An Unlikely Adoption

Imagine that an application is filed by a married couple to adopt a child. The married couple are very low income, without health insurance. They spent years as illegal immigrants. They are poor, uneducated, and live in a small rural location. They have no connections to wealth and power. When the mother gave birth to a child, it was in a barn. The child was born in a feeding trough that had undoubtedly not been properly sanitized. When the birth occurred, the father and mother were surrounded by a rough looking biker gang. Imagine the impression that this couple would make on an agent of the Department of Children Services in Tennessee in connection with their application for adoption.

The couple that I just described is Mary and Joseph. I have thrown in a few anachronisms for good measure (e.g. there was no health insurance in the ancient world). I have also changed the shepherds to a biker gang, since a biker gang is the closest cultural equivalent today to the perception of shepherds in Jesus' time, in my opinion.

Mary and Joseph were simple Jewish Mediterranean peasants. And God chose Mary and Joseph for adoption of His Son, Jesus. God could have chosen to place Jesus with the family of the Chief Priest. God could have chosen to place Jesus with the family of King Herod.

God's decision to place Jesus with Mary and Joseph speaks volumes about what matters to God, and about what does not matter to God. God does not care about earthly wealth, power, and prestige. If God did, God would have chosen to entrust Jesus to Mary and Joseph, and God would not have been revealed in a Jewish Mediterranean peasant named Jesus.

God cares about whether we are people of love, compassion, mercy, faithfulness, and justice. God saw these characteristics in Mary and Joseph. This is how God measures worth. It is how we should measure worth as well.

Discipleship Is a Highway

The Hebrew Bible lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary for this Second Sunday of Advent contains an interesting metaphor for discipleship from Isaiah--building a highway:

In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

This image also begins Mark's gospel.

I spent the week thinking about this image and about highways in general. Think about our interstate highway system. Begun during the Eisenhower administration in the 1950's, the interstate highway system here in the United States was, arguably, the most ambitious, expensive, and complicated public works project in human history. Construction began in the mid 50's, and the first phase of highway building was not completed until the mid 1970's.

Think for a moment about the enormous effort needed to construct a highway. The architectural and engineering feats, the legal issues concerning acquisition of land by eminent domain, hiring employees, manufacturing raw materials--the tasks just go on and on.

We typically think that the real work of discipleship--the highway building, is where we go into the world to transform the world and be ambassadors of Christ. But that is actually the easy part. The hard part--the part that requires the real work and effort, is building the highway. Our heart and mind is the highway, and we have to clear out all the nonsense and falsehood so that God can enter in. The interstates were constructed so that things could get from one place to another, so that our government and economy could work more effectively. The highways were a means to an end. Discipleship is about opening our hearts and minds to allow God to enter in and show us how to be Christ for others in our place and time.

The biggest mistake, in fact, made by disciples down through the ages is rushing out to do God's work without first building the highway--that is, to assume that our agenda is God's agenda without opening up our minds and hearts to the new plan and work that God has in mind for us.

The greatest news during Advent is that God wants to travel up our own highway to transform us, out of love for us and for the world. God has not given up on us, and God will never give up on us. In fact, God loves us so much that God was willing to be born among us as a child to show us the fullness of God's presence.

A Kingdom Where We Don't Play It Safe

The gospel lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary this week is Matthew 25.14-30, which is known as the parable of the talents. As usual, the parable takes an image from everyday experience from a non religious context, at least one actor in the parable does not comply with peoples' expectations and social mores of behavior, and Jesus uses this anomaly to reveal something about God's Kingdom.

In this case we have a wealthy master who lends money to three servants. The amount of money the master lends is astronomical. The amount of money is measured in talents. In the ancient world, a talent was the equivalent of about sixty five pounds of coin. In ancient Israel, it was very likely that a talent would have been measured in silver. Sixty five pounds of silver was the equivalent of about denariius, or about 15 years of an average wage. The master gives the first servant five talents, the second servant two talents, and the third servant one talent.

The master then leaves the country. Remember that there is no e mail, phones, or faxes, so the master has no way of quickly reaching the servants. The servants who are entrusted with five talents and two talents trade with the money, and obtain a one hundred percent return from their investment. The servant who is given one talent buries his talent in the ground, and when the master returns, the servant gives back the one talent. The master is pleased with the servants who obtained a return on his investment. The master is displeased with the servant who buried the money.

Ironically, the only actor in this parable who behaves in a reasonable and socially acceptable manner is the servant who buries the treasure in the ground. The master, first of all, is the most unreasonable. There is no indication that the servants of the master have any experience in investing money or are otherwise experienced in handling large sums of money. Furthermore, trading was considered off color and profane for the wealthy, and so the means of obtaining the profit by the servants given the five and two talents would have brought disrespect upon the master among the master's wealthy friends and acquaintances.

In contrast, burying money in the ground was considered the prudent and socially acceptable way of maintaining funds that were safeguarded for a master. There were no banks, and so burying money was the best way to ensure that money was not lost.

What are we to take from this parable? First of all, we are entrusted with a gift of extraordinary value--our life. We are given this gift without having earned it, and often without any clue what to do with it. We didn't even ask for it, but are literally thrown into this world and given consciousness, free will, and an infinite number of choices.

God also wants us to use our gift creatively, and to take risks with our gift in order to bring about God's purposes. God does not want us to be bound by what is considered reasonable by our surrounding culture or socially acceptable, but instead to only be bound by what is going to be good and pleasing to God, as our master. God does not want us to play it safe.

As always, God's Spirit is with us to guide us and direct us. But the final decision about what we are going to do with this marvelous gift called life are up to us.

All you Need is Holiness

We are all stuck on this little planet together. Different cultures, different religions, different nations. We are not going anywhere. And we have, and continue, to all treat each other terribly. We are violent, destructive, malicious, and angry.

Jesus says that the way out of the mess that we have gotten ourselves into is to love our neighbor as ourselves. The word for "love" is agape. Agape means ultimate concern and presence with those who are decidedly unlovable to us. The love that we are called to express is not the sappy, sentimental meaning of the word that we hear on Top 40 radio. Agape love is powerful, subversive, and scary. Agape love can turn us around.

We cannot practice love of those who are unlovable without holiness. Holiness is often associated with what is separate and apart from the world; it is associated only with praying and singing hymns and reflecting. Holiness is not doing those things; we do those things to make us holy. Holiness is exhibited not by separating ourselves from those who we perceive as unlovable, but by first questioning the unlovable nature of those who we deem to be unlovable, and then to question whether we are as lovable as we perceive ourselves. And holiness is about entering into relationship with those we deem unlovable, and being their servants. As we do so, remember that God is calling those who we deem unlovable to enter into relationship with us.

A good metaphor for holiness is the story of Jesus washing the disciples feet. Washing feet is about as dissimilar from what we typically think of as "separate from the world" as you can get. You cannot get more engaged with the world than washing peoples feet. And remember that if we take agape love seriously, that means we will allow our own feet to be exposed and washed by those who we deem unlovable. This is a great image about what can bring healing and peace to the world. Having the courage to expose all the sweat, dirt, and imperfections of our feet to our enemies, our enemies having the courage to expose their feet to us, our willingness to wash our enemies' feet, and our enemies' willingness to wash ours.

On Being As Wise As Snakes and Innocent As Doves

In Matthew's gospel, the Pharisees approach Jesus and ask him whether or not it is right to pay taxes to Caesar. Jesus responds by referring to Caesar Augustus' face on a coin and telling the Pharisees that we should give Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what belongs to God.

On the surface, this is a dialogue about how Jewish persons in Jesus' time should relate to the Roman state. But in actuality, the Pharisees' motivation in asking the question is not to have such a discussion or because they are truly interested in Jesus' answer. The Pharisees are asking a question that is full of figurative minefields--if Jesus answers in a way that sounds disloyal to Rome, the Pharisees can pass along Jesus' response to the Roman authorities and ask that he be punished. If Jesus answers in a way that sounds loyal to Rome, the Pharisees will publicize this to the people, in the hopes of diminishing Jesus' influence with the general public.

Jesus' response is really a non response. Jesus' answer does not expressly define what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God. The subtext in Jesus' response is clear: I know why you are really asking the question, so I am going to answer in a way that doesn't give you what you want; ammunition to take either to Rome or to the people, depending upon the response.

Jesus lived in confusing, scary, violent times, like our own. In fact, Jesus told the disciples that they were being sent out as "sheep amidst the wolves." In this environment, Jesus said that they disciples needed to be as "wise as snakes and as innocent as doves." Only by combining both wisdom and innocence could the disciples be the kind of people that could reveal God's Kingdom and faithfully proclaim the good news.

Today the United Methodist Church, like other mainline churches, focuses a lot on the "dove" side of the formula, but doesn't say much about the "snake" side. Being God's people requires both innocence and shrewdness. Innocence without shrewdness creates a community of very nice people who do nothing but sing hymns while the world outside the Church destroys itself. Holiness requires both wisdom and innocence. As always, our model is Jesus.

God's Place at the Wedding Banquet

The gospel lesson from the Revised Common Lectionary this week is a parable from Matthew's gospel involving a king and the organization of a wedding banquet. As always, the parable is set in a context that Jesus' listeners would have been very familiar with; in this case, a wedding banquet hosted by the king. And as always, someone in the parable does not comply with the unstated cultural norms and mores that everyone knew and expected. Jesus then uses this anomalous behavior to make a statement about the Kingdom of God.

The king extends invitations throughout the kingdom. Although not explicit in the story, we can imagine that those invited to the wedding would be those who had influence and prestige in the kingdom. The guests do not show up. The king is enraged, and has the guests murdered. The king then goes out and invites everyone who was not originally invited. We can imagine that this set of wedding guests were those who did not have any influence or power in the kingdom. Picture the king rounding up the residents of the local prisons and homeless shelters.

The parable ends with the king noticing that someone at the wedding banquet does not have a wedding robe. The king is incredulous, and has the individual murdered. The individual does not offer any response, despite the fact that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why the individual does not have a robe (i.e. since the guests were gathered up at the last minute, this particular guests might not have had time to dress, and if the guest was poor, there is no way that the guest would have had the financial resources to purchase a robe).

Most readings of this parable identify the king as God. I think such a reading is inaccurate. Identifying the king as God then requires all sorts of theological gymnastics to reconcile God's nature with the king in the parable, who is villainous, capricious, and unstable.

The king in the parable is actually in line with ancient Israel's expectation for kings. In the ancient world, there were no limits on the king's authority. Ancient Israel had suffered through king after king who committed atrocities that were unthinkable. Remember that Jesus' listeners were living in the time of the Herod dynasty--local rulers who were put in place by Rome. Recall that Herod the Great was so paranoid and unstable that he issued an order when he was unable to find Jesus that all infant and toddler males be murdered.

Rather than identifying God as the king in the story, another reading that has been suggested by modern scholars that I find persuasive is to see the unnamed individual at the end of the parable as representative of God in Christ. Like Jesus, the unnamed guest at the end of the parable is accused unjustly, and is executed. Throughout the process, Jesus remains silent to the charges, as the unnamed guest does not protest his execution.

The unnamed guest in the parable, by remaining silent, sheds a light on the idiocy and mental instability of the king. Similarly, the silence of Jesus in the face of his accusers and the crucifixion event shed a light on the corruption of the Roman occupation and the uneasy alliance between Roman authority and the temple authorities. In a broader sense, the crucifixion sheds a light on all of us and our sin. The parable does not expressly say what the Kingdom of God is. It simply says what the Kingdom of God is not. The Kingdom of God is the exact opposite of the kingdom that is implicit in the parable. The Kingdom of God is so unlike the parable, that there is no way for the two kingdoms to have any way of communicating with each other. They might as well be speaking different languages.

The Risks of Leasing in the Kingdom of God

The gospel lesson this week in the Revised Common Lectionary contains a parable where God is likened unto a landowner who leases a vinyard to tenants. When the time comes for the tenants to pay the landowner for leasing the vinyard, the landowner sends servants to collect the money, but the servants are killed by the lessees. The landowner then proceeds to send more servants, who are also killed by the lessees. Finally, the landowner sends his son, but the servants kill the son as well.

Jesus' listeners would have been very familiar with the context of this parable. It was common for rich landowners who owned land in remote locations to lease the land to tenants who lived and worked the land locally. The tenants, in turn, paid a yearly portion of the land's yield to the owner. It was understood and expected that the tenants would be very respectful and courteous to the owner and the owner's agents. Similarly, if the tenants did not have enough money to pay the yearly tribute, it would be expected that they would have begged and pleaded for leniency.

In light of these expectations, the behavior of all parties in this parable is highly surprising and shocking. The tenants not only fail to pay the landowner, but actually kill the landowner's agents and then proceed to kill the landowners son. Their apparent motive (i.e. to take the son's inheritance) is ridiculous since the son has not obtained his inheritance yet. Even more surprisingly, the owner does not exact vengeance against the tenants but keeps sending the servants and then later his son despite the results.

This parable is an obvious critique of the religious leaders of Jesus' day. As those who were given the responsibility of leading Israel in its covenant relationship with God, the religious leaders had lots of responsibility. But rather than being good tenants, they were doing lots of damage to God's Kingdom.

As baptized disciples who have entered into covenant with God and who have accepted the responsibility of living as God's people, we have been given enormous responsibility. God gives us a place in God's Kingdom. We are called to act wisely and to live according to the example of Christ. That means, as tenants, to spend our time doing good and not evil. Like the tenants in the parable, we have the capacity to do enormous harm to others. But we also have the opportunity to do tremendous good as well.

Some Thoughts on 9/11

September 11, 2001 has become a touchstone in our history. It was a time of loss and tragedy. It was also a time when we felt afraid and insecure.

As we reflect upon our individual and collective responses to September 11 and how we will respond in the future, our model, as always, is found in the Jesus story. In Jesus, God experienced an unjust execution at the hands of the political authorities and religious leaders of his day. God responded by taking this moment of tragedy and death, and transforming it into a mechanism to effect the salvation of the world. God did not respond with vengeance. God rose above the pettiness that was in the hearts of everyone in the crucifixion story and literally changed what the story was about. Without God's actions in Christ that took place at the cross, the crucifixion story would have been quickly forgotten. Just another meaningless execution needed by the powers that be to maintain their power and status. Now the story is associated with forgiveness, joy, and love.

May our response to 9/11 mirror what God accomplished in Jesus and use an incident of death and tragedy to bring about God's purposes. Those who are responsible for the attacks on 9/11 responded to whatever their own real or perceived 9/11 was with vengeance. In this world, everyone who has ever existed in every generation has been the victim of injustice and tragedy. Those responsible for the attacks responded to tragedy by reciprocating death and injustice. Their response was wrong. God's response to tragedy in Jesus was right.

A faithful response to 9/11 is not only about seeking and maintaining safety and security. It is about mirroring God's work of reconciliation that was begun in Jesus. It was manifest in those who acted with heroism in seeking to maintain our own safety and security. It was and is about being intentionally present and being in prayer with those persons directly and indirectly impacted by the tragedy. It is about reflecting on our own fear and anger and seeking to overcome it. It is about looking for places in our local communities, our nation, and in the world community where there is estrangement and seeking to bring about reconciliation and forgiveness.

Peter as the Rock

In Matthew's gospel, Jesus tells Peter that Peter is the rock upon which the Church will be built.

There has been much commentary about the significance of this statement. For the Roman Catholic community, this statement speaks of Peter as the first bishop of Rome, and the foundation of the papacy. For Protestants, the rock is perceived as Peter's faith and belief.

There is another way to interpret the passage, which begins by reading the entire verse in Matthew where this statement is found, Matthew 16.18: "And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it."

In ancient Israel, "Peter" was not a common name. You did not name a child "Peter". Peter's name was Simon Son of John (or Jonah). "Peter" was, instead, a nickname. The word Peter comes from the Greek Cephas, which means "Rock." Now that Peter is a common name, we miss the wordplay that would have been obvious to Jesus' original listeners. Jesus' original listeners would have heard the verse like this: "You are Rock, and upon this Rock I will build my Church."

When we read the verse in this context, the identity of the "Rock" to which Jesus refers becomes evident. The rock is not an institution that Peter founded or a quality attributed to Peter. The rock is, rather, Peter himself.

We can assume that comparing someone to a rock implies that the person is reliable, steady, and steadfast. On the surface, Peter's track record as a disciple appears to be anything like a "rock". Jesus told Peter at one point to "get behind me Satan" when Peter questioned Jesus' talk about having to be crucified in Jerusalem. Peter denounced Jesus three times when Jesus was facing crucifixion. In Paul's letter to the Galatians, we are told that Peter refused table fellowship to the Gentile converts to Christianity.

Peter was flawed. Yet despite Peter's track record, he was, literally, a rock upon which the Church was built. Despite his failures. Despite the fact that he may have sometimes not understood who Jesus was and what the mission was. Peter proclaimed the gospel and lived according to the example of Christ.

Like Peter, we are flawed. But like Peter, we can also be a rock upon which God will continue what was begun in Jesus. We can continue the mission of proclaiming Christ crucified and risen, and the inauguration of God's Kingdom.

The True Measure of Religiosity

The gospel lesson for this week in the Revised Common Lectionary is Matthew 15.10-20. The key verse, in my opinion is Matthew 15.11. Jesus, speaking in critique of the Pharisees, says that "it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles."

To understand Jesus' statement, one must first understand purity laws and regulations. In ancient Judaism, many practicing Jews measured their religiosity; their holiness by their adherence to purity laws. There were a huge number of rules that had to be followed concerning food and drink--what foods you could eat on what particular times, the manner of preparation of the food, and in particular, the cleansing of the food and the person prior to the ingestion of food and drink. The regulations on these issues were so complicated that there had to be a priestly class of individuals to comprehend and communicate them.

Jesus' response to these practices was simple and straightforward: the whole point of this system of ritual was so that practicing Jews could remember what was most important; love of God and love of neighbor, to live a holy life, and to be just in personal and collective relationships. The rituals themselves did not make someone holy.

Jesus was not telling the practicing Jews of his day anything that they did not know already. The Pharisees knew it too. In fact, Matthew 15.11 is in some ways a statement of one of the Pharisees' most common preaching motifs. But somehow in practicing their religion, for both the Pharisees and their listeners, the regulations became more important than the practices that they were meant to inspire. The regulations became an end in themselves.

There is a similar problem among practicing Christians today. Christians today have rituals and practices, just like ancient Israel. Christians, for example, attend worship services on Sunday morning. Sometimes holiness is measured today by the rate of participation in Church. Our holiness is measured by how often we are in worship, how much money we give, and whether we teach Sunday School.

Now everyone from our Bishop on down knows that this, standing alone, is not what makes a person holy. We already know that. Showing up at Church is a means to an end, just like the Jewish purity laws and regulations were a means to an end.

We need to be reminded about what our faith is really all about, just like ancient Israel. To analogize from Matthew 15.11, what matters is not what we do inside the walls of the Church, but what we do outside. What matters is love of God and love of neighbor. What matters is being ambassadors for Christ in our communities.

A Tale of Two Banquets

Matthew's account of the feeding of the 5,000 is placed immediately after the story of the beheading of John the Baptist. By juxtaposing these two stories, we see an important glimpse about how we are called to live as disciples in this world, and how a life of discipleship differs from life without Christ.

As always, it comes down to how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. Both stories are stories about banquets. The story of the beheading of John the Baptist takes place in the context of Herod's birthday celebration. As part of the celebration, the daughter of Herodias, the wife of his brother Phillip, danced before Herod. Herod was pleased, and told the daughter of Herodias that he would give her anything she wanted. The daughter, prompted by her mother, told Herod that she wanted the head of John the Baptist. Herod was distraught, because he liked John the Baptist, but felt that he could not displease his guests and go against his own promise, and ordered that the execution be carried out.

In the well known story of the feeding of the 5,000, Jesus, the disciples, and the crowd are in a deserted place with no food. Jesus finds five loaves of bread and two fish, and distributes these to the crowd. Miraculously, the crowd is fed.

The participants in the first banquet represented the power elite of Israel. They had wealth, power, and prestige. They had all the food that they wanted. There was nothing but abundance. But despite this, they perceived nothing but scarcity. All Herod saw was the threat of losing his power by dishonoring himself after making his promise to the daughter of Herodias. The other guests did not step in to prevent the death of John the Baptist because they wanted to hold onto the power and influence that they had. The participants in the first banquet had nothing but abundance but saw nothing but scarcity. And as a result of their perception of scarcity, they all are preoccupied with holding onto whatever that they have, and a tragedy results.

The participants in the second banquet had nothing but scarcity but perceived and experienced nothing but abundance. The crowd included peasants who were poor, persons who lacked power, prestige, and wealth. They were literally all in the desert with nothing to eat. And they ended up filled. There is no tragic violence in the second story. There is only joy and community.

Human culture today is based upon the principle of scarcity. We believe that there is not enough of anything to go around. So we all end up fighting with each other to hold onto what we have. There is an alternative. In response to the tragic violence that arises from a culture of scarcity, God calls us to another culture. The culture of abundance. If we live as God's people, we see that scarcity is a myth. There is nothing but abundance in this world. If we enter into God's Kingdom of abundance, together, we will know only joy and community.

A Suprising Image of the Kingdom

Matthew 13:33 contains an image of the Kingdom of God. Jesus said that the Kingdom of God is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.

This is a surprising image of the Kingdom. On the surface, it appears to be prosaic and unremarkable. If you were in ancient Israel and you passed by a woman baking bread, you wouldn't give her a second thought. The same is true today.

The significance of the parable lies in the function of baking bread in the ancient world. In ancient Israel, bread was, literally, life. It was the staple of the ancient died. Without bread, there was no life. So this woman, who would have been regarded as powerless due to her gender and unremarkable in her task, is actually the one giving life to ancient Israel.

Uncovering the parable first also requires understanding the meaning of three "measures" of flour. In ancient Israel, this was an enormous of amount of flour. We can imagine, in fact, a woman sitting in the midst of a great amount of flour, very slowly getting the yeast mixed in to begin the process of turning the flour into bread.

God works in the world in ways that are almost imperceptible. God's creative power is at work in the world through nature to make the earth what it is and what it will be. And God works in us through the mundane and ordinary. God's grace works within us slowly and imperceptibly, transforming our hearts and minds. God, like the woman in the parable, is infinitely patient and diligent in making us into what God wants us to be.

Ancient Israel had lots of big problems that they wanted God to fix in quick, spectacular ways. God instead sent Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, to redeem and transform the hearts of those within ancient Israel, and to redeem and transform the hearts of Israel's enemy, Rome. Today, when we think about our big problems that we want God to fix in quick, spectacular ways, let us remember the parable of the woman baking bread. God's grace is present within us, and God's grace is sufficient for us. God's grace will slowly transform us into being the people that God wants us to be.

The Danger of Rushing to Judgment

We are a culture that loves to judge. When we hear a rumor in our workplace that a co worker has done something unsavory, we assume that it is true. When there are reports in such objective, reliable news sources such as the tabloids, we assume that the allegations are true. Many times it seems that the Church mirrors this tendency, spending more time judging those persons and groups that we deem worthy of our judgment than working on our own discipleship and holiness.

The parable of the wheat and tares, found at Matthew 13.24-30, shows us the danger in rushing to judgment. The image of the parable is that of a farmer who is cultivating wheat. In the ancient Near East, farmers who cultivated wheat had to deal with a weed called darnel, which grew up right along with the wheat and looked indistinguishable from the wheat. Further, even if you could distinguish it, if you tried to remove the darnel prematurely prior to the harvest of the wheat, you ended up pulling up lots of the wheat by accident. At the end of the parable, the farmer tells his servants to wait until the harvest. At that time, the darnel will be dead anyway and the wheat can be easily removed.

We love to be judgmental, but we are also very bad and ineffective at it. Many times we pass judgment on those who are innocent. When we do so, we end up pulling up lots of wheat along with the darnel. And in doing so, we do lots of damage in the world. Let's take the advice of the farmer. Let's wait until the harvest. At that time, the wheat and the darnel will be revealed for what they are. And judgment will be redundant.

In the end, God will look into our hearts and will evaluate us for what we have done and not done. Let's leave judgment to God. And even in those times when, in our workplace, our family, and even in our Church, we have to judge, let us judge carefully, selectively, and with the humility that we might be wrong. Most importantly, let's place our emphasis upon looking into our own hearts and being the best disciples that we can be.

What God Does

The philosopher Gottfried Leibniz once asked the question "why is there something rather than anything at all?" Our answer is that there is something (i.e. a universe) rather than nothing because of God's creative power. God is the creator of all things. This is a basic premise that we take for granted. But it begs another 'why' question: why does God create?

An answer to this question is implicit in the Hebrew Bible lesson from the Revised Common Lectionary, which speaks of God's creative activity:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

The answer to the second 'why' question is that God creates because it is God's nature to create. God takes delight and joy in creation. The fact that it is God's nature to create is evident in the scope of God's creative activity. The universe is immensely large and possibly infinite in volume. Our Milky Way Galaxy is roughly 100,000 light years in diameter, and our nearest sister galaxy, the Andromeda Galaxy, is located roughly 2.5 million light years away. There are probably more than 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. Galaxies range in size from dwarfs with as few as ten million stars, to giants with up to one trillion stars, all orbiting the galaxy's center of mass.

Even within our own planet, which as indicated above, is an infinitesimally small part of the known universe, God has done a lot of creating. And not only has God created, but God has created us, beings who create ourselves. As God's children, God's creative power lies within us and God continues to sustain us through God's power.

Our sin creates a disruption, an anomaly, in our nature as God's children. The fact that God has to expend energies to bring us to salvation does not limit what God can do--God has infinite power and grace. But it limits our own capacity to fully participate in God's creative activity through creating ourselves. Until each and every one of us gets our act together and lives a life of light and holiness, we do violence to ourselves and to each other--we destroy rather than create. We get in the way of God's creative activity.

God's nature is to create. That means that our nature, as God's children, is to create. We cannot create until we turn to God, accept the salvation that is offered to us in Christ, turn from our violence and hatred, and become transformed in the image and likeness of God.

Getting the Right Yoke Around Our Necks

In the gospel lesson for this week, Matthew 11.25-30, Jesus says that God's "yoke is easy and his burden is light." A yoke is a wooden beam that has been used since ancient times, most commonly used between two oxen to enable them to more efficiently pull a load when working in pairs. In ancient Isreal and in other ancient cultures, a yoke was commonly used symbolically to represent servitude or subserviance. For example, in some acnient cultures, a defeated enemy was forced to pass through a symbolic yoke of spears and swords of the victor, to represent the enemy's subserviance.

Read in this context, Jesus' statement of an "easy yoke" seems to present an oxymoronic image. By definition, a yoke was not easy.

To understand the meaning of Jesus' statement, we have to begin with the nature of human beings. One of our primary characteristics is our propensity to voluntarily create yokes for ourselves. Through our fears, anxieties, and addictions, we place yokes upon ourselves. These yokes make our lives miserable, frustrating, and difficult, and sometimes our yokes make other peoples lives miserable, frustrating, and difficult. We find ourselves today in a world of suffering and servitude because of the poor choices that we have made, individually, and as a culture, collectively. Our yokes, figuratively speaking, literally begin to run our lives.

Discipleship is the process of surendering ourselves to God and to become agents of the initiation of the reign of God. The process of becoming holy begins with removing the yokes that we have voluntarily placed upon ourselves. Once we have removed these yokes, we can then accept the yoke of discipleship. In contrast to the yokes with which we have bound ourselves, God's yoke is easy and God's burden is light. In fact, by being bound by God's yoke, we agree to "submit" ourselves to living a life of joy, peace, and to live life in a spirit of reconciliation and mercy.

The fact that submitting to God's yoke of joy and peace requires continued discipline and dilligence speaks volumes about human nature. Because of our own ignorance and odd propensity to hurt ourselves and one another, we actually have to discipline ourselves to what we know, on a deep level, is best for us. You would think that the opposite would be true.

The good news, as always, is that God's yoke is available to us. We have the freedom to take the yokes off our next and accept a new yoke that is easy and a burden that is light.

The Reward for Giving Out Cups of Water

The gospel lesson for this week in the Revised Common Lectionary contains an interesting saying of Jesus: whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of these "little ones" in the name of a disciple will not lose their reward.

This text provides a good opportunity to speak about what are called "Works of Mercy" in the Wesleyan tradition. Engaging in good works for others, whether giving a cup of cold water to someone who is thirsty or providing someone who is cold with a blanket, is central to what it means to be a disciple of Christ. It is also, unfortunately, a part of discipleship that American Christians have been historically uncomfortable about. It is not that American Christians don't engage in acts of mercy. Despite this, engaging in acts of mercy is not perceived as being central to discipleship the way that prayer, bible study, and worship are central. Sometimes works of mercy are engaged in in a way that is grudging.

The problem, I believe, lies in the lack of a solid theological understanding of why we are called to engage in acts of mercy. This raises the more general question about the very nature of discipleship itself. For much of American Christianity, discipleship is virtually equated with what is called in Wesleyan terms the moment of justification; the act of accepting the salvation that is offered to us in Christ and making the decision to profess our faith in Christ, and with a system of reward and punishment (i.e. the reason to accept Christ is the reward in the hereafter, and to avoid punishment in the hereafter). For Methodists, the moment of justification is the most important act in the life of the disciple. However, it is also the first--in educational terms, it is admission to Kindergarten. For many American Christians, it is perceived as our graduation from college and the end of the process.

Justification is the initiation into the Body of Christ, the Church. The life of the disciple and the context of discipleship is lived out in the next phase, which is referred to as sanctification--the process of growing into the example and likeness of Christ. We grow into the likeness of Christ through living according to the example of Christ. Wesley referred to the acts of the disciple in imitating Christ as works of mercy and works of piety. We engage in works of mercy because by doing so, we grow into the likeness and example of Christ. It is, literally, the life that we are called to live.

The reward of giving a cup of water is the act of giving a cup of water. The reward of living according to the example of Christ is fact that we live according to the example of Christ. The reward of a life of holiness is a life of holiness. Once we have accepted the salvation that is offered to us in Christ, we see ourselves as God's children, both now, and in the life that lies waiting for us beyond this one. In this life, and beyond, holiness is its own reward. And similarly, to paraphrase Augustine, not giving out cups of water is the punishment for not giving out cups of water. Not living a life of holiness is the punishment for not living a life of holiness.

What the Resurrection Demonstrates

Every disciple has doubts sometimes. Maybe not necessarily about God's existence, but about why God acts in the ways that God does. Paul Tillich opined that doubt was actually intrinsic to a healthy faith, rather than antithetical to it, because it showed that we were searching out our salvation with fear and trembling.

Many believers are envious when they read a text like Matthew's account of the ascension of Christ, found at Matthew 28.16-20. On the surface, having an experience of the risen Christ would seem to obviate any doubts or uncertainties about the existence of God and the divinity of Christ.

This is actually not the case. In fact, if we read Matthew's account carefully, we see a significant phrase: some of those who were presented doubted.

The reason why there would be doubt necessitates a look at the difference between the world view of the ancient Near East and our own worldview. Perspectives in ancient Israel differed, but there were many who believed in the possibility of resurrection. That is to say, for many in ancient Israel, it was possible for people to rise from the dead. Consequently, the fact that someone rose from the dead would not be perceived in the same way that we perceive it today. We live in a scientific age where it is generally accepted that people do not rise from the dead.

For the original disciples and the Christians in the first century, what would have been most remarkable about the resurrection is not that someone rose from the dead, but the fact that Jesus rose from the dead. And more importantly--what the early evangelists argued that the resurrection meant. That in the life and crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, God revealed God's power and glory. What would have been unbelievable to an ancient audience was not that someone was resurrected, but what the resurrection meant--that in Jesus, God had demonstrated God's power over sin and death, and had ushered in a new age.

The resurrection itself, standing alone, is not the good news that we proclaim. The good news that we proclaim is that in Christ, a new age has begun where God reigns. Where peace prevails over violence, love over hate, reconciliation over conflict, and mercy over retribution.

The Paradox of God's Nature

Everything changes all the time. We grow older, the nature of our communities changes. Our culture is changing so fast and in so many ways we can hardly keep up with it. The world that we live in, by its very nature, changes incessantly.

We don't like change very much. Sometimes we hate it. We like things to stay the same. This is particularly true of our religion. When it comes to Sunday morning, for example, we like things to stay exactly the same. There is a saying in the United Methodist Church that we are ready for the year 1950, and when 1950 rolls around, we will be primed for revitalization.

I am sure the disciples felt the same way that we did. And look at the incessant change that discipleship required for them. First, they had to abandon their livelihoods to follow Jesus. Then, they had to change the way that they thought. Jesus challenged conventional Jewish ways of thinking and forced them to accept new understandings about God, and about how they were to live in the world. Then, they were confronted by the crucifixion. Then, the resurrection. And just as they were starting to wrap their heads around the resurrection and what it meant, we arrive at the Day of Pentecost. In the story from Acts, we are told that it is about 9:00 in the morning. The disciples are sitting at home, they hear the sound of a mighty rushing wind, and suddenly, they are filled with the Holy Spirit. They look outside, and the crowd, composed of persons from many nations, can understand each other despite the fact that they are speaking different languages.

There is a paradox to God's nature. God is eternal, immutable, and unchangeable. And yet the universe that God created undergoes incessant and perpetual change. Planets are born and die. People grow up. Seasons change. Constant change is built into the nature of the world. And the way that God's Spirit relates to us mirrors the nature of God's created order. God does not want us to stay the same. The opposite is true. Through God's Spirit, God wants us to grow, to develop, and to mature in our discipleship. God wants to continually bring us new understandings, new visions, new journeys, and as the Church, God wants us to continually seek new ways of responding to God's call.

Discipleship is not about staying the same. Its about responding to the promptings of God's Spirit. If we are faithful, our lives will be as dynamic as the disciples. And if we are a faithful Church, we will not be consistent in our practice. In fact, the problem we will have is not trying to always do things the same, but trying not to be too experimental and dynamic.

The God of eternity who is the same yesterday, today, and forever, has a unique journey that He wants us to take with him. It will not be like the journey of the person sitting next to you in the pew. And it will not be like the journey of the disciples. It will be a new journey, unique to you. If we are faithful to God's Spirit and follow, there is no limit to the amount of good that we can do in this world.

Discipleship As a "Fiery Ordeal"

The Epistle Lesson for this Sunday is 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11. In this text, the author tells his listeners that they should not be surprised by the "fiery ordeal" that they are facing as disciples. The author does not define the nature of the fiery ordeal

Christians have all heard stories about the persecution of the early Church in the Roman world. It is normally assumed that the Roman Empire routinely and systemically tried to eliminate Christians, and that executions were commonplace. This is actually not true. There were several occasions in the Roman Empire where the Emperor ordered the execution of Christians. The first of these was under Nero in 64-68. However, persecution that resulted in the outright execution of Christians typically arose out of the general population and was localized and sporadic. Most commonly, a village facing a catastrophe or famine would look for a scapegoat, and Christians, being a powerless minority, were always an easy target.

The "fiery ordeal" that the author of 1 Peter spoke of was not persecution in the sense of being thrown to the lions. Instead, the "fiery ordeal" was the task that early disciples faced about how to live in the Roman world while also living out their discipleship with authenticity. The Roman Empire was a confusing place to be a disciple. For example, the early Christians were forced to bow down before an altar to Roma, which symbolized the Roman state. Early Christians who did so were accused by some communities of idolatry. Despite this, bowing down before Roma was required to do business in the Roman world. Some Christians argued that such an act simply represented persons loyalty to the Roman state and a promise to abide by its laws.

We face the same "fiery ordeal" today. It is a confusing time to be a disciple today. We face all sorts of complicated questions and issues. Being a disciple today requires diligence, courage, and commitment.

The relevance of the text from 1 Peter for us today, I think, lies in the first verse. The author says that we should not be "surprised" by the fiery ordeal that faces us. Instead, we need to accept the fact that discipleship, if practiced correctly, will require real concerted effort. If our discipleship is easy, this should be a sign that we are not engaged in the process.

As a disciple, accept the fact that our discipleship will be a "fiery ordeal." But it is a fiery ordeal that is life's most exciting journey. So settle in for the life long ride. We are God's children. We were made to face this "fiery ordeal." It is how we were meant to live our lives. And if we face the "fiery ordeal" with faithfulness, we will live in God's presence, forever.

What We Have On Our Side

An increasing number of persons in the Western world consider the story of Jesus to be nothing but foolishness. The cross is perceived as nothing but representative of powerlessness, and the resurrection as reflective of a pre-scientific worldview.

The Protestant churches have responded to this growing perception in two ways. The first way is to stress the relevance and utility of discipleship and the imitation of Christ. That is, the Churches have argued that Christ should be imitated because imitating Christ will give us fulfillment in our lives. For example, any brief perusal of a mainstream Christian bookstore reveals title after title dealing with how imitating Christ can lead to financial success, cancellation of our debt, success in our workplace, and how our nation can be made stronger. The message is clear--what the Church has on its side is relevance and utility. We should follow Jesus because by doing so, we will lead fulfilling lives.

The second answer to the challenge of the growing secularization of Western culture is made in terms of comfort and security: practice discipleship because it will give you comfort and hope. This is also a dominant message in mainstream Christian literature and in the pulpit.

In John's gospel, 14:15-21, Jesus tells the disciples that when Jesus is no longer with them, God will bring the disciples another "advocate" who will be us always. The "advocate" is the Spirit of Truth. Jesus made sure that the disciples understood that their lives were not going to be easy. This is also reflected in the epistle lesson for this Sunday from 1 Peter 3:13-22, where the author assumes that those who imitate Christ will undergo sufferings, and provides instruction about how the Church should conceptualize its own suffering and respond.

The greatest tool of those who imitate Christ--what we have on our side, is the truth. God was revealed in Jesus, and in the empty tomb and the cross we have a vision of the God who reigns for ever and ever. What is on our side is not relevance, comfort, or security. To take Paul's story as an example, the fact that Paul lived out his discipleship with authenticity led to everything but financial fulfillment, vocational fulfillment, comfort, or security. The gospels reveal that if we imitate Christ, we will very likely be confronted by danger, adversity, and trial.

If the gospel is framed in terms of its utility to bring about self fulfillment, financial security, national security, comfort, or safety, then the gospel becomes nothing more than an instrument to bring us these things. And then these things become our gospel. So what do we do? Simply seek the truth of the gospel with all our hearts, and follow the guidance of God's Spirit. Seek to know the truth of the cross and the empty tomb. And then structure your life around the message and the story.

Thinking Through the Good Shepherd Allegory

For most Christians today, Church has become primarily associated with comfort and safety. We live in a world that scares the daylights out of us, and with good reason. Sometimes it seems that our entire political and social structures are falling apart. Church is a place that people go to be comforted and told that everything is going to be okay.

The allegory of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is interpreted in most Churches in this light. Jesus is the Good Shepherd who takes care of the sheep. We are the sheep. We are surrounded by lots of dangers, which are represented by the wild animals. God is the owner of the sheep. Normally sermons on this text focus on the care of the Good Shepherd, the powerlessness of the sheep, or the danger of the wild animals.

Lets do something unexpected and actually think through the allegory. If Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are the sheep, what is the fate of the sheep? What are the sheep being cultivated for, and where are they going to end up?

In order to answer these questions, we need to consider the place of sheep in ancient Israel. Sheep, along with most livestock, are cultivated today for food. This was not true in the ancient world. Animals in the ancient world were raised primarily for religious sacrifice. It seems alien to us, but in the ancient world, every significant (and some not so significant acts) required some form of religious ritual, which typically involved animal sacrifice. For example, when we read the Torah, we see a huge number of religious rituals that are prescribed for just about everything. These animals had to come from somewhere. By analogy, if you have read the Iliad, Homer's epic of a small part of the 10 year siege of Troy, you know that the characters in the story spend a lot more time engaging in religious rituals to appease the gods than actual fighting. Modern day movies dealing with the siege of Troy (or any story set in the ancient world) have to ignore this basic component of ancient life in order to create a movie that can be sold to a modern audience.

When Jesus' ancient listeners heard that they were being associated with sheep, they would have immediately made the connection with religious ritual. And they would have been understandably shocked by the real message of the allegory. Jesus as the Good Shepherd is laying down his life for the sheep and protecting the sheep from the wild animals so that they can be prepared to be sacrificed themselves.

God's will for us is that we be formed, through God's sanctifying grace, into God's instruments to be God's ambassadors in the world. As disciples of Christ, we are called to live as Christ for others, bringing Christ's message into the world and living as servants of others, as Christ lived as the servant of all people. Jesus was God's instrument to bring reconciliation and salvation to the world. Jesus offered himself willingly as a sacrifice for the sins of the world. God wants us to sacrifice ourselves for others to continue the work of Christ and to help make this world the world that God wants it to be.

The gospel lesson for this week is the story of the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus. This is a story that is unique to Luke's gospel. In the story, two disciples encounter Jesus on the road to Emmaus, but are "prevented from recognizing Him." Later, Jesus breaks bread with the two disciples, and in that moment, their eyes are opened, and they recognize Jesus, but in the same moment, Jesus disappears from their sight.

One of the hallmarks of the resurrection stories of Jesus is the fact that the disciples are unable to recognize Jesus, or similarly, that they doubt the presence of the risen Christ. For example, in Matthew's gospel, we are told that some of the disciples who encountered the risen Christ doubted his presence when Christ issued the Great Commission. As modern persons, we typically think this is because the notion of resurrection is inconceivable. This would not have been true of ancient persons, who lived in a culture where such miracles were possible, and even expected.

I think the answer lies in the expectations that the disciples had about Jesus. There is a reality television show on the air now where the CEO of a company, without telling anyone besides his or her inner circle, starts working at his or her own company as an entry level employee, to get a better idea of the way that the company works on the ground level. At the conclusion of each episode, the CEO reveals to his or her "supervisors" and "co worker's" their true identity. In many cases, I think the fact that the fact that the supervisors are co workers are not able to recognize the CEO has to do with the fact that they might not even know what the CEO looks like, or if they did, they might have only glimpsed their picture on a newsletter or something. But there have been episodes where the CEO was well known in the media, and/or where the CEO otherwise maintained a high profile. The CEO's appearance was moderately disguised, but not drastically so--not so much that the other employees should not have been able to recognize him or her. In these cases, I think the CEO was not recognized because of the expectations that we have about status--a CEO is expected to look a certain way, act a certain way, and to be presented in a certain way. When they are presented out of context, our eyes are prevented from seeing them as they are.

During Jesus' lifetime, the disciples were unable to see that God was revealed in Jesus because they were looking for the wrong God. They were looking for a God who revealed and manifested power and glory and in the ways that Rome manifested power and glory and the way that Herod dreamed about power and glory. For both Rome and Herod, the whole point of life was to reveal and manifest as much power and glory as possible. Notice that Rome and Herod made sure that when crucifixions took place, they were high on a hill so that everyone could see how powerful they were. Certainly, the disciples thought, if God were truly revealed in Jesus God would have displayed God's power for everyone to see. Instead, Jesus told the disciples over and over again not to share with others about the demonstrations of God's power that Jesus revealed.

Now the eyes of the disciples were still blind. Certainly, the disciples thought, if Jesus were to be raised, it would have been with as much pomp and circumstance as possible, so that everyone could see it, in the way that they saw the crucifixion. There would have been loud trumpets and the clouds breaking open in a way that all of Jerusalem could see--surely, God would make sure that everyone saw and understood that Rome and Herod were not as powerful and glorious as He was. Certainly, it was not possible that God could be more powerful than Rome and Herod and not want to draw attention to this fact. It was not possible, therefore, that the person who walked along the road with them was the risen Christ.

But at the end of the story, the eyes of the disciples are opened for a moment. They are opened in a Eucharistic moment in the breaking of bread. In that moment, they see who Jesus is.

Maybe the reason why this story was passed down and recorded in Luke's gospel is not only because it was an account of the risen Christ, but what it represented for the early Church, and what it still represents for us. Sometimes, the risen Christ can be hidden from our eyes because we are looking for the wrong God and the wrong Jesus. We forget that our God is a God of service, compassion, and mercy. A God who has no interest in being Rome or Herod. We remember who God is and who Jesus is in the community, the Church, when we celebrate Christ crucified and risen.

What the Crucifixion Reveals About Human Beings

The crucifixion story reveals much about the nature of God. The crucifixion reveals God's infinite mercy, love, and compassion. The crucifixion reveals God's willingness to go to any lengths to save us.

The crucifixion also reveals much about the nature of human beings. Think of it like this: the crucifixion was God's way of shining a spotlight on Himself, and God's way of shining a spotlight on human beings. The spotlight that was shone on human beings exposed not only those who were responsible for Jesus death; more importantly, it exposed a pattern of human behavior that has existed from the beginning. Part of the salvific nature of the cross was to expose our own human behavior, and by exposing it, to force us to face ourselves and to reveal the script that has been played out from the beginning.

Several weeks ago, in the story of Jesus and the woman at the well, I argued that what underlay this story is the reality of human violence and exclusion; the violence between the Jews and the Samaritans, and the exclusion of the woman from her own community. In the story of the healing of the blind man two weeks ago, I argued that this story revealed the fact that human cultures will even use religion to perpetuate collective cultural violence and exclusion.

In the cross, we see with greater specificity the script through which this violence is carried out. We begin with the players in the story. First you have the Jewish religious authorities. Second, you have the Roman government. Third, you have Herod, the puppet ruler put in place by Pilate, the Roman governor to give the Jewish population the facade of autonomy. Finally, you have the general Jewish population. Tension has been building between these groups for some time as they all seek to further their own self interests. This tension leads to anger, and as the anger builds and builds, you have the threat that this anger will result in outright violence, which would lead to the disruption of the fragile balance between these competing groups.

Suddenly, all these groups find a common victim in Jesus. Having found a common victim, they inflict enormous violence on Jesus and crucify Him. And for a time the violence is abated. Significantly, we are told in the gospels that before the crucifixion, Pilate and Herod couldn't stand each other, but that after the crucifixion, they become friends.

In the crucifixion story, we see played out a pattern of human behavior that has existed from the beginning; groups within a cultural network try to coexist, but tension and anger builds as each group seeks its own self interest. The only way that violence is controlled is where a common victim is found who is marginalized within the community, and the community focuses its violence on the common victim, both satiating its anger and finding common ground. But most importantly, the real nature of this script has to be hidden from the cultural system, because the cultural system is in denial of its own violence.

This is the spotlight that the crucifixion shines on us. All cultural systems, including our own, live out this script. We find victims outside or on the margins of our cultural system to focus our violence. We punish the victim, but the punishment of the victim only temporarily satiates our need for violence. We don't learn our lesson, and so we return and start the script over again.

When we turn the spotlight of the crucifixion story from ourselves back to Jesus on the cross, we see the way out of our script. The way begins by acknowledging that the script exists in the first place. Once we all acknowledge our own complicity in playing a part in the script, God can enter into the picture, and God's Spirit can begin to show us a new script. The new script is epitomized in Christ's sacrifice, compassion, and servanthood.

Living According to the Example of Christ

Paul had a lot to say about human existence and human culture. When Paul looked at human beings of his day, including himself, he saw a paradox. On one hand, human beings generally tried to do the best they could to be good people. But on the other hand, human beings ended up doing terrible things to themselves and to each other. Ironically, people seemed to do the most violence to others and to themselves while believing that they were actually following God's will. Paul himself, as we know, persecuted the early Christians; his persecution was not based in a lack of willpower (i.e. Paul knew that his persecution was wrong but did it anyway), but in a mistaken belief that persecuting Christians was God's will. Paul found himself, and the human race generally, as basically good people trapped within their own ignorance and within cultural systems that seemed to do nothing but perpetuate violence. Paul tells us in Romans 8.6-11, the Epistle Lesson this week from the Revised Common Lectionary, that there is a way out of our sin. The way out is the Spirit of God. Paul juxtaposes Spirit with flesh to describe the difference between being the people we want living in a society that we want (Spirit) with being the people we are living in the society that we live in (flesh). We want to be people who live with peace, joy, gentleness, love, compassion, mercy, and wisdom. The way to go from where we are to where we want to be is through Christ. By repenting and turning to God for forgiveness and seeking the intercession of God's Spirit, we can turn from our own individual and collective violence and live as God's people. Paul has gotten a bad reputation in many circles for being a pessimist when it comes to human nature. But when Romans is read closely, we see that Paul is actually an optimist. For Paul, our present predicament individually and culturally is an anomaly. It is a corruption of what we are and what we are meant to be. In Romans, Paul says that by turning to God, in Christ, our true nature can be restored, and we can be the people that we truly are, which is God's people.

Trying to Limit Our Power, Freedom, and Joy

As human beings, we have the strange tendency to develop habits and practices that hurt ourselves and each other. Last week in the Revised Common Lectionary, the gospel lesson contained the story of Jesus' encounter with the women at the well. Although not explicit in the story, what framed the story was the collective violence and exclusion within Jesus' culture. The women was a Samaritan, which was an ethnic group that experienced exclusion from Jewish society. In fact, we are told that most Jews who were traveling took a roundabout route around Samaria to avoid contact with the Samaritans. The Samaritan women herself was an outcast among her own community. She was an outcast among outcasts. The collective violence and exclusion of Jewish culture in Jesus' time mirrors our own. In Jesus, God shows that God's place in cultural violence and exclusion is not to support it or endorse it, but to reveal it for what it is. To demonstrate to those who participate in it that they are hurting themselves and each other. And to reveal that those who are trapped within its structures have the power, through God's grace, to bring reconciliation and healing to themselves and to each other. The story of Jesus' encounter with the women at the well reveals both our human tendency to hurt ourselves and each other with violence and exclusion. This week's gospel lesson, the story of the encounter between Jesus, the Pharisees, and the man born blind, found at John 9.1-41. In the same way that collective violence and exclusion created the context for the story of Jesus and the women at the well, what underlies this story is our tendency to try to place limits on our own power, and our tendency to place limits on our capacity to receive God's power, mercy, and grace. In this story, the Pharisees are upset that Jesus heals the blind man on the Sabbath. In other words, they want to place limits on how, when, and where we can reveal God's power, and limits on how, when, and where God acts. As always, our own religious practices and traditions mirror those of the Pharisees. In our churches, we try to place limits and restrictions about how, when, and where we can reveal God's power, and limits upon how we respond to God's call. By healing on the Sabbath, God reveals that God wants healing and joy in the world, all the time, without limit. God will not be bound by religious conventions and traditions. In fact, God will act directly contrary to them if our conventions and traditions get in the way of God's work. And God wants us to be partners in God's plan to bring healing and joy to the world.

Learning to Not Worry About the Right Things

Our culture is characterized by an epidemic of worry. There is an entire industry of resources developed by therapeutic professionals targeted to worriers. Books, prescription medicine, websites, meditation--the list goes on and on. Worrying prevention is big bucks.

Our biggest problem today when it comes to worrying is not that we worry too much, but that we worry too much about the wrong things. Our worrying these days tends to be focused on financial, physical, and military security. We worry about the balance of our checking accounts, our income to debt ratio, and our bills. We worry about our health. And we worry about whether we are secure as a nation state from our enemies.

If we are going to worry, we should at least worry about the right thing--the security of our souls. We should be worrying about whether we are living as servants of other people enough, whether we are feeding the hungry enough, whether we are loving our enemies enough, and whether we are seeking God's direction for our lives enough.

Once we start worrying about the right thing--our souls, Jesus tells us that we don't have to worry. We just need to turn to God, accept Christ as Lord, follow God's Spirit, and continue to grow in response to God's grace. Not only will we stop worrying about the wrong things, but we will also stop worrying about the right things.

The Blessing of Not Being Hated By Our Enemies

The gospel lesson from the Revised Common Lectionary contains Jesus' commandment that we love our enemies. Normally, we think about this text in an active manner--in terms of our obligation to love our enemies. But the text also means that the same commandment applies to our enemies. Our enemies are called to love us. This is good news for us. No matter who we are in this world, there are those who hate us. And that is going to be true no matter what we do. We can be the most virtuous people in the world, and there are going to be those who hate us.

God's Spirit is active in our enemies to compel them to love us. In the Wesleyan tradition, we believe that God's Spirit is at work in us even before we know what God's Spirit is; this is referred to as prevenient grace. That means that God is at work within the souls of those of our enemies who do not know God to compel them to stop hating us, and God is at work within our souls to get us to stop hating them.

Jesus' statement that we love our enemies says a lot about God's nature. God's role is not to take sides with us to help us in hating our enemies. God's role is not to take sides with our enemies in hating us. Instead, God stands above us and above our enemies and compels us to all stop hating each other. God does this because God wants us to be reconciled with one another.

The commandment to love our enemies also reflects God's willingness to love us even when are enemies to God. We all sometimes fail to live according to the example of Christ. In those moments when we are enemies to God, God could choose to hate us. In the person of Jesus, God even reached out in love to God's enemies on the cross. Even in those moments and times when we are enemies to God, God's agenda is not to hate us, but to love us. God's agenda is to continue to work within us and bring us grace.

An Imperfect Church

The United Methodist Church has its problems. Sometimes our bureaucracy seems to get in the way of what matters, which is to make disciples of Christ. Our denomination has financial pressures, and these financial pressures are passed down to our local churches in the form of higher and higher apportionments. Widespread disagreements and disputes exist on a denominational level about what it means to be the Church and how to live out that calling in the world.

As disciples, we make lots of mistakes. We are, decidedly, imperfect. Then, we look at pictures of the early saints and heroes of the Church, and we are discouraged, because they do not look like us--imperfect people within an imperfect religious tradition. They have halos, peaceful expressions, and don't ever seem to make any mistakes. They look like they have it altogether.

This Sunday in the Revised Common Lectionary we continue our journey through Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 3.1-9, and we see something remarkable. The early community in Corinth had the same problems that we do, both institutionally and individually. The church in Corinth was divided, with disputes and controversies, and the disciples within the church were flawed and imperfect. And yet despite their imperfections and the imperfections of the institution around them, they did great things. We know that they did great things and that the other communities that Paul founded did great things, because they passed down the traditions of the faith to us. They prayed and read the scriptures and proclaimed Christ crucified and risen and lived as true disciples.

We bear this same duality. We are both imperfect and capable of doing great things through God's Spirit. And in the United Methodist Church, we live out our discipleship in a flawed and imperfect denomination that is also capable of doing great things and does great things. I have a sneaking suspicion that this same duality is present in other expressions of the Church Universal.

When we make mistakes, we should not give up on ourselves because God has not given up on us. And when we are frustrated by our religious tradition, we should not give up on our religious tradition, because God hasn't. And then we should move on and continue to live according to the example of Christ. God will be with us when we do.

The Wisdom of God

The epistle lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary continues through the first chapter of Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians. Corinth was an absolute mess. It was a city full of confusion, social change, and unrest. And so its no surprise that the infant Christian community in Corinth had its problems as well. Paul's letters to the Christians in Corinth are largely responses to conflicts that arose in the Corinth community over doctrine and practice.

The text for this week concerns the Church's struggle about reconciling the crucifixion of Christ with God's power and glory. The struggle is understandable, both for the disciples who were of Jewish upbringing and those raised in Greek culture. Persons in Jewish culture wanted God's power to be revealed in signs. Greeks wanted wisdom. New converts to Christianity had difficulty understanding how the cross of Christ was a sign of God's power or evidence of wisdom. The cross seemed to be nothing but a sign of powerlessness.

Paul responds by reminding us that the cross only looks like a sign of powerlessness to us because of our ignorance. When we see the cross through the wisdom of God, we see a revelation of God's power and glory. For Jews and Greeks, the purpose of life was to consolidate power, wealth, and glory within themselves, within their families, and within their nation. Our culture thinks about the purpose of life in the same fashion. The wisdom of God is not about consolidating power and glory, but in giving it away. The cross only looks like powerlessness and foolishness when we are thinking with human wisdom. Through the crucifixion of Christ, God emptied Himself to bring life and redemption to the world. This greatest manifestation of God's glory and power is only perceived as glory and power when we see the cross through God's wisdom.

God's Vision for Us

Ancient Israel had a clear vision for itself--an understanding of what it wanted to be. Israel wanted to be a great nation like the other great kingdoms of the world, or in the words of Isaiah, "for the twelve tribes to be raised up." And ancient Israel assumed that God shared this vision. Ancient Israel assumed that God had the same vision for Israel, and that God was acting to bring Israel's vision to fruition.

As it turns out, Isaiah revealed that God had a greater vision for Israel--God wanted Israel to be the instrument through which God's light would be revealed to all the world and the instrument through which God's salvation would be proclaimed. God did not perceive Himself as Israel's instrument to bring about Israel's vision. Instead, God perceived Israel as God's instrument to bring about God's vision

We have a vision for ourselves and what we want to be. Invariably, our vision for ourselves is limited and, frankly, boring. God has a vision for us and for our lives; God's vision is that we become God's instruments of God's vision. It is greater and more marvelous than the vision that we have for ourselves. God does not see Himself as the instrument to bring about our vision for ourselves, but sees us as the instrument through which we bring about God's vision. God's vision has always been, is, and always will be about bringing light to the world and effecting the world's salvation. This vision was brought to fruition in Jesus, the Word made flesh.

God's Logos

The gospel lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary for this week is John 1.1-18, which is often referred to as the "Logos Prologue" of John's Gospel. Rather than Luke and Matthew, who begin their gospels with stories of Jesus' birth and infancy, or Mark, who begins with the ministry of John the Baptist, John begins with what was according to scholars an early Christian hymn. The central theme of the hymn is the "Logos" of God--typically translated as "Word" of God.

"Logos" had a very specific meaning within Greek culture. In fact, it was one of the central terms of Greek philosophy. Although a term of philosophy, it would have been as well known to John's audience as "capitalism" or "evolution" is to a contemporary American audience. The notion of logos had its origins with Heraclitus, who was a Greek philosopher about 6 centuries before Jesus. Heraclitus' central inquiry was about what made human culture work. Heraclitus lived in an age when all sorts of things were being created and sustained--political systems, economic systems, science, education. Heraclitus reasoned that there had to be some engine that made everything run, just like an engine that drives our car. Heraclitus posited that the engine that makes the world run--central organizing principle, or the "logos" is violence and conflict. For Heraclitus, any human system is created and sustained by conflict and violence--and not the kind of senseless violence that we saw this week in videotapes on the news of parents fighting over toys at a Christmas sale, but an ordered and structured violence. The kind of violence where competing systems struggle with one another, and through this struggle create and sustain functional systems. The way this typically works is for one force to show up and drive another existing force out.

This notion of logos was central to Greek thought. And it remains central to our own. Politics, economics, education, business, law. A cultural assumption that we share as Americans is that the engine that drives these systems is conflict and violence. Once again--not the kind of senseless violence that leads to criminal liability, but an ordered and structured violence.

John begins his gospel by telling us that we have it all wrong. There is a "logos"--an engine that makes everything run. We just got the name of the engine wrong. The engine is embodied in Jesus. The engine is not an abstract principle, like "conflict" or "violence". Instead, if we want to see how everything is created and sustained, we just look to the life of Jesus, the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, and the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. In this life we see a different "engine" that has always been what drives the world, and will always be what drives the world. That engine is sacrificial love, compassion, mercy, and service.

Notice that John is not saying that this logos is the engine that will drive the world someday when we all get our act together and turn to God. John is saying that this is the engine of the God who is the God of eternity--the God who always has been.

The Church has typically perceived the right God but with the wrong logos. That is, the Church perceives God, correctly, as the creator, and Jesus as the redeemer, but assumes that God and Jesus share the Greek notion of logos--in other words, that the revelation of God in Christ was one of conflict and violence--of something driving something out. Instead, God in Jesus brought an entirely different operating principle that is entirely at odds with the logos of the world. An operating principle that was so antithetical to the world's logos that those operating out of the world's logos found Jesus incomprehensible. And when the world was able to reject Jesus, to drive out Jesus, and to crucify Jesus, the world perceived Jesus as powerless. Of course they did--they were seeing Jesus through the wrong logos.

Giving our lives to Jesus is about more than seeing Jesus as more powerful than the world. It is about seeing that in Jesus, God is presenting an alternative to the way that we think the world runs. What truly creates and sustains all things is sacrificial love, mercy, and compassion. Being God's people is about allowing God's Spirit to enter in so that we can finally start getting this through our heads.