Mirror, mirror on the wall
Commentary
The events of September 11, 2001, still have folks acting in disturbing ways. Where once we were oblivious to the foreigner among us, we now look at these same persons with suspicion and fear. Xenophobia, once thought to be a relic of the 1920s and 1930s, is making a comeback. We are in danger of replacing the global village with tribal fortresses, basing membership in the tribe not on national loyalties, but on national origin.
Other-ness is becoming a threat to be guarded against rather than a difference to be celebrated. In all of this where is the church? Where are the voices of those who worship the One who has broken down the dividing walls of hostility? Why do we no longer hear the children sing, "Red and yellow, black, brown, white; all are precious in God's sight"? Why is it that we don't understand that if Jesus were physically present today, his facial characteristics would qualify him for a State Department watch list?
The church of Jesus Christ needs to remember its God-given challenge to be brother and sister to the "other." Today's texts serve to refresh our memories.
Genesis 18:1-15 (21:1-7)
When I was a youngster my folks occasionally packed my brother and sister and me in the car for a Sunday drive in the country (my youngest sister wasn't even a twinkle in my mother's eye). There was usually no destination for our excursion - just a leisurely drive along the county's back roads. Sometimes we would be on a gravel road that seemed to stretch on forever and after a bit, my dad would decide that it was time to turn around and try to find our way home. However, one did not just turn around in the middle of a gravel road. For one thing the road usually wasn't wide enough and for another, it was flanked on both sides by a steep ditch. So to turn around we would look for a farmhouse and use its driveway. When pulling into the driveway of these people we did not know, Dad would always say the same thing. Putting words in their mouths he would say, "Hurry, grab a toothpick and get to the front porch. We've got company." The idea was to make the guests think that the meal was over so they wouldn't expect an invitation to eat. Even today I catch myself recalling that bit of humor anytime unexpected guests arrive at my house.
Hospitality in the days of Abraham wasn't like that (in fact, it wasn't like that in the rural South either - just my dad's attempt at humor). Among the Bedouins, of whom Abraham was one, hospitality shown to strangers and travelers was as much a part of the social custom as handshakes are today. One simply did not refuse the stranger, for one never knew when he or she might be the traveler or stranger needing assistance. So, Abraham's actions were not out of the ordinary.
Social customs may have changed since Abraham's day, but this incident is nevertheless instructive as a model of compassion. The text says that in the arrival of these three guests of Abraham's YHWH was present. It does not say how YHWH was present, just that YHWH was present. Neither does one need fall victim to a pre-incarnational Christology to explain God's presence. God was present in the encounter, and that is all that matters.
In a way different and yet similar, God is present in the stranger and the needy that come our way. We don't always think of another's presence in that way and may not believe that God has much to do with the crossing of paths. But what a difference it would make in our life if we adopted that attitude that no one who came our way did so by accident. Here's an experiment to try. Try going through just one day with the conviction that God was present in everyone you met. God's presence might be an invitation to serve the one in whom God was present. It might be to hear a message that God wishes for us to hear. It might be nothing more than to enjoy the presence of God as you enjoyed the fellowship of the other. How might we see others, God and even ourselves differently if we saw God in each one of the others for just one day?
Notice also in the text that Abraham doesn't go to the refrigerator and pull out leftovers for his guests. Instead, he calls for flatcakes made of the choicest of flour and for the most tender and best of the veal for his visitors. One should not assume that Abraham recognized that YHWH was among his guests and therefore that was the reason for his generosity. The text delays this recognition until later in the story. No, what Abraham does for these three he would have done for anyone.
Contrast that to the way we give to those in need only what we don't want, can't wear, can't fix or can't get rid of in the yard sale. If we followed Abraham's example we would give to the shoeless our best pair of Nikes; to the hungry that steak we had been waiting all week to grill; to the lonely the time we were saving for our most favorite activity; and to the thirsty our very last bottle of Perrier.
What we sometimes fail to recognize is that strangers - all strangers - come into our lives with the potential of blessing. However, it is only the generous of heart and spirit who, in welcoming that stranger for no other purpose than the stranger's need, receive the awaiting blessing.
Romans 5:1-8
Paul's letter to the Roman church presents a real challenge to the interpreter on a number of levels. First is Paul's audience - are they Jews, Jewish believers in Jesus or Gentile believers? Second is Paul's use of rhetoric - is he following a style of writing that is simple and straightforward as we moderns might do? Or is he engaged in a Greek rhetorical style of writing that sets up a dialogue between himself and another in which he refutes wrongly held notions? Finally is Paul's relationship with his Jewish heritage - is he renouncing or denouncing the Judaism that he still practices?
How the interpreter answers these questions will in large measure determine the sense one makes not only of this passage, but also of the entire letter. Lest one thinks that these matters are inconsequential, I invite the interpreter to consider John Gager's approach to the apostle in his book, Reinventing Paul (Oxford University Press, 2000). The overall approach I take in what follows is dependent in some measure on the work of Gager and others.
The text before us begins with the word, "therefore." As every good interpreter knows, this word leads the reader back to what has immediately preceded this word. Therefore, if you did not use the Romans passage as the focal text last week, I invite you to read the previous entry on Romans in order to get a grasp on the issues Paul is raising.
The next issue for the interpreter is to determine who the "we" are that Paul is addressing. Following Gager and others, I am going to suggest that Paul is addressing Gentile believers and that he is attempting "to clarify for gentile followers of Christ their relationship to the law, Jews and Judaism" (Gager, 107). Paul states that we (Gentiles) are justified before God by faith just as Abraham and his descendents were justified by faith (4:16). Furthermore, just as the promise to Abraham and his descendants rested on grace (4:16), so does Gentile hope rest on grace (5:2). The difference (and this is the important difference for Paul) is whereas Abraham's descendants (the Jews) were commanded to keep the Torah of God as an expression of their obedience to God; Gentiles obtain their access to God through the obedience of Jesus Christ (5:2). It is in Jesus Christ, not in Torah observance, that the Gentiles find hope.
Well, what about the Jews? How are they now justified before God? That simply is not Paul's concern here - he is speaking to Gentiles, not Jews. Later in this letter, when Paul does address the issue of Jewish unbelief in Jesus, all he can do is surrender himself to the mystery of God in the firm conviction that "the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable" (11:29).
So, what is the value of this hope that is ours in Jesus Christ? First, there is the value of peace with God. It is hard to overestimate the value of this peace because its tentacles intertwine with all aspects of our living. Without peace with God we cannot be completely at peace with ourselves. Without peace with God our peace with others is nothing more than a fragile truce. Without peace with God our living takes on a tentative quality that can be expressed mathematically as n - 1; whatever we possess, there remains still a sense of incompleteness. By contrast, peace with God makes us comfortable in our own skin, puts us in harmony with others and blesses us with a sense of fulfillment.
Second, there is the value of sharing in the glory of God. We oftentimes make the glory of God synonymous with the afterlife. Without denying this aspect of the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ, I do not think we need to necessarily limit the glory of God to the life beyond. The glory of God is present and active in today's world - re-creating, renewing, redeeming - and God invites us to join with God's self now in the various expressions of God's glory.
Finally, the hope that is ours in Jesus is a transformative hope. When bad things happen, as surely they will, we discover the spiritual resource that transforms suffering into hopefulness by way of endurance and character - a hopefulness given life by the Holy Spirit. All of this happens as our weakness belies our self-sufficiency, our sin belies our self-righteousness and Christ's sacrifice stands our self-centeredness in sharp relief.
That God would demonstrate his love to Gentiles in this way, apart from the necessity of their becoming Jews, is the mystery to which Paul has dedicated his life. It is a mystery that reminds us that the ways of God's grace will not be limited to our sometimes narrow theologies.
Matthew 9:35-10:8 (9-23)
I have to scratch my head sometimes at the way the lectionary breaks a passage. This week's Gospel Lesson ends in the middle of a paragraph for reasons that are totally unclear. A more natural break would be at verse 15. Even the extended option (9-23) introduces a paragraph (16-23) that has no historical connection with the preceding paragraph. The connection between the two is ideological - rejection of the message - rather than being a part of the same discourse. All of that being said (and feeling better now that I have vented my spleen), I will treat today's text as a discourse that ends at verse 15.
Matthew tells us that Jesus was going about from town to village teaching and preaching and healing, and he tells it in such a way that we are invited to draw the conclusion that this was a routine activity for Jesus. This activity was more than routine for Jesus, however, for wherever he went the hopelessness and helplessness and despair was etched on the faces and in the eyes of those he met and his response was one of compassion.
I find Matthew's wording of this intriguing and suggestive. He writes, "When he (Jesus) saw the crowds, he had compassion." When I see crowds, I see crowds; when Jesus saw crowds, he saw needs. There is something here about the ability to see faces beyond (or within) the faceless masses. I am struck by how anonymous people can be when walking or gathering in large groups. Even when strolling through a mall, faces blend in with one another and individuality seems to be lost in an amorphous sameness. Jesus, however, did not lose focus on the individual within the crowds and directed his attention to the concerns of their hearts. Maybe part of what it means to be more Christ-like is the ability to see people in their individual-ness rather than in their group-ness.
Because the need was so great, Jesus sent out the Twelve to replicate his own actions. When we read through the list of instructions accompanying this forth-sending, we are astounded. That Jesus would/could heal, raise, cleanse and cast out is one thing, but that the disciples could/would perform similar acts is quite another. The first thing we want to do is to establish a gulf between the disciples and ourselves. Somehow they were able to do things that we cannot do; somehow they were special; somehow the power of God worked through them in some sort of extraordinary way. The reason we cannot heal, raise, cleanse or cast out lies somewhere outside of ourselves - surely it cannot be that we are less in touch with the reality of God or that we are less open to Christ's claims upon our lives or that we are more concerned with money belts and journey bags than we are doing the work of God. Surely, the problem is not us - is it?
Folks still need healing from emotion, spiritual and psychological pain; folks still need to be raised from moribund hopelessness; folks still need to be cleansed from the guilt that hangs on them like last week's laundry; folks still need to have their personal demons exorcised; the fields of harvest are still white - are we up for the challenge?
Application
It seems to me that these three passages intersect at the point of "the other." How we understand the other; how we see the other; and how we welcome the other are all interrelated. Most of us no longer have the luxury of living among folks who look, think and behave like we do. All around us - even in small towns - are folks with differing ethnic, cultural, linguistic and social backgrounds and habits. We shop with them in the market, we work alongside them in the office space, we learn alongside them in school, and in some instances we are them - we are the other. What are our obligations to the other as discerned in today's lessons?
One obligation is to welcome the other as a friend. My granddad was a remarkable fellow in many ways - at least in the eyes of adoring grandchildren. One of the things I most remember about him was that no matter where we went, he never met a stranger. Everyone he talked to he would treat as a long-lost friend and would be genuinely interested in what they had to say and the story of their life. Maybe that was a generational thing that we boomers, busters and X-ers don't have much time for. But maybe it was a biblical thing that all of us would do well to recapture. The gift of friendship is a marvelous thing to receive, to which all of us can attest, but it is also a marvelous thing to give. Like Abraham, we need to learn the art of friendship.
A second obligation is to respect the faith commitments of the other. Something is terribly amiss with our own faith when we see the other not as a Muslim of deep faith, but as a Muslim extremist or a Muslim fundamentalist. Something is amiss with our interpretation of scripture when we see the other not as a Jew of deep faith, but as a God-rejected Jew or as a power-possessed Jew. To honor the faith commitments of the other is not to diminish in any way the value or importance of our own faith. Rather, like Paul, it is to admit that the mystery of God's acceptance runs deeper than our theological xenophobia.
A third obligation is to meet the need of the other out of our own theological understandings of the love of God. Even the least wealthy among us are extraordinary wealthy in comparison to 99 percent of the world's population. God has not blessed us with this bounty because we are better looking, smarter or more deserving. No, God has blessed us with this bounty that we might join with God in God's love for all humankind. Need exists all around us and it is certainly true that individually (and perhaps not even collectively) we cannot possible meet all of the need that we know about. But not being able to do everything is no excuse for not doing anything. Like the disciples of Matthew's gospel, we are sent out to the harassed and helpless with nothing more that the gifts of God and the blessing of Jesus Christ.
We live in a world in which there are more others than there are us-es. May we always go forth with the open heart of welcome, the open mind of respect and the open hand of helpfulness.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 18:1-15: One probably cannot bypass this text without reflecting on the first part of verse 14, "Is anything too wonderful for the LORD?" I suspect that many a Christian life is too small because their vision of what God can do in them and through them is too small. I suspect that many a congregation is only modestly involved in mission and ministry because its vision of God is only modest. There are many reasons to dream modestly - limited resources, few participants, survival concerns - but the problem with defending these reasons is that they leave God out of the equation. The last time I checked, God was not even close to overdrawing the divine account.
2) Romans 5:1-8: "Rarely will anyone die for a righteous person." These words have taken on a different meaning following the heroic events of September 11, 2001. Rescue workers without regard for their own life and safety dared to die in an effort to rescue people they did not know. So we are reminded that some people do give their lives on behalf of others, but Paul's words are nevertheless correct because "rarely" does this happen. Most of us find ways to avoid death - most especially our own. Still, it is one thing to give one's life as an act of service or out of a sense of duty or in the heat of dangerous and extraordinary exercises and quite another to give one's life without duress, willfully and thoughtfully in an act of love. Rarer still does this happen when the one for whom the life is given is one of questionable or objectionable character. Yet, this is exactly what Christ has done. For the ungodly, the a-godly, the anti-godly Christ gave his life as an expression of the deeply surprising love of God.
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 18:1-15 (21:1-7)
As we heard from Genesis 12 last Sunday, Abraham and his family have journeyed southward in Canaan, motivated always by the promise of the Lord of descendants and a land and blessing for all people
As our text opens, we find Abraham and Sarah with their tent pitched beside an oasis at a place called Mamre. Mamre is located just north of Hebron in the hill country and early became a sacred site. Genesis 13:18 tells us that Abraham built an altar there, and it was in the field of Macpelah, near Mamre, that all of the Israelite patriarchs and their wives were later buried.
It is noonday, with the desert sun blazing down upon a drowsy Abraham, seated at the door of his tent. Suddenly, three strange men stand before him. Abraham has no idea where they came from or who they are, but that does not overcome Abraham's oriental sense of hospitality. He immediately offers to have water brought to wash the strangers' feet. He bids them rest under the trees. And he orders his wife and servants quickly to prepare for the strangers a fine dinner of meal-cakes, curds, milk, and even calf's meat - a luxurious repast. Twice the verb "hasten" appears in our text (vv. 6, 7), and Abraham himself runs (v. 7) to fetch the calf. The whole atmosphere is one of bustle and busyness in the preparation of the meal, until quiet descends again as Abraham stands aside under a tree while the strangers eat (v. 8). What a model host is this patriarch!
The strange men seem to have no such manners, however, because one of them bluntly asks Abraham, "Where is Sarah your wife?" (v. 9). What stranger would ask such a question and how does he know Sarah's name? Startled, Abraham can only stammer, "She is in the tent." But then the text tells us who the one stranger is. "The Lord said, 'I will surely return to you in the spring, and Sarah your wife shall have a son.' "
Now the focus shifts to Sarah. As wives were sometimes want to do, Sarah is listening behind the tent door to the conversation of the men folks. And what is her reaction to the Lord's promise of a son? She laughs in disbelief. That's the same reaction, we are told earlier in Genesis, that Abraham had to the promise of an heir (Genesis 15:1-3; 17:17) - disbelief - because you see, Abraham and Sarah are both old and Sarah isn't even menstruating any more (v. 11). The ways of nature, with fertility for childbearing, have passed them by. Indeed, Sarah has been barren her whole life (Genesis 11:30). So children are impossible to the couple.
But Abraham and Sarah are not dealing with human possibilities here. They're dealing with the Lord of nature and of human life. So "is anything too hard for the Lord?" (v. 17). That's what we have to realize when we read these biblical stories. They're not confined to the human plane of possibilities. Neither Abraham nor Sarah first believed God's promise, and they were not persons of great faith. But these stories in the Bible are dealing with divine promise and power, and that makes all the difference. Indeed, that's true throughout the entire Bible, and it's true throughout every faithful soul's life, friends. You are set about, surrounded before and behind, with God's power and God's promise, and with God all things are possible (cf. Matthew 19:26; Mark 10:27; 14:36; Luke 18:27), when they accord with our heavenly Father's promise and purpose.
Consequently, the Lord repeats the promise of a son to Sarah (v. 14), and she is embarrassed that she laughed over that possibility and is admonished for her laughter. So when the infant is born in the spring of the year, in fulfillment of the promise, Abraham names him "Isaac," which, in the Hebrew, sounds like a laugh. And that signifies both Sarah's embarrassment over her unbelief, but also her joy over the birth of her son (Genesis 21:1-7). God keeps his word to these forbears in the faith, and he will keep his word to us.
[There is one minor note in our text that perhaps we should point out. When Sarah hears the promise of a son, she asks, "Shall I have pleasure?" (Genesis 18:12). Sexual intercourse between man and wife is termed "pleasure," which accords with the Bible's view throughout its pages that marital sex is a good and enjoyable gift of a loving God (cf. Genesis 2:23-25).]
Lutheran Option - Exodus 19:2-8a
The "mixed multitude" (Exodus 12:38) of Semitic slaves that God delivered out of bondage in Egypt has, by the undeserved grace of the Lord, escaped their Egyptian taskmasters, been fed with manna every day in the Sinai wilderness, had their thirst quenched with miraculous water from a rock at Horeb, been made victors over attacking Amalakite raiders, and been guided by Moses and his appointed helpers. Now they have stumbled their way to Mt. Sinai and encamped at the foot of the mountain. God has done everything for them to preserve them alive and to bring them to this site. Now at Sinai they are about to learn the reason why God has redeemed them from slavery and brought them to himself. Now they will learn what they are to do for God in response to all that God has done for them.
Moses goes up Mt. Sinai and there the Lord tells him what he is to tell the encamped people. First, the Lord points out how he has exercised undeserved grace toward the people. "You have seen what I did to the Egyptians," declares the Lord, "and how I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself." God has already established his relationship with these Semites, long before they have done anything in response. They have obeyed no law, exercised no piety, shown no particular loyalty toward this redeeming God.
But God has a purpose in it all. God wants to make a new people. He wants to make of Israel a "kingdom of priests" and a "holy nation." And what does that mean? It means God wants Israel to be a people set aside solely for his purpose - that's the meaning of "holy nation." "To be holy," in the Bible is to be separated out for God's use. Further, God wants a people who, by their words and actions, will mediate the knowledge of him to all the rest of the world; that's what a "kingdom of priests" means. In short, as verse 5 states, God wants Israel to be his special people, his "peculiar treasure" as the KJV has it, his own possession as the instrument in bringing his blessing on all the families of the earth.
Of course that's what God wants of us, his church also, isn't it? These same words that Moses speaks to the Israelites are also spoken to us in the New Testament, in 1 Peter 2:9. "You," says that verse, you sitting here this morning, "you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people," just like Israel back there in the time of Moses. God is still trying to make for himself a new people. And 1 Peter goes on to tell why: "that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." God wants us, you and me, to tell the whole world what he has done in redeeming us and the world from its slavery to sin and death. God wants to use us as his instruments in the spread of the Gospel, so that all persons may believe, and believing may become the recipients of God's blessing and goodness and life.
But there is a qualifying "if" in our text. "If you will obey my voice and keep my covenant," God says, then assuredly "you shall be my own possession among all peoples; for all the earth is mine" (Exodus 19:5). If we will be faithful, God can use us in his purpose of bringing blessing and salvation to this world of ours.
In our text, the Israelites glibly agree to such faithfulness. "All that the Lord has spoken we will do," they say. And our response to all of the grace and mercy that God has shown us by redeeming us through the work of our Lord Jesus Christ can be just as glib. But no. God wants our hearts, good Christians. God wants our love and trust and faithfulness. And if we will respond to his amazing grace with those heartfelt qualities, he can use even us, even you and me, to bring his salvation and blessing to this world.
The Political Pulpit
Matthew 9:35-10:8 (9-23)
The Gospel for today narrates Jesus' concern about and compassion for the poor and helpless. In a way, that does not surprise us. But given present socio-cultural trends in contemporary American society it is a big surprise. Eminent social commentators like the late Christopher Lasch (The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy) have pointed out how the dynamics of rich getting richer and poor getting poorer since the Reagan era have begun to erode the social equality that was traditionally part of the American ideal. A new class of elites has emerged, possessing wealth largely through their mastery of the new knowledge industry and the people skills that it takes to get ahead in our post-industrial society. This class of nouveau riches is largely insulated from common life. They are no longer tied to a particular region and its welfare in developing their wealth. Rather, they are global and flexible in outlook, feeling free to renounce loyalties to places and people whenever economic and career interests or self-fulfillment agendas warrant it. For these power brokers, what serves the global market will always outweigh local or national interests.
The new elite, Lasch and others observe, has a kind of contempt for the masses, viewing them as provincial, sectarian, racist, sexist and xenophobic. In the estimation of the new elite, the masses need to be managed. They have little to contribute to the public debate about the common good.
We can observe all sorts of indications of these attitudes. It is evident in cutting-edge business administration techniques that seek to "manage" opinions of the masses under the guise of participatory decision-making, when in fact the real power lies with the administrators. This business strategy has come to be adopted by a significant number of volunteer organizations, most notably the church. Take a look sometime at the administrative style of your congregation and ask yourself whether you are bypassing broader, inclusive discussion of issues among the constituency in the interests of "efficiency." If so, the elites may be revolting at the expense of the masses under your watch.
The elites' revolt is evident in the media. According to prominent journalist Walter Lippmann (Public Opinion), journalism's purpose should not be to stimulate public debate, but to provide experts with the information they need to make decisions. In his view, public opinion is not a trustworthy decision-maker.
Consider the implications of this philosophy. Even the newspaper and television are not for the masses. The media targets the elite. This has at least two implications for American society, and they help explain much of our present social ennui.
One consequence of this media strategy is the saturation of the masses with the kind of information that is so massive in quantity that they cannot use it. (It is almost too much for the politicians and decision-makers, even when they rely on their staffs.) Given this reality, and the low ratings likely to ensue when too much information of this nature highlights broadcasts, the news media will often offer an account of elections or legislative debates that highlight the horse race and the interpersonal conflicts involved. Such news sells, but it does not inform. Given the relative ignorance of the public as a result of these dynamics, the crowd is made more susceptible than ever to the domination of the elite.
The other dynamic is that with the elite and their fast-paced "do what feels good" lifestyle in control of the institutions of power, that lifestyle comes to be represented as the most desirable way of life. Consider the tension between media values and those of middle America, and you will have another insight into the way in which the elite have come to dominate in American life.
Jesus' concern with the masses in today's gospel is a clear critique of such elitist trends in American's society. Of course, depending on your constituency, you may need to be careful with this Word. But an excellent opportunity is afforded to critique our unhealthy social dynamics, at least by exposing them. Jesus' decision to send his disciples into the helpless crowd is a powerful Word regarding what we can do about these dynamics. Like the disciples, we (even those of us who belong to the new elite) have been commissioned to mingle with the crowds, to identify ourselves with the public, and in so doing affirm that what ordinary people need and who they are really counts.
Other-ness is becoming a threat to be guarded against rather than a difference to be celebrated. In all of this where is the church? Where are the voices of those who worship the One who has broken down the dividing walls of hostility? Why do we no longer hear the children sing, "Red and yellow, black, brown, white; all are precious in God's sight"? Why is it that we don't understand that if Jesus were physically present today, his facial characteristics would qualify him for a State Department watch list?
The church of Jesus Christ needs to remember its God-given challenge to be brother and sister to the "other." Today's texts serve to refresh our memories.
Genesis 18:1-15 (21:1-7)
When I was a youngster my folks occasionally packed my brother and sister and me in the car for a Sunday drive in the country (my youngest sister wasn't even a twinkle in my mother's eye). There was usually no destination for our excursion - just a leisurely drive along the county's back roads. Sometimes we would be on a gravel road that seemed to stretch on forever and after a bit, my dad would decide that it was time to turn around and try to find our way home. However, one did not just turn around in the middle of a gravel road. For one thing the road usually wasn't wide enough and for another, it was flanked on both sides by a steep ditch. So to turn around we would look for a farmhouse and use its driveway. When pulling into the driveway of these people we did not know, Dad would always say the same thing. Putting words in their mouths he would say, "Hurry, grab a toothpick and get to the front porch. We've got company." The idea was to make the guests think that the meal was over so they wouldn't expect an invitation to eat. Even today I catch myself recalling that bit of humor anytime unexpected guests arrive at my house.
Hospitality in the days of Abraham wasn't like that (in fact, it wasn't like that in the rural South either - just my dad's attempt at humor). Among the Bedouins, of whom Abraham was one, hospitality shown to strangers and travelers was as much a part of the social custom as handshakes are today. One simply did not refuse the stranger, for one never knew when he or she might be the traveler or stranger needing assistance. So, Abraham's actions were not out of the ordinary.
Social customs may have changed since Abraham's day, but this incident is nevertheless instructive as a model of compassion. The text says that in the arrival of these three guests of Abraham's YHWH was present. It does not say how YHWH was present, just that YHWH was present. Neither does one need fall victim to a pre-incarnational Christology to explain God's presence. God was present in the encounter, and that is all that matters.
In a way different and yet similar, God is present in the stranger and the needy that come our way. We don't always think of another's presence in that way and may not believe that God has much to do with the crossing of paths. But what a difference it would make in our life if we adopted that attitude that no one who came our way did so by accident. Here's an experiment to try. Try going through just one day with the conviction that God was present in everyone you met. God's presence might be an invitation to serve the one in whom God was present. It might be to hear a message that God wishes for us to hear. It might be nothing more than to enjoy the presence of God as you enjoyed the fellowship of the other. How might we see others, God and even ourselves differently if we saw God in each one of the others for just one day?
Notice also in the text that Abraham doesn't go to the refrigerator and pull out leftovers for his guests. Instead, he calls for flatcakes made of the choicest of flour and for the most tender and best of the veal for his visitors. One should not assume that Abraham recognized that YHWH was among his guests and therefore that was the reason for his generosity. The text delays this recognition until later in the story. No, what Abraham does for these three he would have done for anyone.
Contrast that to the way we give to those in need only what we don't want, can't wear, can't fix or can't get rid of in the yard sale. If we followed Abraham's example we would give to the shoeless our best pair of Nikes; to the hungry that steak we had been waiting all week to grill; to the lonely the time we were saving for our most favorite activity; and to the thirsty our very last bottle of Perrier.
What we sometimes fail to recognize is that strangers - all strangers - come into our lives with the potential of blessing. However, it is only the generous of heart and spirit who, in welcoming that stranger for no other purpose than the stranger's need, receive the awaiting blessing.
Romans 5:1-8
Paul's letter to the Roman church presents a real challenge to the interpreter on a number of levels. First is Paul's audience - are they Jews, Jewish believers in Jesus or Gentile believers? Second is Paul's use of rhetoric - is he following a style of writing that is simple and straightforward as we moderns might do? Or is he engaged in a Greek rhetorical style of writing that sets up a dialogue between himself and another in which he refutes wrongly held notions? Finally is Paul's relationship with his Jewish heritage - is he renouncing or denouncing the Judaism that he still practices?
How the interpreter answers these questions will in large measure determine the sense one makes not only of this passage, but also of the entire letter. Lest one thinks that these matters are inconsequential, I invite the interpreter to consider John Gager's approach to the apostle in his book, Reinventing Paul (Oxford University Press, 2000). The overall approach I take in what follows is dependent in some measure on the work of Gager and others.
The text before us begins with the word, "therefore." As every good interpreter knows, this word leads the reader back to what has immediately preceded this word. Therefore, if you did not use the Romans passage as the focal text last week, I invite you to read the previous entry on Romans in order to get a grasp on the issues Paul is raising.
The next issue for the interpreter is to determine who the "we" are that Paul is addressing. Following Gager and others, I am going to suggest that Paul is addressing Gentile believers and that he is attempting "to clarify for gentile followers of Christ their relationship to the law, Jews and Judaism" (Gager, 107). Paul states that we (Gentiles) are justified before God by faith just as Abraham and his descendents were justified by faith (4:16). Furthermore, just as the promise to Abraham and his descendants rested on grace (4:16), so does Gentile hope rest on grace (5:2). The difference (and this is the important difference for Paul) is whereas Abraham's descendants (the Jews) were commanded to keep the Torah of God as an expression of their obedience to God; Gentiles obtain their access to God through the obedience of Jesus Christ (5:2). It is in Jesus Christ, not in Torah observance, that the Gentiles find hope.
Well, what about the Jews? How are they now justified before God? That simply is not Paul's concern here - he is speaking to Gentiles, not Jews. Later in this letter, when Paul does address the issue of Jewish unbelief in Jesus, all he can do is surrender himself to the mystery of God in the firm conviction that "the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable" (11:29).
So, what is the value of this hope that is ours in Jesus Christ? First, there is the value of peace with God. It is hard to overestimate the value of this peace because its tentacles intertwine with all aspects of our living. Without peace with God we cannot be completely at peace with ourselves. Without peace with God our peace with others is nothing more than a fragile truce. Without peace with God our living takes on a tentative quality that can be expressed mathematically as n - 1; whatever we possess, there remains still a sense of incompleteness. By contrast, peace with God makes us comfortable in our own skin, puts us in harmony with others and blesses us with a sense of fulfillment.
Second, there is the value of sharing in the glory of God. We oftentimes make the glory of God synonymous with the afterlife. Without denying this aspect of the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ, I do not think we need to necessarily limit the glory of God to the life beyond. The glory of God is present and active in today's world - re-creating, renewing, redeeming - and God invites us to join with God's self now in the various expressions of God's glory.
Finally, the hope that is ours in Jesus is a transformative hope. When bad things happen, as surely they will, we discover the spiritual resource that transforms suffering into hopefulness by way of endurance and character - a hopefulness given life by the Holy Spirit. All of this happens as our weakness belies our self-sufficiency, our sin belies our self-righteousness and Christ's sacrifice stands our self-centeredness in sharp relief.
That God would demonstrate his love to Gentiles in this way, apart from the necessity of their becoming Jews, is the mystery to which Paul has dedicated his life. It is a mystery that reminds us that the ways of God's grace will not be limited to our sometimes narrow theologies.
Matthew 9:35-10:8 (9-23)
I have to scratch my head sometimes at the way the lectionary breaks a passage. This week's Gospel Lesson ends in the middle of a paragraph for reasons that are totally unclear. A more natural break would be at verse 15. Even the extended option (9-23) introduces a paragraph (16-23) that has no historical connection with the preceding paragraph. The connection between the two is ideological - rejection of the message - rather than being a part of the same discourse. All of that being said (and feeling better now that I have vented my spleen), I will treat today's text as a discourse that ends at verse 15.
Matthew tells us that Jesus was going about from town to village teaching and preaching and healing, and he tells it in such a way that we are invited to draw the conclusion that this was a routine activity for Jesus. This activity was more than routine for Jesus, however, for wherever he went the hopelessness and helplessness and despair was etched on the faces and in the eyes of those he met and his response was one of compassion.
I find Matthew's wording of this intriguing and suggestive. He writes, "When he (Jesus) saw the crowds, he had compassion." When I see crowds, I see crowds; when Jesus saw crowds, he saw needs. There is something here about the ability to see faces beyond (or within) the faceless masses. I am struck by how anonymous people can be when walking or gathering in large groups. Even when strolling through a mall, faces blend in with one another and individuality seems to be lost in an amorphous sameness. Jesus, however, did not lose focus on the individual within the crowds and directed his attention to the concerns of their hearts. Maybe part of what it means to be more Christ-like is the ability to see people in their individual-ness rather than in their group-ness.
Because the need was so great, Jesus sent out the Twelve to replicate his own actions. When we read through the list of instructions accompanying this forth-sending, we are astounded. That Jesus would/could heal, raise, cleanse and cast out is one thing, but that the disciples could/would perform similar acts is quite another. The first thing we want to do is to establish a gulf between the disciples and ourselves. Somehow they were able to do things that we cannot do; somehow they were special; somehow the power of God worked through them in some sort of extraordinary way. The reason we cannot heal, raise, cleanse or cast out lies somewhere outside of ourselves - surely it cannot be that we are less in touch with the reality of God or that we are less open to Christ's claims upon our lives or that we are more concerned with money belts and journey bags than we are doing the work of God. Surely, the problem is not us - is it?
Folks still need healing from emotion, spiritual and psychological pain; folks still need to be raised from moribund hopelessness; folks still need to be cleansed from the guilt that hangs on them like last week's laundry; folks still need to have their personal demons exorcised; the fields of harvest are still white - are we up for the challenge?
Application
It seems to me that these three passages intersect at the point of "the other." How we understand the other; how we see the other; and how we welcome the other are all interrelated. Most of us no longer have the luxury of living among folks who look, think and behave like we do. All around us - even in small towns - are folks with differing ethnic, cultural, linguistic and social backgrounds and habits. We shop with them in the market, we work alongside them in the office space, we learn alongside them in school, and in some instances we are them - we are the other. What are our obligations to the other as discerned in today's lessons?
One obligation is to welcome the other as a friend. My granddad was a remarkable fellow in many ways - at least in the eyes of adoring grandchildren. One of the things I most remember about him was that no matter where we went, he never met a stranger. Everyone he talked to he would treat as a long-lost friend and would be genuinely interested in what they had to say and the story of their life. Maybe that was a generational thing that we boomers, busters and X-ers don't have much time for. But maybe it was a biblical thing that all of us would do well to recapture. The gift of friendship is a marvelous thing to receive, to which all of us can attest, but it is also a marvelous thing to give. Like Abraham, we need to learn the art of friendship.
A second obligation is to respect the faith commitments of the other. Something is terribly amiss with our own faith when we see the other not as a Muslim of deep faith, but as a Muslim extremist or a Muslim fundamentalist. Something is amiss with our interpretation of scripture when we see the other not as a Jew of deep faith, but as a God-rejected Jew or as a power-possessed Jew. To honor the faith commitments of the other is not to diminish in any way the value or importance of our own faith. Rather, like Paul, it is to admit that the mystery of God's acceptance runs deeper than our theological xenophobia.
A third obligation is to meet the need of the other out of our own theological understandings of the love of God. Even the least wealthy among us are extraordinary wealthy in comparison to 99 percent of the world's population. God has not blessed us with this bounty because we are better looking, smarter or more deserving. No, God has blessed us with this bounty that we might join with God in God's love for all humankind. Need exists all around us and it is certainly true that individually (and perhaps not even collectively) we cannot possible meet all of the need that we know about. But not being able to do everything is no excuse for not doing anything. Like the disciples of Matthew's gospel, we are sent out to the harassed and helpless with nothing more that the gifts of God and the blessing of Jesus Christ.
We live in a world in which there are more others than there are us-es. May we always go forth with the open heart of welcome, the open mind of respect and the open hand of helpfulness.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 18:1-15: One probably cannot bypass this text without reflecting on the first part of verse 14, "Is anything too wonderful for the LORD?" I suspect that many a Christian life is too small because their vision of what God can do in them and through them is too small. I suspect that many a congregation is only modestly involved in mission and ministry because its vision of God is only modest. There are many reasons to dream modestly - limited resources, few participants, survival concerns - but the problem with defending these reasons is that they leave God out of the equation. The last time I checked, God was not even close to overdrawing the divine account.
2) Romans 5:1-8: "Rarely will anyone die for a righteous person." These words have taken on a different meaning following the heroic events of September 11, 2001. Rescue workers without regard for their own life and safety dared to die in an effort to rescue people they did not know. So we are reminded that some people do give their lives on behalf of others, but Paul's words are nevertheless correct because "rarely" does this happen. Most of us find ways to avoid death - most especially our own. Still, it is one thing to give one's life as an act of service or out of a sense of duty or in the heat of dangerous and extraordinary exercises and quite another to give one's life without duress, willfully and thoughtfully in an act of love. Rarer still does this happen when the one for whom the life is given is one of questionable or objectionable character. Yet, this is exactly what Christ has done. For the ungodly, the a-godly, the anti-godly Christ gave his life as an expression of the deeply surprising love of God.
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 18:1-15 (21:1-7)
As we heard from Genesis 12 last Sunday, Abraham and his family have journeyed southward in Canaan, motivated always by the promise of the Lord of descendants and a land and blessing for all people
As our text opens, we find Abraham and Sarah with their tent pitched beside an oasis at a place called Mamre. Mamre is located just north of Hebron in the hill country and early became a sacred site. Genesis 13:18 tells us that Abraham built an altar there, and it was in the field of Macpelah, near Mamre, that all of the Israelite patriarchs and their wives were later buried.
It is noonday, with the desert sun blazing down upon a drowsy Abraham, seated at the door of his tent. Suddenly, three strange men stand before him. Abraham has no idea where they came from or who they are, but that does not overcome Abraham's oriental sense of hospitality. He immediately offers to have water brought to wash the strangers' feet. He bids them rest under the trees. And he orders his wife and servants quickly to prepare for the strangers a fine dinner of meal-cakes, curds, milk, and even calf's meat - a luxurious repast. Twice the verb "hasten" appears in our text (vv. 6, 7), and Abraham himself runs (v. 7) to fetch the calf. The whole atmosphere is one of bustle and busyness in the preparation of the meal, until quiet descends again as Abraham stands aside under a tree while the strangers eat (v. 8). What a model host is this patriarch!
The strange men seem to have no such manners, however, because one of them bluntly asks Abraham, "Where is Sarah your wife?" (v. 9). What stranger would ask such a question and how does he know Sarah's name? Startled, Abraham can only stammer, "She is in the tent." But then the text tells us who the one stranger is. "The Lord said, 'I will surely return to you in the spring, and Sarah your wife shall have a son.' "
Now the focus shifts to Sarah. As wives were sometimes want to do, Sarah is listening behind the tent door to the conversation of the men folks. And what is her reaction to the Lord's promise of a son? She laughs in disbelief. That's the same reaction, we are told earlier in Genesis, that Abraham had to the promise of an heir (Genesis 15:1-3; 17:17) - disbelief - because you see, Abraham and Sarah are both old and Sarah isn't even menstruating any more (v. 11). The ways of nature, with fertility for childbearing, have passed them by. Indeed, Sarah has been barren her whole life (Genesis 11:30). So children are impossible to the couple.
But Abraham and Sarah are not dealing with human possibilities here. They're dealing with the Lord of nature and of human life. So "is anything too hard for the Lord?" (v. 17). That's what we have to realize when we read these biblical stories. They're not confined to the human plane of possibilities. Neither Abraham nor Sarah first believed God's promise, and they were not persons of great faith. But these stories in the Bible are dealing with divine promise and power, and that makes all the difference. Indeed, that's true throughout the entire Bible, and it's true throughout every faithful soul's life, friends. You are set about, surrounded before and behind, with God's power and God's promise, and with God all things are possible (cf. Matthew 19:26; Mark 10:27; 14:36; Luke 18:27), when they accord with our heavenly Father's promise and purpose.
Consequently, the Lord repeats the promise of a son to Sarah (v. 14), and she is embarrassed that she laughed over that possibility and is admonished for her laughter. So when the infant is born in the spring of the year, in fulfillment of the promise, Abraham names him "Isaac," which, in the Hebrew, sounds like a laugh. And that signifies both Sarah's embarrassment over her unbelief, but also her joy over the birth of her son (Genesis 21:1-7). God keeps his word to these forbears in the faith, and he will keep his word to us.
[There is one minor note in our text that perhaps we should point out. When Sarah hears the promise of a son, she asks, "Shall I have pleasure?" (Genesis 18:12). Sexual intercourse between man and wife is termed "pleasure," which accords with the Bible's view throughout its pages that marital sex is a good and enjoyable gift of a loving God (cf. Genesis 2:23-25).]
Lutheran Option - Exodus 19:2-8a
The "mixed multitude" (Exodus 12:38) of Semitic slaves that God delivered out of bondage in Egypt has, by the undeserved grace of the Lord, escaped their Egyptian taskmasters, been fed with manna every day in the Sinai wilderness, had their thirst quenched with miraculous water from a rock at Horeb, been made victors over attacking Amalakite raiders, and been guided by Moses and his appointed helpers. Now they have stumbled their way to Mt. Sinai and encamped at the foot of the mountain. God has done everything for them to preserve them alive and to bring them to this site. Now at Sinai they are about to learn the reason why God has redeemed them from slavery and brought them to himself. Now they will learn what they are to do for God in response to all that God has done for them.
Moses goes up Mt. Sinai and there the Lord tells him what he is to tell the encamped people. First, the Lord points out how he has exercised undeserved grace toward the people. "You have seen what I did to the Egyptians," declares the Lord, "and how I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself." God has already established his relationship with these Semites, long before they have done anything in response. They have obeyed no law, exercised no piety, shown no particular loyalty toward this redeeming God.
But God has a purpose in it all. God wants to make a new people. He wants to make of Israel a "kingdom of priests" and a "holy nation." And what does that mean? It means God wants Israel to be a people set aside solely for his purpose - that's the meaning of "holy nation." "To be holy," in the Bible is to be separated out for God's use. Further, God wants a people who, by their words and actions, will mediate the knowledge of him to all the rest of the world; that's what a "kingdom of priests" means. In short, as verse 5 states, God wants Israel to be his special people, his "peculiar treasure" as the KJV has it, his own possession as the instrument in bringing his blessing on all the families of the earth.
Of course that's what God wants of us, his church also, isn't it? These same words that Moses speaks to the Israelites are also spoken to us in the New Testament, in 1 Peter 2:9. "You," says that verse, you sitting here this morning, "you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people," just like Israel back there in the time of Moses. God is still trying to make for himself a new people. And 1 Peter goes on to tell why: "that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." God wants us, you and me, to tell the whole world what he has done in redeeming us and the world from its slavery to sin and death. God wants to use us as his instruments in the spread of the Gospel, so that all persons may believe, and believing may become the recipients of God's blessing and goodness and life.
But there is a qualifying "if" in our text. "If you will obey my voice and keep my covenant," God says, then assuredly "you shall be my own possession among all peoples; for all the earth is mine" (Exodus 19:5). If we will be faithful, God can use us in his purpose of bringing blessing and salvation to this world of ours.
In our text, the Israelites glibly agree to such faithfulness. "All that the Lord has spoken we will do," they say. And our response to all of the grace and mercy that God has shown us by redeeming us through the work of our Lord Jesus Christ can be just as glib. But no. God wants our hearts, good Christians. God wants our love and trust and faithfulness. And if we will respond to his amazing grace with those heartfelt qualities, he can use even us, even you and me, to bring his salvation and blessing to this world.
The Political Pulpit
Matthew 9:35-10:8 (9-23)
The Gospel for today narrates Jesus' concern about and compassion for the poor and helpless. In a way, that does not surprise us. But given present socio-cultural trends in contemporary American society it is a big surprise. Eminent social commentators like the late Christopher Lasch (The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy) have pointed out how the dynamics of rich getting richer and poor getting poorer since the Reagan era have begun to erode the social equality that was traditionally part of the American ideal. A new class of elites has emerged, possessing wealth largely through their mastery of the new knowledge industry and the people skills that it takes to get ahead in our post-industrial society. This class of nouveau riches is largely insulated from common life. They are no longer tied to a particular region and its welfare in developing their wealth. Rather, they are global and flexible in outlook, feeling free to renounce loyalties to places and people whenever economic and career interests or self-fulfillment agendas warrant it. For these power brokers, what serves the global market will always outweigh local or national interests.
The new elite, Lasch and others observe, has a kind of contempt for the masses, viewing them as provincial, sectarian, racist, sexist and xenophobic. In the estimation of the new elite, the masses need to be managed. They have little to contribute to the public debate about the common good.
We can observe all sorts of indications of these attitudes. It is evident in cutting-edge business administration techniques that seek to "manage" opinions of the masses under the guise of participatory decision-making, when in fact the real power lies with the administrators. This business strategy has come to be adopted by a significant number of volunteer organizations, most notably the church. Take a look sometime at the administrative style of your congregation and ask yourself whether you are bypassing broader, inclusive discussion of issues among the constituency in the interests of "efficiency." If so, the elites may be revolting at the expense of the masses under your watch.
The elites' revolt is evident in the media. According to prominent journalist Walter Lippmann (Public Opinion), journalism's purpose should not be to stimulate public debate, but to provide experts with the information they need to make decisions. In his view, public opinion is not a trustworthy decision-maker.
Consider the implications of this philosophy. Even the newspaper and television are not for the masses. The media targets the elite. This has at least two implications for American society, and they help explain much of our present social ennui.
One consequence of this media strategy is the saturation of the masses with the kind of information that is so massive in quantity that they cannot use it. (It is almost too much for the politicians and decision-makers, even when they rely on their staffs.) Given this reality, and the low ratings likely to ensue when too much information of this nature highlights broadcasts, the news media will often offer an account of elections or legislative debates that highlight the horse race and the interpersonal conflicts involved. Such news sells, but it does not inform. Given the relative ignorance of the public as a result of these dynamics, the crowd is made more susceptible than ever to the domination of the elite.
The other dynamic is that with the elite and their fast-paced "do what feels good" lifestyle in control of the institutions of power, that lifestyle comes to be represented as the most desirable way of life. Consider the tension between media values and those of middle America, and you will have another insight into the way in which the elite have come to dominate in American life.
Jesus' concern with the masses in today's gospel is a clear critique of such elitist trends in American's society. Of course, depending on your constituency, you may need to be careful with this Word. But an excellent opportunity is afforded to critique our unhealthy social dynamics, at least by exposing them. Jesus' decision to send his disciples into the helpless crowd is a powerful Word regarding what we can do about these dynamics. Like the disciples, we (even those of us who belong to the new elite) have been commissioned to mingle with the crowds, to identify ourselves with the public, and in so doing affirm that what ordinary people need and who they are really counts.
