The work of faith
Commentary
Object:
Two beloved stories are paired for our lection this Sunday. From the Old Testament we have the story of David and Goliath, the quintessential tale of boy-overcomes-giant-obstacles-to-become-king. The WCCC has paired with that the account of Jesus calming the storm, another story with vivid images that we all learned in Sunday school. At first glance, the Second Letter to the Corinthians passage seems an odd addition -- but it bridges the gap between the two tales, as Paul talks about the qualities needed to tear down whatever barriers keep us separated from God.
The bond between all of these stories is that of faith (or should we say trust?) -- a sense that God has called us for a purpose, and that when we live within that purpose we cannot go astray. David goes to carry food to his bigger brothers, excited to be there, to see the soldiers, to have a sense of participating in the battle. He hears Goliath issuing a challenge against the Israelites, and with the impetuousness of youth, with implicit faith that he cannot fail since God is on the side of the Israelites, he volunteers to do away with this know-it-all, who-does-he-think-he-is foreigner.
The story of the calming of the storm is on the flip side, if you will, of the coin of faith. The disciples, carrying Jesus away from the crowds that besiege him with their neediness, run into a storm on the Sea of Galilee, and in terror they wake Jesus. “Lord, do you not care that we are about to die?” And then, when Jesus does save them, their terror is aimed at him: “Who is this we are carrying in our boat? Who can talk to the wind and waves and make them listen?”
So the challenge to us is, as Paul admonishes the Corinthians, to put our faith to work. If we have little faith, we put it to work -- and like a muscle that is exercised regularly, we will have a stronger faith. And if our faith is like David’s, we will find that miracles happen on a regular basis.
For this is the work of faith: to put ourselves into the hands of God (admittedly, a terrifying act in and of itself) and wait to see what God may make of us.
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
The Philistines, according to Egyptian writings from the 12th to 13th centuries BCE, were part of a number of “sea peoples” who sailed all over the Mediterranean, unlike the Israelites and their neighbors. They lived between the Mediterranean coast and Judea, in a strip from Ashdod and Gath in the north to just south of Gaza. They were not a particularly powerful nation, being ruled by the Assyrians in the 8th to 7th centuries BCE and then by Babylon starting in 604 BCE just as Israel and Judah were. They were, however, a long-term threat and constant harasser of the Israelites. It was for this reason that Rehoboam built the fortified city of Socoh in the central highlands of Judea; later, in the time of Ahaz, the Philistines captured the city. Although the author of 1 Samuel says that the battle lines were drawn near that city, the story of David and Goliath takes place before the city of Socoh was built, for Saul is king. It would have been, at best, a small town on the highlands above the valley of Elah. All of this tells us that this story was set down in its present form long after the battle took place, but the battle site can be located on the map by looking for Socoh.
This battle is merely one in a long list that took place after Saul was anointed king over Israel by Samuel the prophet. Nearly as soon as Saul was selected, a war with the Philistines broke out. Saul’s son, “Jonathan, defeated the garrison of Philistines at Geba” [seechapter 14], and the Philistines prepared for war. The Philistines had huge advantages over Israel -- they had chariots, for one thing, plus horsemen and a vast number of soldiers. But Jonathan used a guerrilla style of warfare, and won again.
This was just the beginning of troubles for Saul and for Israel, because Saul was a rash man. Throughout his reign the country was continually at war, and not just against the Philistines. He fought enemies on every side, and made Samuel into an enemy as well. Despite the fact that Saul repented of his rashness, Samuel declares that God is looking for another king to anoint over Israel.
That king-to-be was David, son of Jesse. Being the youngest of the boys in his family, he was the one who kept the sheep. This job was common for young boys to have, one that they would “outgrow” by the time they were twelve. There are obviously many stories about the young David, and this section of 1 Samuel contains several, at least two of which explain how David became king. The story of David vs. Goliath is by far the most popular, especially since it is beloved of Sunday school teachers and lends itself to artworks.
Although the Old Testament Masoretic text (the authoritative Hebrew text for Rabbinic Judaism, which Protestantism commonly uses) says that Goliath was nearly ten feet tall (six cubits and a span; a cubit was equivalent to the length of a man’s forearm or 18 inches, a span to the width a man’s hand could reach, about six inches in those days), the Septuagint says he was four cubits and a span, or 6-7 feet tall. Today, of course, 6'6" is tall but not unusually so, but when the average height of an Israelite was about five feet, Goliath was definitely tall enough to intimidate Saul’s soldiers.
Furthermore, Goliath’s protective wear would be equally intimidating to the Israelites. He was dressed in bronze armor, not chainmail as most English translations say (the oldest coat of mail known dates only to the 4th century BCE); it is more likely leaf armor, small bronze plates joined together with rings. This would be underlain with a heavily padded coat to keep his skin from being shredded by the metal plates and rings. He also wore a bronze helmet and bronze chausses (similar to the leg pads some athletes wear) to protect his shins. Imagine this huge man, dressed in 150 pounds of armor that glistens in the sun. Think Clay Matthews (Green Bay Packer linebacker) in bronze.
This giant of a man steps out of the ranks of the Philistines and shouts out a challenge: “Let us have one-on-one combat, your hero against me on behalf of our armies. If I win, your nation will serve mine; if your hero wins, we will serve you!” The Israelite army is sweating. Saul is terrified. To base the future of the people on the ability of one soldier against the other is risky. Against this giant, what chance do they have? Goliath must have laughed to see them shaking, as he twice daily made his challenge with no one taking him up on it. It seemed like forever to the Israelites, because the author says Goliath had been doing this for 40 days, which is a symbolic number for “forever” in the Bible. [Forty days is the maximum time a person can live without food and water, especially in an arid climate, and is used repeatedly throughout the Old and New Testaments, always with this meaning.]
Meanwhile, back in Bethlehem is David, the youngest son of Jesse, a rich man. Jesse had sent his three eldest sons off to battle, and he used David to carry messages and aid back and forth. During the time that Goliath was issuing his challenge morning and evening every day, Jesse sent food for his sons and a portion of cheese for the officers with his youngest son. David, like any young man, is quite excited to be with his brothers in the army encampment. This is much more interesting than keeping watch over sheep!
While David is visiting with his brothers, Goliath comes out and again issues his challenge. David asks three questions: 1) What reward will there be to kill this Goliath? 2) Who does this Goliath think he is, threatening our nation? and 3) Who is he, who isn’t a follower of our God? David has the rash assurance of youth, of course; but he also comes in the name of God, because God has chosen him.
This business of being chosen by God ought to be well understood by anyone engaged in ministry. God knows that the ministry is not easy work, and we had better have the certainty that God has engaged us and needs us to fight for the soul of our people and, indeed, the nation and the world. If we are to be on the “front lines” we will do better to have the assurance that God is going to be fighting for us. David had that kind of faith. Later, of course, he will falter and fail, badly. But he also knew the necessity of repentance, and the result of repentance: forgiveness, the restoration of strength, and hope for the future.
So David steps forward. He declares that he has been able to kill lions that attacked his flock, and even if he were only able to stun them, had still pried lambs from the jaws of the beasts. “If God could help me do that, he can save me from this outsider.” Saul decides that this boy has to be his last hope. He gives David his own armor, but David couldn’t even walk with all that armor weighing him down. He shucks off the armor and does what he knows best: he gets out his sling, finds five water-smoothed stones, and sets off to confront Goliath. His hope, of course, lies in the fact that his weapon works at a distance, so he need not worry about armor.
Goliath is highly amused. He too has a weapon that works at a distance: a bronze spear. And, as Saul had pointed out to David, Goliath is an experienced warrior. He mocks David, tries to frighten him with curses and a promise that David’s body will be left for the wild animals to eat. David apparently has no fear. Where Goliath curses him by his gods, David expresses his faith in his own God. Where Goliath mocks, David replies that “the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.”
And so it is. David runs forward, loads a stone in his sling, and flings it into Goliath’s forehead. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall” may have grown out of this story. Goliath falls face forward and does not rise again. David continues his mad dash, grabs up Goliath’s sword, and uses it to cut off his head. (The lectionary leaves off that last piece by stopping at verse 49.) The Israelites snatch up their weapons with a shout, and chase the Philistines back to their cities.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the Philistines and Israelites from waging war on each other for many years to come, despite Goliath’s challenge. (And isn’t that always the way? That’s the way it’ll be if we win; if we lose, we keep fighting.)
Many years ago, I heard a joke that still makes me laugh. A certain Sunday school teacher got sick and was absent for several weeks. Her children loved her, because she had a way with telling stories -- they came to life, the way she told them. She changed her voice for the different characters and even sometimes included sound effects. At the end, when she told the children “the moral of the story,” they would all cheer. But when she came back, the kids told her that they really, really liked the substitute. “But does she change voices, like I do?” Well, sometimes. “Does she do sound effects?” Well, no. “Then what do you prefer about her stories?” “She hasn’t got no morals!”
So I hesitate to draw morals on Bible stories. But I’ve been through some hard times the last couple of years, and I do wish I had memorized one of the verses of this story more carefully. Can you guess which it is?
Verse 47: “[T]he Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” The battles of life sometimes seem to bring out the worst in us. We think we need to hit back, to return blow for blow. We feel that we are fighting alone. We despair, wondering who will help, if anyone. We worry at two in the morning, tossing and turning. We catch ourselves (or not) just before sarcasm or other angry words escape our lips. It might save us a good deal of such struggle to remember those words. For my part, I printed them out in a fancy font and my favorite color of ink so I can put them by my bedside.
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
The lesson of David and Goliath could be in Paul’s mind as he writes to the church at Corinth. He quotes Isaiah 49:8 in the second verse: “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.” Of course, the clever answer to this is “Oh, really? An acceptable time to you, perhaps. What about an acceptable time to me?”
But Paul is ever ready for the clever remark. “Today is the acceptable time! Today is the day of salvation!” He is here to talk about the grace of God, and the grace of God is available at any moment. He goes on to say that he and his co-workers are removing any and all obstacles that keep us from coming to God.
And what is the major obstacle keeping most people from God? The lack of trust. We have learned, by the time we are adults -- indeed, even younger -- that it is difficult to know who is trustworthy. People will come toward us, hands outstretched as though in friendship, only to pick our emotional pockets as they pass us. Couples will pledge their undying love one day, only to part in a few days or weeks. Even the bonds of marriage do not last in over half of today’s marriages, often because mutual trust is broken. As soon as life presents difficulties, one or the other will find themselves alone and bewildered. And all of us are quite willing to lie and hide when caught in some circumstance where we have been discovered to have failed to do well. Jesus himself called Satan “the Father of Lies,” not the Father of Murder nor the Father of Avarice, even though those things are certainly evil in themselves.
How is Paul attempting to remove every obstacle that keeps people from coming to God? Well, he says that he wants to avoid having any fault found with the ministry of the apostles. Now, we all know that those who want to find fault will always manage to find a way to do so. But Paul has a good deal to say about what it means to be an apostle of Christ. He has himself been beaten, caught in riots, gone hungry, worked long hours to earn his living, and then gone out to preach, teach, and heal, yet wound up in prison under all kinds of charges. Even so, he holds himself to a standard of behavior that is inviting, not off-putting.
This is the standard that is set for us all, not just pastors or congregational leaders. How many people have been “turned off on church” due to the behavior of those who call themselves Christians? How many times have visitors been treated to a bit of gossip about the pastor or other leaders in the church by a couple of people who just can’t resist the joy of “knowing things” they can impart to those who don’t know? We need to remember that our lives may be the only gospel a neighbor will ever be exposed to. This requires that we meet at least a minimum standard of Christian behavior, and that we be aiming at an even higher standard.
What is this standard? It is to be as kind, as generous, as patient, as truthful as any saint of ancient times. We sometimes fool ourselves that it is harder to be Christian today than in times past. Back in the Great Depression everyone was poor, and so it wasn’t so hard to be poor as today. We forget that just because everyone in the neighborhood is wearing old, patched clothing that it is not fun for parents to see their teenaged daughter sighing over pictures of well-dressed young women in magazines. Pierogies (mashed potatoes wrapped in pasta and fried) are by any measure poverty food, even if they do have a fancy foreign name! Poverty is stifling. Whenever we need to think about money constantly, that is a challenge to the soul.
Paul lived in a society and a time much like our own, save for the technology we surround ourselves with. The very rich were balanced by huge numbers of very poor; orgies, slavery, and child abandonment were part of the fabric of life. Husbands were not only allowed to beat their wives and children, it was believed that this was the only way to maintain order in the home. Prostitution was not only legal, it was advertised on the sides of the buildings in which it was practiced, along with various forms of graffiti that were often salacious. We have examples of this in Pompeii, where the ash preserved the city in detail, as well as in Corinth, where we find paving stones with genitalia engraved pointing the way to the red light district.
Throughout the Roman empire, wealth and strength were considered the greatest virtues, rather than kindness and generosity. And Corinth, placed as it was on the isthmus that connected the island of Peloponnesus to the mainland of Greece, where goods needed to be portaged from the Mediterranean to the inland passage to the north, was a fast-growing city. The influx of new residents consisted largely of freedmen, who had had little education and made their living largely by their strength. The pursuit of wealth drove the city at the time Paul was there, as these freedmen were busy buying lives that had been denied them as slaves. The city was infamous for its disregard for the poor in the midst of the pursuit of wealth.
Paul had a good deal to say about all this, and there is evidence that this so-called second letter to Corinth is actually two letters as written but now joined into one. That, plus the first letter which we have and one other that apparently has been lost, add up to four letters that he wrote in an attempt to instill a sense of the meaning of Christ’s teachings in the congregation living and working there. To that end, he has compiled lists of virtues which are found here, in 1 Corinthians 13, and in Galatians 5.
Having a list of virtues to which we might attain does not by any means make us true followers of the teaching of our Lord. There have been a multitude of books written on the meaning of the various virtues Paul speaks of here, but it is a hard thing living those virtues. How many times have we found ourselves in traffic, blocked in our rush by some vehicle in front of us that seems intent on doing the speed limit, much to our disbelief? Do we look on this as an opportunity to practice patience? Not usually. Do we look upon the driver with kindness? Nope. With genuine love? Well, probably not. But what opportunities these circumstances present us to meditate on the need to grow in grace, to use them to increase our saintliness. Now, that may have made you laugh. But Paul is calling us to become saints, which means simply to be holy, which means to be dedicated to the sole use of God. When we adjust our attitude in that direction, we, like Paul, may say, “I have nothing, yet possess everything.”
As a national jewelry company says, “Keep your heart open.” They are echoing the words of Paul: “Open wide your hearts also.” It is too easy to close our hearts once we have been hurt. It is too easy to judge an entire country by the actions of a few. It is too easy to judge another faith on the basis of the bad actions of those who claim to hold to that faith. Which is why we must keep ourselves from bad acts in the name of Christianity.
Mark 4:35-41
It is always a good idea before beginning to talk about any scripture to know what came directly before it. In this case Mark has told us that Jesus had been doing a good deal of healing, and the result was that there was a huge crowd pressing around the house where he was sitting. He had been teaching all day, and people were beginning to say that he was “out of his mind.” The Pharisees seized on this to say that his power did not come from God but Beelzebub (Hebrew: the Lord of theFlies). His own mother and brothers had come to the house and because of the press of people could not get at Jesus, so they sent word in that they wanted to see him, to take him home, but he refused, saying that his mother and brothers were those who did the will of God as he was preaching it. It is at the end of that day that this passage occurs.
So Jesus was exhausted, body and soul. Anyone who has spent time in a crowd that is demanding for any length of time knows how tiring that is. Most of us who preach are tired by the end of a single service, and many have to preach two or three times a Sunday morning. And Jesus was healing those who were brought to him as well, which takes its own toll on the healer. So when he says, “Let’s get in the boat and get out of here,” his disciples have to help him into the boat “just as he was” -- meaning what? That he was sweating, hungry, without a coat on a sea where storms can come up quickly and violently? Probably all of that.
Furthermore, the disciples had been there when he was being criticized by family and the authorities even as he was pouring himself out for the sick and crippled. They had been there as he told one parable after another, teaching all day and into the evening. They may have begun to wonder themselves if they were following a madman. Who really is this man that they have been following? Could the Pharisees be right? If even his own mother and brothers are worried about him and his activities, is he crazy? Or a true prophet? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.
So they get in the boat, and Jesus lays down on a cushion in the back of the boat and falls asleep. The Sea of Galilee is a large lake by Middle Eastern standards but hardly impressive, being just 8 miles wide and 13 miles long. It is surprising, then, that the lake has a reputation for quick, blustery winds and violent storms. One of those storms overtakes the boat as they are crossing. The winds pick up, and soon waves are crashing not just around the boat but into it. Several of the disciples are fishermen and they know how to handle a boat, even in bad weather. But this storm has them spooked. They go to the stern and shake Jesus. “How can you sleep through this storm? Don’t you feel the waves pounding over you? You’re soaked! Don’t you care that we are in danger of dying?”
We’re back to that basic question of trust.
In whom do we put our trust?
What does it mean to trust someone?
What did they expect Jesus to do? A few minutes ago they were worried about him, maybe questioning whether they should be following him. And now that they’re afraid, they turn to him and demand that he wake up and do something! “Don’t you care, sir, that we are dying?”
Does God care about us? Does he hear our prayers? When we find ourselves in a whirlpool of angry co-workers, everyone blaming each other for some failure that is certain to cost a good deal of money lost, do we join in the finger-pointing, hoping to deflect the blame onto anyone but ourselves? When we’ve been fired, unemployed for over a year, down to eating canned tuna on saltines every other night and ramen noodles every lunch, don’t we ask God “Don’t you care that I have no insurance, that if I get really sick I’ll have to throw myself on the mercy of some clinic?” “Don’t you care that in another month the utility company will turn off my power?” “Don’t you care, God, that people are dying every day of diseases that we have cures for, but they can’t afford the medicine?” Or maybe we’re so down in the dumps that we can’t care about other people’s kids. Maybe it’s all we can do to put one foot in front of another; maybe we haven’t left the house in days, too tired to get dressed, too sad to care about food. We live in a world where the prayers of millions rise to heaven daily, crying out for strength to make it through another day.
Whatever answer the disciples expected, what they got was simply amazing. Jesus cries out to the wind to stop, and he tells the waves to be still, and they do.
Well, that gives the disciples what they wanted, right? A dead calm descends. The sea is flat. Not a breath of wind stirs. The disciples look around them. The boats that were traveling with them are also in calm water. The sails luff, hang still from the masts. But the miracle does not comfort them. No matter what they had hoped for, no matter what they expected of Jesus, it was not this. They reacted much as we might react. They turn to one another and ask, “Who is this, who speaks and the wind and waves obey him?!?”
And Jesus looks around at them all, frozen in place, and says, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”
That question ties this story to the story of David and Goliath. “Why are you afraid? Do you not know that God is on your side?” David had perfect faith in God, not just himself, and so when the time came for Goliath to die David ran toward the danger, not away. He believed that “[T]he Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” Jesus is saying much the same thing.
The problem is that, unlike David, we too often say one thing and mean another. “I have faith in Jesus” does not always translate into action. We’re afraid of being hurt, so we back off. We’re afraid to interfere when we see someone berating their child in public, or slapping their toddler. “It’s not my place,” we tell ourselves; “it’s their family, their child.” We see a co-worker with bruises on her arm, clearly fingerprints in black and blue, but we avoid eye contact; it’s not our business. We see a neighbor using food stamps, and we judge him, look away, feel embarrassed for him. We see an accident, and we run away rather than toward those suffering.
Where is our faith? Did we leave it in the pew last Sunday? Or on the bathroom sink this morning? It is not enough to say that we believe. As our parents repeatedly told us, “Actions speak louder than words.” If our faith is only expressed in church, we will never have the life that God intended for us -- a life filled with love, friends, and laughter, no matter what the circumstances of our lives. Not that we are to be blithe about not having a job or money to buy food, but we are able to turn to God in times of trouble and say, “Okay, God, I give all my problems to you. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” And to have the faith that at an acceptable time, God will put victory into our hands.
But it never stops being easier to say than to do. A rabbinical comment on the Exodus says that when the Hebrews reached the shore of the sea and had to stop, they all turned to Moses. Moses raised his staff and commanded the sea to part, but nothing happened until one old man put his foot in the water. And then the sea rolled back, and they were able to cross.
The bond between all of these stories is that of faith (or should we say trust?) -- a sense that God has called us for a purpose, and that when we live within that purpose we cannot go astray. David goes to carry food to his bigger brothers, excited to be there, to see the soldiers, to have a sense of participating in the battle. He hears Goliath issuing a challenge against the Israelites, and with the impetuousness of youth, with implicit faith that he cannot fail since God is on the side of the Israelites, he volunteers to do away with this know-it-all, who-does-he-think-he-is foreigner.
The story of the calming of the storm is on the flip side, if you will, of the coin of faith. The disciples, carrying Jesus away from the crowds that besiege him with their neediness, run into a storm on the Sea of Galilee, and in terror they wake Jesus. “Lord, do you not care that we are about to die?” And then, when Jesus does save them, their terror is aimed at him: “Who is this we are carrying in our boat? Who can talk to the wind and waves and make them listen?”
So the challenge to us is, as Paul admonishes the Corinthians, to put our faith to work. If we have little faith, we put it to work -- and like a muscle that is exercised regularly, we will have a stronger faith. And if our faith is like David’s, we will find that miracles happen on a regular basis.
For this is the work of faith: to put ourselves into the hands of God (admittedly, a terrifying act in and of itself) and wait to see what God may make of us.
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
The Philistines, according to Egyptian writings from the 12th to 13th centuries BCE, were part of a number of “sea peoples” who sailed all over the Mediterranean, unlike the Israelites and their neighbors. They lived between the Mediterranean coast and Judea, in a strip from Ashdod and Gath in the north to just south of Gaza. They were not a particularly powerful nation, being ruled by the Assyrians in the 8th to 7th centuries BCE and then by Babylon starting in 604 BCE just as Israel and Judah were. They were, however, a long-term threat and constant harasser of the Israelites. It was for this reason that Rehoboam built the fortified city of Socoh in the central highlands of Judea; later, in the time of Ahaz, the Philistines captured the city. Although the author of 1 Samuel says that the battle lines were drawn near that city, the story of David and Goliath takes place before the city of Socoh was built, for Saul is king. It would have been, at best, a small town on the highlands above the valley of Elah. All of this tells us that this story was set down in its present form long after the battle took place, but the battle site can be located on the map by looking for Socoh.
This battle is merely one in a long list that took place after Saul was anointed king over Israel by Samuel the prophet. Nearly as soon as Saul was selected, a war with the Philistines broke out. Saul’s son, “Jonathan, defeated the garrison of Philistines at Geba” [seechapter 14], and the Philistines prepared for war. The Philistines had huge advantages over Israel -- they had chariots, for one thing, plus horsemen and a vast number of soldiers. But Jonathan used a guerrilla style of warfare, and won again.
This was just the beginning of troubles for Saul and for Israel, because Saul was a rash man. Throughout his reign the country was continually at war, and not just against the Philistines. He fought enemies on every side, and made Samuel into an enemy as well. Despite the fact that Saul repented of his rashness, Samuel declares that God is looking for another king to anoint over Israel.
That king-to-be was David, son of Jesse. Being the youngest of the boys in his family, he was the one who kept the sheep. This job was common for young boys to have, one that they would “outgrow” by the time they were twelve. There are obviously many stories about the young David, and this section of 1 Samuel contains several, at least two of which explain how David became king. The story of David vs. Goliath is by far the most popular, especially since it is beloved of Sunday school teachers and lends itself to artworks.
Although the Old Testament Masoretic text (the authoritative Hebrew text for Rabbinic Judaism, which Protestantism commonly uses) says that Goliath was nearly ten feet tall (six cubits and a span; a cubit was equivalent to the length of a man’s forearm or 18 inches, a span to the width a man’s hand could reach, about six inches in those days), the Septuagint says he was four cubits and a span, or 6-7 feet tall. Today, of course, 6'6" is tall but not unusually so, but when the average height of an Israelite was about five feet, Goliath was definitely tall enough to intimidate Saul’s soldiers.
Furthermore, Goliath’s protective wear would be equally intimidating to the Israelites. He was dressed in bronze armor, not chainmail as most English translations say (the oldest coat of mail known dates only to the 4th century BCE); it is more likely leaf armor, small bronze plates joined together with rings. This would be underlain with a heavily padded coat to keep his skin from being shredded by the metal plates and rings. He also wore a bronze helmet and bronze chausses (similar to the leg pads some athletes wear) to protect his shins. Imagine this huge man, dressed in 150 pounds of armor that glistens in the sun. Think Clay Matthews (Green Bay Packer linebacker) in bronze.
This giant of a man steps out of the ranks of the Philistines and shouts out a challenge: “Let us have one-on-one combat, your hero against me on behalf of our armies. If I win, your nation will serve mine; if your hero wins, we will serve you!” The Israelite army is sweating. Saul is terrified. To base the future of the people on the ability of one soldier against the other is risky. Against this giant, what chance do they have? Goliath must have laughed to see them shaking, as he twice daily made his challenge with no one taking him up on it. It seemed like forever to the Israelites, because the author says Goliath had been doing this for 40 days, which is a symbolic number for “forever” in the Bible. [Forty days is the maximum time a person can live without food and water, especially in an arid climate, and is used repeatedly throughout the Old and New Testaments, always with this meaning.]
Meanwhile, back in Bethlehem is David, the youngest son of Jesse, a rich man. Jesse had sent his three eldest sons off to battle, and he used David to carry messages and aid back and forth. During the time that Goliath was issuing his challenge morning and evening every day, Jesse sent food for his sons and a portion of cheese for the officers with his youngest son. David, like any young man, is quite excited to be with his brothers in the army encampment. This is much more interesting than keeping watch over sheep!
While David is visiting with his brothers, Goliath comes out and again issues his challenge. David asks three questions: 1) What reward will there be to kill this Goliath? 2) Who does this Goliath think he is, threatening our nation? and 3) Who is he, who isn’t a follower of our God? David has the rash assurance of youth, of course; but he also comes in the name of God, because God has chosen him.
This business of being chosen by God ought to be well understood by anyone engaged in ministry. God knows that the ministry is not easy work, and we had better have the certainty that God has engaged us and needs us to fight for the soul of our people and, indeed, the nation and the world. If we are to be on the “front lines” we will do better to have the assurance that God is going to be fighting for us. David had that kind of faith. Later, of course, he will falter and fail, badly. But he also knew the necessity of repentance, and the result of repentance: forgiveness, the restoration of strength, and hope for the future.
So David steps forward. He declares that he has been able to kill lions that attacked his flock, and even if he were only able to stun them, had still pried lambs from the jaws of the beasts. “If God could help me do that, he can save me from this outsider.” Saul decides that this boy has to be his last hope. He gives David his own armor, but David couldn’t even walk with all that armor weighing him down. He shucks off the armor and does what he knows best: he gets out his sling, finds five water-smoothed stones, and sets off to confront Goliath. His hope, of course, lies in the fact that his weapon works at a distance, so he need not worry about armor.
Goliath is highly amused. He too has a weapon that works at a distance: a bronze spear. And, as Saul had pointed out to David, Goliath is an experienced warrior. He mocks David, tries to frighten him with curses and a promise that David’s body will be left for the wild animals to eat. David apparently has no fear. Where Goliath curses him by his gods, David expresses his faith in his own God. Where Goliath mocks, David replies that “the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.”
And so it is. David runs forward, loads a stone in his sling, and flings it into Goliath’s forehead. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall” may have grown out of this story. Goliath falls face forward and does not rise again. David continues his mad dash, grabs up Goliath’s sword, and uses it to cut off his head. (The lectionary leaves off that last piece by stopping at verse 49.) The Israelites snatch up their weapons with a shout, and chase the Philistines back to their cities.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the Philistines and Israelites from waging war on each other for many years to come, despite Goliath’s challenge. (And isn’t that always the way? That’s the way it’ll be if we win; if we lose, we keep fighting.)
Many years ago, I heard a joke that still makes me laugh. A certain Sunday school teacher got sick and was absent for several weeks. Her children loved her, because she had a way with telling stories -- they came to life, the way she told them. She changed her voice for the different characters and even sometimes included sound effects. At the end, when she told the children “the moral of the story,” they would all cheer. But when she came back, the kids told her that they really, really liked the substitute. “But does she change voices, like I do?” Well, sometimes. “Does she do sound effects?” Well, no. “Then what do you prefer about her stories?” “She hasn’t got no morals!”
So I hesitate to draw morals on Bible stories. But I’ve been through some hard times the last couple of years, and I do wish I had memorized one of the verses of this story more carefully. Can you guess which it is?
Verse 47: “[T]he Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” The battles of life sometimes seem to bring out the worst in us. We think we need to hit back, to return blow for blow. We feel that we are fighting alone. We despair, wondering who will help, if anyone. We worry at two in the morning, tossing and turning. We catch ourselves (or not) just before sarcasm or other angry words escape our lips. It might save us a good deal of such struggle to remember those words. For my part, I printed them out in a fancy font and my favorite color of ink so I can put them by my bedside.
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
The lesson of David and Goliath could be in Paul’s mind as he writes to the church at Corinth. He quotes Isaiah 49:8 in the second verse: “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.” Of course, the clever answer to this is “Oh, really? An acceptable time to you, perhaps. What about an acceptable time to me?”
But Paul is ever ready for the clever remark. “Today is the acceptable time! Today is the day of salvation!” He is here to talk about the grace of God, and the grace of God is available at any moment. He goes on to say that he and his co-workers are removing any and all obstacles that keep us from coming to God.
And what is the major obstacle keeping most people from God? The lack of trust. We have learned, by the time we are adults -- indeed, even younger -- that it is difficult to know who is trustworthy. People will come toward us, hands outstretched as though in friendship, only to pick our emotional pockets as they pass us. Couples will pledge their undying love one day, only to part in a few days or weeks. Even the bonds of marriage do not last in over half of today’s marriages, often because mutual trust is broken. As soon as life presents difficulties, one or the other will find themselves alone and bewildered. And all of us are quite willing to lie and hide when caught in some circumstance where we have been discovered to have failed to do well. Jesus himself called Satan “the Father of Lies,” not the Father of Murder nor the Father of Avarice, even though those things are certainly evil in themselves.
How is Paul attempting to remove every obstacle that keeps people from coming to God? Well, he says that he wants to avoid having any fault found with the ministry of the apostles. Now, we all know that those who want to find fault will always manage to find a way to do so. But Paul has a good deal to say about what it means to be an apostle of Christ. He has himself been beaten, caught in riots, gone hungry, worked long hours to earn his living, and then gone out to preach, teach, and heal, yet wound up in prison under all kinds of charges. Even so, he holds himself to a standard of behavior that is inviting, not off-putting.
This is the standard that is set for us all, not just pastors or congregational leaders. How many people have been “turned off on church” due to the behavior of those who call themselves Christians? How many times have visitors been treated to a bit of gossip about the pastor or other leaders in the church by a couple of people who just can’t resist the joy of “knowing things” they can impart to those who don’t know? We need to remember that our lives may be the only gospel a neighbor will ever be exposed to. This requires that we meet at least a minimum standard of Christian behavior, and that we be aiming at an even higher standard.
What is this standard? It is to be as kind, as generous, as patient, as truthful as any saint of ancient times. We sometimes fool ourselves that it is harder to be Christian today than in times past. Back in the Great Depression everyone was poor, and so it wasn’t so hard to be poor as today. We forget that just because everyone in the neighborhood is wearing old, patched clothing that it is not fun for parents to see their teenaged daughter sighing over pictures of well-dressed young women in magazines. Pierogies (mashed potatoes wrapped in pasta and fried) are by any measure poverty food, even if they do have a fancy foreign name! Poverty is stifling. Whenever we need to think about money constantly, that is a challenge to the soul.
Paul lived in a society and a time much like our own, save for the technology we surround ourselves with. The very rich were balanced by huge numbers of very poor; orgies, slavery, and child abandonment were part of the fabric of life. Husbands were not only allowed to beat their wives and children, it was believed that this was the only way to maintain order in the home. Prostitution was not only legal, it was advertised on the sides of the buildings in which it was practiced, along with various forms of graffiti that were often salacious. We have examples of this in Pompeii, where the ash preserved the city in detail, as well as in Corinth, where we find paving stones with genitalia engraved pointing the way to the red light district.
Throughout the Roman empire, wealth and strength were considered the greatest virtues, rather than kindness and generosity. And Corinth, placed as it was on the isthmus that connected the island of Peloponnesus to the mainland of Greece, where goods needed to be portaged from the Mediterranean to the inland passage to the north, was a fast-growing city. The influx of new residents consisted largely of freedmen, who had had little education and made their living largely by their strength. The pursuit of wealth drove the city at the time Paul was there, as these freedmen were busy buying lives that had been denied them as slaves. The city was infamous for its disregard for the poor in the midst of the pursuit of wealth.
Paul had a good deal to say about all this, and there is evidence that this so-called second letter to Corinth is actually two letters as written but now joined into one. That, plus the first letter which we have and one other that apparently has been lost, add up to four letters that he wrote in an attempt to instill a sense of the meaning of Christ’s teachings in the congregation living and working there. To that end, he has compiled lists of virtues which are found here, in 1 Corinthians 13, and in Galatians 5.
Having a list of virtues to which we might attain does not by any means make us true followers of the teaching of our Lord. There have been a multitude of books written on the meaning of the various virtues Paul speaks of here, but it is a hard thing living those virtues. How many times have we found ourselves in traffic, blocked in our rush by some vehicle in front of us that seems intent on doing the speed limit, much to our disbelief? Do we look on this as an opportunity to practice patience? Not usually. Do we look upon the driver with kindness? Nope. With genuine love? Well, probably not. But what opportunities these circumstances present us to meditate on the need to grow in grace, to use them to increase our saintliness. Now, that may have made you laugh. But Paul is calling us to become saints, which means simply to be holy, which means to be dedicated to the sole use of God. When we adjust our attitude in that direction, we, like Paul, may say, “I have nothing, yet possess everything.”
As a national jewelry company says, “Keep your heart open.” They are echoing the words of Paul: “Open wide your hearts also.” It is too easy to close our hearts once we have been hurt. It is too easy to judge an entire country by the actions of a few. It is too easy to judge another faith on the basis of the bad actions of those who claim to hold to that faith. Which is why we must keep ourselves from bad acts in the name of Christianity.
Mark 4:35-41
It is always a good idea before beginning to talk about any scripture to know what came directly before it. In this case Mark has told us that Jesus had been doing a good deal of healing, and the result was that there was a huge crowd pressing around the house where he was sitting. He had been teaching all day, and people were beginning to say that he was “out of his mind.” The Pharisees seized on this to say that his power did not come from God but Beelzebub (Hebrew: the Lord of theFlies). His own mother and brothers had come to the house and because of the press of people could not get at Jesus, so they sent word in that they wanted to see him, to take him home, but he refused, saying that his mother and brothers were those who did the will of God as he was preaching it. It is at the end of that day that this passage occurs.
So Jesus was exhausted, body and soul. Anyone who has spent time in a crowd that is demanding for any length of time knows how tiring that is. Most of us who preach are tired by the end of a single service, and many have to preach two or three times a Sunday morning. And Jesus was healing those who were brought to him as well, which takes its own toll on the healer. So when he says, “Let’s get in the boat and get out of here,” his disciples have to help him into the boat “just as he was” -- meaning what? That he was sweating, hungry, without a coat on a sea where storms can come up quickly and violently? Probably all of that.
Furthermore, the disciples had been there when he was being criticized by family and the authorities even as he was pouring himself out for the sick and crippled. They had been there as he told one parable after another, teaching all day and into the evening. They may have begun to wonder themselves if they were following a madman. Who really is this man that they have been following? Could the Pharisees be right? If even his own mother and brothers are worried about him and his activities, is he crazy? Or a true prophet? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.
So they get in the boat, and Jesus lays down on a cushion in the back of the boat and falls asleep. The Sea of Galilee is a large lake by Middle Eastern standards but hardly impressive, being just 8 miles wide and 13 miles long. It is surprising, then, that the lake has a reputation for quick, blustery winds and violent storms. One of those storms overtakes the boat as they are crossing. The winds pick up, and soon waves are crashing not just around the boat but into it. Several of the disciples are fishermen and they know how to handle a boat, even in bad weather. But this storm has them spooked. They go to the stern and shake Jesus. “How can you sleep through this storm? Don’t you feel the waves pounding over you? You’re soaked! Don’t you care that we are in danger of dying?”
We’re back to that basic question of trust.
In whom do we put our trust?
What does it mean to trust someone?
What did they expect Jesus to do? A few minutes ago they were worried about him, maybe questioning whether they should be following him. And now that they’re afraid, they turn to him and demand that he wake up and do something! “Don’t you care, sir, that we are dying?”
Does God care about us? Does he hear our prayers? When we find ourselves in a whirlpool of angry co-workers, everyone blaming each other for some failure that is certain to cost a good deal of money lost, do we join in the finger-pointing, hoping to deflect the blame onto anyone but ourselves? When we’ve been fired, unemployed for over a year, down to eating canned tuna on saltines every other night and ramen noodles every lunch, don’t we ask God “Don’t you care that I have no insurance, that if I get really sick I’ll have to throw myself on the mercy of some clinic?” “Don’t you care that in another month the utility company will turn off my power?” “Don’t you care, God, that people are dying every day of diseases that we have cures for, but they can’t afford the medicine?” Or maybe we’re so down in the dumps that we can’t care about other people’s kids. Maybe it’s all we can do to put one foot in front of another; maybe we haven’t left the house in days, too tired to get dressed, too sad to care about food. We live in a world where the prayers of millions rise to heaven daily, crying out for strength to make it through another day.
Whatever answer the disciples expected, what they got was simply amazing. Jesus cries out to the wind to stop, and he tells the waves to be still, and they do.
Well, that gives the disciples what they wanted, right? A dead calm descends. The sea is flat. Not a breath of wind stirs. The disciples look around them. The boats that were traveling with them are also in calm water. The sails luff, hang still from the masts. But the miracle does not comfort them. No matter what they had hoped for, no matter what they expected of Jesus, it was not this. They reacted much as we might react. They turn to one another and ask, “Who is this, who speaks and the wind and waves obey him?!?”
And Jesus looks around at them all, frozen in place, and says, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”
That question ties this story to the story of David and Goliath. “Why are you afraid? Do you not know that God is on your side?” David had perfect faith in God, not just himself, and so when the time came for Goliath to die David ran toward the danger, not away. He believed that “[T]he Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” Jesus is saying much the same thing.
The problem is that, unlike David, we too often say one thing and mean another. “I have faith in Jesus” does not always translate into action. We’re afraid of being hurt, so we back off. We’re afraid to interfere when we see someone berating their child in public, or slapping their toddler. “It’s not my place,” we tell ourselves; “it’s their family, their child.” We see a co-worker with bruises on her arm, clearly fingerprints in black and blue, but we avoid eye contact; it’s not our business. We see a neighbor using food stamps, and we judge him, look away, feel embarrassed for him. We see an accident, and we run away rather than toward those suffering.
Where is our faith? Did we leave it in the pew last Sunday? Or on the bathroom sink this morning? It is not enough to say that we believe. As our parents repeatedly told us, “Actions speak louder than words.” If our faith is only expressed in church, we will never have the life that God intended for us -- a life filled with love, friends, and laughter, no matter what the circumstances of our lives. Not that we are to be blithe about not having a job or money to buy food, but we are able to turn to God in times of trouble and say, “Okay, God, I give all my problems to you. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” And to have the faith that at an acceptable time, God will put victory into our hands.
But it never stops being easier to say than to do. A rabbinical comment on the Exodus says that when the Hebrews reached the shore of the sea and had to stop, they all turned to Moses. Moses raised his staff and commanded the sea to part, but nothing happened until one old man put his foot in the water. And then the sea rolled back, and they were able to cross.
