Togetherness
Commentary
We humans are gregarious creatures, aren't we? Just think of all the ways in which we manage to be together, all the way from formal social organizations to simple friendships. It begins with the bond between parents and the infant and expands when the toddler begins to learn to play with others and to share toys. Adolescent psychology makes a great deal of how important peer groups are in a teenager's maturation, and we adults spend a good deal of time in social groupings.
There is something fundamentally valuable about togetherness. Humans seem to be created for relationship with others, so that being with others seems as necessary as food and shelter. However, there are many different forms of togetherness. As rich and rewarding as social relationships may be, certain situations of togetherness prove disastrous. The abused spouse or child struggles to escape the bondage of the family or marriage.
The film, Radio Flyer, is a poignant portrayal of both the potentials and the perils of the togetherness of family life. Two brothers live together with their mother and her husband, whom the boys call simply "King." The bond between the brothers is strong and grows even stronger when the alcoholic King begins to beat the younger of the two of them. Together they plot a way by which the abused son can escape from the family and from King. However, their plan necessitates separating. As the younger brother prepares to leave, the two of them feel at the same time the joy of freedom from violence and the sorrow of separation -- two radically different kinds of togetherness.
We want to plot a course through these three lessons, paying special attention to what they teach us about togetherness. Each speaks a distinctive message to our life together with others.
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Esther is one of the short stories of the Old Testament, filled with intrigue and suspense. It provides the basis for Purim, the Jewish festival of lots which celebrates the Jews' deliverance from a pogrom designed to destroy them. Esther is a story of a heroic woman who manages to conceal her Jewish identity and finds herself the Queen of an expansive kingdom (see 1:1-4). The prominence of Esther is in some ways surprising, since the roles of women in the Jewish diaspora were limited. Moreover, there are other surprising elements to the story, including the fact that little or nothing is said about Torah observance, and God is never mentioned in the whole book! In many ways the characters of the plot are clear types, such as the evil villain, Haman. Still, the story is interesting, and its leading character daring.
Our lesson is the only lectionary reading from Esther and tries to capture the climax of the story both in terms of the plot and the institution of Purim. You might want to reread the whole story so that you are able to set the two fragments of the reading in their narrative context. Haman's plot to destroy the Jews is in place, but Esther's Jewish cohort, Mordecai, discovers the diabolical plan. Our reading enters the story at the point of a banquet prepared by Queen Esther (7:1). The king, encouraged by the wine he has consumed in the two days of the feast, grants Esther whatever wish she might have. (The scene reminds us of the story in Mark 6:14-29 in which Herod grants Herodias [or Salome] her wish, and she asks for the head of John, the Baptist.) Esther reveals Haman's dreadful plan and asks that the king deliver her people from death. Her speech in 7:3-4 is powerful and emotional. She and her people would be willing to suffer slavery, but the danger in this case is not slavery but death. Wisely, she points out that the king has a good deal at stake in the situation, for it will harm him as well as Esther's people.
The reading skips the scene depicting the villain's begging Esther for his life while the king has left the room (7:9-8). Ironically, one of the king's attendants points out that they just happen to have a gallows prepared for the execution of Mordecai, and now it would seem more appropriate to use it to rid themselves of Haman (7:9-10). And it is done! Esther has saved her people, and 75,000 of their enemies are slaughtered (9:16).
There is much discussion of the historical origin of Purim, but 9:20-23 claims that on these days the Jews were to remember and celebrate their "relief from their enemies" (9:22). The day is to be called "Purim, from the word Pur" (9:26) which means "lot" as in the casting of lots (3:7). Some scholars believe that Purim actually arose when the Jews sanctioned the Persian celebration of the new year. During that celebration people cast lots to determine what their destinies were to be for the next year (a primitive sort of a psychic reading!).
The story sounds a bit like the typical "bad guy/good guy" pulp fiction novel. To be sure, the story may seem a bit corny, but within it resides a fundamental sense of Jewish community that accounts for why the book and its story were treasured. Esther and Mordecai could conceal their ethnic identity and "pass" for Gentiles. They could scheme their way into high places. However, when their people were threatened with death, when their community was destined for destruction, they had to act to ward off the threat. Esther uses her position and the benefits of her having hidden her Jewishness for the sake of the Jews. The bond of togetherness the story's heroes share with their people is surely one of the major points of the story. Community is all important, and our commitment to our communities from which we gain our identities is deep -- so deep that true members of a community risk their lives for the sake of their bond of togetherness.
James 5:13-20
This final segment of James suggests the character of Christian togetherness. For whatever reason, the author of this letter chose to conclude the work with a little homily on life in the congregation. Indeed, this passage includes the only mention of "the church" (ekkleasia) in the whole of the letter and one of the few places in which James speaks explicitly of a real congregation. Scholars dispute the character of our passage. Some think it is "tacked on" and not altogether appropriate as the letter's conclusion. Some, however, see it as a continuation of the prohibition concerning oaths in verse 12 and having to do with speech within the community. The short passage admonishes the readers, first, to pray in the context of the congregation. They are to pray for healing, confession, and forgiveness (vv. 13-18). Finally, the author promises his readers that those who restore the fallen will have an eternal reward (vv. 19-20).
The reading begins by citing three conditions or situations in which readers may find themselves and the appropriate acts within the congregation corresponding to each of these situations. Attention, however, is given in particular to prayer for the sick. Verse 14 describes the process that came to be called Final Unction, and speaks of the role of the "elders" of the congregation and of the use of oil in anointing. The term, "elders" (presbyteroi), eventually came to designate official congregational leaders, but in a less formal sense could mean simply the older and respected members of the community. Oil was commonly used to relieve pain in the Greco-Roman world and has a Hebraic function in commissioning a person (see, e.g., Hebrews 1:9). The practice expresses a conviction stated in verse 15, "The prayer of faith will save the sick...."
The discussion turns to confession and forgiveness, presumably because of an implicit relationship between sickness and sin which was very common in first century Judaism and early Christianity. Verse 15b, however, could mean only that, in those cases of illness in which one has sinned, God will forgive the sins. All of this takes place within the context of the community of faith -- in a togetherness in Christ -- so it is not surprising that the mention of God's forgiveness should lead, first, to confession to God and, second, to confession to "one another" (vv. 15-16). Confession to one another is a part of prayer for healing, since forgiveness is itself a healing. The discussion of prayer ends with an encouragement to pray by mentioning the power and effectiveness of the prayers of the righteous. Elijah serves as James' example of God's answer to righteous prayer -- first to withhold and then to send rain (see 1 Kings 17:1 and 18:41-45).
The final verses of James are something of a surprise, but they continue the theme of the earlier verses insofar as they stress a Christian's responsibility to all the members of theircommunity, including those who have "wandered" (vv. 19-20). Verse 20 is difficult to translate. The NRSV implies that the one who seeks the wanderer saves that person's soul and that the act will "cover" (make up for?) "a multitude of sins." However, the promise of salvation could also be attributed to the person who seeks to restore the wanderer, and the forgiveness of sins is granted to the person who has gone astray. In either case, the author encourages readers to care for one another and to offer correction to any who seem to be backsliding. The solidarity of the community requires this kind of mutual concern and care for each other.
This is precisely what the second reading contributes to our search for insight into Christian togetherness. The passage stresses the mutual embrace of members of a congregation, praying for one another, confessing to one another, and correcting one another. The community of faith is closely knit because all of the essential matters of faith are openly affirmed and shared. Togetherness does not arise from pretense, from wearing masks, and from guarding privacy. Rather, it is nourished by a willingness on the part of all to be honest about their needs and to be loving in responding to the needs of others in the community. Unfortunately, we do not always find this kind of intimacy and sharing within congregations today, and it makes us wonder why that is the case. What have we lost, or what is it we neglect that stifles the growth of community?
Mark 9:38-50
The togetherness implicit in this reading is far different. The Gospel lesson is a patchwork of individual pieces which follow immediately after the conclusion of last Sunday's lesson. At one level, the story of the exorcist who doesn't follow Jesus and the teachings in verses 42-50 are only loosely related and demonstrate no connection in either theme or chronological order. Moreover, verses 42-50 are a collection of loosely related sayings, which in this case are grouped together around the word "stumble" (skandalizo, to "scandalize" or "offend"). Verses 49-50 appear to be intended as a concluding summary.
John and the others are worried that an unknown exorcist is usurping their territory, and they have been unsuccessful in stopping him. John sounds a little bit like a child asking a parent to intervene to chase away an intruder. Wandering exorcists were not uncommon in Jesus' time and many of them would invoke any name that might assist them in their work, including Jewish and Christian names. Jesus' answer to John is in a way reassuring but in another way surprising. In effect, Jesus says, "We need all the help we can get!" Furthermore, the exorcist will be successful in calling out demons by using Jesus' name and, as a result of his success, will thereafter think well of him. "Whoever is not against us is for us" is a startling generality, which is troublesome for us because in Luke 11:23 Jesus is credited with saying exactly the opposite: "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters." Doubtless these two sayings are to be taken in different contexts, and hence have different meanings. However, that does not minimize the radical openness of Jesus in the Mark saying. Verse 41 may define what verse 40 means. An act of kindness to a Christian will be rewarded, regardless of who performs it. Is Jesus saying that so long as others are doing acts of kindness and liberation, they are on the same team with him?
The series of sayings about whatever causes you "to stumble" hammer away at the simple fact that our relationship with God is more important than anything else. The first saying addresses the danger of causing another to fall away from faith. To cause another to stumble is then the greatest of crimes (v. 42), and the next verses say three body parts (hand, foot, eye) are less important than one's eternal destiny. The language is hyperbole -- overstating the point for effect -- but the message is sound. It is a matter of getting one's priorities straight and knowing what is most valuable in life.
Verses 49-50 are puzzling, in particular the phrase, "salted with fire." Salt was used for preserving food, for taste, and for sacrifices. Still, what it means to be "salted with fire" depends on how "fire" is used here. The best possibility is that, in this instance, fire means affliction and suffering which tests a person's character. Consequently, in this case the meaning is something like this: Everyone will be subjected to affliction and the salt of fire will preserve Christians. "Salt" then becomes a metaphor for the preservation of faith. Remain faithful, Jesus says, and be at peace. The fire of tribulation has prepared you for whatever you might face.
Its connection with the radical commitment of faith in verses 42-50 provides a stimulating context for Jesus' generous inclusion of others within his fold. When we ask about Christian togetherness, Jesus' claim that anyone who is doing the work of the kingdom (whether intentionally or not) is part of his community is surprising. The openness to the work of others is remarkable, coming from one who stresses so radically the singleness of commitment. There is an ancient Hebraic tradition that claims God uses unbelievers to accomplish the divine task. So, in announcing God's intent to bring Israel out of exile and back to their homeland, Second Isaiah speaks of the Persian general, Cyrus, who will overthrow Israel's conquerors, as God's "shepherd" (Isaiah 44:28) and even the Lord's "anointed" (i.e., Messiah -- Isaiah 45:1!). Similarly, Jesus claims that the work of God's rule in the world can be done by those who are not necessarily believers. A remarkable point of view, especially today when some Christians condemn those who hold different beliefs, regardless of their deeds of justice and love.
What does this mean for our togetherness? First, it questions that kind of exclusivisim that claims God only for ourselves and eliminates all others. Like John, we are liable to think that our role is to silence others who do not share our faith exactly as we would like, but Jesus' words advise restraint. Restraint is necessary because the other may be a disguised agent of God's kingdom. With that exclusivism put aside, this saying suggests, second, that our togetherness may reach out to include all others who share the values of offering drink to the thirsty. Rather than distancing ourselves from those of other faiths, perhaps we should look for what we share in common with them.
Togetherness reaches beyond our own community, our own people. To be sure, it has to do with an intimacy and sharing among ourselves which link us into one body. However, togetherness invariably forces us to examine our relationships with all humans.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
As referred to in 9:20-22 in our text, Esther is a book that celebrates Jewish deliverance from persecution. It is not a religious book, and the name of God is never mentioned in it. Nevertheless it found its place in the canon of Scripture as the reading for the Festival of Purim which falls on the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the month of Adar (=February-March; 9:21), according to the post-exilic Jewish calendar. The name "Purim" comes from the Hebrew word "pur," which refers to the "lot" that the wicked Haman cast to single out which Jews should be killed (3:7; 9:26, 28). The holiday is one of feasting, revelry, and sharing with the poor.
The story of Esther is a combination of fact and fiction. King Ahasuerus in the book is the historical Persian ruler Xerxes (486-465 B.C.), who ruled over a vast empire from India to Ethiopia (1:1). Many of the details in the book, such as mention of the efficient postal system (3:13; 8:10), the keeping of an official diary (2:23; 6:1-2), and execution by hanging all accord with Persian history. But the author of Esther has used such a setting to tell a story full of intrigue and suspense that probably stems from the second century B.C., when Jews were sorely oppressed in the Hellenic Empire. And there is no way that a congregation will understand the reading for the morning unless that whole story is briefly told.
The king's wife, Vashti disobeys and humiliates him and is replaced on the queen's throne by the beautiful Jewish Esther, whom the king picks out from the company of his captured foreign concubines. Esther is the adopted daughter of the Jew Mordecai, and Mordecai falls into disfavor with the self-important prince Haman, because he will not bow down to the egotistic prince. Haman vows revenge, not only on Mordecai, but on all the Jews. Indeed, Haman is a good version of an ancient Adolf Hitler, determining that all Jews, including young and old, women and children, throughout the Persian Empire are to be annihilated on the thirteenth day of the twelth month (3:13).
Esther alone can save her people (cf. 4:14). She has earlier learned that Mordecai foiled a plot against the king's life (2:22-23). At a banquet in her honor, to which she asks the king to invite Haman, she informs the king of how Mordecai has saved the king, and she tricks Haman himself into prescribing the reward for Mordecai. Equally, she asks, when the king grants her any petition, that her Jewish people be spared, and the king not only spares the Jews but grants them provision to annihilate their enemies throughout the empire. Haman is hanged, and 75,000 of the foes of the Jews are slain (9:16), an act of retribution that causes us a great deal of difficulty. But the feast of Purim is established as a memorial of the time when "the Jews got relief from their enemies and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday" (9:22).
Certainly we can sympathize with the plight of the Jews in the story, although the slaughter that follows their vindication contradicts all of our Christian obligation to love our enemies. We, of course, have not always honored that obligation, as we have waged our "just wars." It is not our purpose to debate those terms.
Rather, although Esther is not a religious book, perhaps we should center on the purpose of God that lies silently behind it. Throughout the story, and indeed, throughout the Scriptures, there is the conviction that the Jews form a special place in the plans and working of God (cf. Romans 9-11). Haman's wife tells him in 6:13 that he cannot prevail against the Jews, just as Mordecai is certain in 4:14 that deliverance will always arise for his people. And certainly the past century of our history testifies that though the Jews have been hunted and persecuted throughout the earth, they cannot be destroyed. The question is: Why?
Scripture is clear about the answer. At the beginning of the history of salvation, God made a promise that through Abraham and his descendants he would bring blessing on all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:3) and thus reverse the cursed effects of our sin that has so corrupted God's good creation (Genesis 1-11). Despite the continual disobedience and unfaithfulness of his chosen people, God continues, in the time of Esther and still in our time, to bring about the fulfillment of that promise. When Jews are attacked, therefore, the people whom God has chosen to be his instrument are being attacked, and God's purpose itself is being attacked. "I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse," God told Abraham (Genesis 12:3). And God always keeps his word. The story of Esther, despite its secularity and vindictiveness, sets forth that view.
Further, we must realize that God's fulfillment of his promise to the Jews finally narrows down to one Jew named Jesus Christ, through whom God will bring his final salvation to the world. And so our Lord tells us, "He who receives me receives him who sent me" (Matthew 10:32; cf. John 14:24). It is as we accept God's working through his chosen people and finally through his only begotten Son that we will know God's promised blessing of salvation.
Lutheran Option -- Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29
The people of Israel have been delivered by the Lord out of their slavery in Egypt in the thirteenth century B.C. The pursuing Egyptians have been wiped out by the returning waters of the Reed Sea. Now the Israelites make their long trek through the wilderness toward the land that God has promised them.
These verses from Numbers 11 are full of preaching possibilities. First of all, the Israelites in the desert are not a bunch of happy campers. They remember "the good old days" in Egypt, when they had lots to eat (and it was quite a remarkable diet!), although surely they have forgotten the hardships of their slavery and have exaggerated the good memories -- meat was a rarity among all Near Eastern people, not to mention slaves.
Moreover, their lack of gratitude is astounding. God has fed them day by day with manna, but that constant care disgusts them. "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at," they sneer. And of course that's a perfect picture of our ingratitude, isn't it? Day by day God sheds his manna of grace upon us. Every morning his mercies are new. Every day he forgives us and guides us and watches over us. He causes his sun to rise, though we be evil or good, and sends his rain, though we be just or unjust. Every day he sustains our lives and grants us bounty beyond all measure. But we, in our self-centered concern, exclaim, "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at!"
Then there's Moses, who thinks he himself has to provide for his people and who angrily accuses God of giving him burdens too hard to bear. And we, of course, are involved in that portrayal. "How can God do this to me?" we cry out, or "Why has the Lord led me into this situation?" or "God, you can't possibly expect me to put up with this!" And we turn our backs on our one source of support and comfort and decide we can do a better job on our own.
In the story that follows, in verses 16-32, an ever-patient and forgiving Lord mercifully answers all the complaints. He gives the people so much meat that they can't eat it all, and he provides helpers for Moses, laying Moses' spirit upon seventy elders to help bear the burdens of leading the griping and ungrateful people.
Then once more, in verses 26-29, we find ourselves portrayed. Two men named Eldad and Medad prophesy in the spirit, and the jealousy and pride of some, and even of Joshua, are aroused. "My lord Moses," Joshua excitedly demands, "forbid them. After all, we -- you and I -- are the leaders here! Don't let those others usurp our position of power and exercise their gifts!" Many a church leader, a teacher, a preacher, an important lay person in a congregation has entertained that thought and thus tried to prevent the working of God's spirit in a church body.
The various verses of our text give marvelous opportunities for portraying our common sins and God's patient dealing with them.
There is something fundamentally valuable about togetherness. Humans seem to be created for relationship with others, so that being with others seems as necessary as food and shelter. However, there are many different forms of togetherness. As rich and rewarding as social relationships may be, certain situations of togetherness prove disastrous. The abused spouse or child struggles to escape the bondage of the family or marriage.
The film, Radio Flyer, is a poignant portrayal of both the potentials and the perils of the togetherness of family life. Two brothers live together with their mother and her husband, whom the boys call simply "King." The bond between the brothers is strong and grows even stronger when the alcoholic King begins to beat the younger of the two of them. Together they plot a way by which the abused son can escape from the family and from King. However, their plan necessitates separating. As the younger brother prepares to leave, the two of them feel at the same time the joy of freedom from violence and the sorrow of separation -- two radically different kinds of togetherness.
We want to plot a course through these three lessons, paying special attention to what they teach us about togetherness. Each speaks a distinctive message to our life together with others.
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Esther is one of the short stories of the Old Testament, filled with intrigue and suspense. It provides the basis for Purim, the Jewish festival of lots which celebrates the Jews' deliverance from a pogrom designed to destroy them. Esther is a story of a heroic woman who manages to conceal her Jewish identity and finds herself the Queen of an expansive kingdom (see 1:1-4). The prominence of Esther is in some ways surprising, since the roles of women in the Jewish diaspora were limited. Moreover, there are other surprising elements to the story, including the fact that little or nothing is said about Torah observance, and God is never mentioned in the whole book! In many ways the characters of the plot are clear types, such as the evil villain, Haman. Still, the story is interesting, and its leading character daring.
Our lesson is the only lectionary reading from Esther and tries to capture the climax of the story both in terms of the plot and the institution of Purim. You might want to reread the whole story so that you are able to set the two fragments of the reading in their narrative context. Haman's plot to destroy the Jews is in place, but Esther's Jewish cohort, Mordecai, discovers the diabolical plan. Our reading enters the story at the point of a banquet prepared by Queen Esther (7:1). The king, encouraged by the wine he has consumed in the two days of the feast, grants Esther whatever wish she might have. (The scene reminds us of the story in Mark 6:14-29 in which Herod grants Herodias [or Salome] her wish, and she asks for the head of John, the Baptist.) Esther reveals Haman's dreadful plan and asks that the king deliver her people from death. Her speech in 7:3-4 is powerful and emotional. She and her people would be willing to suffer slavery, but the danger in this case is not slavery but death. Wisely, she points out that the king has a good deal at stake in the situation, for it will harm him as well as Esther's people.
The reading skips the scene depicting the villain's begging Esther for his life while the king has left the room (7:9-8). Ironically, one of the king's attendants points out that they just happen to have a gallows prepared for the execution of Mordecai, and now it would seem more appropriate to use it to rid themselves of Haman (7:9-10). And it is done! Esther has saved her people, and 75,000 of their enemies are slaughtered (9:16).
There is much discussion of the historical origin of Purim, but 9:20-23 claims that on these days the Jews were to remember and celebrate their "relief from their enemies" (9:22). The day is to be called "Purim, from the word Pur" (9:26) which means "lot" as in the casting of lots (3:7). Some scholars believe that Purim actually arose when the Jews sanctioned the Persian celebration of the new year. During that celebration people cast lots to determine what their destinies were to be for the next year (a primitive sort of a psychic reading!).
The story sounds a bit like the typical "bad guy/good guy" pulp fiction novel. To be sure, the story may seem a bit corny, but within it resides a fundamental sense of Jewish community that accounts for why the book and its story were treasured. Esther and Mordecai could conceal their ethnic identity and "pass" for Gentiles. They could scheme their way into high places. However, when their people were threatened with death, when their community was destined for destruction, they had to act to ward off the threat. Esther uses her position and the benefits of her having hidden her Jewishness for the sake of the Jews. The bond of togetherness the story's heroes share with their people is surely one of the major points of the story. Community is all important, and our commitment to our communities from which we gain our identities is deep -- so deep that true members of a community risk their lives for the sake of their bond of togetherness.
James 5:13-20
This final segment of James suggests the character of Christian togetherness. For whatever reason, the author of this letter chose to conclude the work with a little homily on life in the congregation. Indeed, this passage includes the only mention of "the church" (ekkleasia) in the whole of the letter and one of the few places in which James speaks explicitly of a real congregation. Scholars dispute the character of our passage. Some think it is "tacked on" and not altogether appropriate as the letter's conclusion. Some, however, see it as a continuation of the prohibition concerning oaths in verse 12 and having to do with speech within the community. The short passage admonishes the readers, first, to pray in the context of the congregation. They are to pray for healing, confession, and forgiveness (vv. 13-18). Finally, the author promises his readers that those who restore the fallen will have an eternal reward (vv. 19-20).
The reading begins by citing three conditions or situations in which readers may find themselves and the appropriate acts within the congregation corresponding to each of these situations. Attention, however, is given in particular to prayer for the sick. Verse 14 describes the process that came to be called Final Unction, and speaks of the role of the "elders" of the congregation and of the use of oil in anointing. The term, "elders" (presbyteroi), eventually came to designate official congregational leaders, but in a less formal sense could mean simply the older and respected members of the community. Oil was commonly used to relieve pain in the Greco-Roman world and has a Hebraic function in commissioning a person (see, e.g., Hebrews 1:9). The practice expresses a conviction stated in verse 15, "The prayer of faith will save the sick...."
The discussion turns to confession and forgiveness, presumably because of an implicit relationship between sickness and sin which was very common in first century Judaism and early Christianity. Verse 15b, however, could mean only that, in those cases of illness in which one has sinned, God will forgive the sins. All of this takes place within the context of the community of faith -- in a togetherness in Christ -- so it is not surprising that the mention of God's forgiveness should lead, first, to confession to God and, second, to confession to "one another" (vv. 15-16). Confession to one another is a part of prayer for healing, since forgiveness is itself a healing. The discussion of prayer ends with an encouragement to pray by mentioning the power and effectiveness of the prayers of the righteous. Elijah serves as James' example of God's answer to righteous prayer -- first to withhold and then to send rain (see 1 Kings 17:1 and 18:41-45).
The final verses of James are something of a surprise, but they continue the theme of the earlier verses insofar as they stress a Christian's responsibility to all the members of theircommunity, including those who have "wandered" (vv. 19-20). Verse 20 is difficult to translate. The NRSV implies that the one who seeks the wanderer saves that person's soul and that the act will "cover" (make up for?) "a multitude of sins." However, the promise of salvation could also be attributed to the person who seeks to restore the wanderer, and the forgiveness of sins is granted to the person who has gone astray. In either case, the author encourages readers to care for one another and to offer correction to any who seem to be backsliding. The solidarity of the community requires this kind of mutual concern and care for each other.
This is precisely what the second reading contributes to our search for insight into Christian togetherness. The passage stresses the mutual embrace of members of a congregation, praying for one another, confessing to one another, and correcting one another. The community of faith is closely knit because all of the essential matters of faith are openly affirmed and shared. Togetherness does not arise from pretense, from wearing masks, and from guarding privacy. Rather, it is nourished by a willingness on the part of all to be honest about their needs and to be loving in responding to the needs of others in the community. Unfortunately, we do not always find this kind of intimacy and sharing within congregations today, and it makes us wonder why that is the case. What have we lost, or what is it we neglect that stifles the growth of community?
Mark 9:38-50
The togetherness implicit in this reading is far different. The Gospel lesson is a patchwork of individual pieces which follow immediately after the conclusion of last Sunday's lesson. At one level, the story of the exorcist who doesn't follow Jesus and the teachings in verses 42-50 are only loosely related and demonstrate no connection in either theme or chronological order. Moreover, verses 42-50 are a collection of loosely related sayings, which in this case are grouped together around the word "stumble" (skandalizo, to "scandalize" or "offend"). Verses 49-50 appear to be intended as a concluding summary.
John and the others are worried that an unknown exorcist is usurping their territory, and they have been unsuccessful in stopping him. John sounds a little bit like a child asking a parent to intervene to chase away an intruder. Wandering exorcists were not uncommon in Jesus' time and many of them would invoke any name that might assist them in their work, including Jewish and Christian names. Jesus' answer to John is in a way reassuring but in another way surprising. In effect, Jesus says, "We need all the help we can get!" Furthermore, the exorcist will be successful in calling out demons by using Jesus' name and, as a result of his success, will thereafter think well of him. "Whoever is not against us is for us" is a startling generality, which is troublesome for us because in Luke 11:23 Jesus is credited with saying exactly the opposite: "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters." Doubtless these two sayings are to be taken in different contexts, and hence have different meanings. However, that does not minimize the radical openness of Jesus in the Mark saying. Verse 41 may define what verse 40 means. An act of kindness to a Christian will be rewarded, regardless of who performs it. Is Jesus saying that so long as others are doing acts of kindness and liberation, they are on the same team with him?
The series of sayings about whatever causes you "to stumble" hammer away at the simple fact that our relationship with God is more important than anything else. The first saying addresses the danger of causing another to fall away from faith. To cause another to stumble is then the greatest of crimes (v. 42), and the next verses say three body parts (hand, foot, eye) are less important than one's eternal destiny. The language is hyperbole -- overstating the point for effect -- but the message is sound. It is a matter of getting one's priorities straight and knowing what is most valuable in life.
Verses 49-50 are puzzling, in particular the phrase, "salted with fire." Salt was used for preserving food, for taste, and for sacrifices. Still, what it means to be "salted with fire" depends on how "fire" is used here. The best possibility is that, in this instance, fire means affliction and suffering which tests a person's character. Consequently, in this case the meaning is something like this: Everyone will be subjected to affliction and the salt of fire will preserve Christians. "Salt" then becomes a metaphor for the preservation of faith. Remain faithful, Jesus says, and be at peace. The fire of tribulation has prepared you for whatever you might face.
Its connection with the radical commitment of faith in verses 42-50 provides a stimulating context for Jesus' generous inclusion of others within his fold. When we ask about Christian togetherness, Jesus' claim that anyone who is doing the work of the kingdom (whether intentionally or not) is part of his community is surprising. The openness to the work of others is remarkable, coming from one who stresses so radically the singleness of commitment. There is an ancient Hebraic tradition that claims God uses unbelievers to accomplish the divine task. So, in announcing God's intent to bring Israel out of exile and back to their homeland, Second Isaiah speaks of the Persian general, Cyrus, who will overthrow Israel's conquerors, as God's "shepherd" (Isaiah 44:28) and even the Lord's "anointed" (i.e., Messiah -- Isaiah 45:1!). Similarly, Jesus claims that the work of God's rule in the world can be done by those who are not necessarily believers. A remarkable point of view, especially today when some Christians condemn those who hold different beliefs, regardless of their deeds of justice and love.
What does this mean for our togetherness? First, it questions that kind of exclusivisim that claims God only for ourselves and eliminates all others. Like John, we are liable to think that our role is to silence others who do not share our faith exactly as we would like, but Jesus' words advise restraint. Restraint is necessary because the other may be a disguised agent of God's kingdom. With that exclusivism put aside, this saying suggests, second, that our togetherness may reach out to include all others who share the values of offering drink to the thirsty. Rather than distancing ourselves from those of other faiths, perhaps we should look for what we share in common with them.
Togetherness reaches beyond our own community, our own people. To be sure, it has to do with an intimacy and sharing among ourselves which link us into one body. However, togetherness invariably forces us to examine our relationships with all humans.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
As referred to in 9:20-22 in our text, Esther is a book that celebrates Jewish deliverance from persecution. It is not a religious book, and the name of God is never mentioned in it. Nevertheless it found its place in the canon of Scripture as the reading for the Festival of Purim which falls on the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the month of Adar (=February-March; 9:21), according to the post-exilic Jewish calendar. The name "Purim" comes from the Hebrew word "pur," which refers to the "lot" that the wicked Haman cast to single out which Jews should be killed (3:7; 9:26, 28). The holiday is one of feasting, revelry, and sharing with the poor.
The story of Esther is a combination of fact and fiction. King Ahasuerus in the book is the historical Persian ruler Xerxes (486-465 B.C.), who ruled over a vast empire from India to Ethiopia (1:1). Many of the details in the book, such as mention of the efficient postal system (3:13; 8:10), the keeping of an official diary (2:23; 6:1-2), and execution by hanging all accord with Persian history. But the author of Esther has used such a setting to tell a story full of intrigue and suspense that probably stems from the second century B.C., when Jews were sorely oppressed in the Hellenic Empire. And there is no way that a congregation will understand the reading for the morning unless that whole story is briefly told.
The king's wife, Vashti disobeys and humiliates him and is replaced on the queen's throne by the beautiful Jewish Esther, whom the king picks out from the company of his captured foreign concubines. Esther is the adopted daughter of the Jew Mordecai, and Mordecai falls into disfavor with the self-important prince Haman, because he will not bow down to the egotistic prince. Haman vows revenge, not only on Mordecai, but on all the Jews. Indeed, Haman is a good version of an ancient Adolf Hitler, determining that all Jews, including young and old, women and children, throughout the Persian Empire are to be annihilated on the thirteenth day of the twelth month (3:13).
Esther alone can save her people (cf. 4:14). She has earlier learned that Mordecai foiled a plot against the king's life (2:22-23). At a banquet in her honor, to which she asks the king to invite Haman, she informs the king of how Mordecai has saved the king, and she tricks Haman himself into prescribing the reward for Mordecai. Equally, she asks, when the king grants her any petition, that her Jewish people be spared, and the king not only spares the Jews but grants them provision to annihilate their enemies throughout the empire. Haman is hanged, and 75,000 of the foes of the Jews are slain (9:16), an act of retribution that causes us a great deal of difficulty. But the feast of Purim is established as a memorial of the time when "the Jews got relief from their enemies and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday" (9:22).
Certainly we can sympathize with the plight of the Jews in the story, although the slaughter that follows their vindication contradicts all of our Christian obligation to love our enemies. We, of course, have not always honored that obligation, as we have waged our "just wars." It is not our purpose to debate those terms.
Rather, although Esther is not a religious book, perhaps we should center on the purpose of God that lies silently behind it. Throughout the story, and indeed, throughout the Scriptures, there is the conviction that the Jews form a special place in the plans and working of God (cf. Romans 9-11). Haman's wife tells him in 6:13 that he cannot prevail against the Jews, just as Mordecai is certain in 4:14 that deliverance will always arise for his people. And certainly the past century of our history testifies that though the Jews have been hunted and persecuted throughout the earth, they cannot be destroyed. The question is: Why?
Scripture is clear about the answer. At the beginning of the history of salvation, God made a promise that through Abraham and his descendants he would bring blessing on all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:3) and thus reverse the cursed effects of our sin that has so corrupted God's good creation (Genesis 1-11). Despite the continual disobedience and unfaithfulness of his chosen people, God continues, in the time of Esther and still in our time, to bring about the fulfillment of that promise. When Jews are attacked, therefore, the people whom God has chosen to be his instrument are being attacked, and God's purpose itself is being attacked. "I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse," God told Abraham (Genesis 12:3). And God always keeps his word. The story of Esther, despite its secularity and vindictiveness, sets forth that view.
Further, we must realize that God's fulfillment of his promise to the Jews finally narrows down to one Jew named Jesus Christ, through whom God will bring his final salvation to the world. And so our Lord tells us, "He who receives me receives him who sent me" (Matthew 10:32; cf. John 14:24). It is as we accept God's working through his chosen people and finally through his only begotten Son that we will know God's promised blessing of salvation.
Lutheran Option -- Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29
The people of Israel have been delivered by the Lord out of their slavery in Egypt in the thirteenth century B.C. The pursuing Egyptians have been wiped out by the returning waters of the Reed Sea. Now the Israelites make their long trek through the wilderness toward the land that God has promised them.
These verses from Numbers 11 are full of preaching possibilities. First of all, the Israelites in the desert are not a bunch of happy campers. They remember "the good old days" in Egypt, when they had lots to eat (and it was quite a remarkable diet!), although surely they have forgotten the hardships of their slavery and have exaggerated the good memories -- meat was a rarity among all Near Eastern people, not to mention slaves.
Moreover, their lack of gratitude is astounding. God has fed them day by day with manna, but that constant care disgusts them. "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at," they sneer. And of course that's a perfect picture of our ingratitude, isn't it? Day by day God sheds his manna of grace upon us. Every morning his mercies are new. Every day he forgives us and guides us and watches over us. He causes his sun to rise, though we be evil or good, and sends his rain, though we be just or unjust. Every day he sustains our lives and grants us bounty beyond all measure. But we, in our self-centered concern, exclaim, "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at!"
Then there's Moses, who thinks he himself has to provide for his people and who angrily accuses God of giving him burdens too hard to bear. And we, of course, are involved in that portrayal. "How can God do this to me?" we cry out, or "Why has the Lord led me into this situation?" or "God, you can't possibly expect me to put up with this!" And we turn our backs on our one source of support and comfort and decide we can do a better job on our own.
In the story that follows, in verses 16-32, an ever-patient and forgiving Lord mercifully answers all the complaints. He gives the people so much meat that they can't eat it all, and he provides helpers for Moses, laying Moses' spirit upon seventy elders to help bear the burdens of leading the griping and ungrateful people.
Then once more, in verses 26-29, we find ourselves portrayed. Two men named Eldad and Medad prophesy in the spirit, and the jealousy and pride of some, and even of Joshua, are aroused. "My lord Moses," Joshua excitedly demands, "forbid them. After all, we -- you and I -- are the leaders here! Don't let those others usurp our position of power and exercise their gifts!" Many a church leader, a teacher, a preacher, an important lay person in a congregation has entertained that thought and thus tried to prevent the working of God's spirit in a church body.
The various verses of our text give marvelous opportunities for portraying our common sins and God's patient dealing with them.
