The trouble with religion
Commentary
Speaking out against religion is as popular as ridiculing the American flag, motherhood, and apple pie. Religion, after all, is good. It's is good for the person, and it is good for society. Of course it is!
Yet sometimes being religious can run counter to being faithful. It happens when our own beliefs and practices become the idols we live by, when what we believe and say we believe become more important than acknowledging the God in whom we believe, indeed the God who gave us the faith to believe in him. When religion gets in the way of God-given faith, then we spend our energy demonstrating our superiority and our superior positions rather than appearing before God as beggars with nothing to offer.
Speaking against religion and religious people might not be popular. It never has been. The prophets of the Old Testament and Jesus and Paul and others in the New can attest to the problems that proclaimers of God's word can expect. Perhaps we should allow them to speak for themselves.
Micah 3:5-12
What we know of the man Micah is very little. According to the superscription of the book, Micah was a small town boy, hailing from Moresheth, a village of the Shephelah. We read also that he preached during the reigns of Jotham (742-735 B.C.), Ahaz (735-715 B.C.), and Hezekiah (715-687 B.C.). If this historical setting for Micah is correct, then he was a contemporary of Isaiah (see Isaiah 1:1). Isaiah was an urbanite -- a Jerusalemite through and through -- while Micah was a rural man.
We know more of Micah from his sermons than from any biographical data. He clearly identified with the peasant class of his society and absolutely abhorred the oppression of those people by the merchants and judges, as well as the religious leaders such as priests and professional prophets.
The condemnation of the political and religious leaders Micah pronounced without ambivalence or ambiguity. Naturally the listeners were not pleased with his message. They ordered him not to preach of such judgment, because "disgrace will not overtake us" (2:6). But preach he did, and his stern words of judgment comprise the totality of our pericope.
The first group to receive the bad news is the prophets. Micah condemns them because they lead the people astray, changing their tune on the basis of what they receive from the hands of the people (v. 5). Then comes the all-important word "therefore." When that term follows a description of the people's actions, it almost always introduces a word of judgment. That is certainly true here, for what follows is a shutting down of the dancing lights of the sky so that the prophets wallow in darkness. Besides that loss of vision, the prophets will lose the word of God, leaving them speechless, and the people will not be able to read their lips. Against their silence, Micah announces that he is filled with power, the Lord's spirit, and with justice and might. That spirit-filled power enables him to preach the judgment of God against the sin of the people.
The second section of our pericope is aimed at the rulers of the people. Verses 9-12 present the classic example of a prophetic announcement of judgment. That type of speech consists of the following parts: (1) introduction (v. 9a), (2) reason for the judgment in terms of (a) accusation (vv. 9b-10) and (b) development of the accusation (v. 11), (3) the messenger formula, "Therefore because of you," and (4) the results of divine intervention. What the formula makes clear is that the judgment will come only because of the people's sins and not because God is arbitrary or capricious or downright nasty.
Passages like these judgment speeches tend to scare us away from the text to find another. Their importance, however, is that they demonstrate the accountability of the people of God to speak the truth, seek justice, and defend the vulnerable. Failure to do so is nothing less than the failure to be the people God called to be his own in the world. The result is experiencing the presence of God in terms of judgment. As frightening as such a pericope is, where can we turn this Sunday for something calmer and sweeter?
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
In this oldest of the New Testament books, the apostle Paul continues his attempt to teach the Thessalonians more deeply about the faith to which they were committed, a faith given by God but one still searching for content. He had written of his role among them some two years earlier when he founded the congregation and when "you received the word with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit" (1:6). He now reminds them of the labor and toil he did among them "while we proclaimed the gospel of God" (v. 9).
In the previous paragraph -- last week's pericope -- Paul had written of the gentleness he and his colleagues showed "among you, like a nurse taking care of her children" (2:7). Here he writes of a different gender, even parental, role: "like a father with his children, urging and encouraging you and pleading that you lead a life worthy of God ..." (vv. 11-12).
Hearing and receiving the gospel of God is the basis, even the motive, for leading a life worthy of God. What is declared as the good news of Jesus Christ is not the result of a worthwhile life but the foundation of it. This is Paul's goal here: to clarify the content of the gospel and to illustrate its implications for living.
A worthy life is not simply the outcome desired by Paul for his converts. It is nothing less than the will of God "who calls you (better is "keeps calling you" because of the present participle) into his own kingdom and glory." For Paul, entrance into God's kingdom and glory was the goal of the Christian existence. He wrote elsewhere of dying with Christ so that we might rise with him to share his glory (Romans 6:8). He spoke repeatedly of entering the kingdom of God (or failing to enter because of various expressions of sinfulness). What jumps out at the reader here is God's active role in calling persistently the Christians into that glory and kingdom. It's as though having given his Son to die for us, God will not allow us to give up what his death accomplished for us. He keeps calling us toward that goal.
All that leads to an expression of thanks to God that the congregation -- from the time they first heard the gospel Paul preached -- recognized that its origin was from God, not from Paul. As a divine word rather than human word, the gospel has the power to accomplish its purpose among believers. Like the word which effected what it said in the preaching of salvation by Second Isaiah (Isaiah 55:10-11), the gospel "is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith" (Romans 1:16). It also has the power to work in believers to lead them to share in Christ's glory and to share with him the kingdom to come and to live in the meantime lives that are worthy of God.
Matthew 23:1-12
As in the first lesson from the preaching of Micah, the religious leaders are in deep trouble here. There they were identified as the prophets and the judges of the people; here they are the scribes and the Pharisees.
Jesus here is addressing the crowds and his disciples. He had spoken to the Pharisees in the preceding speeches and he will return to "scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites" at verse 13. But here he is talking about those religious leaders to his own followers and would-be followers. The sayings that are included here do not flow smoothly from one issue to another, and so we must at least reckon with the possibility that while some of the pieces here might be Jesus' own, others might originate with the church of the later decades and with Matthew himself.
First, Jesus demonstrates utmost respect for the office of the scribes and Pharisees because they "sit on Moses' seat" (v. 1). While the metaphor is not common in New Testament times, it seems to refer to a custom that had developed following the Babylonian Exile of the sixth century B.C. for the authoritative teaching the scribes delivered. Whether or not they could define their tradition through an unbroken chain from Moses to the first century (something like kosher apostolic succession), the scribes' responsibility was indeed to teach the law of Moses. The Pharisees who interpreted that law rigorously through followed in the same tradition and were, therefore, often coupled with the scribes in the New Testament stories.
While respecting their office and even the content of the Mosaic law with which they were entrusted, Jesus here encourages the crowd to practice and observe what they teach but to avoid copying what they do. Jesus illustrates the problem by telling that they impose great burdens on others but do not lift a finger to help. Further, in a teaching similar to his words in the Sermon on the Mount (6:1-6), Jesus points out the hypocritical (that is, acting) nature of their concern to play to the audience rather than demonstrate an internalization of the law they teach: "They do all their deeds in order to be seen by others" (v. 5).
Part of the act, Jesus explains, is their exaggeration of symbols. According to the laws in the Old Testament, Israelites were to regard the law of the Lord "as a sign on your hand and as a memorial between your eyes, that the law of the Lord may be in your mouth" (Exodus 13:9; see also Deuteronomy 6:8; 11:18). This instruction was interpreted in later times literally. A box called a phylactery containing parchment on which were written the words of Exodus 13:1-16; Deuteronomy 6:4-9; 11:13-21 was worn on the forehead (between the eyes) and on the left wrist. As for the "fringes," the law in Numbers 15:37-41 commands the people of Israel to make tassels on the corners of their garments out of blue cord "to look upon and remember all the commandments of the Lord, to do them...." Such symbols calling attention to the commandments of the Lord can only be considered good, that is, until they increase to such size that the primary function seems to be calling attention to oneself. That was Jesus' concern here: "they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long" (v. 5).
In addition, they flirt with attention by taking the places of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and they get all kinds of public respect in the marketplaces (clergy discounts perhaps?). And they loved to be called "rabbi," that is, teacher of the law. And so they were. Clearly the word "humility" was not invented to describe the scribes and Pharisees.
Now we come to a new section on calling people names. It may or may not have been connected originally to the tirade against the scribes and the Pharisees, because it is now addressed to "you," the crowds and the disciples who were the audience for these teachings. "You are not to be called rabbi ... Nor are you to be called instructors...." In addition to what you are not to be called, "Call no one your father on earth." There are reasons for each of these prohibitions. The title "rabbi" (with the meaning "Master") is forbidden because "you have one teacher, and you are all students." The Master is, of course, God, and the playing field is leveled out by indicating that all who worship the Master are of one status -- students who listen and learn. "Instructor" or "teacher" is out, too, because the Messiah is the great instructor, and so the title needs to be reserved for the one who teaches them all. As for the title "Father," since all human beings on the one hand and all the people of Israel on the other are children of God the Father, that title does not fit the children.
The point of the entire discussion about titles is that they tend to set some people over other people, and lost in the process is the distinction of humans before God who alone is the bearer of such titles. To put it another way, failure to recognize the sole proprietorship of God over the titles Master, Father, and Teacher tends to exalt some over others, and the equality of humans before God becomes blurred.
That teaching leads to the punch lines: "The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted." The words are quite like those Jesus said earlier in his discussion with Mrs. Zebedee concerning her request that her sons sit in the exalted positions in the kingdom to come (see 20:20-28). They also occur as the conclusion of Jesus' observations about choosing seats of honor at a banquet -- precisely the issue Jesus raised in our pericope about the Pharisees' seat selection (Luke 14:7-11). Not surprisingly, the words appear as the summary of the parable about the Pharisee and the publican at Luke 18:9-14, addressed "to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt."
The movie The Devil's Advocate demonstrates at the end how subtle is the sin of pride that entices us to exalt ourselves, even when we think we are being humble and standing for what is right. It is so seductive to become proud of our humility.
Jesus does not ask any more than he himself is willing to bear. The instruction to Mrs. Zebedee concludes with his own role modeling: "Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (20:28). Likewise, the pre-Pauline hymn at Philippians 2:6-11 focuses exclusively on the humiliation of Christ as the prerequisite for his exaltation.
The truly good news of this gospel is that Jesus did exactly what he taught, thereby offering himself a ransom for many. It is also good news that his role modeling can motivate the likes of a former president (Jimmy Carter) to pick up hammer and saw to work on Habitat for Humanity projects so that other people might be served.
Following Jesus' lead to humble ourselves might even make it possible for us to present to other people such an air of hospitality that they will feel free to enter into our space and there reveal their vulnerabilities so that we might become their servants. In the process we might even become humble enough to allow them to be our servants in return.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Joshua 3:7-17
Israel has been encamped at Shittim in the territory of Moab on the Eastern side of the Jordan River opposite Jericho. Now they prepare to cross over the river and to enter into the promised land, in fulfillment of God's promise to them. Moses has died and Joshua is now the leader.
The stories that we have in Joshua 3-5 somewhat parallel the accounts that we had of Moses, with the miraculous crossing of the water, the circumcision of the people, and the celebration of the passover. Joshua 5:4-7 tells why the repetition of the events is necessary. The first generation of Israelites that came out of Egypt, with the exception of Joshua and Caleb, have died in the wilderness because of their sin against the Lord. Now their children, in the second generation, must experience the mighty acts of God as the basis of their faith.
The biblical faith must be handed down from generation to generation. Earlier in the Bible, Deuteronomy emphasizes the necessity of teaching our children what God has done. In Joshua, those children, now grown, must experience God's deeds for themselves, and so it always is. We must teach our children about the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But the marvelous fact is that when we tell about Christ and worship him, the story of our Lord remains not only a past event for our offspring, but becomes present reality for them. They experience for themselves the forgiveness, the new life, and the certain hope of the resurrection given in Christ. They can therefore live not only on the basis of their parents' faith, but also on the basis of their own experience of the facts of that faith.
In our text, the ark of the covenant once again becomes important in the story. Exodus 25:10-22 detailed the construction of the ark on Mount Sinai and is the only description we have of it. It was a rectangular box about 50x30x30 inches in size, overlaid in gold. It had rings on its corners, with poles through the rings so the ark could be carried. On top was a slab of gold called the "mercy seat," and at each end of the mercy seat, facing one another, was a cherub with outspread wings. Most important, however, the ark was considered to be the base of the throne of the Lord, who was enthroned invisibly above it (1 Samuel 4:4). Therefore, where the ark was, the Lord was present, and there Moses could meet with God to receive his commandments for the people (Exodus 25:22).
When in our text Joshua commands the priests to carry the ark into the ford of the Jordan, the thought is that God is entering the water ahead of the people, and it is God who causes the waters to gather in a heap so the people may cross over on dry land, just as it was God who rolled back the waters of the Reed Sea at the time of the exodus. This is God's majestic working over the forces of nature. Indeed, God's command of the waters is the sign to the Israelites that their Lord is among them (v. 10).
Certainly throughout the scriptures, God's working in the natural world is a testimony to the power of God, as it should be a testimony also to us. The God who raised up the Rocky Mountains and who ignited the sun has unimaginable might. But we should note carefully: the God of the Bible is not in nature or identified with it. Rather, he is Lord over nature and can do with it what he will. And that serves as an assurance to the Israelites in our text that God has the power also to defeat the enemies whom they will meet in the promised land (v. 10). He is Lord not only of nature but also of nations.
If we did not have the biblical accounts of God's working in the history of Israel and supremely, in Jesus Christ, however, we would never correctly read the testimony to him in the world of nature. We would turn him into a nature god, as many have done, or believe him only a God of power. And we would never know him above all as a God of love. But pure, undefiled, merciful love he is, and so in our text, he leads his covenant people safely across the Jordan and into the land that he has promised them.
Lutheran Option -- Jeremiah 31:31-34
Our text for this Reformation Sunday in our church year is Jeremiah's famous announcement of God's promise of a new covenant with a new, reunited Israel and Judah. The time is 588 B.C. when Jeremiah delivers this promise. Jerusalem is under siege by the armies of the Babylonian Empire. Her surrounding territory has been lost, just as the ten northern tribes were much earlier lost to Assyria. The situation within the city's walls is desperate, with rationing of food and water. Shortly the walls will be breached, the temple will be destroyed, the city ravaged, and all but the poorest peasants will be carried into Babylonian exile. All will take place as God's punishment for Judah's idolatry and injustice and forgetfulness of her covenant with her Lord. In the holocaust of exile, God will deal with Israel's sin against him.
Judgment, however, is never God's last word. Into the midst of Israel's desperate situation, God injects his word by the mouth of his prophet. There will come a time, the Lord promises, when he will restore the whole of Israel and make with her a new covenant. Israel broke the Sinai covenant, despite God's tender love toward her through all her history. But God will reestablish a new relationship with his people by writing the words of a new covenant on her heart. Once again God will be Israel's God, and she will be his people (the covenant formula), willingly following his commandments and trusting him from the depths of her heart. All will know him and obey him willingly, and all their past sin will be forgiven in the joyful new relationship with their God.
As is the case throughout the Bible, new life and communion with God involves the transformation of human hearts. Our sinfulness starts within our hearts and festers there and breaks forth in corruption of the life of neighborhoods and societies and nations. To be God's faithful people, we must be made new from the inside out, so that we freely and joyfully follow God's ways and not our own. And sadly, we cannot work that transformation by ourselves. Our wills to new life are too feeble, our satisfactions with our old life too deep, our selfishness and pride too persistent to lead us to purify our thoughts and actions. Only God can re-create us and make us good. And the promise of this text is that God will do so, not only for Israel, but for all of us.
The question then is: Did God ever keep his promise? Did he in fact make a new covenant with us sinners? Did he give us the possibility of goodness and righteousness, of love and joy and peace with him and our neighbors? The answer is an unqualified "yes." When Jesus Christ reclined at table on the night he was betrayed, after he had given the bread symbolizing his death for our sins on his cross, he also took the cup, and when he had blessed it, he gave it to his disciples and said, "This is the new covenant in my blood. All of you, drink of it." And then he sealed that covenant with his cross and resurrection.
More than that, after his ascension to the right hand of the Father, Christ poured into our hearts his Spirit, and by that Spirit, writes Paul, all of us are being transformed into Christ's likeness (2 Corinthians 3:18), so that we can love as he loves, obey as he obeys, trust as he trusts, serve as he serves. "If anyone is in Christ, he (or she) is a new creation" (2 Corinthians 5:17). The new life of the new covenant is given us by our Lord, by his Spirit dwelling in us and making us new.
Yet sometimes being religious can run counter to being faithful. It happens when our own beliefs and practices become the idols we live by, when what we believe and say we believe become more important than acknowledging the God in whom we believe, indeed the God who gave us the faith to believe in him. When religion gets in the way of God-given faith, then we spend our energy demonstrating our superiority and our superior positions rather than appearing before God as beggars with nothing to offer.
Speaking against religion and religious people might not be popular. It never has been. The prophets of the Old Testament and Jesus and Paul and others in the New can attest to the problems that proclaimers of God's word can expect. Perhaps we should allow them to speak for themselves.
Micah 3:5-12
What we know of the man Micah is very little. According to the superscription of the book, Micah was a small town boy, hailing from Moresheth, a village of the Shephelah. We read also that he preached during the reigns of Jotham (742-735 B.C.), Ahaz (735-715 B.C.), and Hezekiah (715-687 B.C.). If this historical setting for Micah is correct, then he was a contemporary of Isaiah (see Isaiah 1:1). Isaiah was an urbanite -- a Jerusalemite through and through -- while Micah was a rural man.
We know more of Micah from his sermons than from any biographical data. He clearly identified with the peasant class of his society and absolutely abhorred the oppression of those people by the merchants and judges, as well as the religious leaders such as priests and professional prophets.
The condemnation of the political and religious leaders Micah pronounced without ambivalence or ambiguity. Naturally the listeners were not pleased with his message. They ordered him not to preach of such judgment, because "disgrace will not overtake us" (2:6). But preach he did, and his stern words of judgment comprise the totality of our pericope.
The first group to receive the bad news is the prophets. Micah condemns them because they lead the people astray, changing their tune on the basis of what they receive from the hands of the people (v. 5). Then comes the all-important word "therefore." When that term follows a description of the people's actions, it almost always introduces a word of judgment. That is certainly true here, for what follows is a shutting down of the dancing lights of the sky so that the prophets wallow in darkness. Besides that loss of vision, the prophets will lose the word of God, leaving them speechless, and the people will not be able to read their lips. Against their silence, Micah announces that he is filled with power, the Lord's spirit, and with justice and might. That spirit-filled power enables him to preach the judgment of God against the sin of the people.
The second section of our pericope is aimed at the rulers of the people. Verses 9-12 present the classic example of a prophetic announcement of judgment. That type of speech consists of the following parts: (1) introduction (v. 9a), (2) reason for the judgment in terms of (a) accusation (vv. 9b-10) and (b) development of the accusation (v. 11), (3) the messenger formula, "Therefore because of you," and (4) the results of divine intervention. What the formula makes clear is that the judgment will come only because of the people's sins and not because God is arbitrary or capricious or downright nasty.
Passages like these judgment speeches tend to scare us away from the text to find another. Their importance, however, is that they demonstrate the accountability of the people of God to speak the truth, seek justice, and defend the vulnerable. Failure to do so is nothing less than the failure to be the people God called to be his own in the world. The result is experiencing the presence of God in terms of judgment. As frightening as such a pericope is, where can we turn this Sunday for something calmer and sweeter?
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
In this oldest of the New Testament books, the apostle Paul continues his attempt to teach the Thessalonians more deeply about the faith to which they were committed, a faith given by God but one still searching for content. He had written of his role among them some two years earlier when he founded the congregation and when "you received the word with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit" (1:6). He now reminds them of the labor and toil he did among them "while we proclaimed the gospel of God" (v. 9).
In the previous paragraph -- last week's pericope -- Paul had written of the gentleness he and his colleagues showed "among you, like a nurse taking care of her children" (2:7). Here he writes of a different gender, even parental, role: "like a father with his children, urging and encouraging you and pleading that you lead a life worthy of God ..." (vv. 11-12).
Hearing and receiving the gospel of God is the basis, even the motive, for leading a life worthy of God. What is declared as the good news of Jesus Christ is not the result of a worthwhile life but the foundation of it. This is Paul's goal here: to clarify the content of the gospel and to illustrate its implications for living.
A worthy life is not simply the outcome desired by Paul for his converts. It is nothing less than the will of God "who calls you (better is "keeps calling you" because of the present participle) into his own kingdom and glory." For Paul, entrance into God's kingdom and glory was the goal of the Christian existence. He wrote elsewhere of dying with Christ so that we might rise with him to share his glory (Romans 6:8). He spoke repeatedly of entering the kingdom of God (or failing to enter because of various expressions of sinfulness). What jumps out at the reader here is God's active role in calling persistently the Christians into that glory and kingdom. It's as though having given his Son to die for us, God will not allow us to give up what his death accomplished for us. He keeps calling us toward that goal.
All that leads to an expression of thanks to God that the congregation -- from the time they first heard the gospel Paul preached -- recognized that its origin was from God, not from Paul. As a divine word rather than human word, the gospel has the power to accomplish its purpose among believers. Like the word which effected what it said in the preaching of salvation by Second Isaiah (Isaiah 55:10-11), the gospel "is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith" (Romans 1:16). It also has the power to work in believers to lead them to share in Christ's glory and to share with him the kingdom to come and to live in the meantime lives that are worthy of God.
Matthew 23:1-12
As in the first lesson from the preaching of Micah, the religious leaders are in deep trouble here. There they were identified as the prophets and the judges of the people; here they are the scribes and the Pharisees.
Jesus here is addressing the crowds and his disciples. He had spoken to the Pharisees in the preceding speeches and he will return to "scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites" at verse 13. But here he is talking about those religious leaders to his own followers and would-be followers. The sayings that are included here do not flow smoothly from one issue to another, and so we must at least reckon with the possibility that while some of the pieces here might be Jesus' own, others might originate with the church of the later decades and with Matthew himself.
First, Jesus demonstrates utmost respect for the office of the scribes and Pharisees because they "sit on Moses' seat" (v. 1). While the metaphor is not common in New Testament times, it seems to refer to a custom that had developed following the Babylonian Exile of the sixth century B.C. for the authoritative teaching the scribes delivered. Whether or not they could define their tradition through an unbroken chain from Moses to the first century (something like kosher apostolic succession), the scribes' responsibility was indeed to teach the law of Moses. The Pharisees who interpreted that law rigorously through followed in the same tradition and were, therefore, often coupled with the scribes in the New Testament stories.
While respecting their office and even the content of the Mosaic law with which they were entrusted, Jesus here encourages the crowd to practice and observe what they teach but to avoid copying what they do. Jesus illustrates the problem by telling that they impose great burdens on others but do not lift a finger to help. Further, in a teaching similar to his words in the Sermon on the Mount (6:1-6), Jesus points out the hypocritical (that is, acting) nature of their concern to play to the audience rather than demonstrate an internalization of the law they teach: "They do all their deeds in order to be seen by others" (v. 5).
Part of the act, Jesus explains, is their exaggeration of symbols. According to the laws in the Old Testament, Israelites were to regard the law of the Lord "as a sign on your hand and as a memorial between your eyes, that the law of the Lord may be in your mouth" (Exodus 13:9; see also Deuteronomy 6:8; 11:18). This instruction was interpreted in later times literally. A box called a phylactery containing parchment on which were written the words of Exodus 13:1-16; Deuteronomy 6:4-9; 11:13-21 was worn on the forehead (between the eyes) and on the left wrist. As for the "fringes," the law in Numbers 15:37-41 commands the people of Israel to make tassels on the corners of their garments out of blue cord "to look upon and remember all the commandments of the Lord, to do them...." Such symbols calling attention to the commandments of the Lord can only be considered good, that is, until they increase to such size that the primary function seems to be calling attention to oneself. That was Jesus' concern here: "they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long" (v. 5).
In addition, they flirt with attention by taking the places of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and they get all kinds of public respect in the marketplaces (clergy discounts perhaps?). And they loved to be called "rabbi," that is, teacher of the law. And so they were. Clearly the word "humility" was not invented to describe the scribes and Pharisees.
Now we come to a new section on calling people names. It may or may not have been connected originally to the tirade against the scribes and the Pharisees, because it is now addressed to "you," the crowds and the disciples who were the audience for these teachings. "You are not to be called rabbi ... Nor are you to be called instructors...." In addition to what you are not to be called, "Call no one your father on earth." There are reasons for each of these prohibitions. The title "rabbi" (with the meaning "Master") is forbidden because "you have one teacher, and you are all students." The Master is, of course, God, and the playing field is leveled out by indicating that all who worship the Master are of one status -- students who listen and learn. "Instructor" or "teacher" is out, too, because the Messiah is the great instructor, and so the title needs to be reserved for the one who teaches them all. As for the title "Father," since all human beings on the one hand and all the people of Israel on the other are children of God the Father, that title does not fit the children.
The point of the entire discussion about titles is that they tend to set some people over other people, and lost in the process is the distinction of humans before God who alone is the bearer of such titles. To put it another way, failure to recognize the sole proprietorship of God over the titles Master, Father, and Teacher tends to exalt some over others, and the equality of humans before God becomes blurred.
That teaching leads to the punch lines: "The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted." The words are quite like those Jesus said earlier in his discussion with Mrs. Zebedee concerning her request that her sons sit in the exalted positions in the kingdom to come (see 20:20-28). They also occur as the conclusion of Jesus' observations about choosing seats of honor at a banquet -- precisely the issue Jesus raised in our pericope about the Pharisees' seat selection (Luke 14:7-11). Not surprisingly, the words appear as the summary of the parable about the Pharisee and the publican at Luke 18:9-14, addressed "to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt."
The movie The Devil's Advocate demonstrates at the end how subtle is the sin of pride that entices us to exalt ourselves, even when we think we are being humble and standing for what is right. It is so seductive to become proud of our humility.
Jesus does not ask any more than he himself is willing to bear. The instruction to Mrs. Zebedee concludes with his own role modeling: "Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (20:28). Likewise, the pre-Pauline hymn at Philippians 2:6-11 focuses exclusively on the humiliation of Christ as the prerequisite for his exaltation.
The truly good news of this gospel is that Jesus did exactly what he taught, thereby offering himself a ransom for many. It is also good news that his role modeling can motivate the likes of a former president (Jimmy Carter) to pick up hammer and saw to work on Habitat for Humanity projects so that other people might be served.
Following Jesus' lead to humble ourselves might even make it possible for us to present to other people such an air of hospitality that they will feel free to enter into our space and there reveal their vulnerabilities so that we might become their servants. In the process we might even become humble enough to allow them to be our servants in return.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Joshua 3:7-17
Israel has been encamped at Shittim in the territory of Moab on the Eastern side of the Jordan River opposite Jericho. Now they prepare to cross over the river and to enter into the promised land, in fulfillment of God's promise to them. Moses has died and Joshua is now the leader.
The stories that we have in Joshua 3-5 somewhat parallel the accounts that we had of Moses, with the miraculous crossing of the water, the circumcision of the people, and the celebration of the passover. Joshua 5:4-7 tells why the repetition of the events is necessary. The first generation of Israelites that came out of Egypt, with the exception of Joshua and Caleb, have died in the wilderness because of their sin against the Lord. Now their children, in the second generation, must experience the mighty acts of God as the basis of their faith.
The biblical faith must be handed down from generation to generation. Earlier in the Bible, Deuteronomy emphasizes the necessity of teaching our children what God has done. In Joshua, those children, now grown, must experience God's deeds for themselves, and so it always is. We must teach our children about the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But the marvelous fact is that when we tell about Christ and worship him, the story of our Lord remains not only a past event for our offspring, but becomes present reality for them. They experience for themselves the forgiveness, the new life, and the certain hope of the resurrection given in Christ. They can therefore live not only on the basis of their parents' faith, but also on the basis of their own experience of the facts of that faith.
In our text, the ark of the covenant once again becomes important in the story. Exodus 25:10-22 detailed the construction of the ark on Mount Sinai and is the only description we have of it. It was a rectangular box about 50x30x30 inches in size, overlaid in gold. It had rings on its corners, with poles through the rings so the ark could be carried. On top was a slab of gold called the "mercy seat," and at each end of the mercy seat, facing one another, was a cherub with outspread wings. Most important, however, the ark was considered to be the base of the throne of the Lord, who was enthroned invisibly above it (1 Samuel 4:4). Therefore, where the ark was, the Lord was present, and there Moses could meet with God to receive his commandments for the people (Exodus 25:22).
When in our text Joshua commands the priests to carry the ark into the ford of the Jordan, the thought is that God is entering the water ahead of the people, and it is God who causes the waters to gather in a heap so the people may cross over on dry land, just as it was God who rolled back the waters of the Reed Sea at the time of the exodus. This is God's majestic working over the forces of nature. Indeed, God's command of the waters is the sign to the Israelites that their Lord is among them (v. 10).
Certainly throughout the scriptures, God's working in the natural world is a testimony to the power of God, as it should be a testimony also to us. The God who raised up the Rocky Mountains and who ignited the sun has unimaginable might. But we should note carefully: the God of the Bible is not in nature or identified with it. Rather, he is Lord over nature and can do with it what he will. And that serves as an assurance to the Israelites in our text that God has the power also to defeat the enemies whom they will meet in the promised land (v. 10). He is Lord not only of nature but also of nations.
If we did not have the biblical accounts of God's working in the history of Israel and supremely, in Jesus Christ, however, we would never correctly read the testimony to him in the world of nature. We would turn him into a nature god, as many have done, or believe him only a God of power. And we would never know him above all as a God of love. But pure, undefiled, merciful love he is, and so in our text, he leads his covenant people safely across the Jordan and into the land that he has promised them.
Lutheran Option -- Jeremiah 31:31-34
Our text for this Reformation Sunday in our church year is Jeremiah's famous announcement of God's promise of a new covenant with a new, reunited Israel and Judah. The time is 588 B.C. when Jeremiah delivers this promise. Jerusalem is under siege by the armies of the Babylonian Empire. Her surrounding territory has been lost, just as the ten northern tribes were much earlier lost to Assyria. The situation within the city's walls is desperate, with rationing of food and water. Shortly the walls will be breached, the temple will be destroyed, the city ravaged, and all but the poorest peasants will be carried into Babylonian exile. All will take place as God's punishment for Judah's idolatry and injustice and forgetfulness of her covenant with her Lord. In the holocaust of exile, God will deal with Israel's sin against him.
Judgment, however, is never God's last word. Into the midst of Israel's desperate situation, God injects his word by the mouth of his prophet. There will come a time, the Lord promises, when he will restore the whole of Israel and make with her a new covenant. Israel broke the Sinai covenant, despite God's tender love toward her through all her history. But God will reestablish a new relationship with his people by writing the words of a new covenant on her heart. Once again God will be Israel's God, and she will be his people (the covenant formula), willingly following his commandments and trusting him from the depths of her heart. All will know him and obey him willingly, and all their past sin will be forgiven in the joyful new relationship with their God.
As is the case throughout the Bible, new life and communion with God involves the transformation of human hearts. Our sinfulness starts within our hearts and festers there and breaks forth in corruption of the life of neighborhoods and societies and nations. To be God's faithful people, we must be made new from the inside out, so that we freely and joyfully follow God's ways and not our own. And sadly, we cannot work that transformation by ourselves. Our wills to new life are too feeble, our satisfactions with our old life too deep, our selfishness and pride too persistent to lead us to purify our thoughts and actions. Only God can re-create us and make us good. And the promise of this text is that God will do so, not only for Israel, but for all of us.
The question then is: Did God ever keep his promise? Did he in fact make a new covenant with us sinners? Did he give us the possibility of goodness and righteousness, of love and joy and peace with him and our neighbors? The answer is an unqualified "yes." When Jesus Christ reclined at table on the night he was betrayed, after he had given the bread symbolizing his death for our sins on his cross, he also took the cup, and when he had blessed it, he gave it to his disciples and said, "This is the new covenant in my blood. All of you, drink of it." And then he sealed that covenant with his cross and resurrection.
More than that, after his ascension to the right hand of the Father, Christ poured into our hearts his Spirit, and by that Spirit, writes Paul, all of us are being transformed into Christ's likeness (2 Corinthians 3:18), so that we can love as he loves, obey as he obeys, trust as he trusts, serve as he serves. "If anyone is in Christ, he (or she) is a new creation" (2 Corinthians 5:17). The new life of the new covenant is given us by our Lord, by his Spirit dwelling in us and making us new.
