Where I am

August 25, 2019 * Luke 13:10-17

The events unfolding in this morning’s text from Luke are very familiar to us; Jesus teaching, Jesus healing, and Jesus challenging the notions of religious law.  And while this familiarity exists, it’s important that we pay attention to the peculiarities of what makes this story unique, relevant, and important. 

We have departed from the parables of Luke and have moved into an event driven scene complex with details.  Jesus is teaching, on the Sabbath, in a synagogue.  We aren’t told which synagogue, or what town he is in.  Amidst the crowd that has gathered around him, he spots something that catches his eye.  Something he can’t quite move past or just overlook.  It was a woman.  A woman that we really don’t know anything about.  We don’t know her age, where she was from, we don’t know her name.  We do know, that for many years, 18 in fact, she has been suffering from a condition that has left her crippled and bent over, not being able to stand up at all.

That’s something you and I might have a hard time grasping, being that as I look around, we are all people able to do the things this woman could not.  We can look up at the sky.  We can look each other in the eye.  With outstretched arms we can carry out the functions of daily life (in healthcare we call these activities of daily living).  We can see in front of us, navigating out own paths.  We sleep stretched out in our beds in crazy positions, we reach overhead to get things out of cabinets….  Our world view consists of more than dust, and feet.  But this woman’s did not.  She couldn’t do any of these things, and hadn’t been able to for 18 years.  And it’s no secret how persons of lesser abilities were treated in this day and age; it was bad enough that she was a woman.  This alone put her at the bottom of the social hierarchical ladder.  But this?  This disability robbed her of more than her ability to stand straight; it robbed her of any shred of social status and respect she would have ever had the chance to attain. 

We also don’t know what brought this weary woman out this particular Sabbath day, or what her business was at the temple, or how she even got there.  Had she come out to see if this man whom she had heard about would heal her?  Surely she had heard about the wonderous things that had happened to the man who couldn’t speak, or the leapers, or the woman with the bleeding condition.  Surely, maybe, hopefully…he would have pity on me, too.  But, then, maybe Jesus was a stranger to her, someone she had never heard of before.  She may have been so segregated to the outskirts of society that she hadn’t heard any of the news.  Maybe her being in the temple on the sabbath had nothing to do with Jesus’ appearance.

That would almost seem fitting, since we know of the accounts of the other miracles where people went to great lengths to make their way to the feet of this Messiah.  The crippled man, whose friends lowered him down through the roof, the bleeding woman who reached out through the crowd just to grab his coat….  Today’s stooped woman, we see, didn’t approach Jesus.  He called her out. 

He called her out.  He saw her.  Think about that.  Think about all those people, crowding around Jesus in the temple…the thick density of people, all standing upright, listening intently, and through all of that, he spotted a woman, so contorted that she was half the height of everyone else there.  The fact that he was able to see her was indeed a miracle.  He did.

He called out to her, something I’m sure she hadn’t experienced in a number of years.  People don’t seek out those who are marginalized and disenfranchised.  She makes her way to the man calling her forth with the best pace she can, guiding herself along the path of feet that have parted to allow her passage.  Jesus speaks the words “you are set free from your ailment”, but he didn’t stop there, which makes this encounter different than the others.  After saying these words, Jesus laid his hands on the woman.  He did what she couldn’t – he reached outstretched, touched her, and in that moment she did something she had not done in 18 years:  she stood upright.  Her spine straightened, her legs and feet squared, she pulled her head up and she stood and with all her might, she began praising God!

Isn’t this wonderful!  Thanks be to God!  The crowd is cheering, there are hugs, and tears of joy, and this feeling of electricity in the air…until a voice called out above the cheers.  A voice of indignation.  “You…you’ve done work on the Sabbath, Jesus”, the synagogue leader proclaims.  There are six days in which to work, and this day, this Sabbath day, this is God’s day, to be kept Holy.  Immediately Jesus reminds the Religious Leader that it is a good and right thing on the Sabbath to untie your Ox and Donkey and lead them to water…to offer them care, to show them mercy.  But in this case, it wasn’t alright to show this woman mercy, and care? 

It could be argued that there’s a stark difference in depriving something of water, which would lead to death pretty quick, and alleviating symptoms of an ailment that had been ongoing for 18 years.  I’ll concede to that.  But the question lingers…why would anyone with the ability to show compassion wait even one more day to do so?  With the ability at hand, why would Jesus deny her wholeness, simply to appease the legal system of religion?

Because, that’s not what this was about.  Jesus did so much more than simply restore this woman’s ability to stand upright.  He did more than cure her of a physical disability or ailment.  He restored to her status.  He removed the thing that ostracized her to the margins of their society, he destroyed the thing that those in power and position used to disenfranchise her.  He gave her an identity, he gave her empowerment, and in doing so, threatened those who took it from her in the first place.  By restoring her social status he challenged the Religious Leader and his way of life.  Power is something people don’t take lightly; those in it want to keep it, at all costs.  And today, in the great contest of power and shame, power has been given to the healed woman, and the Religious Leader has been shamed. 

And to make matters worse, the crowd took delight in this. 

I was finished with this sermon, and came back to it because one line was still bothering me:  “…he laid his hands on her…”.  Why?  He had made the pronouncement of healing her, and so many times before that’s all it had taken.  Jesus had even healed people through his garments…so why did he lay his hands on this woman?  Why was it so important to touch her?  Doing so could have easily rendered him unclean…and I think that’s exactly why he did it.  Because it was a good thing.  Because it further showed the Religious Leader and those gathered the great example of what we should be doing. 

But that’s not all.  Although you and I may have never been as physically afflicted as this woman, each one of have fought battles in our lives, both visible and invisible.  At times, when we are at some of the deepest moments of our lives, we look for Jesus, we see him, and we reach out for him.  Much like that hemorrhaging woman we know if we can just grab the hem of his garment, that’s all we need.  We go to Jesus, where Jesus is.  And then sometimes, other times, when things have gotten so bad that we don’t even have the will to reach out to Jesus, Jesus finds us, and lays his hands on us, and steadies us and centers us and meets us where we are, in the midst of our pain, and our storm, reminding us that we have an identity, we are claimed, and we are love.

Thanks be to God.

The Faith Hall of Fame

Hebrews 11:29-12:2 * August 18, 2019

This week I was drawn in by the text from the Epistle (or letter) to the Hebrew people.  This letter is commonly attributed to Paul, however most scholars agree that this is incorrect given the writing style has almost no overlap to the verified Pauline writings. 

The verses preceding today’s text talk about Abel, Noah, Abraham, and Moses, and the many amazing things they did:  Abel’s generosity toward God, Noah’s believing God’s warning, Abraham’s unquestioning obedience to God, and Moses, who by God defied all the odds and rose to lead God’s people to freedom.  Today we add to them Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, and Samuel.  Today’s particular text is what is known as the “Faith Hall of Fame”.  There are some familiar names here and some not so familiar names as well.  And while each of these people are worthy of an entire sermon series of their own, I’m going to try to tie them together with one common theme this morning.  And though this text is in the NT, we will be spending a good deal of time in the OT.

Let’s start with Rahab; the sheer mention of Rahab is a huge deal and we need to make sure we honor that.  Women were rarely mentioned in the Bible, and if they were, it was in passing or as an added detail or footnote.  For the author of Hebrews to specifically call out Rahab by name is no less than amazing.  If we go back to the OT, back to the book of Joshua, we’ll find the Israelites at the city of Jericho, which was surrounded by a great and grand wall.  The only problem is, this is actually the promised land, and it’s inhabited by Canaanites.  So, Joshua, the leader of the Israelites post the death of Moses, sends in two spies into this walled city, who were taken in, hidden, and sheltered by Rahab.  In the book of Joshua, Rahab is cited to have the profession of a prostitute, and the Bible clearly states “prostitute”, although extracanonical and rabbinical texts direct most scholars to believe she was an innkeeper who was (along with countless other women) mislabeled a harlot in history.

After Rahab, we move into the time of Israel’s history when the people were led and ruled by judges instead of kings.  Gideon, Samson, and Jephthah were all judges who ruled both in times of peace and times of war and oppression.  Gideon brought the Israelites to victory over the Midianites.  Jephthah conquered the Ammonites in his six year reign as judge. 

I’m going to place Barak right here, and, while not a judge, Barak was a brilliant and fearless military leader who, along with the judge Deborah, defeated the Canaanites. 

In a larger narrative, we are all familiar with Samson, the last judge mentioned in the OT book of Judges.  Born to a mother who was barren, Samson’s birth was announced by an angel with strict instruction:  he can’t cut his hair, and he has to mind the food restrictions regarding clean and unclean foods.  Samson was immensely strong and we all know his story of how he destroyed the Philistines, even at the cost of his own life. 

David and Samuel round out this morning’s list.  Samuel, a prophet, is responsible for transitioning the Israelite people from the rule of the judges to the rule of a king.  He anointed Saul, the first king to the Israelites, and then secretly anointed the shepherd boy David, then aided in the transition of power from Saul to David. 

Under King David, probably Israel’s most widely known ruler; fearless, bold, and wise, the people knew great prosperity.  As the founder of the dynasty of Judah, he was a political mastermind and fair and just ruler.  He brought the Ark of the Covenant back to the land where the people dwelt.  He was a musician who celebrated and worshiped with instruments and often dancing.  He led the people to victory countless times over their enemies. 

All of these people are fitting inductees to the “Faith Hall of Fame”, but there’s one thing I want us to take from these stories:  these were ordinary people, who said yes.  These were people just like you and me who, when called upon by God, were, through God, able to do extraordinary things.  And they weren’t without their own flaws….

Abraham lost his patience with God and fathered a child with his wife’s servant girl.  Moses lacked the ability to “speak eloquently”, but made up for that with his temper…which he wasn’t shy about displaying.  Gideon was prone to idolatry.  Samson always struck me as a party boy; he had 30 groomsmen at his wedding.  He slayed 1000 men for their clothes.  He hooked in with a woman of no virtues who sold him out.  Rahab committed treason.  Jephthah wanted victory over the Ammonites so badly that he agreed to sacrifice the next person who walked through his door in exchange for this victory (and it was his only daughter who walked through the door…and he kept his word).  And David…between his womanizing, ego, and poor decision making, that’s a sermon all its own. 

But despite their flaws, their imperfections, their humanness, God called upon each of these people, and they said yes.  They didn’t say yes conditionally, conveniently, or easily; they were called to do things that were abnormal, difficult; things that could have cost them their lives and the lives of those they loved.  They responded to these calls from God with courageous, steadfast responses:  Here I am, Lord.

They allowed their faith to carry them to lands unknown, to service uncharted, beyond their comfort zones and beyond their abilities in most cases.  Their faith was the courage to endure.

And while perhaps you and I will never be asked to commit treason or slay a nearly 7 foot giant, or build a boat to live on for 40 days, every day God does call you and I to service that stretches our limits, tries our patience, and tests our dedication.  Sometimes this call comes as a burning bush, sometimes it comes as a deafening scream, and sometimes it comes in more conspicuous forms, a whisper known only to us. 

In any of these cases, you and I are faced with a choice, the same choice given to this great cloud of witnesses we named today that surround us in our lives:  are we willing to allow our faith to be the courage we need to endure, and say yes?  Are we willing to follow, not knowing the destination?  Are we willing, in the face of unpopularity, through the unjust judgement of our neighbors, no matter the cost or sacrifice, to follow God? 

The legalism of faith

Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 * August 11, 2019

I felt led this week to do something I’ve never done before and might have gone on record saying I would never do…preach from the Old Testament.  Preaching from the Old Testament is challenging because it can pose problems bringing it into the contemporary; despite all of these and other reasons I can come up with, I was drawn to it very strongly, even before I read it.

Isaiah is the longest of the books of prophesy, with this first part acting as a theological lens for the remaining 66 chapters.  The prophets of the Old Testament  weren’t fortune tellers or prophets in the sense we might say…they were keepers of the covenant (the covenant being between Yahweh (or God) and the Hebrew people.  Isaiah focuses his attention on the southern nation of Judah.

These opening lines remind me of a sort of covenant lawsuit; one party bringing an indictment against another party for failing the terms of the covenant and invokes the consequences for the failure, or simply put, a breach of contract with damages.  This lawsuit states that despite God’s faithfulness, Judah has rebelled.

The offering of sacrifices was the crux of their redemptive system.  This atonement was required.  They would offer up the best of what they had, return it to God and deny themselves, thus the sacrifice.  They didn’t get the best…they gave God their best.  In exchange for their obedience, they received atonement, or forgiveness, from their transgressions.  So what happened, then, when God stops accepting sacrifices for atonement?  What happens when God becomes so disgusted that God rejects your best that you are giving up, telling you that God is sick of your rams and beasts? 

Not only is God rejecting the atonement offerings here, but God is also telling them to trample my courts no more.  The courts were the walled in portions of the temple; being partitioned meant there was limited space, limited to people…you guessed it, bringing offerings and sacrifices.  God is telling these people there is no need in their evening bringing sacrifices; God isn’t only rejecting these offerings, God doesn’t even want the effort.  No to the ceremonies, no to the rituals, no to the offerings, no to it all. 

This is some pretty severe stuff!  So what in the world have these people done to make God feel this way toward them…you might be wondering?  Because I am!  I want to make sure I’m not repeating any of these infractions!

If we read down a little further, we see, perhaps, what these people have done.  God counsels them to cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.  So were they not doing that?  Is that where they fumbled? 

Seeking justice.  This one we get all wrong.  We think justice is a balancing of the scales, an eye for an eye sort of thing.  Very legal, very punitive.  While justice does balance the scales, it does it in more of an “even level plane” sort of way, giving everyone the same advantage.  This doesn’t mean that everyone gets the same amount of help or the same justice in the same way…this means someone gets what they need to be on equal footing with everyone else. 

Rescuing the oppressed.  This sounds similar to seeking justice, but carries a more involved notion.  Instead of simply seeking to get everyone on the same level plane, we are to rescue the oppressed.  We are to go to those who are in trouble and rescue them.  Then we are given more detailed examples, being instructed to defend the orphan and rescue the widow. 

Orphans and widows; it’s interesting that these be the named chosen.  What do widows and orphans have in common?  Why is the oracle drawing special attention to these two specific types of persons?  Because they’re disadvantaged.  Because they’re easy targets.  Because they have no one caring for them, watching out for them.  Because they have lost their support systems and their lives have drastically changed, and they’re vulnerable. 

When this book was written, Judah was in a time of great prosperity.  The harvests were abundant, businesses were profitable, the economy was booming and there was no war.  Judah was doing so well, in fact, that they forgot from whom their prosperity comes.  This time of prosperity and wealth and security began to change God’s chosen people. 

The people continued to come to the temple and give the offerings in the same way they always had, and were instructed and expected to do.  To bring it into the contemporary, they were coming to church every Sunday and giving their money when the offering plate was passed; but the offering of their heart, the thing that God wanted most from them, had become corrupt and evil, made evident by the way they lived. 

God called upon them, begging them to repent, but repentance is more than saying sorry. 

God was calling upon them to change.  Not just calling…begging, pleading, insisting. 

The people of Judah violated the basic ethical responsibilities for life (they failed to love God and neighbor), and continued to seek God’s providence through hypocritical worship.  Worship is always to represent the authentic situation of the people, but here this community practiced unjust, evil living while oppressing vulnerable persons. 

There are so many directions we can go with this morning’s text; this could be a sermon about repentance, but it would be too easy to fall into the “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven” cycle.  It could be about inclusivity, but I think that falls into something much greater.  So what I want us to focus on this morning, is actually us.

I have a question I want you to give some thought to:  what are you doing?  Not we, not us, not your neighbor; you. 

Are you coming to church on Sunday, participating in worship, giving your gifts and offerings, but leaving here and living a life of that has none of the tenants of Christianity?  It isn’t just being a nice person, or a kind person, or a good person, or someone who never says or does a harmful thing to anyone.  Now I’m not discounting that because that’s a right thing; but what actual good are you doing? 

This isn’t limited to the widows and orphans; each and every day we encounter persons who are in desperate need of our help; what are we doing for them?  Those who are oppressed by racism; what are you doing to right that wrong?  Those who are oppressed because they are women?  The young?  The physically or mentally challenged?  Those being trafficked?  Victims of violence?  Those sick and dying?  Those who find themselves as refugees with no home?  How are you responding?  What are you doing to bring justice where oppression and evil reigns? 

Because if you’re not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. 

We as the church must labor day and night in action to be the cure to the disease of our culture.  We are to pray, then act.  You’ll find pretty quick that yes, it will eat into your personal time.  Your family time.  Your fishing time.  Your shopping time.  Your reading time.  Your TV time.  You will have to make sacrifices…and maybe those were the sacrifices God was looking for all along.

We become so focused on the “legalism” of faith.  We want checklists, and rules, and commandments; we need to be told who to let in and who to kick out and where to draw lines and we need to box Jesus in because a boxed-in Jesus is easier to handle and control than a free on-the-loose Jesus. 

So, today, where is your heart?  Are you someone who desires to walk everyday with Christ?  That’s what God requires.  Not our money, or the giving of our talents, or simply coming to church on Sundays…God wants your very life as a living sacrifice, meaning you don’t get to decide who, or what, or when; it won’t be popular, people won’t like it, but we must stand up to the forces that seek to oppress, or exile, or exclude.  

I want to close this sermon by mentioning covenant again.  We tend to think of the Old Testament people as people bound to God by covenant, but you and I are as well.  We are in a covenant to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.  Are we keeping up our end of the bargain?