August 3-- Feeding the Crowds (Instead of Turning and Running)

Passages: Genesis 32:22-31; Psalm 17:1-7, 15; Romans 9:1-5; Matthew 14:13-21

Life in the Boston area, I have discovered, always involves crowds—you just never seem to be able to escape them. My husband and I drove all the way to Salem a few nights ago for a quiet, relaxing seaside dinner. We made it through road closures, traffic snarls, and blocks of parking spot-less curbs, only to finally dine in a restaurant so loud that we could hardly hear one another speak. When I recently went to experience the meditative, peaceful environs that inspired Walden, I was shocked to find Walden Pond swarmed by hundreds of people crammed onto its tiny beaches, their voices drifting up in a dull roar that echoed through Thoreau’s hallowed woods. In Massachusetts, especially during the summer tourist season, it seems that the only path to true solitude leads to somewhere in upstate Maine.

So we folks from Massachusetts can feel some of Jesus’ pain when, in today’s gospel lectionary passage, he gets in his boat and sails off for some R&R, only to find that he just can’t escape those pesky crowds. Jesus has good reason to seek solitude—he has just heard the news of John the Baptist’s death, and John’s killer thinks that Jesus is a resurrected John (14:1-2). It is smart for Jesus to lie low for a few days.

But someone in Jesus’ camp isn’t good about keeping his itinerary secret. For just like Walden Pond’s beaches on a sunny Saturday afternoon, upon coming ashore Jesus sees the beach jammed with people from the nearby towns. If Jesus had been like you or me, he probably would have cruised a little further up the coast for a more secluded beach. This being Jesus, though, “he had compassion for them and cured their sick” (v. 14).

Yet Jesus has something more in mind for this crowd than simply a few healings. To understand what’s going on, it helps to take a step back and think about the role this story plays in Matthew’s larger narrative. Many scholars have pointed out that for Matthew, Jesus is a latter-day Moses, the new lawgiver (Moses is threatened at birth but miraculously escapes; Matthew’s Jesus is threatened at birth but miraculously escapes. Moses gives the children of Israel the Law on Mount Sinai; Matthew’s Jesus preaches the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7). So when Jesus feeds the crowds twice in Matthew’s gospel—here in 14:13-21 and again in 15:29-39—there are echoes of Moses providing manna and quail to the Israelites on God’s behalf in Exodus 16 and Numbers 11. Jesus is to these people as Moses was to their ancestors, God’s miraculous messenger sent to lead them to the Promised Land.

But is Jesus really Moses here? Or is Jesus actually playing out the divine role in this little Exodus/Numbers parody? For when the disciples come to Jesus and ask him to send the crowds away, he doesn’t respond by telling everyone how God has promised to feed them, as Moses did. Instead, he tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat” (v. 16). When they offer all that they have, Jesus himself does the miraculous, transformative work that before had been reserved only for God. Here Matthew clearly states that Jesus is not simply a new Moses, but greater than Moses. Jesus not only speaks for God, but is the Son of God.

What about those disciples, then? The disciples, like Moses, are God’s servants to the people. They participate in the miracle, not only bringing the five loaves and two fish, but also distributing the meal to the crowds. The whole passage has a ritualistic, liturgical undertone to it—with all this blessing and breaking, giving and receiving, it sounds a lot like our own Eucharist services today. Jesus is inaugurating a new community to follow his teachings, a community where God amplifies our limited human tools to effectively serve the world. Jesus’ disciples find that with his help, they can in fact meet the needs of the crowds. They may not be new lawgivers, as Moses was, but they find that what they have to give is enough to do the job.

In these dog days of summer, when the needs of those around us threaten to swallow us like voices swallowed up in a crowded restaurant, remember Jesus feeding the five thousand. It isn’t just about the abundant feast that Jesus has put before us to nourish and sustain us on our personal journeys. For we are not only the crowds, but we are the disciples—called to offer grace and mercy to others as Christ has offered us grace and mercy. Our tools can seem woefully inadequate to the task. But through Christ’s transformative power, our lack becomes God’s abundance in us. Through Christ’s grace, we find sustenance for ourselves and strength to serve the world.

July 27-- God For Us

Passages: Genesis 29:15-28, Psalm 105:1-11, 45b, Romans 8:26-39, Matthew 13:31-33, 42-52

Hello, those of you eagerly awaiting another segment of the Massachusetts Bible Society lectionary blog! As a newcomer to this blog, but not to MBS, I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself before getting to the actual text for this week’s lectionary. I’m Kelsey Rice Bogdan, third year student at Harvard Divinity School and 2006-2007 MBS seminarian. I had the pleasure of working with MBS the year before Joe came on board, in the Society’s pre-blogging days. I was an avid blogger before the student life ate up all my time, though, so I’m excited to be back in the blogosphere. I also look forward to setting aside some time each week with you all to pause and reflect on a little snapshot of Scripture from the Revised Common Lectionary. I hope it will be a time for all of us to consider, be challenged, and grow together.

What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? ... Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” --Romans 8:31, 35-39

Have you ever wondered why John Calvin, the great Protestant Reformer of the 16^th century, ever made such a big deal about the idea that God chose some people for salvation and others for destruction? After all, it isn’t such a warm, fuzzy doctrine, and a good chunk of Christians (even Presbyterians like me, who claim their religious heritage from Calvin’s teachings) don’t really buy into it today. But Calvin was very emphatic on the point, and today’s lectionary passage is a perfect example of why.

In Romans 8:26-39, being God’s “predestined” (v. 29) suggests that God is with you, God will take care of you, nothing can come between you and God. In Calvin’s day, it was a comforting thought to reflect that, though the French authorities might threaten to kill you for your faith, God would vindicate you in the end because you were a beloved, chosen child. In Paul’s own first century context, it must have been likewise reassuring to think that despite all the vulnerabilities that come from being poor (as the majority of those living under the Roman Empire were at the time) and a follower of a strange new Jewish sect, God was on your side. It is no coincidence that, whether they agree with Calvin’s take on who or what is “predestined” in this passage, Christians through time and space have clung to it to claim God’s stake in their cause.

And therein lies the danger, the key element that can make Paul’s words both a clarion call for justice and the all-too-easy weapon of the oppressor: God is for us. Too many times we gloss over this phrase in verse 31 and just assume that if God is “for us,” that means someone—the devil, that particularly nasty co-worker, corporate America, Iran—is against us. We then go on to scan the rest of the passage with a smile on our face, knowing that we can be assured that God will make us “more than conquerors” over all those people we’ve brought into our reading of the text.

When I look again at Romans 8:31 and 35-39, though, an important character is missing from our little scenario: all the people who are against us, all the people we are supposedly going to conquer. The Holy One who created all of us, who embraces all of us as a mother embraces the sometimes squirmy child, is ultimately for all of us. Jesus, who reached out to Mary Magdalene and Nicodemus, Matthew the tax collector and Martha the busy housewife, doesn’t have to pick and choose who to love. When we think of God as a God of abundance, rather than through our own frame of scarce, coveted resources, who indeed is excluded from God’s overflowing love to stand against us?

Perhaps this is why, through Christ, we can be more than conquerors. Through Christ, the text suggests, we can transcend the lens of limit and lack through which we see others. We can go beyond winners and losers, beyond the notion that my gain is your loss. That’s not to deny the brokenness that exists in the world—in verses 35 and 36, Paul acknowledges the realities of persecution, hunger, and war, some of which humans and human systems cause. But none of those things can alter the fact that the God who appeared among us did so because that God is for each and every one of us.

In the gospel Paul presents here, no one—no individual, group, or society—can lay claim to God’s special favor over another. For just as Jesus embraces all of creation in this troubled world, we are called to embrace all those who we might view as standing against us. What would it mean to look at the enemy, even one that perpetuates injustices we rightfully oppose, as someone whom God is ultimately for? Maybe that means revising our belief that an enemy is someone to be vanquished, conquered, bent to our will. Maybe that means seeing our opponents as God sees them—broken, flawed creatures like us, desperately in need of transformative love.

June 8 -- The Tax Man

Passages: Genesis 12:1-9, Psalm 33:1-12, Romans 4:13-25, Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Many believe St. Matthew, the tax collector in today's passage, is also the author of the Gospel of Matthew, but many scholars hold this improbable and date the Gospel forty to sixty years after the death of Jesus.

In Matthew 9.9 we have the calling of Matthew; Jesus takes the tax collector as a disciple and eats dinner at his house with other tax collectors and "sinners." When he is questioned by the Pharisees about the company he keeps, Jesus says, "For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (Mt. 9.13). Jesus is always siding with the underdogs, those who are marginalized and the oppressed, and even shows them blatant favoritism at time to other social groups. Although Jesus' teachings and sacrifice is for all people, his ministry certainly focuses on and favors the poor, needy and outcast. But this is what makes the tax collector such an interesting figure in Jesus' ministry -- they aren't "the little guy." Not only are they materially comfortable, but they also work hand-in-hand with the Roman occupation.

Nobody likes the IRS, especially when taxes are taking food off your table. But in the first century Judea, the disdain for tax collectors went far beyond economics. Tax collectors were traitors, Jews who not only accepted Roman occupation but enabled and supported it. Furthermore, the way tax collectors made money was by collecting additional money than what was required. This was not necessarily corruption -- Rome expected this from its collectors. So when John the Baptist instructs tax collectors to "collect no more than you are required to" (Lk. 3.13) he is asking them to essentially work without wages. To most Jews living under Roman rule, tax collectors were traitors and extortionists, one of the worst kinds of people.

Jesus reaches out to the tax collectors precisely because they are ostracized by their communities, especially by the religious order that saw close cooperation with Gentiles as straying from their religious identities. They are unique from lepers, prostitutes, the disabled, and other marginalized groups Jesus ministers to because tax collectors occupy a certain level of privilege and have power that these other groups do not. However, as a disciple Jesus expects Matthew to open his homes to all kinds of "sinners" and to sacrifice what privilege he has for the sake of others.

There are lots of people in the modern world who occupy comfortable positions of privilege and are active and willing participants in a system that oppresses and hurts others. The tax man serves as an archetype for the middle class who "sell out" to this system and cooperate with imperialism. It's comforting to know that there is a special place in Jesus' teachings and ministry that serve people like the tax collectors: people struggling with their conscience and own identity, and that Jesus even invites them into his closest circle.

June 1st -- Judgment and authenticity

Passages: Genesis 6:9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19, Psalm 46, Romans 1:16-17; 3:22b-28, Matthew 7:21-29

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?' Then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers!’”—Matthew 7.21-23

In this passage, Jesus predicts that in the future, many people will profess faith in him but fail in doing the will of God. Although they may self-identify as followers of Jesus, Jesus explicitly states that this is not enough. This prophesy extends to today, and I believe Jesus would maintain that it’s not enough to simply attend church, be baptized and even pray on a daily basis. Doing things in the name of the Lord, and calling yourself a “Christian” is not a guarantee of doing things in accordance with God’s will.

In this passage, Jesus is talking about judgment and authenticity of faith. Although some Christian sects debate doctrine and renounce other sects’ validity, I think this passage makes clear that authenticity is not found along denominational lines. Today’s lection is fairly unambiguous that the labels we put on things – saying “Lord, Lord!” and doing deeds of power “in your name” – are not valid indicators of an authentic Christian heart. Fundamentalist, orthodox, progressive, liberationist; the differences in these theological movements are not trivial, but authenticity isn’t to be found in the labels.

So where then is authenticity found? I see two specific things that Jesus is valuing in this passage above acts of piety and confessions of faith: doing the Lord’s will and being in relationship with him. The first is obvious and explicit: “only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” will enter the kingdom of heaven. Interestingly, Jesus does not equate the work of zealous followers – casting out demons and delivering prophesies – with doing the will of God. In fact, this quote immediately follows a warning against false prophets, who are “wolves in sheep’s clothing.” In this context, Jesus this passage can be seen as passing judgment on only those who insincerely claim to be religious leaders.

But I think this passage has implications for all followers of Christ, not just those who claim to be prophets and leaders. Jesus is making it clear that people can claim – and even believe – that they are doing things in his name when in fact those actions are in vain. Jesus emphasizes the importance of actually doing the Lord’s will as opposed to lip service, but discerning God’s will isn’t always easy, and there are many conflicting ideas about what exactly constitutes “God’s will.” In the passage, Jesus says he will declare to those who profess faith in the Lord but fail to do God’s will, “I never knew you.” While it is possible to interpret this differently, I think this statement implies a correlation between a relationship with Jesus and doing God’s will.

As a religious pluralist, I think it is possible to do God’s will and work in the world without being a Christian and professing faith in Christ. However, personally it is my understanding of the resurrected Christ who dwells in the heart of believers that I use to discern God’s will. My relationship with the living Christ is my compass for how I live out my faith, so the words “I never knew you; go away from me,” speak loudly to me. It is when I ignore this relationship with Christ that I stray most from God’s will.

However, in general I think the spirit of this passage is emphasizing sincerity and genuineness over actions and confessions. Earlier in the Sermon on the Mount (which this passage comes from) Jesus encourages the crowd to be discreet in their fasting and prayers, and avoid the public piety displayed by hypocrites who seek social approval over God’s (Mt. 6.5-18). Although a prophesy of judgment, at its heart I think this passage is a similar warning about the vice of religious posturing, which is almost always at the expense of genuinely seeking God.

God and Mammon

Passages: Isaiah 49:8-16, Psalm 131, 1 Corinthians 4:1-5, Matthew 6:24-34.

Roman coin of Augustus, circulated at the turn of the 1st century AD

No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth. ²⁵ Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? … But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴ So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today. –Matthew 6:24-25, 33-34

In a modern society that demands investment for retirement, a society driven by money and wealth (mammon), these are challenging words delivered by Jesus in the Sermon of the Mount. These words represent a significant shift from the Hebrew Scripture themes of wealth, which often emphasizes wealth as a blessing from God and, through the prophets, continually called for the just distribution of that wealth. However, in the Jewish confrontation with the Roman Empire, there is a drastic shift in the way wealth is both viewed and quantified. Before the Roman occupation, wealth was conceived in terms of land, livestock and harvest, but Roman economics and currencies changed the financial landscape and, predictably, attitudes toward wealth. Jesus, in this passage and several others in all four Gospels, warns of money as an obstacle to salvation and knowing God. The two are put at odds; mammon is not a gift from God, but is antithetical to the Kingdom of God – No one can serve two masters.

Obviously people cannot survive unless their material needs are met. Globally, billions of people live on less than $2 a day and millions die every year from causes directly related to that poverty, mainly starvation, lack of sanitary water and preventable diseases. Jesus, in the tradition of the prophets, calls those with the capacity to help these neighbors to do so with care and compassion. Today’s lection is not an outright dismissal of material ministry, or a denial of material necessities.

Too often passages such as the one preceding today’s lection in the Sermon on the Mount – “store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes” (Mt. 6.20) – are used to spiritualize Jesus’ message entirely and distract from the material ministries. Here, Jesus is addressing wealth as a master, something that consumes and enslaves you. In fact, Jesus is trying to quell the anxiety about self-preservation that prevents them from being good stewards to their neighbor and therefore poor servants of God. For when you are caught up in a selfish desire for security, and do not trust God to provide for you when doing God’s work, you are serving the interest of mammon.

Matthew 6.25-33 is also found in Luke 12.22-31, almost word for word (this is the part from “do not worry about your life” to “strive for the kingdom first”). Both times it immediately follows a warning about the consuming effects of wealth and greed. In Matthew it follows the famous teaching “no one can serve two masters,” and in Luke it follows the parable of the rich fool (Lk. 12.13-21) which tells of a man whose land produced abundantly, and in this abundance decided to build a larger barn and enjoy the security of many years of ample goods. But God tells the man: “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (Lk. 12.20).

The teaching “Do not worry,” is a fitting teaching to follow the parable. The rich fool hoarded his goods and did not share his harvest with the hungry, choosing to bask in his security and “relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Lk. 12.19). He allowed his anxiety about the future to overcome his trust in God and obligation to the community to share his abundance. He literally stored up his treasure for himself, but “was not rich toward God” (Lk. 12.21). In Luke, unlike in Matthew, Jesus expands on this teaching and describes what it means to be rich toward God: “Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Lk. 12.33-34).

This is challenging to us in modern society, when investments (particularly for retirement) and saving is so heavily emphasized and encouraged. I do not think Jesus is calling for us to ignore the need to prepare for tomorrow, but rather warning of the peril of wealth. It has a consuming nature, and in putting our trust in our savings we are prevented from doing God’s work and ministry on Earth. The economy of Rome – the economy of empire – has prevailed for the past two thousand years, and the idea of wealth as currency has increased and solidified. This makes the New Testament shift in emphasis on money as “the root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6.10) even more applicable today then when first spoke. The pressure to serve mammon is even greater, and is perhaps an even more cruel and powerful master than in the first century.

May 11 -- Day of Pentecost

Passages: Acts 2:1-21, Psalm 104:24-35, 1 Corinthians 12:3-13, John 20:19-23

All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. ⁵ Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. ⁶ And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. ⁷ Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? ⁸ And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? … ¹² All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" ¹³ But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine." Acts 2:4-13 (NRSV)

² For those who speak in a tongue do not speak to other people but to God; for nobody understands them, since they are speaking mysteries in the Spirit. ³ On the other hand, those who prophesy speak to other people for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation. ⁴ Those who speak in a tongue build up themselves, but those who prophesy build up the church. ⁵ Now I would like all of you to speak in tongues, but even more to prophesy. … ⁹ So with yourselves; if in a tongue you utter speech that is not intelligible, how will anyone know what is being said? For you will be speaking into the air … ¹¹ If then I do not know the meaning of a sound, I will be a foreigner to the speaker and the speaker a foreigner to me. 1 Corinthians 14:2-11

In Acts and 1 Corinthians we are presented with two different conceptions of what it means to “speak in tongues.” Acts recounts the event of the Pentecost, when the disciples are granted the gift of tongues to empower them in their ministry of the early church and live out the Great Commission (to make disciples of all nations). In Acts, the words the disciples speak are intelligible to many people in the crowd, whereas in Corinthians, Paul is describing a practice in the early church that closely resembles the “speaking in tongues” of many modern Pentecostal and Charismatic churches (“Charismatic” is a term for non-Pentecostal Christians who speak in tongues several times a year or identify as “Pentecostal” while belonging to a non-Pentecostal denomination, like Catholicism). Paul is accepting and encouraging of the practice, but expresses reservations about it. He attempts to downplay its importance in churches and as a sign of belief. These two practices, although sharing a common name (glossolalia), have crucial differences.

Two common interpretations of Acts 2 are: 1) the Disciples were given the ability to speak in previously unknown languages intelligibly, and 2) the Disciples were given the ability to speak in mysterious tongue and many of those present were granted to the power of interpretation and each heard this tongue in their own language simultaneously. The second interpretation seems the soundest to me based on a close reading of the text – in Acts 2.8 the crowd asks “How is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?” Also, in 2.13 it is mentioned that there are people present who do not understand and mock the Disciples, saying they had too much new wine. So, to bust out a Star Trek reference here, the Holy Spirit acts as a sort of “universal translator.” In the Star Trek world, everyone is capable of speaking in their own native language and be understood in the other person’s. This bridges the vast cultural differences between the different species, and makes the mission of exploration possible. Likewise, the Pentecost bridges the cultural barriers and makes it possible for the mission of the Apostles to be accomplished. It invites all nations to hear the message and be a part of the divine discussion.

This is a sharp contrast to what Paul says in First Corinthians 14.2: “For those who speak in a tongue do not speak to other people but to God; for nobody understands them, since they are speaking mysteries in the Spirit.” Paul, although not rejecting glossolalia, complains about how the practice is unintelligible to others in the church and therefore inferior to prophesy or other spiritual gifts that are communicable. Where the Pentecost brought understanding between foreigners, the unintelligible glossolalia of the early church created separations (according to Paul): “If then I do not know the meaning of a sound, I will be a foreigner to the speaker and the speaker a foreigner to me” (14.11).

Growing up in a congregational church, where the majority of worship is spent sitting still and listening to sermons or prayers, speaking in tongues is a foreign concept to me. However, Pentecostal and Charismatic worship is spreading rapidly all around the world (especially in Latin America, where even some Catholic services have a Charismatic worship style). It is a powerful religious experience for many people, one I wish to respect. Yet, it’s interesting that the debate Paul addressed almost two thousand years ago – about the value of speaking in tongues – continues today. Often, Pentecostals and Charismatics (often jointly referred to as “Renewalists”) point to Acts, and Hebrew Scripture passages like Joel (as Peter does in today’s lection) for the Biblical basis of their practice, while some non-Renewalists, point to passages from Paul to discredit it or relegate it to a private practice outside of worship, as Paul does in 1 Corinthians 14.18-19: “I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you; nevertheless, in church I would rather speak five words with my mind, in order to instruct others also, than ten thousand words in a tongue.”

However, those who use Paul to refute glossolalia are not being fair to the argument Paul presents in 1 Corinthians, and are rather picking out a few harsh sentences. Paul does indeed argue that it doesn’t have much of a place in worship if there isn’t a translator, but he doesn’t deny the experience either or call it gibberish. He ultimately concludes with, “So, my friends, be eager to prophesy, and do not forbid speaking in tongues; but all things should be done decently and in order” (1 Corinthians 14:39-40). On the day of Pentecost, I think it’s important for us to acknowledge that the New Testament itself has different conceptions of “speaking in tongues,” and that it has been a subject of controversy for the entire history of the Christian church.

Seventh Sunday of Easter -- Humble Resistance

Passages: Acts 1:6-14, Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35, 1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11, John 17:1-11.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. –1 Peter 5:6-10

Our lectionary continues with the theme of suffering as part of the Christian experience. But what I find most interesting about the 1 Peter lection is the author’s mixture of two Christian virtues – humility and resistance. Often sacrifice and humility is conflated with submission and docility. Critics of Christianity have frequently said that Christianity encourages obedience to oppressive structures. However, 1 Peter calls Christians to be vigilant (alert and self-controlled) in the face of evil and to resist, standing firm in faith. Humility does not equal apathy, docility or social obedience; rather it is acknowledging the sovereignty of God and your place in God’s kingdom. This place is one of unity with others, who share your common lot, suffering for following Christ’s love and finding comfort in God’s grace and promise of restoration.

In 1 Peter, the author refers to “your enemy the devil.” In Greek, the language of the letter, dia,boloj means “accuser” or “slanderer,” and is how Early Christian writers referred to the Devil. The Hebrew Scriptures, such as the Book of Job, refer to the Devil as “ha-satan” or the adversary or even obstacle. The Early Christian encounter with the Roman Empire, and their perception of the Empire as morally bankrupt, yet immensely powerful, intensified their conception of evil and Satan. The Christian “Devil” has much more agency and power in the world in the Christian worldview than in the traditional Jewish worldview, in part because of Rome’s influence during Christianity’s formative years. Importantly, this gives Christian texts a strong sense of institutional and structural evil. 1 Peter’s warning is a warning against complacency to the culture and society Christians inhabit, a landscape where evil prowls like a hungry lion.

So the humility that Peter speaks of at the beginning of the passage is not a humility that is submissive to the culture one is in. Casting aside anxiety is not succumbing to apathy. It is quite the opposite. When you humble yourself before God, and align yourself with the glory of Christ, you find yourself in conflict with the world. You find yourself vulnerable, potential prey to a hungry lion. Fortunately, as today’s Psalm reminds us, “the God of Israel give power to his people” (68.35) – God gives us the power for humble resistance.

Fourth Sunday in Easter -- Taking up the Cross

Passages: Acts 2:42-47, Psalm 23, 1 Peter 2:19-25, John 10:1-10

“But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” 1 Peter 2.20-21

1 Peter reminds that doing the right thing is not always easy or safe. In fact, as Christians we are called to a life of suffering for our convictions. This message is easily lost in comfortable congregations; many Christians come to church to lay down their burdens and to ease the suffering of their lives. They are looking for stability and an anchor in life, not adversity or challenge. The rise of prosperity theology – charismatic preachers proclaiming that God rewards the faithful in this life with good health and financial well-being – demonstrates how many people are thirsty for a faith that will lift them up and ease their sorrow. But Christian prosperity comes in an unexpected and somewhat paradoxical way: We are called to suffer for our faith, but in that sacrifice find redemption and a "more excellent way."

Peter is careful to only commend suffering when it is on behalf of good. I also think Peter avoids glorifying suffering, although this less clear. Many have criticized Christianity for its self-sacrificial and need-denying obsession with suffering. Often in history, Christian monastics would subject themselves to physical pain and emotional tumult in an attempt to come closer to God in their profound suffering. Yet that suffering was brought deliberately upon themselves. Although they were searching for a deeper faith, they were not suffering on account of good deeds that they performed in the world. Often they were punishing themselves for their own sins, thus not enduring suffering for goodness, but for penance and purification. While a Christian theology that makes sense of suffering and persecution is indeed necessary and healthy, it is important to avoid masochism or glorifying suffering.

But it equally important not to have a theology that demonizes suffering. Not all suffering, at all times, is bad. Often secular morality focuses merely on alleviating suffering and raising comfort in the world -- which generally is a very good thing -- but finds itself conflicted when the seemingly "good" action requires great sacrifice and even more suffering than the alternatives. The example of the cross gives Christians courage in pursuing what is right even when the consequences seem grim and terrible. Few things frighten me more than the thought of torture. Yet my greatest moral teacher knew his fate and did not flee. He had the power to avoid crucifixion, but because of his mission suffered for the redemption and transformation of society.

In my last post, I explored how that although the church has prominently shaped mainstream culture, Christian ideals and values still remain counter cultural. For the first Christians, following Christ did mean persecution and violent suffering. It meant challenging the injustices and norms of society. Christ preached a message of justice for the poor and the corruption of wealth, a message of healing for the sick. Although in many modern societies religious tolerance is such that professing Christ won't induce a beating, I think that living Christ's example in the world will still lead to conflict with the status quo and bring the suffering and struggles that come with it.

Forty years ago Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered for his commitment to justice and his prophetic profession in Christ. Before his murder, King had been beaten and imprisoned. But, knowing the consequences for speaking the truth and challenging his culture, he stood in the pulpit and asked men and women of all ages to join with him. He reminded Christians that the crown of our glory is made of thorns, that we are called to carry the cross like Christ. And through the torment, the jabs and insults, we are to display love and forgiveness, and be committed to peace. King understood how this process transformed society. The courage and restraint of protesters attacked by dogs or assaulted with hoses opened people's eyes and changed their hearts. It gave many others the courage to stand up for goodness, even when it means sacrifice and loss.

Because suffering was a reality of Christ's ministry in the world, it will also be a reality of the mission of the global church, the body of believers. Christ does not rescue us from suffering on the cross as a substitute -- he serves as an example of a more excellent way that transcends death. But although God calls us to endure trials on His behalf, he is always present and gives us the strength to endure. The great preacher Phillips Brooks once challenged his congregation by saying: "Pray not for easy lives -- Pray to be stronger men! Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, but powers equal to your tasks." I have faith that the strength, endurance and comfort of the Lord will guide believers through their most difficult trials and tasks. As the famous Psalm from today's lectionary praises, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

Palm Sunday -- Seeing Zechariah in the Triumphal Entry

Passages: Matthew 21:1-11 and Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29. See also: Zechariah 9 and 14.

Jesus enters Jerusalem

Seeing Zechariah:

Today’s lectionary presents us with Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem in Matthew 21. In the passage, onlookers laying their cloaks and branches down in front of the donkeys shout “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” These words are found in our other lection for the day, Psalm 118. Also quoted in this passage is Zechariah 9.9: “See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” By quoting Zechariah, the Gospel of Matthew draws attention to the scripture, and close examination of the text reveals other parallels between Zechariah and the Triumphal Entry. So much so, that I would suggest adding Zechariah 9 or 14 to the lectionary for this week (today’s liturgy omits the Old Testament and Epistle lection).

Zechariah is a prophetic text written after the First Temple period, and is the main Hebrew scriptural source for Matthew’s narration of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. Zechariah means “Yahweh has remembered,” and can be seen as a reminder to continue traditions from the first Temple period into this new era. Zechariah, although presented as one text, is commonly broken up into 1 Zechariah (ch. 1-8) and 2 Zechariah (9-14). 1 Zechariah visions a future of peace and prosperity for Israel, with an emphasis on the role of the priestly order. 2 Zechariah, on the other hand, is disillusioned with this priestly order, and puts forth a vision of peace and prosperity established by Yahweh himself. It is fitting then that the Gospel of Matthew, which depicts the priestly order of the Pharisees as calculated and corrupt, quotes from the beginning of 2 Zechariah, when Yahweh rides into Jerusalem “righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey” (Zechariah 9.9 NIV).

There are two other powerful allusions to 2 Zechariah in “Triumphal Entry.” According to Matthew, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem begins in “Bethpage on the Mount of Olives” (Mt. 21.1 NIV) the same place where the Lord arrives in Zechariah 14.4:“On that day his feet shall stand on the Mount of Olives” (NIV). Although not in our lectionary, Matthew’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem climaxes with Jesus expelling traders from the temple and turning over the money-changers tables (Interestingly, in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus visits the temple but takes no action, leaving and coming back later to “cleanse” the temple). This strongly echoes the final lines of 2 Zechariah: “And on that day there will no longer be a Canaanite (or merchant) in the house of the LORD Almighty” (Zechariah 14.21).

The Gospel of Matthew goes to great lengths to demonstrate Jesus’ continuity with the Hebrew scriptures and Jewish tradition, and today’s lectionary is no exception. Perhaps most confusing – but quite interesting – is that Matthew adds another donkey to the processional. Jesus asks his disciples to bring him a donkey with her colt (offspring) and then mysteriously rides “them” into town. Mark, which was written before Matthew and most scholars agree that the author of Matthew had access to Mark when compiling the Gospel, only has one donkey. So do the Gospels of John and Luke. But Matthew adds an additional donkey, and then says that he sat on “them.” Unless Jesus was a larger man than depicted in every single painting of him ever painted, this is a physical impossibility. Why would Matthew complicate the processional like this, especially when he has a source that tells him there is only one donkey in the processional? We can’t know for sure, but the most likely answer is because Matthew interprets two donkeys present in Zechariah 9, and wants the entry to fulfill the Zechariah prophecy to the letter. While the thought of the author of Matthew “fudging” the text to make it better fit a prophecy may be somewhat distressing, it does show us exactly how important Zechariah and exhibiting Jesus’ continuity with Hebrew Scriptures is.

Some paintings of the scene based on Matthew have Jesus riding the mother donkey, with her child following nearby. This is one way to reconcile the impossibility of Jesus riding both donkeys simultaneously, but the ambiguity should alert us to the highly formative role 2 Zechariah plays in the formation of our Palm Sunday narrative.

Fourth Sunday in Lent -- Light and True Seeing

Passages: 1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41

Darkness cannot overcome even the faintest light.

Link to a choir rendition of Siyahamba, a South African song that relates to Ephesians 5

“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” –1 Samuel 16:7

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” –Psalm 23.4

“While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” –John 9:5

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light … everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible.” –Ephesians 5:8-14

The theme of light and darkness is repeated throughout the Bible, particularly in the New Testament. In today’s lectionary, this theme – along with Samuel’s theme of true seeing – binds the passages together. In the selections I have pulled out, you can see a progression of sorts. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Samuel proclaims God’s ability to see past outward appearances into the heart – immune to deception or ill intent. In the most famous Psalm of David, David uses the image of a shadow for death, an image that has endured for about 3,000 years. In the Gospel of John, which makes eloquent use of this theme, Jesus declares himself “the light of the world.” Ephesians takes the theme even farther, encouraging Christians to “live as children of light” and ties this spiritual light with true seeing.

Although the contrast of light/darkness lends itself to dualism, it is interesting to note that darkness is not an equally powerful opposite of light, but merely its absence. Darkness is also completely incapable of overcoming light – even the faintest, palest light can vanquish some darkness. Also, anyone familiar with dimming house lights know that there are gradations of illumination – a gray area between pitch black and blinding light.

The above passage from John is found in the account of Christ healing a blind man on Sabbath. Pharisees interrogate the blind man, his parents and even Christ, unable to make sense of someone they see as a sinner (Because Jesus did not keep the Sabbath) able to perform such a prophetic act of healing. As the ordeal winds down, Jesus informs the blind man and the Pharisees, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind” (John 9:39). Jesus connects his previous claim (“I am the light of the world”) with his current action – “I have come so that the blind may see.” Although Jesus has literally given sight to a man who was blind from birth, he is clearly speaking in metaphor. As darkness is absence of light, spiritual blindness is ignorance of the Lord.

What I find so interesting about this passage is that Jesus also says he will make those who see blind. When he states, “but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains,” he is refuting the legitimacy of their claims to sight. Perhaps, like in 1 Samuel, they are only seeing outward appearance, unable to see into the heart. Those arrogant enough to assume they truly see the world for what it is are unable to achieve true spiritual sight. Christ seems to be adopting the Socratic ideal – perhaps an instance of the Greek influence on Jewish thought – that in order to become wise, you must first admit your ignorance. In a mysterious paradox, you must negate yourself as a knower in order to know anything.

Those who confess their blindness are absolved of their sin: “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin.” If we cling stubbornly to our “sight” our guilt will remain with us. We will remain in darkness, unable to attain knowledge of our true surroundings, and unable to abide by the advice in Ephesians to live as children of light, truly seeing God’s creation.

Third Sunday in Lent -- Perseverance

Passages: Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42


"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." -- Romans 5:2-5

The Apostle Paul, imprisoned near the end of his life.

There is a certain danger in rationalizing suffering. It is important to see how God works in our lives, including our deepest trials, but it should not affect our sense of compassion and duty to each other when in need. Often, when Christians are faced with suffering they will either see God's wrath and punishment, or -- like Paul -- see God's blessings and how even the worst times can build up our character and faith. But we must also see the injustice of suffering, and act in accordance to the teachings and commandments of Christ.

Not all suffering is an injustice -- but all injustice causes suffering. There are certain agonies (the Greek word "agwn" or agon means a contest or struggle) that are a necessary part of life, and even a blessing as Paul suggests. But those tend to be the sufferings of the universal human condition: heartbreak, failure, sickness, injury and betrayals. These are all difficult parts of life, but part of its richness and wholeness. But there are sufferings that cannot be seen as blessings -- torture, rape and murder. Children dying from hunger or unsafe drinking water. The wholesale exploitation of human beings for greed and power.

True, even in the worst of human conditions (perhaps especially in the worst of human conditions) you can find great character and hope. The kind of hope that can only emerge the deepest of despairs. The Early Christians faced severe persecution and often gruesome, torturous treatment. Paul was beaten and arrested many times in his life, and is best known for his sense of mission and his perseverance (even more than his gift of pen and persuasion). And no doubt, Paul is able to write this inspiring passage because he knows first hand how his persecution has given him greater hope and connected him with the Holy Spirit. Yet these words were written to Christians during a time of persecution and limited power -- there was yet to be significant danger for the Early Christians to grow callous about the sufferings of others, or perpetuate systematic injustice against others.

Today, we are in a much different historical and social context. We must remember that these words come from the depths of persecution and social powerlessness. It was written to communities who were suffering together, and sharing hope for a better world through Christ together. It was meant to encourage them, and help them see how God continues to bless them even in these difficult times.

Two thousand years later, Christians still suffer and hope together. Paul's words resonate with them now as it did for the first Christians. But unlike the first Christians, the Church has great power and resources. We cannot let our understanding of suffering as a blessing -- and something that is part of God's plan for our lives -- dilute our mission of healing and compassion. We cannot pass the Samaritan on the road and not see someone in great distress.

Sunday, Dec. 23 -- The Nativity

Passages: Matthew 1:18-25, Romans 1:1-7, Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19, Isaiah 7:10-16.

Above: The familiar Nativity set
Below: Nativity scene based on Luke alone

If you look at the two pictures above, you will notice some striking dissimilarities (other than artistic quality). The top is the familiar Nativity set that is displayed in millions of homes and churches. It has everything you'd expect: Shepherds, Angels, Wise Men, animals, Mary, Joseph and, of course, the baby Jesus asleep in a manger. Many sets even have a star that hangs from the top of the stable. The painting below it is based on Luke, and is missing the three magi and the angels. But the wise men and the star of Bethlehem only appear in Matthew, not Luke. There are no Nativity paintings based solely on Matthew, because although the Gospel of Matthew delivers a birth narrative, there is no manger, shepherds, animals or even a minor description of where the birth took place (other than Bethlehem). The familiar Nativity scene crams the two accounts together, which is okay.

The disparity between Matthew's and Luke's choices for witnesses to Jesus' birth (wise men and shepherds, respectively), tell us a lot about their focuses. Luke goes to great lengths to show that Jesus, although divine and conceived through the Holy Spirit, came to us humble and poor. Jesus was born in a stable and placed in a manger. There was no special star for Jesus, no powerful rulers coming to pay homage, and no expensive gifts. The witnesses to this miracle were mere shepherds. Since shepherding required long hours outside, but was not rocket science, often the youngest son of a family was burdened with the task. Notice how young the two shepherds in the painting are. They are just kids! Luke is interested in exalting Jesus by showing how he came to the world humbly and in poverty.

Matthew isn't as interested in that. He doesn't depict Christ as born into privilege, but he doesn't stress it like Luke. Jesus' birth, in Matthew, changes the order of the cosmos. Astrologers from the East see the star and visit Christ and pay homage with expensive gifts. Jesus, instead of being an anonymous birth in a stable, is seen as a political threat to King Herod, who orders a massacre of infants to quell any challenge to his power. Like Moses, Jesus escapes a decree to kill infants from a paranoid tyrant and is taken to Egypt (of all places).

There is another significant disparity in the two birth narratives, one that involves today's lectionary. In the Matthew lection (1.18-25), we are given the account of an angel appearing to Joseph in a dream, exhorting him not to break his engagement with Mary. The passage is not in Luke. In Luke's account, Joseph never has to be convinced to stay with Mary. Furthermore, in Luke the angel's commandment to name the child Jesus is given to Mary, not Joseph. Joseph is actually a relatively minor character in the birth narrative, as Luke devotes quite a bit of time to Mary.

Luke does something unique in devoting so much detail and thought to the women in the story. It is very much in tune with his emphasis on the marginalized, on those with a lower status. In fact, the person with the highest status in Luke's account -- Zechariah, the husband of Elizabeth and a priest -- is struck mute. He regains his voice after the birth of his son, John the Baptist. In yet another reversal of power, relatives wanted to name John Zechariah after his father, but Elizabeth insisted upo