His Vision, Our Mission

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday July 29, 2012, the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2 Samuel 11:1-15

Psalm 14

Ephesians 3:14-21

John 6:1-21

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

There is something that scripture does that is both disturbing and reassuring; it shows the heroes of the faith, the people of God, with all of their warts. Today’s Old Testament reading is the prototype. David is known as a man after God’s own heart. The second and one of the greatest kings of Judah, he is the recipient of the Davidic Covenant, God’s promise that David will always have a descendant to reign on the throne of Judah.

Today, we learn of David’s unsavory side. We read that even David can be led by his urges and do something so deplorable that he is willing to do things even more horrible to cover it up. Lies and murder, adultery or sexual assault—David’s acts without apology. This is the great King David. This is the King of Judah.

In Second Samuel, a book that records the works of the King of Judah, this is the sort of thing that would hardly be recorded to glorify the king. This would be like President Nixon writing about Watergate or President Clinton writing about Monica Lewinsky for the history books. It is hardly likely, yet this is what scripture does with all of its heroes. Scripture points to the warts and scars of the heroes of the faith. In scripture we read about David and Bathsheba. In scripture we read about Paul persecuting the church. In scripture we read about Peter’s denial of Christ in the wee hours of the day of Christ’s crucifixion.

In a letter to Mandell Creighton dated April 5, 1887, Lord Acton wrote, “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”[1] This certainly applies to David in this reading. There are many places where he broke from his responsibilities to the kingdom and the people in this passage. 

We learn that it is springtime, the time of year when the Kings lead their armies into battle. Then we learn that David stays in the splendor of his great palace while Joab wages the war in Rabbah. Considering what is written in this story, I imagine it’s a very hot day in the city of David. It’s so hot, that the city is living on the roofs of their homes. This wasn’t uncommon, in fact the rooftops served as an extra room, a patio. Can’t you just see this, David laying out on some sort of 11^th Century BC chaise lounge, with some sort of 11^th Century BC deck umbrella covering him from the setting sun, while the evening breeze washes over him? It’s positively decadent. 

David awakens and takes a stroll on the rooftop where he sees a beautiful young woman bathing herself on a distant rooftop. Like a voyeur with the world at his beck and call, he asks someone to find out about her. A trusted advisor answers, “Isn’t that Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” David really doesn’t care who she is, or whose daughter or wife she is, he is smitten. And with absolute power, he can do something about being smitten. 

Bathsheba is called to the palace and the royal bed chamber. If we are to take scripture at its word, in a minimalist sort of way, she spends one night before leaving. If we are to consider human nature and the biology of the human body, she spends closer to two weeks in the bed chamber of King David. Bathsheba stays long enough in the palace to be with David until she becomes pregnant.

In this piece David is written as a lothario taking this war off to stay at home and Bathsheba is faceless. In fact, this story is so vague that it is silent about whether she is a willing partner in adultery or if she is coerced into this relationship by the king. In the meantime, Uriah risks his life on behalf of David and the kingdom. 

Uriah—here’s a man with integrity. The Hittites were a race of warriors, so Uriah is a mercenary. As with any mercenary, he is in the war for the money. But his concern is not with his purse alone. Uriah is a god fearing man; his name even tells the world “the Lord,” Yah, “is my light.” David, the chosen one of the Lord is Uriah’s earthly king and Uriah serves the Lord and David. Uriah is the “flame of the Lord” in David’s kingdom.

Well, David is in a bit of a pickle. The wife of the “flame of the Lord” is pregnant and the husband Uriah cannot be the father of the child. Unless David acts swiftly, this isn’t going to look good on his performance review. So David calls Uriah back to Jerusalem, ostensibly to hear about the battle, but in reality, he does this to cover his shameful actions. Uriah doesn’t bite.

David invites Uriah to go home and spend some time with the family; to go home and wash his feet. Some time ago, the BBC and ABC had a television show called “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” In this show, the cast would improvise scenes around various games and settings. One game was called, “If You Know What I Mean.” The object of this game was to take ordinary sounding phrases and make them sound risqué by tacking on the phrase “If you know what I mean.” So when David invited Uriah to go home and wash his feet, David didn’t really mean go wash his feet… “If you know what I mean.”

But Uriah would have none of this; instead Uriah stays with the slaves. This thwarted David’s plans, David’s cover-up. Between Levitical code and personal faithfulness to King David, the battle, and his comrades in arms, Uriah refuses to go home and partake in the pleasures of home while the battle rages. Uriah stays with the slaves and other servants of David, faithful to all. 

Uriah explains it this way in verse eleven, “The ark and Israel and Judah are staying in tents, and my commander Joab and my lord’s men are camped in the open country. How could I go to my house to eat and drink and lie with my wife? As surely as you live, I will not do such a thing!”

Uriah swears his fidelity to the kingship of David, and David tries to get Uriah drunk so he would go home and wash his feet, if you know what I mean. Uriah remains faithful. Finally, David writes an order to Joab that seals Uriah’s fate. Uriah is so faithful that he delivers his own death sentence. A fate which is executed in verse 17, Uriah is killed in battle with many other troops. Uriah is faithful to the law, to the custom, to his King, and to the Lord. David is faithful to his urges and his desire not to get caught.

I began by talking about the heroes of the faith and their warts. And surely, these heroes are just as human and prone to sin as any other human being. The difference is while they may be the heroes of the faith; they are not the heroes of scripture. The hero of scripture is not just any human being. The hero of scripture is and always is the Lord, the triune God.

As promised last week, today we also heard the stories of the feeding of the 5,000 and Jesus walking on the water. Admittedly we are reading it from John’s gospel, not from Mark’s. That may seem a bit odd but that’s the way the lectionary gives it to us. Going from one gospel to the other gives us some differences, the biggest is the crowd wanting to take Jesus and make him king in John’s gospel. Other than that, there are no important differences between the stories that surround these readings other than their placement within Jesus’ ministry.

To be honest, for our purposes this morning, I don’t know how much it matters. In both there was more to come in the ministry of the Lord and that may be the point. Regardless of the rendering or placement, both stories show us that God is faithful. God’s plenty and abundance overcomes creation and feeds 5,000 men, not to mention any number of women and children, at the Sea of Galilee. God’s power over creation so complete that over what we consider dangerous circumstances, Jesus walks on the water. In danger and fear, God in Christ is present.

There is another story of the presence of God, this one in the dire circumstances of the German concentration camp Auschwitz. It is from the book “Night” by Elie Wiesel. During the hanging of a young boy, which the camp is forced to watch, the main character hears someone ask: “Where is God?” Where is God, indeed? Not heavy enough for the weight of his body to break his neck, the boy dies of asphyxiation, slowly and in agony. Along with the other prisoners, Wiesel files past him, sees his tongue still pink and his eyes clear, and weeps. Here, the story asks that question again:

Behind me, I heard the same man asking: Where is God now?

And I heard a voice within me answer him: ... Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows.[2]

Where was God in the midst of pain, suffering and despair? Where is God in the cold, and hunger, and the tortured body of boy hanging on a gallows at Auschwitz? God is there, God is hanging on the gallows too.

God’s love is always with us and this isn’t to say that because God is present there will be no pain. In spite of the pain and because of the pain people inflict upon one another, God is present and God suffers as we suffer. God rejoices as we rejoice. And this love is greater than we can ever truly know or understand. 

In our Old Testament reading, David is unfaithful to the nation by staying home in the springtime when the Kings went to war. David is unfaithful to the vows of others when he summons Bathsheba. David is unfaithful to Joab when he takes a valued soldier from the lines. David is unfaithful to the law when he connives a cover up to hide his infidelities. Finally he is unfaithful to creation when he has Uriah, the flame of God, snuffed out. 

In our Old Testament reading, Uriah is faithful to the Lord and to the battle. Uriah is faithful to his King and to his wife. Uriah is faithful to his commander and his comrades in arms. 

It is shameful to see David benefit under these circumstances and Uriah die betrayed by the ones he loves, but this is the way of people, not the way of the Lord. God shows the highest faithfulness to David in keeping the covenant. God shows the highest faithfulness to Uriah by suffering alongside him during his darkest hour. God is faithful to Bathsheba by giving her a son, Solomon, who will become the wisest of all of the Kings of Judah. God is ever faithful to the nation fulfilling the Davidic covenant in the chosen one, Jesus the Messiah. 

God is faithful to us that he suffered death, death on the cross, that we may have eternal life. I do not pretend to understand this. Instead, I rejoice in the one whose power is at work within us. The warts of the people are outrageous, and God is faithful. In a world that is filled with pain and strife, God is faithful.

In a world where we abandon one another like David does Uriah, God does not abandon us. God is faithful. In a world where we come with blemishes, the Lord uses us as we are and by the power of his Holy Spirit makes us more than who we ever thought we could be. As John writes, Jesus knows what he will do, and as he did with his disciples on that hillside he will use us to do it.

God shares our suffering and God shares our joy. This is what makes God the hero of scripture instead of any person. God is eternal, God’s love is abundant, and God chooses to share this abundant life with us. God makes this choice not because we deserve it, but because God wishes to share this gift of grace with us.

Because of this, we are called to do what the people in John’s gospel did not do. John writes the people came, but they came on their own. We are not only to come, but we are to bring our neighbors with us. We are to share God’s gift with the world. Not because anyone deserves it, but because as the 5,000 were fed, there is plenty and we are called to take and eat. Taste and see that the Lord is good—and faithful. That is his vision. This is our mission.

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[1] Respectfully Quoted: A Dictionary of Quotations Requested from the Congressional Research Service. Washington D.C.: Library of Congress, 1989; Bartleby.com, 2003. www.bartleby.com/73/.  July 30, 2006.

[2] Wiesel, Ellie, “Night.” New York: Hill & Wang, 1960 (page notation from Bantam Paperbacks edition 1982, pages 61-62).

Of the Faithful, For the Faithful

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday August 14, 2011, the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

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Genesis 45:1-15

Psalm 133

Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

Matthew 15:21-28

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

Covenant, the tie that binds. Covenants are different from contracts. Both are legal agreements, both are between two parties; and that’s where the similarities end. In contracts both parties have obligations to one another. In contracts both parties have to bring something to the table. In contracts both parties can be penalized for failure to honor the agreement. Not so in a covenant. A contract is a legal agreement between two parties but a covenant is an agreement, a promise, one party makes to another.

Covenants are promises made by taking a solemn oath. A couple of weeks ago, our Old Testament reading was what’s known as “Jacob’s Ladder,” the dream containing God’s covenant with Jacob.[1] Jacob receives this promise, “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”[2]

There is a formula to covenant.[3] It began with a solemn promise made binding by an oath. The promise in Jacob’s Ladder was made in verbally. Such an action or formula is recognized by both parties as a formal act which binds the one who makes the promise to fulfill it. In this instance the Lord uses words to make the promise. Jacob recognizes the promise setting a stone as a pillar and pouring oil over it. This is when he names that place Bethel, Hebrew for House of God.

Genesis 37 contains another covenant promise, this one made to Joseph. The promises made to Joseph are symbolic, not verbal. Where Jacob’s promises are declared in plain speech, the promises made to Joseph come in his dreams. Receiving the same promise twice, once represented by the wheat in the field and then again by the stars in the skies, God’s covenant that Joseph will have dominion over his brothers is established and confirmed.

Our Genesis reading from last week seems to erect a detour to this covenant. Joseph is sold into slavery by his brothers and taken to Egypt. It would be logical to assume with your brother sold into slavery you would never have to bow down before him. As the old joke goes: Men plan, God laughs. Today, we read how Joseph’s dreams come true, how the Lord’s covenant is fulfilled.

In our Genesis reading today, we see not only how God’s covenant is fulfilled, but what it means for the promises made to Jacob. In verse five of our reading, we learn how even the brother’s betrayal cannot stop the Lord from keeping his covenant with Joseph. “Do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.” The covenant with Jacob was fulfilled through the covenant with Joseph.

What confidence we can have when we know and trust the Lord because of a personal covenant. Joseph could bear years of slavery knowing that it was all a part of God’s plan. He even tells his brothers “It was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household and ruler of all Egypt.” Yes, Joseph bore pain and indignity of slavery. He was falsely accused and imprisoned, but he knew his place. He knew and trusted God would keep covenant. Joseph lived in faith and trust. By these two covenants working in accord the nation of Israel would grow large and strong in the land of Goshen while the rest of the world languished in famine.

Our reading from Matthew ties its roots back to an even older covenant, a covenant made by God to Abram in Genesis 12, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”[4] This is the root of the saying “salvation comes from the Jews.” The Lord promises Abram not only that he will be made a great nation, but that he and his nation will be a blessing to all the families of the earth.

This blessing is highlighted in Matthew 10 when Jesus sends his disciples out to the world saying, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’”[5] The blessing of the Lord and from the Lord is sent first to the Jews.

This is why Jesus tells the Canaanite woman “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

I think I’ve done a pretty good job of explaining where Jesus was coming from so far. I like to think I’m pretty good at explaining things. One of my favorite pastors was an explainer and listening to his sermons for over five years influenced my preaching style tremendously. One of the things he taught me was if you don’t understand it, don’t try to explain it.

Let me share this with you: I have no idea how to “explain” how and why Jesus responds to Canaanite woman like he did. It rubs me the wrong way to see Jesus so callus, so cavalier to someone who is desperately in need, a need that extends beyond her daughter’s demon possession. She is not a member of the twelve tribes; she is a gentile, a foreigner. There doesn’t seem to be a husband or son to care of the family business. In this society, being what would appear to be a single mother, is another big strike against her and her daughter.

She doesn’t appear to have any money or other goods to trade. Evidently the healing arts of the time were unable to help, assuming the healers of the time would have anything to do with her or her tormented daughter in the first place. She is at her wits end and this is when she sees Jesus on the road.

How did she know he was Jesus of Nazareth? Scripture doesn’t say. Surely she didn’t see his picture in the paper or on the news. He wasn’t wearing a name tag, but she knew him when she saw him. She also knew about him. She called him the Lord and the Son of David, both titles belonging to the Jewish Messiah. She knew he was a healer. She knew he was compassionate. She saw him, she came to him, and she cried her plea, “Have mercy.”

His first response is simply ignoring her. Whether he just kept walking or took a seat and turned his back scripture doesn’t say. Neither would have been comforting. After her second cry, Jesus explains why he denies her with the authoritative answer “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” This answer doesn’t help a lick even though it’s the covenant answer, the “correct” answer. Frankly this answer has all the pastoral sensitivity of nails on a chalkboard. She cries out again and finally after rejecting her twice, he insults her and her entire race. This is my opinion, and I believe many would agree with me; this seems harsh.

Nevertheless it’s his answer and even though it’s the right answer it doesn’t help. Jesus knew his mission and this may sound like a restrictive way to describe God Incarnate, but Jesus knew his place and his place began with the children if Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jesus tells her that the blessing she seeks is not for her, but she points out that the dogs get to lick the floor and pick up the spills. The dogs get to share in the blessings of the master even if they were not intended to receive them.

I can’t explain his words, but this I do know, the blessing of the Lord is overflowing, and even if this woman and her daughter aren’t intended to receive this blessing, they still receive the remains. You see, this Canaanite woman knew her place in Jewish society, a place that didn’t exist. She didn’t count on her status or her power to be entitled to a blessing, but she had faith, faith that God’s overflowing love would be enough for her family.

Last week we heard Peter test Jesus. We heard Peter say “Lord, if it is you tell me to come to you on the water.”[6] Peter wasn’t up to trusting, so he tested. The Canaanite woman does no such thing. She doesn’t say “If you are the Lord” or “If you are the Son of David.” She knows, she believes, and she trusts.

Her faith is greater than Peter’s. That’s right, at this moment the faith of an impoverished Gentile single mother is greater than the faith of the Rock upon which the Church will be built. She is faithful. Jesus declares her faith is great. She cries out.

So what is her faith? Her faith is that Jesus of Nazareth, the Lord, the Son of David is enough. Christ the Messiah is enough for her, her life, and her needs. She’s not entitled to his blessing, yet she has faith. Her faith has nothing to do with deserving his blessing, but that he will bless her even though she doesn’t deserve it. Romans 5:8 says it this way, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.”

This is her faith. She hoped, prayed, and she had faith that while she didn’t deserve what she cried for; it might still be granted. She knew that even though he owed her nothing she had faith that there might be a leftover crumb and that crumb would be enough.

Jesus knows his path, Jesus knows his vocation is first to the nation of Israel, but he also knows that when the cup of his bounty overflows, others will be blessed from the font of many blessings. Jesus is faithful to Israel, and by her faith he is faithful to the Canaanite woman healing her daughter. Saved by grace through faith, this is the foundation of our faith.

God has a plan for salvation. We see its beginnings in Genesis. We see it in the covenant with Abram. We see it in the covenant with Jacob. We see it in the covenant with Joseph. Today we read how Joseph’s covenant plays out and provides for the covenant with Jacob.

God has a plan for salvation which begins with the Jews, and through the Jews all the families of the earth shall be blessed.

If there is something important for us to take from this story, it begins with the fact that God’s love is gracious. It is undeserved. And it is overflowing. Flowing like a great flood, the grace of God in Christ will not be contained. God promised by the faithfulness of Israel the world will be blessed, and the gospel gives the world its first indication of that all the families of the earth shall be blessed.

It is also important for us to know that this new blessing will not come without controversy. This narrative must have been scandalous when it was first shared with the nation that this Canaanite woman is blessed by the Lord. The truth is that when blessings overflow to the feet of outsiders, insiders will not be comfortable. It is up to us to know that what God is doing is not meant to make us comfortable, it is meant to save us.

In Genesis, the Lord established what he will do. In Matthew, the Lord established he will do that and more. God will not be limited, not by culture or even by death. God doesn’t change, but the world does; and God saves the world and all that is in it.

I can’t explain why Jesus said what he said, and especially not how he said it. But I believe to a certain degree I can explain why Jesus did what he did. Jesus is faithful and responds to the faithful. What Matthew shows us is the first time this gracious response touched the gentiles.

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[1] Genesis 28:10-22

[2] Genesis 28: 13b-15

[3] “Covenant,” Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible.

[4] Genesis 12:1b-3

[5] Matthew 10:5b-6

[6] Matthew 14:28

Wondrous Loving Faithfulness

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday May 3, 2009, the 4th Sunday in Easter.

Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

We’re used to hearing “the Good Shepherd.” When we hear it we have a feeling that good means more than just “average” or “adequate.” It means far more than good. In this case, the Good Shepherd means more than “the great” or “the wonderful” or even “the stellar” shepherd. This is the exemplary shepherd. This is the shepherd par excellence. We use phrases like King of kings and Lord of lords to describe Jesus. In this same vein it is proper to call Jesus the Shepherd of shepherds.

The Good Shepherd, there is no more beloved image in Christian scripture than this. Of course we love the shepherd. The shepherd is the one who not only cares for the sheep; the sheep belong to the shepherd’s fold. And as we are told here in John’s gospel, the shepherd knows his sheep and the sheep know the shepherd.

But still, given the status shepherds had in ancient society, this isn’t much of a complement. In our culture, to call someone the Good Shepherd—even the Shepherd of all shepherds is like calling someone the best migrant worker ever.[1] Even at that, we’re talking about the young boy migrant worker, not the family patriarch or matriarch.

As connected as we are to the imagery of the shepherd, we must be connected to not only its beloved image, but its scandalous one too. Shepherds were boys, they weren’t men. They were given a very dangerous job. The pens they guarded were without gates as we know them, the boys themselves served as the gate. When a predator comes to get the sheep, they have to go through the boys first.

This is where comparing the shepherds to migrant workers falls apart. The migrant is a hired hand who moves on to the next crop after the harvest. Putting your life on the line is not something you expect the hired hand to do.

Fighting off the wolf at the door is not mercenary territory. If the worker is in it just for the denarius, they won’t be willing to put themselves on the line when crunch time comes. Someone working for coin can never be expected to put their life on the line. When the demon is at the door, you don’t want the butler to answer, you want family. This is the importance of the son as the shepherd. This is the importance of the Son of Man as the Good Shepherd.

One of the things shepherds bring to mind is the Children’s Christmas Pageant. This reflection on the pageant comes from Ralph F. Wilson, Director of Joyful Heart Renewal Ministries.

Angels are clean. Angels are beautiful. They seem almost otherworldly, since girl angels always seem to know their parts better than boy shepherds do. The angelic satin stuff goes pretty well in most Christmas pageants. The problems come with the shepherdly burlap part.

Wilson continues: Do you know what real-life shepherds were like? Townspeople looked down on them. “Herdsmen!” they’d huff derisively. Shepherds would work with sheep all day, sleep outside with the animals at night and then come into town dirty, sweaty and smelly, like the boys they were. Tradesmen in the marketplace would be polite enough. Shopkeepers would wait on them, but everybody was happy when they moved along. Burlap fits the part.

Angels get clouds and the Hallelujah Chorus. Shepherds get a stable. Maybe cattle lowing has a bit of romance; but conjure up the smells and the filth. This is no stainless steel dairy palace; it’s a crude cave for a barn, with good reason for straw on the floor. Not exactly the setting you'd choose for a birth if you had the luxury of planning ahead.

Angels seem appropriate to the birth of God's son. But straw and sweat and burlap do not.[2]

In biblical times, many different shepherds would pen their sheep together overnight. When it came time to separate the flocks to take them to their grazing areas, the shepherd would call out and his sheep would follow. The sheep wouldn’t follow a shepherd they did not know.

But the Good Shepherd tells those who with ears to listen that they are not the only sheep in his fold. He tells the people “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.” We hear these words knowing that somewhere in this wide world, the grace and peace of the Lord Jesus Christ are not for us alone, there are other sheep in the fold and for this we praise God.

We just do it from the wrong side of the pen.

For you see, the people whom Jesus is addressing are named in John 9:40. With his discussion of the Good Shepherd and the sheep fold Jesus is responding to the Pharisees. It is Israel that is the sheep who know the voice of the Good Shepherd. The people who are Jesus’ own are the Jews, not us.

So often as Christians we think of ourselves as the first love of the Lord, and we are not. We are the other sheep. We are the sheep who do not belong to the named fold.

We aren’t first, but with thanks and praise be to the wondrous loving faithfulness of our Lord, we are next. It is together, not as separate peoples or different denominations but as the assembled children of God that we hear the voice of the Good Shepherd. When we hear the voice of the Shepherd we come together as one flock.

And it is for the shepherd’s love for his flock that he lays down his life. Every time the shepherd fills the gate, he protects the sheep from predators, predators that would think nothing of a stringy boy before getting to the fat sheep. From the Easter story, we too know how this pertains to us. Jesus lays down his life for us, and picks it up again three days later.

In a few minutes, we will sing our hymn of response to the love of God the Father and the work of the Son Jesus Christ, “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” [3] We sing:

Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

Great is thy faithfulness.
Great is thy faithfulness.
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed thy hand hath provided;
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

Later we’ll sing “What Wondrous Love Is This.”[4] We’ll sing:

What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the heavy cross for my soul, for my soul.

We sing to the wondrous loving faithfulness of the God who comes and walks among us as a simple man; the God who voluntarily empties himself of his glory and takes upon himself the dangerous work of the shepherd; the God who not only lays down his life, put picks it up again for us. God incarnate lays down and picks up his life again of his own accord. He does this as the father has commanded. The Son of God and the Son of Man does as the lowliest shepherd boy, he does as his father commands.

The Hebrew word used for the love of God is hesed. Hesed is bold and unpredictable. It is unorthodox and unbound by convention and culture. It is a love which only God is capable; it is a love we are called to imitate and follow. We are called to be immersed in the hesed of the Lord. Only by first being immersed in this wondrous loving faithfulness can we share it with others.

Biblical scholar Carolyn Custis James writes hesed is “driven, not by duty or legal obligation, but by a bone-deep commitment—a loyal, selfless love that motivates a person to do voluntarily what no one has a right to expect or ask of them.”[5] By the wondrous loving faithfulness of Jesus we are saved; saved by who he is and what he does.

Our reading from 1John reminds us that as Christ laid down his life for us, we ought to lay down our lives for one another. Our response to God’s hesed, God’s wondrous loving faithfulness, is expressed by the Reverend William Sloane Coffin who said “duty calls only when gratitude fails to prompt.”[6] We are to faithfully respond to the love of God through thanksgiving.

Returning to the song “Wondrous Love”:

And when from death I'm free, I'll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity I'll sing on, I'll sing on,
And through eternity I'll sing on!

Let us sing on in thanks. Let us be moved by the bone deep commitment that motivates us to do voluntarily what no one has the right to ask or expect. Let us follow not out of duty, but out of gratitude for the Good Shepherd.

[1] Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor Eds. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008, pages 448-453.
[2] Ralph F. Wilson, "Burlap, Boys, and Christmas," The Joyful Heart, December 23, 1997, www.joyfulheart.com found at HomeliticsOnline.com, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1661, retrieved May 2, 2009.
[3] Text by Thomas Obediah Chisholm, Music by William Marion Runyan, “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” Carol Stream, IL: Hope Publishing Company. Copyright 1923, renewal 1951.
[4] American Folk Hymn, 1811
[5] Custin James, Carolyn, “The Gospel of Ruth, Loving God Enough to Break the Rules.” Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008, page 115.
[6] Coffin, William Sloane, The Collected Sermons of William Sloane Coffin, The Riverside Years, Volume 1, Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008, page 354.

Real Miracles Are Scary

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday August 31, 2008, the 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time.

Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 16:21-28

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen

Coming into Omaha, Nebraska on US 75 there is a sign. I hope I remember it properly, “Beware. Do not be alarmed by the sound of jets overhead.” Believe me; that caught my attention. You see, just south of Omaha is Offutt Air Force Base. Offutt is the home of the 55th Wing Air Combat Command. It is also the home of the U.S. Strategic Command, the successor agency to the Strategic Air Command.[1] With credentials like these and suburban sprawl out of Omaha, it’s no wonder a highway passes close enough to the end of a runway to deserve a sign.

But as I read the sign, one thought crossed my mind, if a jet comes barreling off of a runway at an altitude of twenty feet screaming past at Mach 2, I’m going to be alarmed. It’s just as easy as that and the world better get used to it.

I first saw this sign on my way into Omaha in the summer of 1983. So if the noise and sight of a jet screaming by weren’t enough, the global political situation of the day didn’t help. It was early in the Reagan years; the Soviet Premier was Yuri Andropov; and the diplomatic phrase du jour was “escalation of the cold war.” Who knew what a jet leaping out of SAC Headquarters was carrying? Whatever it was had the capacity to be very, very scary.

And they didn’t want me to be alarmed? So sorry, if I had seen a jet coming off that runway I would have seriously considered becoming one of those guys with the sign that says “The End Is Near” as soon as I crawled from the wreckage of my Ford Granada.

Often, the response to “fear not” is the same as the response to “heads up.” When we hear “heads up” often we look up, and shouldn’t. When we hear “fear not” often we’re afraid. But being afraid doesn’t matter as much as how we react to being afraid.

As our reading from Exodus begins, Moses is tending the herds of his father-in-law on the piedmont of the mountain of God, Mount Horeb. There he sees a bush burning, but not being consumed. Aflame but not burning; is it a miracle? If it’s not it’s a good trick. Moses goes to take a better look.

When the Lord saw that Moses had turned toward the bush, God called out to him from the bush by name. Moses answered, “Here I am.”

Let’s give Moses a break, what are you going to say to a bush that calls you by name? Again, is it a miracle? If it’s not it’s a real good trick.

Then the Lord said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground. I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

A bush burns without burning, a bush talks without moving its lips, and the voice says, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” No wonder Moses was afraid to look.

Proverbs starts with the oft quoted “Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Moses picked that up quickly.

Moses was afraid to look at God. One of the heroes of the Judeo-Christian people was afraid. If I’m just a little bit frightened at the prospect of a jet buzzing my car at Mach 2, I can only imagine myself in Moses’ sandals.

The Lord continues by reviewing the recent history of the Israelites in Egypt. Surely Moses remembers what Egypt was like from when he was a young man, now the Lord is giving Moses the updates from the front lines. The Lord has heard their cries and will deliver the nation from Egypt.

The Lord directs Moses, “So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.”

Moses answers God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”

God says “I will send you.” Moses says, “Who am I that I should go?” God answers, “I will be with you.”

We have a bush that burns but doesn’t burn. We have a bush with a voice, and the voice identifies itself as the Lord. But dare I say these are not the miracles we should stake our faith upon.

Our reading from Matthew shows the Apostle Peter flexing his fear just like Moses.

“From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Now I ask, does that scare you? If it doesn’t, I think it’s only because we are used to looking at this from our side of Easter. When we read this, we say, “Amen” knowing this is exactly what happens, giving the glory to God. But at that time, in the moment, the disciples heard a tale that would make a horror movie director take note, ending with the most improbable finale of all.

Now, I’m willing to bash Peter, in the gospels his mouth is often engaged before his mind finds a gear. This case is a common example used to show Peter’s bluster. But I want us to reconsider Peter’s state for a second. What if Peter is not speaking out of bluster, what if he is speaking out of fear?

And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” In fear, it seems more like he is recoiling in horror than denying the Lord. Maybe, just maybe Peter is shocked and terrified instead of pretentious.

Still Jesus knows his mission, his vocation. He knows his work is heavenly, not worldly. Jesus tells Peter “fear not the things of the earth” when he says, “You are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

The Lord is Emmanuel, God with us. And this is where Moses and Peter must place their faith, in the Lord who is with them. Burning bushes are great, but the miracle of God with us is the only true miracle we have. We depend on this miracle. We depend on the faithfulness of God.

In 1992, Paramount Pictures released “Leap of Faith”[2] starring Steve Martin as the Reverend Jonas Nightengale, an “evangelist” who is more con man than man of God. When one of the Kenworth trucks in his caravan breaks down in Rustwater, Kansas, he makes the choice to turn lemons into lemonade by holding his revival there instead of Topeka.

Like any good con man, he finds the greatest need in town and exploits it. Rustwater is in a five year drought and if it doesn’t rain this weekend, the crop will be ruined again this year. On the first day of the revival, before the meeting, Jonas walks around town inviting everyone, promising miracles and wonders.

Roger Ebert’s review in the Chicago Sun-Times said: “‘Leap of Faith’… begins as an expose, develops into a social commentary, and ends… without really ending. I'm not talking about what happens just before the end, but about the way the screenplay never really develops that, never completes the arc of the preacher's character.

“Maybe the ending is seen as open; I see it as inconclusive, a cop-out.”[3]

I see the ending differently from Mr. Ebert. A theological look gives me a different perspective.

At the end of the movie, Jonas experiences an epiphany of God’s grace and mercy. The sick are healed and the lame walk in Rustwater. Everyone praises God and says halleluiah. They have seen the signs and wonders and they give glory to God. But these healings are not the miracles.

As Jonas leaves the revival tent for the last time, he is met with the vision of a tent city on the revival grounds. People are camping, and sharing food. In their poverty, they share the abundance of God. A community founded in Christ rises out of the ash of chicanery. This is a miracle.

As Jonas hitchhikes out of town leaving his old life behind, it begins to rain. The people of Rustwater declare it a miracle, rain heaven sent and the crop is saved. But this is not the miracle either.

The miracle is the redemption of a man in Jesus Christ. The miracle is in the relationship God initiates with creation and humanity. The miracle is Jonas’ response to the Almighty God.

Ebert calls this ending to the movie “inconclusive.” I agree that we don’t know how Jonas Nightengale will handle his redemption. We don’t know what shape it will take, but the movie gives us a clue to answering the question of Jonas’ redemption.

Early in the movie while Jonas is walking around town, he is asked if he is a fake. He answers, “Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. But if I get the job done what difference does it make?” The difference is that Jonas doesn’t get the job done at all. Getting the job done was never up to Jonas.

The Lord takes Jonas’ earthly con and brings glory to God and redemption to a man who truly needs redeeming. We don’t know where Jonas will go from here, but with confidence we know God’s redeeming work has begun in Jonas through Jesus Christ.

We don’t know what shape redemption will take, but that’s what’s wonderful about movies. We don’t have to know how Jonas’ life ends because we can see how it begins. We see how new life begins in the light of redemption, and for me that is enough for a movie.

The sins of Moses, Peter, and Jonas Nightengale are not so woeful that they can overwhelm the sovereignty of God or the depth of God’s grace. What we are given in our readings from Exodus and Matthew are the beginnings of lives redeemed. We see how two simple human beings live in the presence of God.

We live in changing times with scary demands. Being afraid is a common reaction to change. One thing we take from our readings is that Moses and Paul were faced with fear. Even the heroes of the faith get frightened.

The other thing we take is that the Lord is ever faithful. Whether Moses at the bush or before Pharaoh, whether Peter at Caesarea Philippi or before the crowds at Pentecost; the Lord was with them giving them what they needed to complete the task they had been called to undertake. As heroes of the faith they are called to their God given vocation, so too are we. We are called to be the body of Christ on earth continuing the good work started in Christ Jesus.

Fear happens. It happened to Moses. It happened to Peter. It happens to us. But fear must never paralyze us. When fear paralyzes us, it is when we set our minds on human things instead of the divine. This is when we become stumbling blocks to the Lord. Fear must never be the red light on the highway of life. It should be like a flashing yellow light, we approach with caution, but when the way is clear we go. God leads the way, watch for the signs, slow down when necessary, keep an eye to heavenly things, and follow where God leads.

[1] Offutt Air Force Base, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Offutt_Air_Force_Base, retrieved August 25, 2008.
[2] Paramount Pictures presents a Michael Manheim/David V. Picker production of a Richard Pearce film, Leap of Faith, 1992, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104695, retrieved October 7, 2004.
[3] Ebert, Roger, “Leap of Faith-Movie Review” Chicago Sun-Times, October18, 1992, http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19921218/REVIEWS/212180302/1023, retrieved August 25, 2008.

Steadfast, not Inflexible

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday August 17, 2008, the 20th Sunday of Ordinary Time.

Genesis 45:1-15
Psalm 133
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
Matthew 15:21-28

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

A recent Harris poll[1] asked Americans to name their favorite book. Number one on that list was “The Holy Bible.” This is what the article had to say about scripture:

The most popular and best-selling book of all time is The Holy Bible. No book has had more influence on the world. Its pages tell the story of the creation, fall, and redemption of mankind. Relive the story of creation and the fall of man in Genesis. Cross the wilderness with Moses in Exodus. Welcome the coming of Jesus Christ in the Gospels. The Holy Bible contains epic stories of history, heroism, and hope.

Somehow, I don’t think today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel was the first story that came to the minds of readers who picked The Holy Bible as their favorite book.

There are a lot of things that are troublesome with this reading. Jesus keeps on while a woman begs and pleads for mercy. After the disciples try to shoo her away, she pleads directly to the Rabbi who tells her he tells he was not sent for her or her people. Then in a none too subtle allusion, he calls her and her entire people dogs. I know I get cranky when dinner gets interrupted; still, my activities aren’t read and interpreted in worship. Thank God.

Troublesome is one way to describe Jesus’ behavior. How can we as the disciples of Jesus rationalize this abominable behavior? It isn’t up to us to sugar coat any of it, but it is up to us to try to understand it a little better.

To understand this, we need a little bit of history. As I have said before, the book of Matthew was written by Jewish followers of Jesus for Jewish followers of Jesus. It wasn’t even written as a way to bring new Jewish believers into the community.[2] It was written to instruct the Jewish Christian community in their own faith and clarify it so there would be fewer misunderstandings.

So if we want to say that this reading in particular or the gospel of Matthew in general confuses us; that’s all right because it wasn’t meant for us. Furthermore, our Christian reading set 2,000 years later is a recipe for misunderstanding.

I bring this up to draw your attention to verse 24 as Jesus responds to the Canaanite woman saying, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” Given the first audience of this gospel, this verse was an important endorsement of the covenant between the Lord and Abram.
Genesis 17 begins:

The LORD appeared to Abram, and said to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous. This is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you. And I will give to you, and to your offspring after you, the land where you are now an alien, all the land of Canaan, for a perpetual holding; and I will be their God.”[3]

Now this is a promise Abraham and those who follow him could sink their teeth into. The Lord would be their God and they would be God’s people. This is the promise which the Jews of Matthew’s day had been waiting to have fulfilled for generations. The kingdom that was foretold here becomes realized first in the Kingdom of David. Jesus as the Son of David brings the Kingdom into the days of Matthew.

This is the promise that was saved when Pharaoh’s right hand man, Zaphenath-paneah saves, the family of Jacob from a seven year drought through Canaan and Egypt. This Egyptian name means “the god speaks and the one who bears the name lives,”[4] and it is a fitting name for a child of the covenant, the great grandson of Abraham, Joseph.

As Joseph meets his brothers in our reading from Genesis, revealing his identity to them, he tells them not to be grieved or angry with themselves. Joseph tells his brothers that God sent him before them to preserve life for the children of Abraham in Egypt. Joseph’s place in Egypt was the work of the Lord God saving the covenant from devastation, not the work of jealous brothers.

In the past I have told you that I am not comfortable with such a fatalistic cause-and-effect outlook on life. I find the Lord too utterly different to ascribe what I think are God’s motivations to earthly actions. I just don’t have the mind of God. My capacities are far too limited compared to the mind of God.

But just because this is my take, it doesn’t mean it was the opinion of those who wrote and edited and copied the wonderful five books of Moses. In fact, their world view and mind set were perfectly able to make those connections without my modern concern. It was a part of the ancient Hebrew view of creation, so this sort of cause and effect was common in the first five books of the Old Testament.

In the same way, the view of Matthew’s community of Jewish Christians knew the truth that the Son of David was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel. Matthew’s audience knew this to be true.

Paul’s letter to the Romans reminded the church of Jesus Christ and the nation of Israel of the same thing as he said, “God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew.”

But this is where the view of Matthew’s community of Jewish Christians became challenged by their Messiah. Jesus challenges his people to remember not just God’s covenant with Abram, but also Abram’s call from Genesis 12, “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing… and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”[5] Yes, Jesus was their savior, sent only to the lost sheep of Israel, but the Lord’s steadfast love was always a promise that extends beyond his first people and on to all of creation.

Paul’s letter to the Romans reminded the church of Jesus Christ and the nation of Israel of the same thing as he said, “for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.”

As Jesus told the woman of his people, the children of Abraham, she spoke to his full call, to be a blessing by whom all the families of the earth shall be blessed.

Jesus knew his first love, the people of Israel. He also knew the grand scope of his vocation and his mission, to be a blessing to all the families of the earth, spoken by the most unlikely of people.

A woman who has no standing; of the people of Canaan which has no standing; for a little girl who is demon possessed whose youth, gender, race, and ailment cause her to have no standing four times; it is she whose faith overwhelms her place in society to call upon the Lord.

Her faith was demonstrated when she argued with Jesus in the same way one Rabbi argues with another. Her faith was called great when she said “even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Her faith was called great when she showed that she knew the call of the people of Abraham and the Son of David was called to be a blessing to all the earth.

Oh yes, she had a lot of gumption to come to the Lord. Her bravery, the bravery of a she-bear protecting her cub, took her to the Lord. But it was not her bravery that caused Jesus to, if you’ll pardon the modern cliché, cause him to stop in his tracks, it was her faith. And by her faith, the Lord showed that his love for all creation was steadfast, but not inflexible.

There is always a chicken-and-egg question that pops up here. Did Jesus respond to the woman because she bested him in a debate or did Jesus respond to the woman when she gave the answer he knew to be correct all along? I say this question, as provocative as it is, lacks real importance. It is her faith which Jesus rewards; not her William Jennings Bryant quality oratory skills, not her fine rabbinical debate style, not even a system of didactic reward and punishment. It is by her faith that Jesus responds faithfully.

This is the promise to all the earth. This is promise given in the call to Abram. This is the promise Paul reminds the world in Romans. The people of Abram, the children of the covenant, the children of the Son of David will be a blessing to all the earth. By our faith we participate in this gift. By our faith we receive the steadfast love of the glorious eternal triune God.

Mogopa, a village to the west of Johannesburg, was to be demolished and its inhabitants forcibly removed at gunpoint to a homeland in apartheid’s forced population-removal schemes. On the eve of their departure, a vigil with church leaders from all over South Africa was held in Mogopa. The village clinics, shops, schools and churches had already been demolished. At about midnight, an elder of the doomed village got up to pray, and he prayed, “God, thank you for loving us so much.” Several years later, apartheid died and the people of Mogopa have returned to their village, which they are rebuilding.[6]

It is by faith that in the demolition and pending forced relocation of a city, a people can give thanks to God for the Lord’s steadfast love. It would be all too tempting to believe God is unfaithful or at least silent during such a horrible time, in such a horrible situation. Yet still, while their village is about to be scattered to the four winds by the practitioners of apartheid, one village elder remembered to be faithful because in steadfast love, God is faithful first.

God is steadfast, but God is not inflexible. Our Lord Jesus knew his first place was with the people of Israel. And he knew that by Israel being blessed, Israel would be a blessing to the world. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ; we are now all children of the covenant. Even in the times when the village is to be scattered, even when the crumbs from the master’s table don’t seem to be enough to fuel our faith, we are still the children of God.

By God’s steadfast love we are saved; saved by grace through faith. Christ’s church was founded on his steadfast love, not bound by our sinfully human views of who is loved by God. Our love can only be partial, but our faith must be not in our love, but in the hope of Jesus Christ. In steadfast hope we can look beyond all partial achievement to the final triumph of God.

[1] “10 Books to Read Before You Die.” Based on the results of a Harris Poll that asked 2,413 U.S. adults to name their favorite books, http://shopping.aol.com/articles/2008/07/08/10-books-to-read-before-you-die/, retrieved August 16, 2008.
[2] The New Interpreters’ Bible. Vol. VIII. Leander Keck, General Editor, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, page 100
[3] This reading from the New Revised Standard Version has deleted Abram’s responses to the Lord.
[4] Zaphenath-paneah, Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible
[5] Genesis 12:2, 3, NRSV
[6] A Mogopa elder, quoted by Desmond Tutu, “An African Prayer Book.” New York: Doubleday, 1995, page 66. Found at Homiletics.com, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1218, retrieved August 16, 2008.

Apology

This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville Arkansas on Sunday September 23, 2007, the 25th week of Ordinary Time.

Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

There is an organization of about 200 New Testament scholars who refer to their studies as the Jesus Seminar. The seminar’s objective is to use historical methods to determine what Jesus may or may not have said and done as a historical figure. Through this, the seminar popularizes research into what is known as the Quest for the Historical Jesus.[1] Theologians speak of Jesus as being fully human and fully divine. The Jesus Seminar is interested in uncovering the words and acts of the fully human Jesus of Nazareth.

The Jesus Seminar has caused controversy among biblical scholars of all stripes for many reasons. Perhaps the most controversial aspect of these studies is the method they use to make a final determination about the probable authenticity of a “Jesus saying.”

They assign a color to the text based on the probability that it is genuine. They use red for sayings they consider to be indisputably the words of Jesus and black for those they deem almost certainly not. Of course, there are also pink and gray designations awarded because in this life, little is black and red. In the end, the recommendations for the color of a text are tallied like votes, and the winning color determines the seminar’s decision on the authenticity of the saying.

As unusual as this method is for evaluating scholarship, one of the more distressing outcomes of the Jesus Seminar is the swath of black—or at least gray—that their investigations are cutting in some of the most cherished gospel texts. The flash of red appears all too infrequently for the comfort of those who still hope to find glimpses of the human Jesus on the pages of their Bibles.

Today’s gospel reading is unusual in many respects, not the least of which is its glorious red color in the eyes of most of the Jesus Seminar scholars. At least the central core of the so-called “parable of the dishonest manager,” Luke 16:1 through the first half of verse 8, is considered to be authentic to more than 75% of Jesus Seminar members.

But our delight in this assertion quickly dissipates when we realize that we have just declared one of the oddest, most unsatisfying, and consequently, most controversial and ignored parables, to be the genuine thoughts and words of Jesus.[2]

Among scholars, there are nearly as many variant interpretations of the parable of the dishonest manager as there are articles written about it. Here’s my two cents on the debate. I believe that the first part of our reading, verses 1 through 8a is the meat of the parable and the remainder is commentary, an explanation of the parable added to help the listener understand it.

There are two things to note about the comments on the parable, verses 8b through 13. First is that the comments that follow the parable are very important lessons, all four of them.

The first comment is that the children of this age are more shrewd than the children of light in dealing with other children of this age. There is a certain something that those willing to lie, cheat, and steal bring to negotiations with others willing to lie, cheat, and steal that the children of light, the children of God do not bring. And since the children of light choose not to bring lies and so on, this isn’t a bad thing. It’s also not as much a lesson as it is an observation.

The second interpretation tells the listener to make friends by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, others of dishonest wealth will welcome us into the eternal homes. That’s what it says and it makes no better sense in Greek. There is no little nuance missing that makes this any more satisfying. I only hope it is an eternal home for those the prior verse calls the children of this age, not the children of light. Earn ill-gotten gains so that should you ever go broke you will be welcomed into eternal homes built on ill-gotten gains. All right, good to know, I don’t know for what, but it’s good to know.

The third lesson comes in several variations over the next three verses. These explanations deal with being trustworthy. If you are faithful in one thing, you will be faithful in all things and if you are unfaithful in one thing, you will be unfaithful in all things. It doesn’t matter whether you are honest or not, it doesn’t matter whether the gains are ill-gotten or not, and it doesn’t matter whether the things are yours are not. If you are responsible with little, you will be responsible with much and likewise if you are irresponsible with little, you will be irresponsible with much. Good lesson here for both a manager and an employer.

The fourth lesson is that nobody can serve two masters, one will be loved and the other will be hated; so it is impossible to serve both God and wealth. This is so very true.

These four comments are important lessons. But this leads us to the other thing about these explanations of the parable of the dishonest manager: Most of the lessons don’t really apply to the parable and those that do aren’t the ones we want to emulate and teach our children.

The first two lessons, the lessons of the shrewdness of the children of this age and friends of dishonest wealth aren’t really great lessons. As true as they are, in the eternal life they aren’t that valuable. Yes, the master does commend the dishonest manager for his shrewd actions, but that doesn’t really mean we want our children to abandon seeking to be the children of light in favor of becoming the children of this age. And I really hope it doesn’t mean we should encourage anyone to earn dishonest wealth so they will be welcome into eternal homes built by more dishonest wealth.

As for the others, they are wonderful lessons to teach, but they don’t especially flow from the parable. Here the parable is a lesson focused around an unrighteous manager and the lessons that follow here are if you are faithful with little you will be faithful with much. The lesson of the two masters doesn’t really jibe with the parable, especially the master’s commendation of the dishonest manager.

It’s not that I don’t think these lessons don’t belong in the bible. In fact, parallels of these sayings can be found in the Gospels of John and Matthew. The “friends of dishonest wealth” lesson matches the saying in John 12:36-43 where we are warned against loving human glory more than glory that comes from God. The lessons of being trusted with little and much are found in Matthew 25 in the parable of the talents. Finally, Matthew 6:24 contains the saying about serving two masters, but in Matthew’s gospel it stands alone.[3] These are good lessons; it just looks like Luke tacked them somewhere they really don’t belong.

I think Luke was trying to explain this odd parable to later generations of listeners. Being an odd little parable, I know I want some interpretation and so I imagine others did too; so Luke added these. But this is just a little more proof that interpreting a parable is like trying to put a tux on a pig, and this hog isn’t ready for his fraternity formal.

Again, this is my opinion: one of the problems with these interpretations being tacked onto this passage deals with the original intent of the parable and the original intent of the interpretations. Our reading begins, “Then Jesus said to the disciples…” The intent of this parable is to inform the disciples. The commentary that follows was added to inform later readers. This distinction is actually very important. There are two different ways to teach theology, one way is called dogmatics and the other is called apologetics.

Dogmatics are intended for those who all ready believe and seek to learn more. Apologetics are for those who do not believe and those who are new believers to the faith. In a way, the parable which was intended for the disciples was dogmatic and the interpretations that followed were apologetic. I think that this mixing of messages is why this is so confusing.[4]

So what’s the difference? There are some things you would say to disciples who have been following you for a couple of years that you wouldn’t say to people you have just met. There are things you try to teach someone who has an expertise in a subject that you wouldn’t try to teach to a novice. There are things you would teach in a graduate school theology seminar you wouldn’t say in a children’s sermon. So when the dogmatic lesson to the disciples is combined with apologetics meant for the masses, they come together in very poorly. And so it is here. We have an odd parable with even odder interpretation.

Years ago, I heard the story of a grade school student who was rather lazy with his homework.[5] Because of his laziness, he was failing social studies. Come the end of the semester, his teacher was adamant that he turn in his final project, so were his parents for that matter. So he asked the question, “What grade am I getting in this class?” His teacher replied, “An ‘F.’” So he asked another question, “And if I turn in my final project, what will I get in this class?” His teacher replied again, “An ‘F.’” The boy shrugged. After that, there was nothing his teacher or his folks could say to get him to lift a finger on the project.

When I heard this story, I had to give the boy credit. He was not even ten years old and he had figured out the principle of this parable. He doesn’t do the work, he gets an “F,” he does the work; he gets an “F.” What’s the difference? So I give him credit, just like Jesus commended the dishonest servant, but here’s the rub: This boy can explain his actions using commendable earthly wisdom all he wants, but if this boy never changes his ways, I would not trust him with anything of value, nor do I believe Jesus trusts an unfaithful servant of the age with his age to come.

In a theological context, the word apologetics means explanation. And from the same root we get the word apology, an expression of regret or remorse. I do not think that Jesus wants our explanations or remorse, our apologies. The all knowing, living Lord of life sees our actions. An explanation is not in order. Grief and sorrow are not very productive either. Instead, what we are called to do, something the unrighteousness servant in the parable never does, is confess. Only through confession can there be forgiveness. Explanation is not enough. Sorrow is not enough. We are called to confess our sins against God and against each other. And every Sunday, we confess our sins together. And together we are called to change, to repent.

We need what we can never achieve on our own. We need God’s forgiveness through Christ’s intercession. We pray that we will be filled anew with the Holy Spirit so that we may faithfully obey God’s will. Only through confession of our vengeful, resentful, angry, deceitful, selfish desires can we receive the Lord’s forgiveness. And only through this forgiveness can we be reconciled to God and one another. Only through Jesus’ sacrifice is our relationship with God and with one another redeemed.[6]

Give the dishonest manager credit for what he has done. He has proven himself untrustworthy and unrepentant. He is shrewd and he is sly, but he is not wise and he is not among the children of light. Only when he comes to terms with the fact that he needs more than just his wits will he become wise. Only then will he be able to hear the small still voice of God that goads him toward leaving the eternal home of the unrighteous and through confession and repentance lead him into eternal life.

Beware the shrewd manager. He has much to teach that is not worth learning. His teachings take us away from life and toward something that only resembles life. Instead, let us confess our sins against God and against one another, and with that, exchange signs of God’s peace and love with one another. May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. And also with you. Amen.

[1] Jesus Seminar, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus_Seminar, accessed September 22, 2007
[2] Much of this section is directly and indirectly taken from HomileticsOnline.com, Commentary Section for “The Truth of Love,” http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/commentary_display.asp?installment_id=2976&item_id=25562, accessed August 20, 2007.
[3] These references were found consulting the column index apparatus in: The United Bible Societies and Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft Stuttgart, The Greek New Testament. Aland, Black, Martini, Metzger, and Wikgren, editors in cooperation with the Institute for New Testament Textual Research. Fourth Edition, Münster: Westphalia, 1966, 1968, 1975 (by the UBS) and 1993, 1994 (by the DBS)
[4] This is my opinion and hypothesis. I found no commentary that forwarded this particular argument. It may be worthless, but it may also begin some discussion.
[5] True story, the names are withheld to protect the guilty.
[6] This paragraph is based on the Confession of Sin found in Kirk, James G., When We Gather. Louisville, KY: Geneva Press, 2001, page 343.