Scripture: 1 Peter 2:9-10 and Colossians 1:15-20
The other day I had rented the movie The Gangs of New York, a fascinating but very violent movie by director Martin Scorsese. Like most movies that come on DVDs these day it contained bonus features and extra material. One of those features on this DVD was a guided tour through this elaborate movie set that enabled the director and actors to film long extended scenes without ever having to stop the action. As Martin Scorsese guided viewers through the movie set, it didn’t take long to realize that for as elaborate and detailed as the set was, it was still just exactly that, a movie set – a series of facades designed to give the appearance of 19th century New York City. If you walked through what looked like a door in that set, you quickly found yourself amid piles of unused movie props, plywood, and empty paint cans. These elaborate scenes were created by artificial walls behind which there was nothing but meaningless emptiness.
This morning we enter theological world three – the world of the outcast – it is a lot like walking through an elaborate movie set. The theological world of the outcast begins when we realize that everything that we have built up in our lives is empty. There is nothing meaningful or significant behind it. The outcast realizes that the image of ourselves that we have portrayed to the world, isn’t who we really are. We are like a movie set or someone who has gone through life wearing a mask. The burning question for those living in the theological world of the outcast is, “Who am I?”I have been building up these facades and wearing these masks for so long that I have forgotten – or I never even knew – who I really am.
These questions can arise over a lifetime. Often those who are “invisible” in society find their home in the theological world of the outcast. Women who are never given a voice, minorities whose issues are overlooked, the poor and lower social classes who contributions are demeaned frequently live as outcasts where they are forgotten or forced to be someone or something they are not. All of us can find ourselves thrust into the world of the outcast by subtle shifts or sudden transitions in life: the loss of a job, retirement, relocation, divorce, or the death of a loved one. These events can cause us to ask ourselves, “Who am I, and what is all this that I have built up around myself?” The feeling that dominates the world of the outcast is ache at not knowing myself fully.
The problem or the issue here is within me. What is missing in self awareness. Whereas the question for the theological world of the alien is “where is my home and how do I escape this world to get there?” and the question for the theological world or the warrior is “how do I make this world all that God has promised it to be?” the question for the outcast is “how to I become the person God is calling me to be in this moment?” The rhythm of this world is emptiness and fulfillment.
If you have ever walked into a room and felt like nobody noticed you, you might live in the world of the outcast. If you ever feel like the work you do goes unappreciated, if you feel like whatever you are deeply passionate about is always overlooked, if you feel like you live in a glass box that you cannot escape from to enjoy the world you see on the outside, you might be living in this theological world of the outcast. The longing in this world is for belonging. The outcast needs to know that he or she matters not only to him or herself but to somebody else. So the church can be of vital importance to the outcast.
As we shift from describing the dilemma of living in the theological world of the outcast to exploring how Jesus comes to the assistance of the outcast, let’s take a look at the movie trailer for the 1991 movie City Slickers because it provides for us an excellent summary or parable of life in the world of the outcast.
In the movie City Slickers Mitch, played by Billy Cristal, has lost his purpose in life. He has lost his smile. He wakes up on his birthday and realizes that his job, his marriage, his life has become empty. There is no joy in living; there is no joy in being Mitch. At best he is just going through the motions of life. But we hear in our Scripture reading from 1 Peter 2 this morning that this type of ho-hum, unfulfilled, unrealized life is not what God desires for us. 1 Peter tells us that God has chosen us and brought us out of darkness and into light. The theological task of the outcast is to live life to its fullest – to find our purpose or as Jack Palance put it City Slickers: to find that “one thing.” I wish I could say that “one thing” is X or Y or Z, but I can’t. Remember the outcast is one who asks, “Who am I?” and so for every person who asks this question there is probably a different answer.
Amid that ambiguity here is the assurance given to us: that the fullness of life has come to dwell in Jesus Christ. Jesus is the example of all that God hopes for our lives. The outcast can continue living because Jesus Christ has come to us as the supreme model. Because the fullness of life has been revealed in Jesus we can pursue that fullness of life. Jesus is there to teach us and guide us as we become the people God is calling us to be. Think of Mitch and Curly – the city slicker and the hardened cowboy – Mitch couldn’t break out of his personal prison until he encountered that model cowboy, that guy who was tougher than leather. Mitch needed that example held out for him to challenge him to become all that he could be. Curly/Jack Palance is Jesus luring us/loving us/accepting us into new possibilities in our lives.
In this sense Jesus becomes an enabler. I know that enablers are often thought of in a negative light. One can enable bad behaviors or one can enable good behaviors. Christ came living in the fullness and freedom of life so that we to may live in the fullness and freedom of life in God.
The beauty of the word of the outcast is that it calls each one of us to become the wholeness that Jesus Christ lived out. The good news not just for those who live in the world of the outcast but for all of us is that God values each one of us as individuals. The good news is that God has something great in store for each of us. Jesus is there luring or enticing us toward that goal of fulfillment.
Monday, August 17, 2009
World Two: The Warrior -- Conflict and Vindication
Scripture: Mark 10:42-45 and 1 Peter 1:17-21
As we enter theological world two – the world of the warrior – it is a world epitomized by Tom Joad, the main character in John Steinbeck’s classic Depression-era novel and the subsequent movie The Grapes of Wrath. The Joad family, and many others like it during that time, were thrown off of their family farm Oklahoma by a huge banking conglomerate who owned the land. The Joads head west toward California looking for work, struggling to survive, and seeking respectability. As they find only hatred and exploitation along their journey, Tom Joad realizes that he must stand up and serve not just himself, not just his family, but all of those who share that same struggle. Let’s take a look at what Tom realizes toward the end of the story:
Tom realizes what many who find themselves in the world of the warrior come to realize: that life too often becomes a matter of survival of the fittest where the weak are devoured, the meek are destroyed, powerless are exploited, the poor are cut down and forgotten, and the winners keep making rules for their own benefit. So bleak does this situation in which we live become that the burning question for those who living in the theological world of the warrior is, “Why are we doing this when life is filled with so much pain, suffering, and struggle? Why is there so much suffering, sin, evil, and injustice in the world?
The more we look around the more we realize that the world is filled with brokenness, and pain and struggle. We see wars around the world – both wars our country is involved in and civil wars in countries we hardly knew existed; we see politicians serving special interests and taking bribes literally filling their freezers with dirty money; we see famine and natural disasters that kill thousands and even millions of God’s children; we see women and children who live in homes where they are abused; we see families lined up at the food bank because they can’t earn enough to feed all the hungry mouths at the dinner table; we see students going to school without the basic supplies they need to learn. These tragedies which might make people in other theological worlds cry and weep incites within the warrior a fury. The feeling that dominates the world of the warrior is anger going so far as rage at the injustices and the pain of the world.
The warrior has a sense that something is not right with the world. Like going for a walk in any patch of woods here in Hickory County and coming out coated in ticks – sometimes so tiny you can hardly even see them – there is a parasite loose sucking the life out of the world and its people. There is an unwanted third wheel tagging along in our journey with God. Life is like a pot of stew boiling on the stove where a malicious cook has come and added too much salt ruining the whole pot. The warrior knows that there is a foe, an enemy at work in the world. The rhythm of this world is conflict and vindication. There is a force to be actively opposed in the world. Call it sin, call it the demonic, call it Satan, call it what you will, there is a power that must be defeated. God must be vindicated, or defended, or justified. This tells us that God is choosing sides, right and wrong.
If you like life is a joke with a forgotten punch line or a mystery novel with the last page ripped out so that you never know how the mystery gets solved, you might be living in the world of the warrior. Last week we thought about the world of the alien as being a puzzle where all the pieces interlock nicely, but you are a piece from another puzzle you don’t fit in anywhere in the puzzle before you. But for the warrior the universe is like a 10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces fit together except the very last piece is missing! For the warrior the world is incomplete. The longing here is for consummation.
The desire is for God to complete the world as God intends it to be. So whereas the alien last week said we want to escape this world, we want to leave this world and go home, go to heaven to be with God, the warrior says, “There is no escape.” God has acted in history. God chose to come to this earth in the very concrete, physical body of Jesus Christ. God has promised to create a new heaven and a new earth right here. Therefore, it is not escape that we seek, but the realization of God’s kingdom right here on this earth.
In the tenth chapter of the Gospel of Mark, a couple of Jesus’ disciples approach him and ask for greatness in God’s coming kingdom. They want places of power and prestige and status. Jesus responds to their request by telling them that it is the way of the world – the way of the enemy – to have power and prestige and status by exercising fear and domination and control. In God’s world the warriors serve. Christ calls people to lives of service that oppose exploitation and injustice; Christ calls people to lives of service that undo the deadly effects of wars and hatred and hunger. The theological task of the warrior is to change reality. The warrior works with God to make God’s kingdom real right now.
We can do this precisely because God in Jesus Christ has entered this world. And Christ has given his life as a ransom for many. Now, you only ransom things that are held captive or enslaved or kidnapped. When Christ gave his life and died on the cross, and when Christ was raised from the grave three days later, and when Christ ascended into heaven, he freed us! The warrior can offer his or her life because Jesus Christ has come to earth as liberator. Christ has set us free! In his death, in his resurrection, in his ascension into heaven, Christ broke the power of death. Christ defeated the devil. Christ smashed Satan. Christ said, “You are free from these powers! You have been ransomed!”
So the question we ask is freed for what? Why have we been ransomed? The warrior responds: so that we may live now that freedom, that promise of ultimate fulfillment, to work with God toward the consummation of a new heaven and a new earth. In Jesus Christ God says, “This is what will be. This is what I am bringing about: a world without death, a world without domination, a world without injustice.” God calls us if we thing that promise is worthwhile to struggle and to sacrifice and to serve in the name and in the hope of that promise.
The beauty of the world of the warrior is that is calls us to be the ongoing incarnation of Jesus Christ. We are called to stand in solidarity with the oppressed like Jesus Christ and like Tom Joad. We are called to be there with the hungry. We are called to be there with the beaten. We are called to be there with the workers. We are called to be there with the children. We are called to be there as God’s warriors through service.
As we enter theological world two – the world of the warrior – it is a world epitomized by Tom Joad, the main character in John Steinbeck’s classic Depression-era novel and the subsequent movie The Grapes of Wrath. The Joad family, and many others like it during that time, were thrown off of their family farm Oklahoma by a huge banking conglomerate who owned the land. The Joads head west toward California looking for work, struggling to survive, and seeking respectability. As they find only hatred and exploitation along their journey, Tom Joad realizes that he must stand up and serve not just himself, not just his family, but all of those who share that same struggle. Let’s take a look at what Tom realizes toward the end of the story:
Tom realizes what many who find themselves in the world of the warrior come to realize: that life too often becomes a matter of survival of the fittest where the weak are devoured, the meek are destroyed, powerless are exploited, the poor are cut down and forgotten, and the winners keep making rules for their own benefit. So bleak does this situation in which we live become that the burning question for those who living in the theological world of the warrior is, “Why are we doing this when life is filled with so much pain, suffering, and struggle? Why is there so much suffering, sin, evil, and injustice in the world?
The more we look around the more we realize that the world is filled with brokenness, and pain and struggle. We see wars around the world – both wars our country is involved in and civil wars in countries we hardly knew existed; we see politicians serving special interests and taking bribes literally filling their freezers with dirty money; we see famine and natural disasters that kill thousands and even millions of God’s children; we see women and children who live in homes where they are abused; we see families lined up at the food bank because they can’t earn enough to feed all the hungry mouths at the dinner table; we see students going to school without the basic supplies they need to learn. These tragedies which might make people in other theological worlds cry and weep incites within the warrior a fury. The feeling that dominates the world of the warrior is anger going so far as rage at the injustices and the pain of the world.
The warrior has a sense that something is not right with the world. Like going for a walk in any patch of woods here in Hickory County and coming out coated in ticks – sometimes so tiny you can hardly even see them – there is a parasite loose sucking the life out of the world and its people. There is an unwanted third wheel tagging along in our journey with God. Life is like a pot of stew boiling on the stove where a malicious cook has come and added too much salt ruining the whole pot. The warrior knows that there is a foe, an enemy at work in the world. The rhythm of this world is conflict and vindication. There is a force to be actively opposed in the world. Call it sin, call it the demonic, call it Satan, call it what you will, there is a power that must be defeated. God must be vindicated, or defended, or justified. This tells us that God is choosing sides, right and wrong.
If you like life is a joke with a forgotten punch line or a mystery novel with the last page ripped out so that you never know how the mystery gets solved, you might be living in the world of the warrior. Last week we thought about the world of the alien as being a puzzle where all the pieces interlock nicely, but you are a piece from another puzzle you don’t fit in anywhere in the puzzle before you. But for the warrior the universe is like a 10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces fit together except the very last piece is missing! For the warrior the world is incomplete. The longing here is for consummation.
The desire is for God to complete the world as God intends it to be. So whereas the alien last week said we want to escape this world, we want to leave this world and go home, go to heaven to be with God, the warrior says, “There is no escape.” God has acted in history. God chose to come to this earth in the very concrete, physical body of Jesus Christ. God has promised to create a new heaven and a new earth right here. Therefore, it is not escape that we seek, but the realization of God’s kingdom right here on this earth.
In the tenth chapter of the Gospel of Mark, a couple of Jesus’ disciples approach him and ask for greatness in God’s coming kingdom. They want places of power and prestige and status. Jesus responds to their request by telling them that it is the way of the world – the way of the enemy – to have power and prestige and status by exercising fear and domination and control. In God’s world the warriors serve. Christ calls people to lives of service that oppose exploitation and injustice; Christ calls people to lives of service that undo the deadly effects of wars and hatred and hunger. The theological task of the warrior is to change reality. The warrior works with God to make God’s kingdom real right now.
We can do this precisely because God in Jesus Christ has entered this world. And Christ has given his life as a ransom for many. Now, you only ransom things that are held captive or enslaved or kidnapped. When Christ gave his life and died on the cross, and when Christ was raised from the grave three days later, and when Christ ascended into heaven, he freed us! The warrior can offer his or her life because Jesus Christ has come to earth as liberator. Christ has set us free! In his death, in his resurrection, in his ascension into heaven, Christ broke the power of death. Christ defeated the devil. Christ smashed Satan. Christ said, “You are free from these powers! You have been ransomed!”
So the question we ask is freed for what? Why have we been ransomed? The warrior responds: so that we may live now that freedom, that promise of ultimate fulfillment, to work with God toward the consummation of a new heaven and a new earth. In Jesus Christ God says, “This is what will be. This is what I am bringing about: a world without death, a world without domination, a world without injustice.” God calls us if we thing that promise is worthwhile to struggle and to sacrifice and to serve in the name and in the hope of that promise.
The beauty of the world of the warrior is that is calls us to be the ongoing incarnation of Jesus Christ. We are called to stand in solidarity with the oppressed like Jesus Christ and like Tom Joad. We are called to be there with the hungry. We are called to be there with the beaten. We are called to be there with the workers. We are called to be there with the children. We are called to be there as God’s warriors through service.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Music of Theological World One
Beyond the words of scripture and sermon, World One can also be experienced through music. Follow the links below to immerse yourself more fully in World One -- the World of the Alien.
Beethoven's Opus 132
In his book Theological Worlds: Understanding the Alternative Rhythms of Christian Belief, W. Paul Jones writes the following about Beethoven's Opus 132:
"There is a simple but hesitant ascending, haunted by backward steps ... the mood is that of hesitation following upon repetition. Finally, there is a breakthrough ... yet, even here, the violins break, sink ... the movement then brings a full return to where it began."
Opus 132 seems to capture musically that notion of being trapped somewhere where we don't belong yet cannot escape. Ahhh ... the dilema of life in word one.
Mahler's Symphony No. 2
This song by Led Zeppelin taps into that notion of wanting to get back to where be belong, where we are loved, where we fit it. It defines existance as being a long, lonely time. Again, a perfect description of life lived in theological world one!
Beethoven's Opus 132
In his book Theological Worlds: Understanding the Alternative Rhythms of Christian Belief, W. Paul Jones writes the following about Beethoven's Opus 132:
"There is a simple but hesitant ascending, haunted by backward steps ... the mood is that of hesitation following upon repetition. Finally, there is a breakthrough ... yet, even here, the violins break, sink ... the movement then brings a full return to where it began."
Opus 132 seems to capture musically that notion of being trapped somewhere where we don't belong yet cannot escape. Ahhh ... the dilema of life in word one.
Mahler's Symphony No. 2
Mahler devised a narrative programme for the work, which he told to a number of friends. In this programme, the first movement represents a funeral and asks questions such as "Is there life after death?"; the second movement is a remembrance of happy times in the life of the deceased; the third movement represents a view of life as meaningless activity; the fourth movement is a wish for release from life without meaning; and the fifth movement, after a return of the doubts of the third movement and the questions of the first, ends with a fervent hope for everlasting, transcendent renewal (source).
This song by Led Zeppelin taps into that notion of wanting to get back to where be belong, where we are loved, where we fit it. It defines existance as being a long, lonely time. Again, a perfect description of life lived in theological world one!
World One -- The Alien: Separation and Reunion
Scripture: Luke 15:1-10 and Ephesians 2.11-22
This morning we begin a five-week sermon series titled, “Excuse Me, but What World Are You Living In?” Each of the Sundays in August we will explore five of the major Christian world views – or five of the primary ways that we can understand ourselves, our world, and our God. We will call these “theological worlds.” Theology being the study of God or our quest for God, or our seeking to understand God. So, our theological world is the way we know, seek out or approach God.
Naming and knowing these theological worlds is important and exciting work. It is my hope that at the end of the month we will be able to do a couple of things. First, I hope that at some point during the next five Sundays you will hear or see or experience something in worship that makes you sit up and say, “Hey! That’s me!” When you get to that point, take note because it probably means that we have arrived at your theological world – your primary way of understanding yourself, the world, and God. This is important because when it comes time to share our faith in word or action, we need to know what we believe, why we believe it, and how we can share our beliefs.
This morning we begin a five-week sermon series titled, “Excuse Me, but What World Are You Living In?” Each of the Sundays in August we will explore five of the major Christian world views – or five of the primary ways that we can understand ourselves, our world, and our God. We will call these “theological worlds.” Theology being the study of God or our quest for God, or our seeking to understand God. So, our theological world is the way we know, seek out or approach God.
Naming and knowing these theological worlds is important and exciting work. It is my hope that at the end of the month we will be able to do a couple of things. First, I hope that at some point during the next five Sundays you will hear or see or experience something in worship that makes you sit up and say, “Hey! That’s me!” When you get to that point, take note because it probably means that we have arrived at your theological world – your primary way of understanding yourself, the world, and God. This is important because when it comes time to share our faith in word or action, we need to know what we believe, why we believe it, and how we can share our beliefs.The danger in this – and I would prefer to call it “the challenge” before us – is that there will probably be four weeks that don’t make you shout “Finally, he’s talking about me!” I ask you to hang in there and stay engaged because each week we are going to seek out the Good News that each of the theological worlds has for us. So, we are going to expose ourselves to a fuller understanding of Jesus Christ. Beyond gaining a richer view of the Christian faith I hope that we also gain a better understanding of one another. As we experience the different ways of understanding I hope we gain a greater respect for that person sitting next to us, or across the aisle from us, or across the sanctuary from us who may think and act out his or her faith in a different manner.
So with that in mind, let me ask each of you, “Excuse me, but what world are you living in?” As we seek to answer that question let us turn to the New Testament book of Ephesians 2.11-22 as we begin exploring theological world number one: the world of the alien.
(Caution: video contains some vulgar language.)
In the 1982 movie E.T. the Extraterrestrial the large-headed space alien named E.T. gets accidentally left behind by his spaceship. Stuck on earth, separated from his own kind, E.T. befriends a group of suburban kids. In their home E.T. finally learns how to speak and give voice to his deepest longing: E.T. phone home … so that spaceship will come for him and take him to where he truly belongs. E.T. masterfully embodies the theological world of the alien. In the world of the alien we are like E.T. keenly aware that the place where we find ourselves is not where we ultimately belong. No matter how many friends we make, how great a life we build for ourselves, we always remain homesick.
And that really is the sense that dominates this theological world: homesickness. Living in the world of the alien is like a kid going off to camp for the first time. When I was in junior high and still had some promise of athletic skill, my grandma – a proud graduate of Oklahoma State University – sent me to the OSU summer basketball camp. It was great. We got to meet the OSU basketball team. We learned from their coaches. We played scrimmages on the basketball floor of Gallagher Hall. We stayed in college dorm rooms and ate at dorm cafeteria. For as great as that was, my most vivid memory of that week is riding the elevator down to the ground floor on Wednesday night to use the pay phone to call home. I had to force myself to not to cry there in the phone booth as I talked to my parents because I was so lonely that all I really wanted to do was pack my bags early and go home. It took everything I had to hang up the phone and stay there another two days. I don’t know how many times I asked myself, “Why am I even doing this?”
That’s a question that marks – maybe even plagues – those who live in this world of the alien. The burning question for the inhabitant of this world is “Why are we doing this when it is so lonely and foreign and things just are not the way they are supposed to be?” Why are we even alive?
If you feel like a hamster on the exercise wheel running in circles never getting anywhere, always ending up where you began, then you might be a resident of this world of the alien. If you have ever felt like the universe was a puzzle where all the pieces interlock nicely, but you are a piece from another puzzle you don’t fit in anywhere in the puzzle before you, and even worse you can’t find the puzzle where you fit, you might reside in the world of the alien. But even then, there is the realization that if I am a puzzle piece, then there must be a puzzle where I fit in somewhere. There is a longing to be reunited with that place where we truly fit it. The rhythm of this theological world is separation or lostness and reunion. 
Jesus describes this well in Luke 15 when he talks about the lost coin and the lost sheep (and after that Jesus tells the parable of the prodigal son – the lost son who finally returns home). Jesus knew that were people who felt like they didn’t fit it, like they had been abandoned. Jesus knows that there are people who live like the one sheep who cannot find its flock or like the one coin that somehow slipped out of the money bag and became lost in the dust and the darkness and the clutter of the world. The feeling that marks this theological world is a deep longing to return to the whole and to go back and participate in the fullness of life.
This is why people who reside in this theological world during times of death and mourning will tend to say things like, “You’re loved one who died is in a better place,” or “God was calling your loved one home.” Those are word of great comfort for those who reside in this theological world, but for people with other perspectives, these words will be infuriating because they will seem to dismiss this life.
The key for those living in this theological world of the alien is the realization that everything that exists has been created by God, and right now though it may be difficult to realize, everything that exists is being sustained by God, and everything that exists is returning to God. Everything is going home or going back to where it came from.
Jesus Christ comes to reveal this to the world. Jesus is the revealer who comes to lead the people back home. Jesus risks life here on earth where he is separate from God and separate from his home. Jesus risks life and is crucified; he is buried, and raised from the dead, and Jesus ascends into heaven to be reunited with God. Thus the doorway to eternity, the pathway home is opened to us. In Ephesians we heard it put this way: “18for through (Christ we) have access in one Spirit to (God). 19So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”
In this world of the alien what is ultimately sought is harmony: a place where everything is as it should be; there is no loneliness, no one is left behind, every puzzle piece has its place. The power of Christ is in revealing that place (our home) to us. While we go on living we get only a foretaste of what awaits. Those who live in the theological world of the alien live with a deep sense of mystery where at any moment anything can become transparent to God and to the eternity that awaits us. This morning we have been using music and art and Scripture and movies to reveal, to be transparent to, who God is and to give us just a sample of what God is like and how God is with us.
The beauty of this world is that we can experience right now what Christ has opened to us. We can experience what await us not in its fullness, but at least in some small part. That revelation may come in the stillness of the lake, or the steam rising from the grass as the sun rises, or the smile of a child, or the gentle touch of a friend. Each moment has the potential to reveal to us the promise of our home.
In the theological world of the alien the historicity – the historical facts surrounding the life of Jesus – are not so important. The historical Christ will be important for those who live in other theological worlds, but in this world Christ matters because what Christ made known can still be experienced here today. As we prepare to receive the gift of communion this morning, the theological world of the alien tells us that as we come to the table and receive the bread and wine that this is just a sampling of the community that awaits us in heaven. This is just a foretaste of the abundance that God has prepared for us. This is just a sign of the promise that Christ has revealed to us: while we may feel isolated and abandoned, lost and forgotten, while we may cry out, “Take us home!” God is returning for us and will not leave us for Christ has prepared for us a home. Thanks be to God, Amen.
Monday, July 27, 2009
You're the Man! Recognizing Guilt and Grace in Your Life
Scripture: 2 Samuel 11.1-13 and 11:26-12:13
David. David. David. Oh, David, whatever are we going to do with you?
We read this story of King David and Bathsheba, and it is uncomfortable because we can see these tragic events unfolding before us, and we know where they are headed, and we are powerless to do anything about them. We hear this story of adultery and cover-up, and we wonder, “Where did King David go so wrong?” Isn’t this David the youngest in a line of siblings? David, the least likely to ever become anyone great? David, the one whom God plucked from the fields where he watched over his father’s flocks? David, the one chosen to be God’s chosen king, leader of the people?
David. David. David. Oh, David, whatever are we going to do with you?
What happened to the king so overcome with joy and filled with praise that he danced his way into the city of Jerusalem? Where is the David who danced before the Ark of the Covenant – that sign and symbol of God’s promise and presence with the people of Israel? I like that King David a whole lot better than the lying, lustful, and conspiring David we get today … but maybe we should not be surprised. After all David is still a king doing exactly what kings do. King David, like so many kings before him and after him, is taking.
We read this in the opening verse of our first reading this morning. King David is taking the men of Israel – fathers, husband, sons, and grandsons – and sending them to war. It was springtime, the season of the year when kings go out to battle. We have football and baseball seasons, tourist season, and fishing season, but kings have war-making season – the season when they take the best and the strongest and lead them into harm’s way. And why should this taking stop at the battlefield? Maybe we shouldn’t be surprised at David’s taking of Bathsheba. After all David is doing exactly what kings do. David is doing exactly what the prophet Samuel warned the elders of Israel a king would do when they demanded a king to lead them.
1 Samuel 8:11-22 “These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; 12and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. 13He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. 14He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. 15He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. 16He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. 17He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. 18And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day.” 19But the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel; they said, “No! but we are determined to have a king over us, 20so that we also may be like other nations, and that our king may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles.”
King David takes. Why shouldn’t he? He’s the king. But we don’t need a king to know this type of taking for one’s own self interest. Have you read the newspaper or watched the television lately? Our world is marred by people taking for their own self-interest. Whether it is a South Carolina governor who takes off to Argentina with his mistress while trying to cover it up with a story about hiking the Appalachia Trail or a former professional football quarterback who was once named NFL Family Man of the Year who is found tragically shot dead by a young woman with whom he had become involved. We know the effects of selfish taking because we see them in our world and our lives every day.
King David thought he had the power to control his world as he takes without inhibition, but he learns otherwise as time after time David encounters at least five complications with his plan and his cover up:
1. David is at home. He is lounging in the royal palace. Remember this is the season when kings go out to battle. So why is King David at home? … Perhaps he has become too important a political asset to risk the dangers of the battlefield. Maybe kings were only expected to show up when final victory was imminent. Perhaps King David was weary of the seasons of kingship. Whatever the reason, King David is at home while his men are at war. But when David was anointed king and when God reluctantly granted the people a king, it was so that they would have someone to go before them in battle – someone to fight for them. King David is not where he is supposed to be. Each of us is called by God to be somewhere. If we are not in the right place, we cannot serve God.
2. At home David sees a beautiful woman bathing. Knowing that this woman is married to one of his soldiers, King David sends for her and sleeps with her, and then sends her away. This was never designed to be more than a one-night relationship. David saw something that he wanted in that moment, and he took it. When David receives the report that Bathsheba has become pregnant, David realizes that he cannot control Bathsheba’s body and that selfish taking in the moment has consequences beyond the moment. We are called to look long and to recognize that our words and our actions linger. Are we acting with God and for God, or are we taking like a king?
3. Thus begins the cover up. Long and elaborate. Take Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, off of the battle lines. Bring him home for a little rest and relaxation. Surely he will go home and reacquaint himself with his spouse, and David’s sin will be concealed. The complication is that Uriah is too loyal. Too loyal to his fellow soldiers, too loyal to the king. King David learns that for all his royal power he cannot control Uriah and he cannot dictate Uriah’s principles. Like King David, the only person we can control is ourselves. How much time do we spend trying to control what another person thinks, does, or says? King David thought he was king with complete control over his kingdom and its subjects, but he learns the hard way: the only person you can control is yourself.
4. Uriah is too loyal, and what do we do with people who are loyal? We kill ‘em. Do you see the absurdity of it, how twisted King David’s thinking has become? He is consumed with himself and his own desires. So he sends Uriah back to the front lines carrying the orders for his own death. Uriah is placed on the frontline where the fighting is most intense and at the right time – in an otherwise utterly stupid tactical maneuver – the other soldiers pull back leaving Uriah exposed to the enemy. Innocent lives are lost. When we live for ourselves we lay waste to others around us. … God would have given even more to King David had he not taken this blessing and turned it into a curse, had David not taken the gift and grasped it so tightly that he could not receive more.
5. In the aftermath of Uriah’s murder by King David, the king does the “honorable” thing and marries Bathsheba. Honorable, right? King David took Bathsheba and took Uriah’s life, then suddenly find his honor – or is it just the last step in the cover up. Either way, case closed, crisis averted, sin hidden away … but damn those pesky prophets. Nathan the prophet shows up speaking the word of God. Nathan says, “David, you think you’ve wrapped up this whole Bathsheba incident, but not so in the eyes of God. For you have done evil in the eyes of the Lord.” David thinks he’s got the royal power to shape and mold the nation of Israel, but he misses that God’s power is the true force shaping the people. It is God’s hope, God’s power, God’s expectation that David and all of us are accountable to.
Now, you cannot walk up to the king and say, “King, you’re a murder, a liar, and an adulterer.” That’s probably not going to go over very well with the king or anyone else. And King David has already shown a capacity and a willingness to eliminate those who threaten his power. The prophet has to come in the back door, so to speak, and so he begins telling a parable or abusive power. At the end of the story in an ironic twist, just as Uriah had delivered his own death sentence, now David proclaims his own punishment saying, “That man deserves to die!”
Nathan says, “Yes! And you’re the man! You’re that one! You have done these very things! You deserve to die!!”
King David simply and profoundly responds by claiming his guilt. He doesn’t attempt to hide or deny or justify his actions. He doesn’t even turn on the prophetic messenger. David simply acknowledges his guilt. It is such a crucial step. It’s one of Dr. Phil’s favorite steps. If you watch Dr. Phil on television, you hear him saying all the time, “You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge.” People get all excited, “Oh, Dr. Phil you’re so wise and so profound.” And he is, but he’s not saying anything new; it’s right here in the Bible. Dr. Phil just helps people do it. Acknowledgement is the first step of repentance. You cannot repent of or turn away from the destructive behaviors that you refuse to acknowledge. We call that confession.
Here’s the amazing thing: when David acknowledges his sin, his wrongdoings, his failures, he finds God’s grace. He is forgiven. The death sentence which David pronounced upon himself is commuted … We are all guilty in one way or another. Some of us need to acknowledge that guilt; we need to open our eyes and see and confess the ways that we have broken relationships with the people around us and with God.
Others of us have already pronounced guilt upon ourselves and proclaimed our own punishments. We walk around believing that we deserve death for what we have done or failed to do. But here is the Good News: for as deep a whole as David had dug for himself, for as far as he had fallen, and for as horrendous as his sin had been, David never lost the capacity to choose God, and God never lost the willingness to forgive David. That’s the God we believe in.
David. David. David. Whatever will we do with you, but join with you in your acknowledge of sin before a gracious and loving God.
Let us pray silently our confession before God.
13David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Nathan said to David, “Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die.
Have mercy on me, O God,according to your steadfast love;according to your abundant mercyblot out my transgressions.Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,and cleanse me from my sin. . . . . .Create in me a clean heart, O God,and put a new and right spirit within me.Do not cast me away from your presence,and do not take your holy spirit from me.(Ps 51:1-2, 10-11 NRSV)
David. David. David. Oh, David, whatever are we going to do with you?
We read this story of King David and Bathsheba, and it is uncomfortable because we can see these tragic events unfolding before us, and we know where they are headed, and we are powerless to do anything about them. We hear this story of adultery and cover-up, and we wonder, “Where did King David go so wrong?” Isn’t this David the youngest in a line of siblings? David, the least likely to ever become anyone great? David, the one whom God plucked from the fields where he watched over his father’s flocks? David, the one chosen to be God’s chosen king, leader of the people?
David. David. David. Oh, David, whatever are we going to do with you?
What happened to the king so overcome with joy and filled with praise that he danced his way into the city of Jerusalem? Where is the David who danced before the Ark of the Covenant – that sign and symbol of God’s promise and presence with the people of Israel? I like that King David a whole lot better than the lying, lustful, and conspiring David we get today … but maybe we should not be surprised. After all David is still a king doing exactly what kings do. King David, like so many kings before him and after him, is taking.
We read this in the opening verse of our first reading this morning. King David is taking the men of Israel – fathers, husband, sons, and grandsons – and sending them to war. It was springtime, the season of the year when kings go out to battle. We have football and baseball seasons, tourist season, and fishing season, but kings have war-making season – the season when they take the best and the strongest and lead them into harm’s way. And why should this taking stop at the battlefield? Maybe we shouldn’t be surprised at David’s taking of Bathsheba. After all David is doing exactly what kings do. David is doing exactly what the prophet Samuel warned the elders of Israel a king would do when they demanded a king to lead them.
1 Samuel 8:11-22 “These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; 12and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. 13He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. 14He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. 15He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. 16He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. 17He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. 18And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day.” 19But the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel; they said, “No! but we are determined to have a king over us, 20so that we also may be like other nations, and that our king may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles.”
King David takes. Why shouldn’t he? He’s the king. But we don’t need a king to know this type of taking for one’s own self interest. Have you read the newspaper or watched the television lately? Our world is marred by people taking for their own self-interest. Whether it is a South Carolina governor who takes off to Argentina with his mistress while trying to cover it up with a story about hiking the Appalachia Trail or a former professional football quarterback who was once named NFL Family Man of the Year who is found tragically shot dead by a young woman with whom he had become involved. We know the effects of selfish taking because we see them in our world and our lives every day.
King David thought he had the power to control his world as he takes without inhibition, but he learns otherwise as time after time David encounters at least five complications with his plan and his cover up:
1. David is at home. He is lounging in the royal palace. Remember this is the season when kings go out to battle. So why is King David at home? … Perhaps he has become too important a political asset to risk the dangers of the battlefield. Maybe kings were only expected to show up when final victory was imminent. Perhaps King David was weary of the seasons of kingship. Whatever the reason, King David is at home while his men are at war. But when David was anointed king and when God reluctantly granted the people a king, it was so that they would have someone to go before them in battle – someone to fight for them. King David is not where he is supposed to be. Each of us is called by God to be somewhere. If we are not in the right place, we cannot serve God.
2. At home David sees a beautiful woman bathing. Knowing that this woman is married to one of his soldiers, King David sends for her and sleeps with her, and then sends her away. This was never designed to be more than a one-night relationship. David saw something that he wanted in that moment, and he took it. When David receives the report that Bathsheba has become pregnant, David realizes that he cannot control Bathsheba’s body and that selfish taking in the moment has consequences beyond the moment. We are called to look long and to recognize that our words and our actions linger. Are we acting with God and for God, or are we taking like a king?
3. Thus begins the cover up. Long and elaborate. Take Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, off of the battle lines. Bring him home for a little rest and relaxation. Surely he will go home and reacquaint himself with his spouse, and David’s sin will be concealed. The complication is that Uriah is too loyal. Too loyal to his fellow soldiers, too loyal to the king. King David learns that for all his royal power he cannot control Uriah and he cannot dictate Uriah’s principles. Like King David, the only person we can control is ourselves. How much time do we spend trying to control what another person thinks, does, or says? King David thought he was king with complete control over his kingdom and its subjects, but he learns the hard way: the only person you can control is yourself.
4. Uriah is too loyal, and what do we do with people who are loyal? We kill ‘em. Do you see the absurdity of it, how twisted King David’s thinking has become? He is consumed with himself and his own desires. So he sends Uriah back to the front lines carrying the orders for his own death. Uriah is placed on the frontline where the fighting is most intense and at the right time – in an otherwise utterly stupid tactical maneuver – the other soldiers pull back leaving Uriah exposed to the enemy. Innocent lives are lost. When we live for ourselves we lay waste to others around us. … God would have given even more to King David had he not taken this blessing and turned it into a curse, had David not taken the gift and grasped it so tightly that he could not receive more.
5. In the aftermath of Uriah’s murder by King David, the king does the “honorable” thing and marries Bathsheba. Honorable, right? King David took Bathsheba and took Uriah’s life, then suddenly find his honor – or is it just the last step in the cover up. Either way, case closed, crisis averted, sin hidden away … but damn those pesky prophets. Nathan the prophet shows up speaking the word of God. Nathan says, “David, you think you’ve wrapped up this whole Bathsheba incident, but not so in the eyes of God. For you have done evil in the eyes of the Lord.” David thinks he’s got the royal power to shape and mold the nation of Israel, but he misses that God’s power is the true force shaping the people. It is God’s hope, God’s power, God’s expectation that David and all of us are accountable to.
Now, you cannot walk up to the king and say, “King, you’re a murder, a liar, and an adulterer.” That’s probably not going to go over very well with the king or anyone else. And King David has already shown a capacity and a willingness to eliminate those who threaten his power. The prophet has to come in the back door, so to speak, and so he begins telling a parable or abusive power. At the end of the story in an ironic twist, just as Uriah had delivered his own death sentence, now David proclaims his own punishment saying, “That man deserves to die!”
Nathan says, “Yes! And you’re the man! You’re that one! You have done these very things! You deserve to die!!”
King David simply and profoundly responds by claiming his guilt. He doesn’t attempt to hide or deny or justify his actions. He doesn’t even turn on the prophetic messenger. David simply acknowledges his guilt. It is such a crucial step. It’s one of Dr. Phil’s favorite steps. If you watch Dr. Phil on television, you hear him saying all the time, “You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge.” People get all excited, “Oh, Dr. Phil you’re so wise and so profound.” And he is, but he’s not saying anything new; it’s right here in the Bible. Dr. Phil just helps people do it. Acknowledgement is the first step of repentance. You cannot repent of or turn away from the destructive behaviors that you refuse to acknowledge. We call that confession.
Here’s the amazing thing: when David acknowledges his sin, his wrongdoings, his failures, he finds God’s grace. He is forgiven. The death sentence which David pronounced upon himself is commuted … We are all guilty in one way or another. Some of us need to acknowledge that guilt; we need to open our eyes and see and confess the ways that we have broken relationships with the people around us and with God.
Others of us have already pronounced guilt upon ourselves and proclaimed our own punishments. We walk around believing that we deserve death for what we have done or failed to do. But here is the Good News: for as deep a whole as David had dug for himself, for as far as he had fallen, and for as horrendous as his sin had been, David never lost the capacity to choose God, and God never lost the willingness to forgive David. That’s the God we believe in.
David. David. David. Whatever will we do with you, but join with you in your acknowledge of sin before a gracious and loving God.
Let us pray silently our confession before God.
13David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Nathan said to David, “Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die.
Have mercy on me, O God,according to your steadfast love;according to your abundant mercyblot out my transgressions.Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,and cleanse me from my sin. . . . . .Create in me a clean heart, O God,and put a new and right spirit within me.Do not cast me away from your presence,and do not take your holy spirit from me.(Ps 51:1-2, 10-11 NRSV)
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Learning to Dance
I can't dance. I have no rhythm. Now, I know why. My grandma (Walden's great-grandma) never taught me this important lesson: "You can't dance with one foot on top of the other."
If only I had know sooner maybe all those junior high dances would have met with greater success!
Sometimes you just learn life's lessons too late in life!!
Monday, March 2, 2009
When Weapons of Mass Destruction Fail, Practice Loving Persuasion
Date: March 1, 2009
Christian Year: First Sunday of Lent
Scripture: Genesis 9:8-17 and 1 Peter 3:18-22
The 500 miles of frozen trenches that made up the Western Front during the First World War were miserable places. Hastily dug amid the armed assaults and unannounced attacks, these trenches often filled with water or completely caved in. They were impossible places in which to live much less fight a war, and yet, huge armies – the French and English on one side, the Germans on the other – dug in often within sight of one another for that first winter of the war. Enemies hunkered down separated by as little as 30 yards in some places.
On Christmas Eve 1914 – five months into the great battle that would last nearly four and a half years – the misery of combat momentarily made way for the miraculous. German soldiers began singing hymns – sacred songs – their melodies carrying across the short patch of deserted dirt between trenches known as No Man’s Land. In the opposing trench a chaplain picked up his bagpipes and began to play along. The sudden outburst of music instead of gunfire prompted the soldiers to do the very thing that they had been instructed never to do. Like curious groundhogs those languishing combatants poked their heads over the edges of their trenches.
When everyone chose to hold their fire and not shoot the enemy soldiers appearing before them, an amazing thing happened. In dozens of places along those lines of death and destruction exhausted, homesick troops initiated an unofficial truce. They laid down their weapons and for a few hours on that holy night they met in No Man’s Land and showed one another family photographs, swapped cigarettes, and a few even struck up a friendly soccer game. The evening concluded with a midnight Mass spoken in the then common language of Latin so that all could understand and participate.
"Just you think," one British soldier wrote home of the event, "that while you were eating your Christmas turkey, I was out talking and shaking hands with the very men I had been trying to kill a few hours before! It was astounding!"
"It was a day of peace in war," commented a German participant, "It is only a pity that it was not decisive peace."
Though that peace lasted only a moment, it was none the less a Godly action the likes of which we see in the Genesis story of Noah, his family, and their ark.
The first 11 chapters of the Bible seek to explain the rise and spread of human sin and violence across God’s good creation. It is in these opening chapters that we learn about Eve and Adam and the introduction of sin into the world. From there we learn that the people grew increasingly evil to the point were God decides to destroy all of creation with a massive flood save Noah and his family and the animals they take with them onto their boat. Even after Noah sin prevail as the people seek to attain the glory of God for themselves and so build the tower of Babel – a huge tower meant to help the people reach into the heavens for themselves. It is an effort we are told God thwarts by giving different peoples different languages.
But it is at the end of the story of that great flood that we pick up today. The rains have stopped; the waters that broke forth from below the soil have been shored up; the waters have slowly receded, and now Noah and his family have exited the wooden boat which saved them from God’s wrath.
It is here that the miraculous – the amazing – occurs as God establishes a covenant not just with Noah, but with all future generations, not just with humans but with all creatures. Better than the unspoken covenant between war-wearied enemies willing to set aside their munitions for just a moment, this covenant is backed with the constancy only God can conjure.
God speaks to Noah and his family – eight persons in all – and says to them, “Never. Never. Never again shall I destroy all the earth with the waters of a flood.”
God says this world is mine, and I have decided that it will remain even in the face of ever increasing human sin.
God says, “As a reminder of this my commitment to creation, I place my bow in the sky not so that humans have beauty to gaze upon in the wake of a rain storm, but as a reminder to me your God. When I see my bow in the sky I will remember that I have unilaterally promised to put down my weapons of mass destruction.”
The last time I shot a bow and arrow was almost a decade ago up in Wyoming. A friend of mine was preparing for a hunting trip, and he invited me out for some target practice on his ranch. Nate stood behind me giving directions on how to hold the bow and load the arrows. I quickly realized that a poorly healed torn tendon in my shoulder – the remnants of my failed stint as a mediocre high school basketball player – would keep me from pulling the bow string far enough back to fling that arrow forward with any real velocity. But I did learn enough to know how to aim a bow.
If we imagine that arc of colors in the clouds is God’s bow, we quickly realize that this rainbow is ready to fire arrows into the heavens. In other words this weapon has been turned away from humans and aimed away from the earth.
God called for the Flood because of the corruption and violence on earth: the Flood was meant to be a cleansing and healing process for creation, but the Flood itself was also tremendously destructive, and it seems that God learned that fighting violence with a campaign of divine destruction is ultimately unproductive. In this new covenant with every living creature, God promises never again to use destruction as a creative tool.
Generally speaking a covenant is an agreement or a promise that often times involves some give and take or negotiation. We know covenants in our own lives; when we make a wedding vow to our spouse, that is a covenant. When we open a checking account with a bank or apply for a credit card, that, too, is a covenant. Some of us might live in a neighborhood governed by covenants that dictate what is acceptable use and maintenance of the property. Biblically speaking covenants fall into three basic categories. First there is the promissory covenant. A promissory covenant is a basic business transaction where there is an agreed upon exchange of money or goods or services.
A second type of covenant is the rule-based covenant. In a rule-based covenant a more powerful force (such as God or a foreign ruler) imposes a set of rules or regulations on a group of people who agree to follow those rules in exchanges for protection or support. We see this type of covenant in both the Old and New Testaments, but it is probably most epitomized in the Ten Commandments.
The third type of covenant is the type we see today made with Noah. It is the reward-based covenant. In the reward-based covenant one party decides to give a reward to the other party, but the catch is that the receiving party does not agree to anything in return. It is a one-sided covenant. The receiving party may at some point decide to respond to the reward or the gift given, but that response is not a necessary part of the covenant.
For example, as God is making the covenant with Noah and all creation nowhere does God ask Noah and his family for advice or input. God never even asks this family for a response. God makes this covenant simply because of who God is – our loving creator. The Good News is this: God’s covenant does not require our consent. God acts on creation’s behalf unconditionally.
It is kind of like communion the table is always set for whenever we want to receive the communion elements. We don’t have to do anything; God in Jesus Christ has already set the table.
We see this most clearly in Christ who 1 Peter tells us overcame sin not by flooding it or destroying it by unleashing violence (Jesus was certainly the recipient of violence, but he did not enact violence himself), but by transforming it through his own death and resurrection. “He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit,” so that now “angels, authorities, and powers” are “made subject to him”; creation itself is changed, not by being destroyed and remade as in the Flood, but by being redirected to new ends in Christ.
As we enter this season of Lent – the 40 days during which we prepare ourselves to receive again the miracle of Jesus Christ’s passion and resurrection – this ancient and eternal covenant challenges us to practice our piety by practicing peace. If God has decided to work through loving persuasion and not destructive dominance, should not godly Christians do the same?
We live in a world where we see the news of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. This week we heard that Iran is ramping up efforts to start operating a nuclear reactor. In our own community we have had bank employees tied up and robbed in recent weeks. Yet God’s covenant reminds us to renounce violence and practice peace. Perhaps some will write letters of peace to lawmakers. Others may increase their support of local food banks and charities aimed at improving peaceful living. Maybe some will volunteer in schools, at the senior center or in women’s shelter. I hope that at a minimum all of us through the next six weeks can set aside an hour a week – 10 minutes a day –to pray for peace.
Earlier this week I found myself at the fabric counter purchasing burlap for our Lenten altar. As I set the bolt of burlap on the measuring table to be cut the employee working there looked at the roll of burlap, then looked at me and said, “Wow, I didn’t even know they made this anymore.”
“Well, I had to look long and hard for it,” I said. “I found a couple of bolts worth lodged in back corner on the bottom shelf.”
As she started to unroll four yards of burlap, she crinkled her nose. “It still smells bad.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I hope the smell diminishes before I get to church.”
“It’s not very soft either.” I shook my head in agreement.
“And it sure makes a mess when you unroll it,” she added as she wiped all the loose strings and strands that had fallen onto the cutting table into a neat pile. “So why do you need it, again?”
“For Lent,” I said. “As a reminder of traditional ways of showing repentance.” I tried to explain that traditionally repentants wore what was called sackcloth as a reminder of their mortality and a reminder of all they owe to God and as a reminder of their commitment to return to God.
“Wow, I had no idea!” she said again. She didn’t look like she was sold on the idea of wearing burlap, and I guess that most of us are in agreement with her. But this Lent it becomes imperative not that we put on actual physical sackcloth, but that in some way we practice our piety by practicing peace.
Because it bears remembering that God did not save Noah alone on that ark so long ago. There were eight people and countless animals on that boat. A symbol that God does not save us alone, but God save us in community – even if that community means putting aside destruction and meeting in deserted No Man’s Land.
Christian Year: First Sunday of Lent
Scripture: Genesis 9:8-17 and 1 Peter 3:18-22
The 500 miles of frozen trenches that made up the Western Front during the First World War were miserable places. Hastily dug amid the armed assaults and unannounced attacks, these trenches often filled with water or completely caved in. They were impossible places in which to live much less fight a war, and yet, huge armies – the French and English on one side, the Germans on the other – dug in often within sight of one another for that first winter of the war. Enemies hunkered down separated by as little as 30 yards in some places.
On Christmas Eve 1914 – five months into the great battle that would last nearly four and a half years – the misery of combat momentarily made way for the miraculous. German soldiers began singing hymns – sacred songs – their melodies carrying across the short patch of deserted dirt between trenches known as No Man’s Land. In the opposing trench a chaplain picked up his bagpipes and began to play along. The sudden outburst of music instead of gunfire prompted the soldiers to do the very thing that they had been instructed never to do. Like curious groundhogs those languishing combatants poked their heads over the edges of their trenches.
When everyone chose to hold their fire and not shoot the enemy soldiers appearing before them, an amazing thing happened. In dozens of places along those lines of death and destruction exhausted, homesick troops initiated an unofficial truce. They laid down their weapons and for a few hours on that holy night they met in No Man’s Land and showed one another family photographs, swapped cigarettes, and a few even struck up a friendly soccer game. The evening concluded with a midnight Mass spoken in the then common language of Latin so that all could understand and participate.
"Just you think," one British soldier wrote home of the event, "that while you were eating your Christmas turkey, I was out talking and shaking hands with the very men I had been trying to kill a few hours before! It was astounding!"
"It was a day of peace in war," commented a German participant, "It is only a pity that it was not decisive peace."
Though that peace lasted only a moment, it was none the less a Godly action the likes of which we see in the Genesis story of Noah, his family, and their ark.
The first 11 chapters of the Bible seek to explain the rise and spread of human sin and violence across God’s good creation. It is in these opening chapters that we learn about Eve and Adam and the introduction of sin into the world. From there we learn that the people grew increasingly evil to the point were God decides to destroy all of creation with a massive flood save Noah and his family and the animals they take with them onto their boat. Even after Noah sin prevail as the people seek to attain the glory of God for themselves and so build the tower of Babel – a huge tower meant to help the people reach into the heavens for themselves. It is an effort we are told God thwarts by giving different peoples different languages.
But it is at the end of the story of that great flood that we pick up today. The rains have stopped; the waters that broke forth from below the soil have been shored up; the waters have slowly receded, and now Noah and his family have exited the wooden boat which saved them from God’s wrath.
It is here that the miraculous – the amazing – occurs as God establishes a covenant not just with Noah, but with all future generations, not just with humans but with all creatures. Better than the unspoken covenant between war-wearied enemies willing to set aside their munitions for just a moment, this covenant is backed with the constancy only God can conjure.
God speaks to Noah and his family – eight persons in all – and says to them, “Never. Never. Never again shall I destroy all the earth with the waters of a flood.”
God says this world is mine, and I have decided that it will remain even in the face of ever increasing human sin.
God says, “As a reminder of this my commitment to creation, I place my bow in the sky not so that humans have beauty to gaze upon in the wake of a rain storm, but as a reminder to me your God. When I see my bow in the sky I will remember that I have unilaterally promised to put down my weapons of mass destruction.”
The last time I shot a bow and arrow was almost a decade ago up in Wyoming. A friend of mine was preparing for a hunting trip, and he invited me out for some target practice on his ranch. Nate stood behind me giving directions on how to hold the bow and load the arrows. I quickly realized that a poorly healed torn tendon in my shoulder – the remnants of my failed stint as a mediocre high school basketball player – would keep me from pulling the bow string far enough back to fling that arrow forward with any real velocity. But I did learn enough to know how to aim a bow.
If we imagine that arc of colors in the clouds is God’s bow, we quickly realize that this rainbow is ready to fire arrows into the heavens. In other words this weapon has been turned away from humans and aimed away from the earth.
God called for the Flood because of the corruption and violence on earth: the Flood was meant to be a cleansing and healing process for creation, but the Flood itself was also tremendously destructive, and it seems that God learned that fighting violence with a campaign of divine destruction is ultimately unproductive. In this new covenant with every living creature, God promises never again to use destruction as a creative tool.
Generally speaking a covenant is an agreement or a promise that often times involves some give and take or negotiation. We know covenants in our own lives; when we make a wedding vow to our spouse, that is a covenant. When we open a checking account with a bank or apply for a credit card, that, too, is a covenant. Some of us might live in a neighborhood governed by covenants that dictate what is acceptable use and maintenance of the property. Biblically speaking covenants fall into three basic categories. First there is the promissory covenant. A promissory covenant is a basic business transaction where there is an agreed upon exchange of money or goods or services.
A second type of covenant is the rule-based covenant. In a rule-based covenant a more powerful force (such as God or a foreign ruler) imposes a set of rules or regulations on a group of people who agree to follow those rules in exchanges for protection or support. We see this type of covenant in both the Old and New Testaments, but it is probably most epitomized in the Ten Commandments.
The third type of covenant is the type we see today made with Noah. It is the reward-based covenant. In the reward-based covenant one party decides to give a reward to the other party, but the catch is that the receiving party does not agree to anything in return. It is a one-sided covenant. The receiving party may at some point decide to respond to the reward or the gift given, but that response is not a necessary part of the covenant.
For example, as God is making the covenant with Noah and all creation nowhere does God ask Noah and his family for advice or input. God never even asks this family for a response. God makes this covenant simply because of who God is – our loving creator. The Good News is this: God’s covenant does not require our consent. God acts on creation’s behalf unconditionally.
It is kind of like communion the table is always set for whenever we want to receive the communion elements. We don’t have to do anything; God in Jesus Christ has already set the table.
We see this most clearly in Christ who 1 Peter tells us overcame sin not by flooding it or destroying it by unleashing violence (Jesus was certainly the recipient of violence, but he did not enact violence himself), but by transforming it through his own death and resurrection. “He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit,” so that now “angels, authorities, and powers” are “made subject to him”; creation itself is changed, not by being destroyed and remade as in the Flood, but by being redirected to new ends in Christ.
As we enter this season of Lent – the 40 days during which we prepare ourselves to receive again the miracle of Jesus Christ’s passion and resurrection – this ancient and eternal covenant challenges us to practice our piety by practicing peace. If God has decided to work through loving persuasion and not destructive dominance, should not godly Christians do the same?
We live in a world where we see the news of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. This week we heard that Iran is ramping up efforts to start operating a nuclear reactor. In our own community we have had bank employees tied up and robbed in recent weeks. Yet God’s covenant reminds us to renounce violence and practice peace. Perhaps some will write letters of peace to lawmakers. Others may increase their support of local food banks and charities aimed at improving peaceful living. Maybe some will volunteer in schools, at the senior center or in women’s shelter. I hope that at a minimum all of us through the next six weeks can set aside an hour a week – 10 minutes a day –to pray for peace.
Earlier this week I found myself at the fabric counter purchasing burlap for our Lenten altar. As I set the bolt of burlap on the measuring table to be cut the employee working there looked at the roll of burlap, then looked at me and said, “Wow, I didn’t even know they made this anymore.”
“Well, I had to look long and hard for it,” I said. “I found a couple of bolts worth lodged in back corner on the bottom shelf.”
As she started to unroll four yards of burlap, she crinkled her nose. “It still smells bad.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I hope the smell diminishes before I get to church.”
“It’s not very soft either.” I shook my head in agreement.
“And it sure makes a mess when you unroll it,” she added as she wiped all the loose strings and strands that had fallen onto the cutting table into a neat pile. “So why do you need it, again?”
“For Lent,” I said. “As a reminder of traditional ways of showing repentance.” I tried to explain that traditionally repentants wore what was called sackcloth as a reminder of their mortality and a reminder of all they owe to God and as a reminder of their commitment to return to God.
“Wow, I had no idea!” she said again. She didn’t look like she was sold on the idea of wearing burlap, and I guess that most of us are in agreement with her. But this Lent it becomes imperative not that we put on actual physical sackcloth, but that in some way we practice our piety by practicing peace.
Because it bears remembering that God did not save Noah alone on that ark so long ago. There were eight people and countless animals on that boat. A symbol that God does not save us alone, but God save us in community – even if that community means putting aside destruction and meeting in deserted No Man’s Land.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
