown, one explanation among many is that in making the covenant, a sacrifice was offered and the parties making the covenant would pass between the cut halves of the sacrificed beasts. Doing this, they symbolically take upon themselves the fate of the animals should they violate the covenant.[4]
The symbolism and the theology of the sacrifice system are pretty far beyond us. So it is probably more than most of us could imagine that Abram took first a heifer, and then a female goat, and then a ram, and split each of them in half. He didn’t have chain mail gloves like many who work in beef processing. He didn’t have power tools or refrigeration. There was no high powered water jet to cut the animals. He had a knife which he used to slaughter and then prepare the animals for the sacrifice. He cut skin, fat, muscle, tendon, cartilage, and organ with his knife to prepare the livestock for the covenant. Imagine the blood, not just on Abram’s clothes but in the mud between his toes. Finally, after several hours or perhaps even days, when the preparations were made, Abram put the finishing touches on the stock; he added a full dove to one stack and a young pigeon to the other. The offering was complete, but until the covenant ceremony was finished, Abram had to drive the buzzards from the carcasses.
In this post industrial-information age society, most people don’t have everyday contact with livestock. But we do have one advantage toward knowing about this system that others do not; we live in an area that has stock production and processing. Several members of this congregation even work in livestock production and processing. Even for those of us who don’t know the industry first hand, we know the smell of the chicken house and the smell of the Tyson plant cutting nuggets on three shifts. In this community, we are more familiar with the smells of livestock preparation than most, but it is still limited. Cutting a covenant was a messy business. So since we know something about the slaughterhouse when we proclaim the fate of the livestock can be our fate too if we violate the covenant, we say a lot.
But there is one more element of cutting a covenant. The covenant is established between the parties after they pass between the halves of the livestock. In this case, we learn only a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, symbols of the Lord, pass between the offering. The Lord establishes the covenant with Abram unilaterally. In this case, only the Lord is bound to provide the promises of the covenant upon the penalty of prior example. The Lord makes the covenant with Abram saying, “To your descendents I give this land.” Passing alone between the halves of the offering, the Lord promises these rewards.
The question then needs to be asked: Why did the Lord make Abram the recipient of such a generous covenant? The promises to the patriarchs, Abram, Isaac, and Jacob, point toward a day when their descendants will make up a populous nation whose wealth and well-being will benefit their neighbors.[5] The promise, the covenant is not so that they will have vast wealth to obliterate their neighbors, it is to be used to benefit their neighbors. Israel understood its existence not as its own accomplishment, but as a life grounded in the Lord’s benevolence.
In the reality of the Roman Empire, life grounded in the Lord’s benevolence had different meanings for different people. Our gospel reading accents this with the words of the Pharisees.
Their screams of “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you!” have a bit of Chicken Little associated with them. There are several theories why the Pharisees would warn Jesus.
Conventional wisdom has the Pharisees warning in a negative light because it comes from the Pharisees, consider the source if you will. The Pharisees were threatened by the teachings of Jesus and they used Herod to get him out of their hair. This is the conventional wisdom, but it is not always supported by Luke’s gospel. Luke’s writings are relatively neutral on the Pharisees, so this may not have been the case.
Another theory is that the Pharisees are attempting to distract Jesus from his divine purpose. If Jesus leaves, his ministry will be thwarted and the Pharisees will have the area all to themselves again. A side benefit is that without Jesus raising the rabble, Herod will leave the Pharisees alone. Again this may or may not be the case.
A third theory is that the warning came from genuine concern. As one commentary says, given “Luke’s ambiguous portrait of the Pharisees, some of whom will align themselves with Jesus, it is likely that the Pharisees in this scene are well-intentioned but lack a full understanding of how Jesus will fulfill God’s will. Given the dim-wittedness of the disciples on this score, we can hardly fault the Pharisees for failing to grasp that God’s purpose is served through the violent death of a prophet.”[6] But this is uncertain too.
So whether the motives of the Pharisees had bad intentions or not, Jesus knew that some of them would tell Herod what was happening just like a younger sibling who tattles at every opportunity. Whether the Pharisees had evil intent or were simply not ready for the new thing the Lord was doing, Jesus would not be turned from his path. Jesus knows his path. He knows where his ministry is leading. He knows that he will not die on this day, or the next, or the next by the hand of Herod. He knows it is not yet his time and this is not his place.
Jesus knows He is God’s blessing through the nation of Israel for the world. Through Him the world is redeemed. Where last week we said that the devil would not define the relationship between the Father and the Son, this week we learn that no human, neither the Pharisees nor Herod, would define this relationship either.
This sacrifice Jesus makes; he makes alone on our behalf. This is the covenant the Lord makes with all creation. As we said in our Call to Worship, “we make our offering with sounds of great gladness, singing and making music to the Lord,” then the Lord alone walks among it accepting it and making it holy.
Jesus is our perfect example, he walks between the sacrifice of two criminals hoisted upon their own petard. He rests between the sacrifice of our world and stands there alone for our benefit. But, this isn’t our focus today.
There is a lot of intrigue in the world of the Pharisees, those of 2,000 years ago and those of today. There are many things that seek to distract us from the word and work of the Lord. But Jesus was not deterred from his mission and we should not be deterred from ours. As the children of God, we are called to be a benefit to our neighbors because our existence is not our own accomplishment. Our life is grounded in the Lord’s benevolence received in the covenant of grace. This is the path of the covenant Jesus walks. We cannot walk it with him, no matter how hard we might want or try. Our path is different; we are not to be turned from our path of honor and service to the Lord for one that is not ours.
Yes, there is intrigue in the temple and in our world. And the promises of the Lord may seem too good to be true. Perhaps even while we believe and it is reckoned unto us as righteousness, there is a nagging grain of unbelief. But through his covenant and his sacrifice, we are able to do more than we ever could without. Let us not be distracted by our world. Let us seek, know and follow our path and follow it as Jesus knew and followed his.
[1] Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A, The New Interpreter’s® Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha. Notes for Deuteronomy 26:5, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1989.
[2] Mark 9:24, NRSV.
[3] Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A, The Interpreter’s® Dictionary of the Bible, Supplemental Edition. George Arthur Buttrick, Dictionary Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1976.
[4] Ibid. NISB, note on 15:9-10.
[5] Ibid, Excursus on “The Promises to the Patriarchs.”
[6] Ibid, paraphrase of the notes on Luke 13:31.
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