A journey of a thousand miles
Commentary
There are many books describing amazing journeys, but one of the most fascinating for me was Endurance, the story of Ernest Shackleton's experience in Antarctica in 1915. Shackleton's plan was to cross Antarctica on foot, but just a day's sail short of the disembarking point, Shackleton's ship, the Endurance, became ice-bound. After 10 months of drifting with his ship and crew in the icepack, the Endurance gave way to the pressures of the ice and was crushed. It was then that the adventure really began. Endurance was not just the name of a ship, but a description of how these sailors hung together in their 850-mile march to safety.
The idea of journeying will guide us through this week's lessons, though hopefully endurance will not be one of the requisite attributes.
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Even though the lectionary suggests a reading that provides a synopsis of chapter 24, the interpreter would be well served to take the entire chapter into account when preparing for proclamation. The fuller reading of the chapter presents subtleties of insight that are lost when relying solely upon the synopsis.
Sarah had just died and in his advanced age, and perhaps in a mood of depression following Sarah's death, Abraham seems concerned that his own death is imminent. That concern appears to be behind his instructions to his trusted servant to swear a solemn oath not to let Isaac marry among the Canaanites nor to allow Isaac to leave the land of promise in search of a wife (24:1-9). In the event of the former, the promise would be compromised by the influence of polytheism; in the event of the latter, the promise would be undermined should Isaac decide not to return.
Upon arrival in Nahor, Abraham's servant requested of God a sign as an indication and verification of God's will. It is interesting to note that even after Rebekah responded exactly according to what the servant had requested, the servant nevertheless engaged in a moment of discernment to satisfy himself that this woman was indeed the appropriate choice (v. 21). At the very minimum, this action by the servant should remind us that "signs" alone are insufficient grounds for determining God's will and purpose -- discernment and evaluation are essential in determining the validity of "signs."
Notice, also, that the text gives the reader a preview into the character of Laban, Rebekah's brother, who will play a pivotal role later in the patriarchal narratives. When jewel-bedecked Rebekah went home to report what had happened, it was Laban who ran out to make sure that Abraham's servant did not get away (vv. 29-33). One can speculate (perhaps is even invited to speculate) that the primary reason for Laban's hospitality was the dollar signs in his eyes. Laban's enthusiasm can also be seen in his assuming the unusual role of almost speaking for his father in the marriage arrangement process (v. 50). Finally, notice that the servant presented dowry gifts to Rebekah, her mother and Laban (v. 53). One can almost see Laban in a secret conversation with the servant offering to grease the wheels of permission in exchange for a little "expression of appreciation."
The request for a 10-day delay in Rebekah's departure is a bit curious. Were Laban and his mother hoping that the longer the servant stayed around the more in dowry they might be able to extract from him? What is remarkable is that Rebekah was given a voice in the decision concerning her departure! In this patriarchal society in which marriages were arranged between the respective male participants with scant input by the woman concerned, that Rebekah should be given a voice is not something to be overlooked. I am not sure what one should make of this, but it does seem to be something of a protest against the conventional status of women in a male-dominated social structure.
Perhaps Rebekah's speaking is a foreshadowing of her character just as Laban's money-grubbing was of his character. Is it reading too much into the text to see in this an indication of Rebekah's independent spirit -- a spirit that reveals itself more fully in her favoritism for Jacob? One is tempted to see an independence of spirit in Rebekah's traveling without her veil only to put it on at the last minute so as to make a good first impression.
Finally, perhaps we have a clue to the difficulties that will arise later between Isaac and Rebekah when Rebekah is presented as a mother-replacement in Isaac's grief over the death of Sarah (v. 67). The text does not deny that Isaac loved Rebekah, but neither does it hide the fact that Isaac's affection for his mother figured not insignificantly into the marriage relationship. In the final analysis, it is up to the interpreter how much weight is to be assigned to this maternal reference, but it should at least serve as a caution against over-sentimentalizing the Isaac-Rebekah relationship.
Romans 7:15-25a
I come to this passage in Romans without the benefit of knowing how my co-writers will approach this letter of Paul's in the installments for which they are responsible. The advantage is that the reader can hear different voices trying to unpack related texts. The disadvantage is that our approaches may appear to be somewhat contradictory. Caveat lector -- let the reader beware.
As the interpreter moves into this theological jungle created by Paul, a couple of questions need to be resolved. First, is Paul's primary audience Jews, Jewish Christians, or Gentile Christians? How one answers this makes a profound difference in interpretation. Secondly, what is Paul's primary intention in writing this letter? For instance, is it merely an introduction of himself to the Roman Christians or is there something of a personal apologetic at work? Finally, more of a caution light than a question is Paul's adoption of a Greek rhetorical style that sets up fictive conversation partners against whom he can present his own ideas. The challenge is trying to figure out when Paul is speaking of himself and when he is using the conversation partner to present a point of view counter to his own.
The approach I will follow for this installment and for the July 28 and August 18 entries is that Paul is writing to a Gentile audience; that he is writing to defend his reputation against charges that he considers the Law and Judaism as invalid expressions of faith; and that he is writing to put into proper perspective the intersection between Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus and the intersection between the Law and Christ.
With that in mind, let's see if we can make sense of chapter 7. Paul begins the chapter by trying to correct the misimpression that he equates law and sin (v. 7). He answers this charge by means of an analogy from the law concerning marriage. Just as a wife is bound to her husband for his lifetime, but is free from the marital obligation upon his death, even so the follower of Christ, though previously bound to the law of sin, is now freed from that relationship through the believer's participation in the death of Christ.
Enter the fictive conversation partner who asks what others have said about Paul's teaching, "Then you are saying that the law is sin?" This gives Paul a chance to explain his position more carefully. The law is not sin, but knowledge of the law (read, what God expects) awakens within one that sin-desire to do just the opposite of what the law requires. It is not the law that is bad; rather it is the attitude and actions awakened by knowledge of the law that is bad.
The fictive conversation partner raises another question in verse 13, to which Paul provides further clarification. Then we come to today's text. This passage has presented a dilemma to interpreters because they assume that Paul is talking about himself. This has led some to suggest that for consistency's sake, Paul must be referring to his life prior to conversion, since he states in verse 25 that in Christ God has delivered him from this captivity to sin. The problem seems to resolve itself if we begin with a different assumption, namely that it is not Paul talking in verses 15-24, but his fictive conversation partner.
Paul's alter ego accepts what Paul has said to this point, but then brings in an existential concern. "Paul," he might say, "all of that is good in theory, but what about real life? Let me tell you how things tend to work in my life. Where is deliverance in this bondage to sin for me?" Paul's answer -- God's grace at work through Jesus Christ.
It seems to be Paul's contention that this war within the soul is a pre-conversion phenomenon -- a problem for the fictive conversation partner, but not for Paul. If this is so, then the interpretation that this war within is an ongoing experience for all believers runs counter to what Paul is trying to say. For Paul, the battle is over. The believer has the indwelling presence of Christ that is able to overcome the struggles toward sinfulness. We may find this view of Paul's a bit disconcerting, we may even chose to disagree with him, but if this interpretation of Paul is correct, then it certainly does challenge the believer to quit using the war within argument as an excuse not to be more obedient to the indwelling Christ.
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
How does one make decisions in the face of conflicting opinions and pressures? And why is it that not only can one not please all of the people all of the time, but one is hard pressed to please most of the people any of the time? Those in parish leadership certainly know how difficult it is to balance the competing agendas of parishioners in a way that makes progress possible. The question most folk want an answer to is: "How do you know it will work?"
Why is it that folks have this need to know the end at the beginning? Why do we insist on the promise of success before ever embarking on an adventure? Why is it that people get more joy out of nit-picking the faith journey of others than they do out of taking the journey for themselves?
Perhaps these questions are unanswerable, but this passage (vv. 16-19) makes a couple of things fairly clear. The first is that the journey of faith, no matter who makes it nor how it is made, is not without its critics. There will always be those whose mission in life is to rain on another's parade. The potential consequences of such negativity is to create a climate of paralysis in which only a very few ever make the effort to journey into the Land of Unknowing where the only compass is one's faith. Instead, we contentedly build our houses and villages and churches just at the border of the Land of Unknowing, satisfied that such proximity is all we need to experience faith.
The second insight of this text is that even those who do venture by faith into the Land of Unknowing will never really know how well the journey is going until after the journey is completed. That is what I think Matthew means by wisdom being vindicated by her deeds. As followers of Christ, we are to live and act in ways that we, in conversation with the church community, deem faithful and appropriate. In the final analysis, however, the quality of our faithfulness will be validated, not by the opinions of others, but by the consequences of our actions.
Next, Matthew addresses the counter-intuitive nature of faith -- in two ways. First, the receptive of heart have it over the astute of mind when it comes to matters of faith in or knowledge of God (vv. 25-27). Note that the distinction is not between the intelligent and the ill-informed as though ignorance is prized over learning. Ill-informed folk with unreceptive hearts can be just as foolish as well-informed folk with unreceptive hearts. Rather the contrast is (1) between those who are teachable and those who think that they know it all, and (2) between the self-acquisition of knowledge and the gift (grace)-acquisition of revelation. In societies in which knowledge is equated with power, this divine approach seems, indeed, counter-intuitive.
The second counter-intuitive movement in this text is the description of Jesus' yoke being easy and his burden light (vv. 28-30). I don't know about you, but for me trying to follow the way of Jesus is no easy matter. For sure, I would trade my self-imposed burdens for the burdens of faith any day of the week, but to say that faith's burdens are easy is a bit of an understatement. Notice that Jesus does not indicate that those who come to him will be without a yoke, merely that the new yoke will be easy. One may wonder how this easy and light arrangement is possible until one considers that probably what Jesus is talking about is exchanging our single yoke for a double yoke -- a yoke he shares with us through a union of purpose and direction. It is no less a journey of faith than is described in verses 15-19, or any less counter-intuitive than Jesus' thanksgiving in verses 25-27. Taken together, this passage invites us to leave the safe places of faith and to journey with Christ into the Land of Unknowing.
Application
What do the movies like Lord of the Rings, The NeverEnding Story, and the Indiana Jones flicks have in common? They are all movies about a journey, the purpose of which is to acquire a special object that holds magic powers of rescue and salvation. This genre of movie provides the viewer with a sense of danger-filled adventure along with an evocative excursion into the imagination. Today's texts are also like that. They are about journeys -- some physical, some spiritual. The journeys are fraught with danger, but that which is sought holds the potential to transform life and hopes and dreams.
In Genesis we have the story of a physical journey taken by the servant of Abraham. In a sense it is the reverse of Abraham's own journey from Haran. Although the servant is journeying to a place that he knows, the outcome of the journey remains in doubt until that which is sought (Rebekah) is actually returned to Isaac's dwelling. We sense the servant's concern and apprehension. Will he find a wife for his master's son? Will she be the right one? What if, after finding the right girl, the parents refuse to allow her to leave? And at the end of the day what if Abraham or Isaac are not pleased with his selection? With all of these doubts and potential obstacles, one would not blame the servant for begging off the trip and staying home.
Journeys are like that. At times the "what ifs" outnumber the reasons why a journey should be made in the first place. And the potential for failure can leave us well nigh paralyzed. Especially is this true when the journey is one of faith. God calls to you, his trusted servant, and bids you go on a mission for God to accomplish a task he entrusts to no one else. That mission or ministry may involve travel; it may involve leaving the familiar; it may involve going with no assurances of success. But going is what is required and you are the one God wishes to send. What is one to do?
In Romans we see a spiritual journey into a deeper communion with God. The dangers here are not physical, but are no less intimidating. On this journey into a more profound spirituality, the demons are within. They come in the form of doubts, of self-abnegation, of magnified failures and diminished successes, of half-hearted efforts and easy excuses. This journey toward deeper communion leaves us shaking in our boots and defeated before we start. But in our heart of hearts we know that all of this can be overcome through an awareness of the presence of God. Yet, we don't trust that presence and our sighs too deep for words remain only that -- sighs. How is one to begin?
In Matthew the journey is into faithful trusting. There's a saying that goes "better the devil that you know than the devil that you don't know." In Matthew's context it would be "better the security of an uncommitted faith than the uncertainty of a commitment of faith." The burdens we bear are overwhelmingly debilitating and unsatisfying. We know that at any time we can exchange those burdens for a shared experience with Christ. But the yoke we bear has become conformed to our shoulders and to give it up means taking responsibility for our life and faith. And by some reason-defying logic we convince ourselves that the journey toward a shared life with Christ is not worth exchanging the life-draining yoke we carry for the life-giving yoke of God. What is one to say?
Journeys are indeed serious business, but the rewards are nothing short of transformative.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67. Throughout the biblical text we read of examples of persons "testing the waters" to determine the will and direction of God. The most famous example of this is Gideon's fleece test. Some folks today live "by the fleece" in that they are constantly looking for signs to direct them to God's purpose. How reliable is this approach? At what point does it become a lack of faith and become some sort of augury? The servant's request for a sign could provide an opportunity to explore with a congregation the relative merits of such an approach to faithful living.
2) Romans 7:15-25a. Someone once said that when persons become Christian then they can do whatever they want to do. This is possible not because they have become immune to sin, but because once they become a follower of Christ their "want-to's" change. The preacher could explore with the congregation whether Paul would agree or disagree with such an idea. To what extent do our desires change upon embracing the Christian faith? What help does Paul provide in dealing with this question?
3) Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30. Jesus used the analogy of a children's game to describe the attitude and actions of some of his critics. A fun and interesting approach to this text might be to compare the way folks come at the Christian faith today with current games on the market. This could be done positively or negatively. In other words, "The Christian life is not like X," or "Have you noticed how much the Christian life is like X?"
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
As Abraham nears the end of his life, his concern is for a wife for his son Isaac. He does not want Isaac to marry one of the Canaanite women who worship other gods. And he does not want Isaac to return to his kinsfolk in Mesopotamia to look for a wife, because God sent Abraham on a journey toward a Promised Land, and Abraham will not reverse the direction of that divine working. Consequently, Abraham sends his most trusted servant to the family's ancestral home in Mesopotamia to find a wife for Isaac. Abraham says that an angel will guide the servant to the chosen woman.
After the long journey, the servant arrives in the city of Nahor, which is named after Abraham's brother and in which the descendants of that brother live. At the well of the city, the servant prays that the woman who comes to the well and who offers him and his camels a drink will be the wife for Isaac whom God has chosen. Before the prayer is finished, there appears Rebekah, the granddaughter of Abraham's brother Nahor. Not only does she fulfill the divine sign by offering drink, but, she is also "very fair to look at" and a "virgin." The servant gives Rebekah gifts of jewelry, and when she runs excitedly to her house and shows her brother Laban the gifts and tells him of the servant's errand, Laban lavishes extravagant hospitality upon the visitors (Genesis 24:10-33).
At this point our text begins. Abraham's servant gives an account of his mission and of how the sign at the well has designated Rebekah as the chosen wife. And both her brother Laban and her father Bethuel agree to let her return with the servant to become Isaac's wife, especially since they too are given costly gifts. But Rebekah's unnamed mother is not quite so hasty. "Let the maiden remain here for 10 days more," she suggests. But no. The servant is on the Lord's errand and that is not to be delayed. So Rebekah and her maids set off with the servant's caravan.
The journey is long and not without its dangers. But its ending is told in tender terms. Isaac sees the caravan afar off, Rekebah sees Isaac and covers her face demurely with a veil. And when she alights from her camel, it is apparently love at first sight. Isaac takes Rebekah as his wife and he is "comforted" in his sorrow over the death of his mother Sarah, who died a short time before (cf. Genesis 23).
The story concerns what we might call a marriage made in heaven, because the prominent feature in the whole narrative is the unfailing guidance of God, complimented by the faithful obedience of both Abraham and his emissary. God's angel directs the servant. God makes the sign at the well effective. God protects the caravan. At every juncture, Abraham and the servant respond immediately with their trust in God's leading and protection.
Do you suppose that we too know something of that guidance in our own choice of mates and in our marriages? This God of the Bible works out his plans for salvation not only through his church and individuals, but also through those married couples. And of course our response as marital partners is to trust that working of God, because he is using us too in his plan of salvation for his world.
Lutheran Option -- Zechariah 9:9-12
We are accustomed to hearing this passage on Palm Sunday, as the Old Testament promise of Jesus' ride into Jerusalem. But it is fitting to every Sunday in the church year for it encompasses the perennial hope of Israel and of the church -- the hope for the final coming of the Messiah.
Properly, the passage should end with verse 10. Verses 11-12 are the beginning of the separate oracle in 9:11-17.
The initial call of our text is for exuberant rejoicing, for the good news from God through his prophet is that Israel's king is coming to her. And that, of course, is not just any king. Israel in the post-exilic time of this prophecy has no king, no independence, no nationhood. She is but a small congregation of sub-provincials in the great Persian Empire. No. The king that is meant is the anointed Davidic king, the mashiach, the long-awaited Messiah, promised already in Zechariah 3:8 and 6:12. And that king for Israel is now coming to her -- to fit her circumstance, to save her life, to be her deliverer.
The lines that follow describe the coming Messiah. The NRSV translates the second line of verse 9 as "triumphant and victorious is he," but what the Hebrew actually says is, "Righteous and saved is he." The Messiah is a righteous king. "To be righteous" means throughout the Bible to fulfill the demands of a relationship. And so the Messiah rules as a king should rule; he fulfills the demands of his relationship with his people. He rules justly, he protects the weak and prospers the good. He gives shalom or fullness of life to his people.
The Messiah who is promised is also "saved," or "delivered," however. That is, he has all of his qualities and power to rule from God. Therefore, he is "humble." It is often thought that the Messiah's ride upon an ass is the mark of his humility. But no. The promise of the Davidic ruler in Genesis 49:10-11 foretells that he will be mounted on an ass, and in Judges, Israel's princes are often portrayed riding that animal (Judges 5:10; 10:4; 12:14). The Messiah's humility is because he is totally dependent upon God. It is not surprising, therefore, that is it God himself who will banish the weapons of war from Jerusalem and command peace to all nations (v. 10). Similarly, it is the Lord God who will establish the Messiah's rule over all the earth. Israel's promised Messiah will come to her as the agent of God.
It is fitting that our Lord fulfills this prophecy when he rides that ass into Jerusalem. Certainly he is the long-awaited Davidic Messiah. And certainly he is totally dependent on his Father. He tells us that he does the work that the Father gives him to do (John 4:34), that he can do nothing on his own authority (John 5:30). It is his Father's will that he must follow and not his own, even to crucifixion. In all his words and actions, he and the Father are one (John 10:30). And it is finally the Father who saves him when he is raised from the dead.
The glad news for us, therefore, is that the promised Messiah has come from the Father, and that he is now our king -- the one who fits our circumstances, who comes to us no matter who we are or what we have done, the one who has seen our afflictions and known our suffering and comes to deliver us.
The Political Pulpit
Romans 7:15-25a
This text brings us to the heart of the American political system, a fortuitous follow-up on Independence Day. But identifying the American system's heart requires reintroducing the classic Augustinian view of sin, because most Americans do not understand it and their political system in that way. Are some of our social ills the result?
Paul claims in the text to be in bondage, to be doing what he does not want and not being able to do what he wants. His remarks here are the paradigm for the doctrine of original sin. As understood by Augustine, this entailed a bondage to an all-consuming selfishness that he identified with concupiscence. In everything we do we are motivated by the desire to please ourselves.
Most Americans do not understand themselves that way. Recent polling by The New York Times revealed that 73 percent of Americans believe people are good. Given this climate, preachers can no longer assume that people in the pews understand or believe in original sin. When just the terms "sin" and "original sin" are used without definition, they will be heard merely as references to human misdeeds, not as realities that plague us.
Our spirituality as well as our appreciation of the Constitutional system are at stake in clarifying this matter for parishioners. If God does not seem as real and engaged in our lives, perhaps that is because fundamentally good people like us do not really feel we need God. Reviving an Augustinian sense of our sinfulness might stimulate this sense of need. When you believe that nothing good that you have is deserved, you can better sense God in all the good you have.
Linking the Augustinian awareness with appreciation of our Constitution reveals striking similarities between the American system and the African Father's thought. Augustine thought government was founded on the lust for power:
Worldly society has flowered from a selfish love ... In the city of the world both the rulers themselves and the people they dominate are dominated by the lust for domination. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 2, 282f)
America's Founders said much the same. James Madison's teacher John Witherspoon, a Presbyterian pastor who signed The Declaration of Independence, claimed in the title of one of his treatises that "all mankind [is] by nature under sin." Alexander Hamilton proclaimed that "men love power," and Benjamin Franklin asserted that men are driven by "ambition and avarice" (James Madison, Notes of Debates of the Federal Convention of 1787, 131, 52). Madison himself generalized these Augustinian observations applying them to groups (which he called factions) that inevitably emerge in free societies. The American system of the separation of powers was framed to counteract such selfish factions.
Relating original sin to our Constitutional heritage provides a promising perspective for addressing pressing social issues of our day. Apply the check-and-balance system to an issue where the imbalance of power now reigns, perhaps to make the case for why we need a government bureaucracy in order to counter the power of big business. Or use these insights to remind hearers that as sinners, all good we have is undeserved and so is a miraculous work of God.
The idea of journeying will guide us through this week's lessons, though hopefully endurance will not be one of the requisite attributes.
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Even though the lectionary suggests a reading that provides a synopsis of chapter 24, the interpreter would be well served to take the entire chapter into account when preparing for proclamation. The fuller reading of the chapter presents subtleties of insight that are lost when relying solely upon the synopsis.
Sarah had just died and in his advanced age, and perhaps in a mood of depression following Sarah's death, Abraham seems concerned that his own death is imminent. That concern appears to be behind his instructions to his trusted servant to swear a solemn oath not to let Isaac marry among the Canaanites nor to allow Isaac to leave the land of promise in search of a wife (24:1-9). In the event of the former, the promise would be compromised by the influence of polytheism; in the event of the latter, the promise would be undermined should Isaac decide not to return.
Upon arrival in Nahor, Abraham's servant requested of God a sign as an indication and verification of God's will. It is interesting to note that even after Rebekah responded exactly according to what the servant had requested, the servant nevertheless engaged in a moment of discernment to satisfy himself that this woman was indeed the appropriate choice (v. 21). At the very minimum, this action by the servant should remind us that "signs" alone are insufficient grounds for determining God's will and purpose -- discernment and evaluation are essential in determining the validity of "signs."
Notice, also, that the text gives the reader a preview into the character of Laban, Rebekah's brother, who will play a pivotal role later in the patriarchal narratives. When jewel-bedecked Rebekah went home to report what had happened, it was Laban who ran out to make sure that Abraham's servant did not get away (vv. 29-33). One can speculate (perhaps is even invited to speculate) that the primary reason for Laban's hospitality was the dollar signs in his eyes. Laban's enthusiasm can also be seen in his assuming the unusual role of almost speaking for his father in the marriage arrangement process (v. 50). Finally, notice that the servant presented dowry gifts to Rebekah, her mother and Laban (v. 53). One can almost see Laban in a secret conversation with the servant offering to grease the wheels of permission in exchange for a little "expression of appreciation."
The request for a 10-day delay in Rebekah's departure is a bit curious. Were Laban and his mother hoping that the longer the servant stayed around the more in dowry they might be able to extract from him? What is remarkable is that Rebekah was given a voice in the decision concerning her departure! In this patriarchal society in which marriages were arranged between the respective male participants with scant input by the woman concerned, that Rebekah should be given a voice is not something to be overlooked. I am not sure what one should make of this, but it does seem to be something of a protest against the conventional status of women in a male-dominated social structure.
Perhaps Rebekah's speaking is a foreshadowing of her character just as Laban's money-grubbing was of his character. Is it reading too much into the text to see in this an indication of Rebekah's independent spirit -- a spirit that reveals itself more fully in her favoritism for Jacob? One is tempted to see an independence of spirit in Rebekah's traveling without her veil only to put it on at the last minute so as to make a good first impression.
Finally, perhaps we have a clue to the difficulties that will arise later between Isaac and Rebekah when Rebekah is presented as a mother-replacement in Isaac's grief over the death of Sarah (v. 67). The text does not deny that Isaac loved Rebekah, but neither does it hide the fact that Isaac's affection for his mother figured not insignificantly into the marriage relationship. In the final analysis, it is up to the interpreter how much weight is to be assigned to this maternal reference, but it should at least serve as a caution against over-sentimentalizing the Isaac-Rebekah relationship.
Romans 7:15-25a
I come to this passage in Romans without the benefit of knowing how my co-writers will approach this letter of Paul's in the installments for which they are responsible. The advantage is that the reader can hear different voices trying to unpack related texts. The disadvantage is that our approaches may appear to be somewhat contradictory. Caveat lector -- let the reader beware.
As the interpreter moves into this theological jungle created by Paul, a couple of questions need to be resolved. First, is Paul's primary audience Jews, Jewish Christians, or Gentile Christians? How one answers this makes a profound difference in interpretation. Secondly, what is Paul's primary intention in writing this letter? For instance, is it merely an introduction of himself to the Roman Christians or is there something of a personal apologetic at work? Finally, more of a caution light than a question is Paul's adoption of a Greek rhetorical style that sets up fictive conversation partners against whom he can present his own ideas. The challenge is trying to figure out when Paul is speaking of himself and when he is using the conversation partner to present a point of view counter to his own.
The approach I will follow for this installment and for the July 28 and August 18 entries is that Paul is writing to a Gentile audience; that he is writing to defend his reputation against charges that he considers the Law and Judaism as invalid expressions of faith; and that he is writing to put into proper perspective the intersection between Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus and the intersection between the Law and Christ.
With that in mind, let's see if we can make sense of chapter 7. Paul begins the chapter by trying to correct the misimpression that he equates law and sin (v. 7). He answers this charge by means of an analogy from the law concerning marriage. Just as a wife is bound to her husband for his lifetime, but is free from the marital obligation upon his death, even so the follower of Christ, though previously bound to the law of sin, is now freed from that relationship through the believer's participation in the death of Christ.
Enter the fictive conversation partner who asks what others have said about Paul's teaching, "Then you are saying that the law is sin?" This gives Paul a chance to explain his position more carefully. The law is not sin, but knowledge of the law (read, what God expects) awakens within one that sin-desire to do just the opposite of what the law requires. It is not the law that is bad; rather it is the attitude and actions awakened by knowledge of the law that is bad.
The fictive conversation partner raises another question in verse 13, to which Paul provides further clarification. Then we come to today's text. This passage has presented a dilemma to interpreters because they assume that Paul is talking about himself. This has led some to suggest that for consistency's sake, Paul must be referring to his life prior to conversion, since he states in verse 25 that in Christ God has delivered him from this captivity to sin. The problem seems to resolve itself if we begin with a different assumption, namely that it is not Paul talking in verses 15-24, but his fictive conversation partner.
Paul's alter ego accepts what Paul has said to this point, but then brings in an existential concern. "Paul," he might say, "all of that is good in theory, but what about real life? Let me tell you how things tend to work in my life. Where is deliverance in this bondage to sin for me?" Paul's answer -- God's grace at work through Jesus Christ.
It seems to be Paul's contention that this war within the soul is a pre-conversion phenomenon -- a problem for the fictive conversation partner, but not for Paul. If this is so, then the interpretation that this war within is an ongoing experience for all believers runs counter to what Paul is trying to say. For Paul, the battle is over. The believer has the indwelling presence of Christ that is able to overcome the struggles toward sinfulness. We may find this view of Paul's a bit disconcerting, we may even chose to disagree with him, but if this interpretation of Paul is correct, then it certainly does challenge the believer to quit using the war within argument as an excuse not to be more obedient to the indwelling Christ.
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
How does one make decisions in the face of conflicting opinions and pressures? And why is it that not only can one not please all of the people all of the time, but one is hard pressed to please most of the people any of the time? Those in parish leadership certainly know how difficult it is to balance the competing agendas of parishioners in a way that makes progress possible. The question most folk want an answer to is: "How do you know it will work?"
Why is it that folks have this need to know the end at the beginning? Why do we insist on the promise of success before ever embarking on an adventure? Why is it that people get more joy out of nit-picking the faith journey of others than they do out of taking the journey for themselves?
Perhaps these questions are unanswerable, but this passage (vv. 16-19) makes a couple of things fairly clear. The first is that the journey of faith, no matter who makes it nor how it is made, is not without its critics. There will always be those whose mission in life is to rain on another's parade. The potential consequences of such negativity is to create a climate of paralysis in which only a very few ever make the effort to journey into the Land of Unknowing where the only compass is one's faith. Instead, we contentedly build our houses and villages and churches just at the border of the Land of Unknowing, satisfied that such proximity is all we need to experience faith.
The second insight of this text is that even those who do venture by faith into the Land of Unknowing will never really know how well the journey is going until after the journey is completed. That is what I think Matthew means by wisdom being vindicated by her deeds. As followers of Christ, we are to live and act in ways that we, in conversation with the church community, deem faithful and appropriate. In the final analysis, however, the quality of our faithfulness will be validated, not by the opinions of others, but by the consequences of our actions.
Next, Matthew addresses the counter-intuitive nature of faith -- in two ways. First, the receptive of heart have it over the astute of mind when it comes to matters of faith in or knowledge of God (vv. 25-27). Note that the distinction is not between the intelligent and the ill-informed as though ignorance is prized over learning. Ill-informed folk with unreceptive hearts can be just as foolish as well-informed folk with unreceptive hearts. Rather the contrast is (1) between those who are teachable and those who think that they know it all, and (2) between the self-acquisition of knowledge and the gift (grace)-acquisition of revelation. In societies in which knowledge is equated with power, this divine approach seems, indeed, counter-intuitive.
The second counter-intuitive movement in this text is the description of Jesus' yoke being easy and his burden light (vv. 28-30). I don't know about you, but for me trying to follow the way of Jesus is no easy matter. For sure, I would trade my self-imposed burdens for the burdens of faith any day of the week, but to say that faith's burdens are easy is a bit of an understatement. Notice that Jesus does not indicate that those who come to him will be without a yoke, merely that the new yoke will be easy. One may wonder how this easy and light arrangement is possible until one considers that probably what Jesus is talking about is exchanging our single yoke for a double yoke -- a yoke he shares with us through a union of purpose and direction. It is no less a journey of faith than is described in verses 15-19, or any less counter-intuitive than Jesus' thanksgiving in verses 25-27. Taken together, this passage invites us to leave the safe places of faith and to journey with Christ into the Land of Unknowing.
Application
What do the movies like Lord of the Rings, The NeverEnding Story, and the Indiana Jones flicks have in common? They are all movies about a journey, the purpose of which is to acquire a special object that holds magic powers of rescue and salvation. This genre of movie provides the viewer with a sense of danger-filled adventure along with an evocative excursion into the imagination. Today's texts are also like that. They are about journeys -- some physical, some spiritual. The journeys are fraught with danger, but that which is sought holds the potential to transform life and hopes and dreams.
In Genesis we have the story of a physical journey taken by the servant of Abraham. In a sense it is the reverse of Abraham's own journey from Haran. Although the servant is journeying to a place that he knows, the outcome of the journey remains in doubt until that which is sought (Rebekah) is actually returned to Isaac's dwelling. We sense the servant's concern and apprehension. Will he find a wife for his master's son? Will she be the right one? What if, after finding the right girl, the parents refuse to allow her to leave? And at the end of the day what if Abraham or Isaac are not pleased with his selection? With all of these doubts and potential obstacles, one would not blame the servant for begging off the trip and staying home.
Journeys are like that. At times the "what ifs" outnumber the reasons why a journey should be made in the first place. And the potential for failure can leave us well nigh paralyzed. Especially is this true when the journey is one of faith. God calls to you, his trusted servant, and bids you go on a mission for God to accomplish a task he entrusts to no one else. That mission or ministry may involve travel; it may involve leaving the familiar; it may involve going with no assurances of success. But going is what is required and you are the one God wishes to send. What is one to do?
In Romans we see a spiritual journey into a deeper communion with God. The dangers here are not physical, but are no less intimidating. On this journey into a more profound spirituality, the demons are within. They come in the form of doubts, of self-abnegation, of magnified failures and diminished successes, of half-hearted efforts and easy excuses. This journey toward deeper communion leaves us shaking in our boots and defeated before we start. But in our heart of hearts we know that all of this can be overcome through an awareness of the presence of God. Yet, we don't trust that presence and our sighs too deep for words remain only that -- sighs. How is one to begin?
In Matthew the journey is into faithful trusting. There's a saying that goes "better the devil that you know than the devil that you don't know." In Matthew's context it would be "better the security of an uncommitted faith than the uncertainty of a commitment of faith." The burdens we bear are overwhelmingly debilitating and unsatisfying. We know that at any time we can exchange those burdens for a shared experience with Christ. But the yoke we bear has become conformed to our shoulders and to give it up means taking responsibility for our life and faith. And by some reason-defying logic we convince ourselves that the journey toward a shared life with Christ is not worth exchanging the life-draining yoke we carry for the life-giving yoke of God. What is one to say?
Journeys are indeed serious business, but the rewards are nothing short of transformative.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67. Throughout the biblical text we read of examples of persons "testing the waters" to determine the will and direction of God. The most famous example of this is Gideon's fleece test. Some folks today live "by the fleece" in that they are constantly looking for signs to direct them to God's purpose. How reliable is this approach? At what point does it become a lack of faith and become some sort of augury? The servant's request for a sign could provide an opportunity to explore with a congregation the relative merits of such an approach to faithful living.
2) Romans 7:15-25a. Someone once said that when persons become Christian then they can do whatever they want to do. This is possible not because they have become immune to sin, but because once they become a follower of Christ their "want-to's" change. The preacher could explore with the congregation whether Paul would agree or disagree with such an idea. To what extent do our desires change upon embracing the Christian faith? What help does Paul provide in dealing with this question?
3) Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30. Jesus used the analogy of a children's game to describe the attitude and actions of some of his critics. A fun and interesting approach to this text might be to compare the way folks come at the Christian faith today with current games on the market. This could be done positively or negatively. In other words, "The Christian life is not like X," or "Have you noticed how much the Christian life is like X?"
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
As Abraham nears the end of his life, his concern is for a wife for his son Isaac. He does not want Isaac to marry one of the Canaanite women who worship other gods. And he does not want Isaac to return to his kinsfolk in Mesopotamia to look for a wife, because God sent Abraham on a journey toward a Promised Land, and Abraham will not reverse the direction of that divine working. Consequently, Abraham sends his most trusted servant to the family's ancestral home in Mesopotamia to find a wife for Isaac. Abraham says that an angel will guide the servant to the chosen woman.
After the long journey, the servant arrives in the city of Nahor, which is named after Abraham's brother and in which the descendants of that brother live. At the well of the city, the servant prays that the woman who comes to the well and who offers him and his camels a drink will be the wife for Isaac whom God has chosen. Before the prayer is finished, there appears Rebekah, the granddaughter of Abraham's brother Nahor. Not only does she fulfill the divine sign by offering drink, but, she is also "very fair to look at" and a "virgin." The servant gives Rebekah gifts of jewelry, and when she runs excitedly to her house and shows her brother Laban the gifts and tells him of the servant's errand, Laban lavishes extravagant hospitality upon the visitors (Genesis 24:10-33).
At this point our text begins. Abraham's servant gives an account of his mission and of how the sign at the well has designated Rebekah as the chosen wife. And both her brother Laban and her father Bethuel agree to let her return with the servant to become Isaac's wife, especially since they too are given costly gifts. But Rebekah's unnamed mother is not quite so hasty. "Let the maiden remain here for 10 days more," she suggests. But no. The servant is on the Lord's errand and that is not to be delayed. So Rebekah and her maids set off with the servant's caravan.
The journey is long and not without its dangers. But its ending is told in tender terms. Isaac sees the caravan afar off, Rekebah sees Isaac and covers her face demurely with a veil. And when she alights from her camel, it is apparently love at first sight. Isaac takes Rebekah as his wife and he is "comforted" in his sorrow over the death of his mother Sarah, who died a short time before (cf. Genesis 23).
The story concerns what we might call a marriage made in heaven, because the prominent feature in the whole narrative is the unfailing guidance of God, complimented by the faithful obedience of both Abraham and his emissary. God's angel directs the servant. God makes the sign at the well effective. God protects the caravan. At every juncture, Abraham and the servant respond immediately with their trust in God's leading and protection.
Do you suppose that we too know something of that guidance in our own choice of mates and in our marriages? This God of the Bible works out his plans for salvation not only through his church and individuals, but also through those married couples. And of course our response as marital partners is to trust that working of God, because he is using us too in his plan of salvation for his world.
Lutheran Option -- Zechariah 9:9-12
We are accustomed to hearing this passage on Palm Sunday, as the Old Testament promise of Jesus' ride into Jerusalem. But it is fitting to every Sunday in the church year for it encompasses the perennial hope of Israel and of the church -- the hope for the final coming of the Messiah.
Properly, the passage should end with verse 10. Verses 11-12 are the beginning of the separate oracle in 9:11-17.
The initial call of our text is for exuberant rejoicing, for the good news from God through his prophet is that Israel's king is coming to her. And that, of course, is not just any king. Israel in the post-exilic time of this prophecy has no king, no independence, no nationhood. She is but a small congregation of sub-provincials in the great Persian Empire. No. The king that is meant is the anointed Davidic king, the mashiach, the long-awaited Messiah, promised already in Zechariah 3:8 and 6:12. And that king for Israel is now coming to her -- to fit her circumstance, to save her life, to be her deliverer.
The lines that follow describe the coming Messiah. The NRSV translates the second line of verse 9 as "triumphant and victorious is he," but what the Hebrew actually says is, "Righteous and saved is he." The Messiah is a righteous king. "To be righteous" means throughout the Bible to fulfill the demands of a relationship. And so the Messiah rules as a king should rule; he fulfills the demands of his relationship with his people. He rules justly, he protects the weak and prospers the good. He gives shalom or fullness of life to his people.
The Messiah who is promised is also "saved," or "delivered," however. That is, he has all of his qualities and power to rule from God. Therefore, he is "humble." It is often thought that the Messiah's ride upon an ass is the mark of his humility. But no. The promise of the Davidic ruler in Genesis 49:10-11 foretells that he will be mounted on an ass, and in Judges, Israel's princes are often portrayed riding that animal (Judges 5:10; 10:4; 12:14). The Messiah's humility is because he is totally dependent upon God. It is not surprising, therefore, that is it God himself who will banish the weapons of war from Jerusalem and command peace to all nations (v. 10). Similarly, it is the Lord God who will establish the Messiah's rule over all the earth. Israel's promised Messiah will come to her as the agent of God.
It is fitting that our Lord fulfills this prophecy when he rides that ass into Jerusalem. Certainly he is the long-awaited Davidic Messiah. And certainly he is totally dependent on his Father. He tells us that he does the work that the Father gives him to do (John 4:34), that he can do nothing on his own authority (John 5:30). It is his Father's will that he must follow and not his own, even to crucifixion. In all his words and actions, he and the Father are one (John 10:30). And it is finally the Father who saves him when he is raised from the dead.
The glad news for us, therefore, is that the promised Messiah has come from the Father, and that he is now our king -- the one who fits our circumstances, who comes to us no matter who we are or what we have done, the one who has seen our afflictions and known our suffering and comes to deliver us.
The Political Pulpit
Romans 7:15-25a
This text brings us to the heart of the American political system, a fortuitous follow-up on Independence Day. But identifying the American system's heart requires reintroducing the classic Augustinian view of sin, because most Americans do not understand it and their political system in that way. Are some of our social ills the result?
Paul claims in the text to be in bondage, to be doing what he does not want and not being able to do what he wants. His remarks here are the paradigm for the doctrine of original sin. As understood by Augustine, this entailed a bondage to an all-consuming selfishness that he identified with concupiscence. In everything we do we are motivated by the desire to please ourselves.
Most Americans do not understand themselves that way. Recent polling by The New York Times revealed that 73 percent of Americans believe people are good. Given this climate, preachers can no longer assume that people in the pews understand or believe in original sin. When just the terms "sin" and "original sin" are used without definition, they will be heard merely as references to human misdeeds, not as realities that plague us.
Our spirituality as well as our appreciation of the Constitutional system are at stake in clarifying this matter for parishioners. If God does not seem as real and engaged in our lives, perhaps that is because fundamentally good people like us do not really feel we need God. Reviving an Augustinian sense of our sinfulness might stimulate this sense of need. When you believe that nothing good that you have is deserved, you can better sense God in all the good you have.
Linking the Augustinian awareness with appreciation of our Constitution reveals striking similarities between the American system and the African Father's thought. Augustine thought government was founded on the lust for power:
Worldly society has flowered from a selfish love ... In the city of the world both the rulers themselves and the people they dominate are dominated by the lust for domination. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 2, 282f)
America's Founders said much the same. James Madison's teacher John Witherspoon, a Presbyterian pastor who signed The Declaration of Independence, claimed in the title of one of his treatises that "all mankind [is] by nature under sin." Alexander Hamilton proclaimed that "men love power," and Benjamin Franklin asserted that men are driven by "ambition and avarice" (James Madison, Notes of Debates of the Federal Convention of 1787, 131, 52). Madison himself generalized these Augustinian observations applying them to groups (which he called factions) that inevitably emerge in free societies. The American system of the separation of powers was framed to counteract such selfish factions.
Relating original sin to our Constitutional heritage provides a promising perspective for addressing pressing social issues of our day. Apply the check-and-balance system to an issue where the imbalance of power now reigns, perhaps to make the case for why we need a government bureaucracy in order to counter the power of big business. Or use these insights to remind hearers that as sinners, all good we have is undeserved and so is a miraculous work of God.
