We can do this

Sermon based on Matthew 10:35-45.  Preached at Germantown Mennonite Church on 10.18.15

In the last few weeks, as we’ve been reading the gospel of Mark together, we’ve heard Jesus final instructions to the disciples before they entered Jerusalem, and Jesus faced his death.  This was a time of stress and strain for Jesus–he knew what was coming, but these disciples were not prepared.  They followed Jesus to Jerusalem, but they didn’t realize what it meant.  

These instructions of Jesus in Mark 10 were the last chance he had to tell the disciples what all of this was about.  In the beginning of the chapter, Jesus instructed the disciples that we don’t cast of the young, and those who have no agency, just because it’s convenient for us.  

In the conversation with the rich man from last week’s text, Jesus told the disciples that the reign of God is about economic justice, a concept which was very difficult–for the disciples and for the rich man–to imagine would be possible in their time.

While it was difficult for the disciples to imagine this new way of living, this way of being together, they were also hung up on the glory, and the good press associated with being with FOJ–friends of Jesus.  

So, Jesus had to give this next–and final word of instruction and teaching for the disciples.  

James and John, brothers, and among the closest of Jesus disciples, pulled Jesus aside to talk to him.  They ask him if they could be at his right and left hands in glory.  

I imagine that Jesus has to be frustrated to the point of sarcastic, but he responded–can you drink this cup?  can you embrace this baptism?  

And the brothers responded–of course!

But they did know what they were agreeing to.  They still didn’t understand what was involved in following Jesus.

Jesus said–Remember not to cast out those who most need to be included, then this reign of God is about economic justice, and remembering others.  And finally, the first will be last and the last will be first.  It’s interesting that this last instructions were about who gets the recognition and glory.

The first will be last, and the last will be first.

So, just in case we get on our high horses about how much good we are doing, and how righteous we might be in our care for each other, Jesus tells us–this is not about notoriety, or fame, or glory.  The work of discipleship is about service, service that is often not noticed by “important people” and certainly not glorified.  And that service is the way of the cross.  

This final hard word from an exasperated Jesus is a good ego check for the church.  Just in case we are feeling smug for doing the right thing, for taking Jesus’ words seriously–more seriously that “that guy over there”–Jesus reminds us that this is not about our egos.  It’s not about being popular for our generosity or kindness.  This is about service to all, without ego, without a desire for fame, or getting a seat closest to Jesus in glory.  

Chapter 10 of Mark demonstrates–over and over again–that the disciples don’t get it.  But this is Mark’s intention in telling the story.  The flawed first disciples of Jesus give us plenty of room to relate to the story–because they are as flawed as we are.  

These last few weeks, as we’ve slogged through Mark 10, I’ll admit, I’ve felt a sense of hopelessness about following Jesus.  I have the advantage of knowing how the story ends–with Jesus brutal death at the hands of the empire–(the disciples didn’t really understand that at the time)so I know that Jesus is leading us to hard places, to do difficult things.  

And I’ll admit to feeling pretty reluctant about this path.  I don’t want to do the hard things.  I don’t want to give up things I’ve worked for, to lay down my own life, to serve others.  I don’t wake up every single day and think, “What new things will God ask of me today?  I can’t wait to find out?”

I want to be able to say to you that following Jesus is hard, but there are incredible rewards.  Because while it’s true, they aren’t always the rewards I”m seeking after.  

The only thing that gives me a glimmer of hope today is that the disciples were far bigger jerks than I am.  It’s probably wrong of me to compare.  And I confess to you that I am a sinner, broken and in need of God’s grace.  

But it still does give me hope.  These disciples that Jesus chose–called by name–were some of the most surly, unkind, and thoughtless guys you’d ever meet.  They never really understood what Jesus was trying to say to them.  They never fully understood the teachings of their Rabbi, Jesus, until he was gone.  And even then, they fled in fear.  

And yet, they kept following.  They got up every day, and looked to Jesus for guidance.  They didn’t always interpret his words the way Jesus would have liked, but they kept talking with Jesus, asking him questions, pondering his words.  

The final instructions of Jesus to his disciples are a hard word for us.  It  might not be what we signed up for when we were baptized.  It might be taking us to places we didn’t want to go, or calling us to go against family, upbringing, or community expectations.

But this is what we learn from Jesus death and resurrection–the path of discipleship is the path of life.  What looks like death and futility to everyone else is life.  Gathering in all people is what life looks like.  Participating in God’s economy is participating in the economy of life.  Serving others, our egos aside, it the way of life.  

So, here’s what I’m thinking:  

If those first 12 surly, unkind disciples could do this–if they could walk this difficult path of life together, and continue to engage Jesus and ask questions–even though the didn’t completely understand it–than certainly we can too.  AMEN.

#Blessed

Sermon based on Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Preached at Germantown Mennonite Church on October 4, 2015

If you are on social media, perhaps you’ve seen the hashtag–#blessed.

“I got into grad school!” #blessed

“I went on a Caribbean cruise” #blessed

“Sixty people wished me a happy birthday!” #blessed

It’s become the equivalent of a humble brag.  Folks don’t want to say how much money they have or how many friends they have, or how amazing of a school they are attending, so folks say they are #blessed.

But in this particular context #blessed is used in our culture as lucky more than anything.  They feel lucky to have gone on vacation, or gotten into school, or to be surrounded by friends.  But blessed?  I don’t think so.  Blessed is one of those biblical words that has been removed from our relationship to God, or falsely used to talk about our good fortune.  And I’d like to explore the nature of this word, in the context of the book of Job.

There’s a lot in in these verses from the book of Job that I consider to be disturbing.  Just listening to this text again today this morning gives the the shivers.  God is playing games, using Job as a pawn to prove the goodness of humanity.  

Satan, an associate of God, has the job of wandering the earth, gathering the worst of humanity.  Satan reports to God that his suspicions about the evils of humanity are true, and God reminds Satan of Job.  And God invites Satan to test Job.  

So, I have issues with humanity being used as pawns in a game between celestial buddies. I have to be reminded–when I take this story too literally and my anger towards God comes to a boil–that this is a story about humans trying to understand God.  

So, I’m not going to get into this question of humans as pawns in a game between the forces of good and evil, because it’s a distraction from the other big questions on this book.  

This book is a classic biblical theodicy–a literary device used to deal with the ongoing human struggle:  Where is God in this human mess?  

And I believe we get to the heart of the struggle in this tense conversation between Job and his wife.  Job was afflicted with painful sores all over his body.  This came after his children were killed in a tragic accident, and after he lost his fortune.  

Job and his wife and been through more than their fair share of suffering. And in her frustration, she proclaims, “Curse God and Die.”

Maybe you can relate to the sentiment.  I’ve had a few days where I have had some pretty unsavery one sided conversations with God.  I’ve cursed God plenty of times.  I’ve wished for that relationship to end.  I’ve cried out to God, “Where are you?  If you can’t fix this, what good are you?”

Job’s wife says this horrible thing–She tells Job to curse God, and give up.  

But, is that what Job’s wife is really saying?  The hebrew word for Curse here is actually a word that many of us know–Barach.

Besides this being the first name of our current president, who knows what that means?

It means “To bless.”  

So why does this phrase get translated as “curse” rather than “bless”?

This word for Bless is also a euphemism for “curse” because no one would want to say “Curse God” outloud.  That would be blasphemous.  

It would be like a family 100 years ago, saying that their daughter was “going to visit family out of town” instead of saying she went away to have a baby.  Or like saying that someone “passed away” instead of the truth that they died.  

Sometimes it’s easier to sugar coat the language we use than it is to really say what is true, and what is really on our minds..  

Job’s wife could have been blessing or cursing God.  We don’t know which it is.  But rabbinic scholars believe that this blessing and cursing is very closely linked.  Because how can we bless God when good things happen but not hold God equally responsible for the bad things.  If we are all about blessing God for the good things, are we not to bless God for the bad things?  If we are going to curse God for the bad things, should we not also curse God for the good?

We want to attribute the good things in our lives to God, but then we must also attribute the bad things to God too.  And I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel too great about the kind of God that pulls strings like that, making my life good when God feels I deserve it, or making my life bad based on God’s whim, or latest conversation with Satan.  

But for so many of us, that’s our concept of God–someone that we have to appease to keep our lives good.  If God is angry with us, than we can lose everything.  And I have trouble with that concept of God.  It’s one that doesn’t take into account the institutional sin and oppression to which we are inextricably bound.  You can be a very good person, but if you are born in a refugee camp in Syria, life if going to be tough.  You can pray every day, but if you live in poverty, your life will be challenged.  You can go to church every Sunday, read the scriptures faithfully, do all the right things, and still get diagnosed with a debilitating disease, or have fertility issues, struggle with depression, or get get hit by a drunk driver.  

Things happen.  Life happens.  Sometimes it’s all really good, and sometimes it’s challenge after difficulty after trauma.  

So if we are going to bless God for the good, we have to be ready to bless God for the bad.  This is not about being lucky, or #blessed by God.  More and more I understand this to be about God being with us–in the #blessed, and in the #worstdayever.

You will never hear me, as a pastor, say that God caused good things to happen.  I believe God’s power is far more creative than all that.  When I pray for healing, I do that convinced that healing will come, but never in the way we expect it.  When I pray for a change in life situations, I pray convinced that in whatever happens, God will walk with me.  When I pray for an end to suffering, I recognize that suffering may not end, but that God will give me strength.  

God is not a fairy godmother, available to grant our wishes.  God is not our puppet master, pulling the strings while we have no control or agency in what happens.  God is not a sadist, waiting eagerly to ruin us when we screw up.  

God is love.  

It’s as simple as that.  

God. is. love.  

And that love is the kind that walks beside us in good days and bad, in terrible life circumstances and when we’re on top of the world.

We often mistake the highs of life for God’s blessing.  We praise God for these things.  And certainly, God is worthy of all our praise.  But, can we muster that same praise for God when times are tough?  

For Job, by the time we get to the end of this book, he has put God on trial.  He has cursed God, he has asked God all the questions.  And God finally replies by saying, “What do you really know, Job?  Who do you think you are?  Were you there when I created the earth?  Do you know how my mind works?”

And Job realizes just how little he knows.  And he gives up.  Job stops asking the questions.  God has responded to him, not by giving him what he wants, but by reminding Job of his own place in the universe.  And what can Job say to that?  

So Job gives up.  Job blesses God and curses God, just as every person of faith before him did.  

We come from a long line of faithful who live in that mess–who live somewhere between blessing and cursing.  Blessings and curses aren’t mere hashtags to be strewn about on the internet.  They are serious business.  They are the heart of our faith and our questions.  Blessing and cursing God means that we are still engaged with God; that we are still wrestling with a God we don’t understand or fully know.  

And that is a good thing. AMEN.

For Such a Time as This

Sermon based on Esther 4

Preached at Germantown Mennonite Church on 9.27.15

 

The story of Esther is an entertaining one, but I’ve been questioning this week what good it is to the church.  This is a story where there are no truly good people, no heroes here. You know who you are supposed to dislike, but the people you are supposed to like are also pretty flawed and kind of awful.  

This is not a story that we hear in the church too much–not even in Sunday school.  My guess is that it’s not one that can be relayed in any uncomplicated way.  The least complicated part of the story is the part we read in worship today.  But there’s much more to it, so I’ll try to tell it efficiently.

The King threw a big party, and at it he asked his Queen, Vashti, to dance for the banquet wearing nothing but her queenly crown.  She refused, and the king banished her from the kingdom.  

The king needed another queen so he held a beauty pageant.  Esther, a Jew, won the pageant and became his new queen.  Esther kept her Jewish identity secret, on the advice of her uncle Mordecai, who was an advisor to the king.  

Meanwhile, two of the king’s advisors plotted to kill the king.  Mordecai learned of the plot, told his niece, and Esther reported it to the king.  After the king hung these traitors, he appointed Mordecai as his senior minister.  

Another advisor, Haman, demanded that everyone that served the king have complete loyalty to the king, and ordered the all to bow down to him.  Mordecai could not, because it was forbidden in his Jewish tradition. This made Haman very angry, and he sought to destroy Mordecai and all of the Jews in the kingdom.

Haman wrote a decree that all those who did not bow down to the King should be killed, and the king, not realizing the implications of this, agreed and signed the decree. Mordecai, Esther and all the Jews were distressed.  They fasted from food and water for three days.  

At the end of those three days of fasting, Queen Esther summoned all of her courage and went before the king.  Using her beauty and sexuality, Esther persuaded the king to offer her the fulfillment of any wish.  She told him about the plot against her people and asked that it be stopped.  The king granted her wish and ordered Haman to be hanged.  So, on the day intended for their destruction, the Jewish people were saved.  

Not only were the people saved, but Mordecai and Esther went after their enemies and killed every last one of them.  

This is a pretty messy story.  And, it’s the only one in scripture that doesn’t mention God in a direct way.  In this story, the good people–Esther and Mordecai–use Esther’s sexuality to get the King’s attention.  And when they win their struggle, and the lives of the Jews are saved, they go and kill their enemies.  

There’s no clear moral argument in this story for how one should act.  There’s no really good person.  There are only really flawed people trying to do the right thing with whatever’s in front of them.  Whether it be by using their sexuality, their power or position.  

I have to admit that I’ve been in the weeds with this story this week.  How does one get anything good out of this really messed up story?  What do we do with this story?

As messy as this story is, I keep coming back to the interaction between Mordecai and Esther that we read in Chapter 4.  Mordecai went to Esther and told her of Haman’s plot to kill all of the Jews.  He told her of the gravity of the situation, and said to her, “Esther, you were born to save your people.  You were put here for such a time as this.  And if you choose to stay silent, deliverance will come another way, and you and your family will die.” 

Mordecai’s laying it on pretty thick.  But he has a point.  In her unusual position of royalty, Esther has the power to do something good for her people.  

These words of Mordecai, to a young Esther, are stirring.  Mordecai is convinced that Esther has and that we have the power and agency to change things, especially when we are increasingly feeling like there’s nothing we can do to stop any of the evil happening in the world.  

It feels like we’ve hit a lot of these “for such a time as this” moments in the last several years we’ve had “for such a time as this” moments:

• Charleston, or any of the many brutal and public shootings.
• Or maybe the “for such a time as this” moment is the refugee crises
• Or maybe it’s the many climate disasters.  Everything from dying bees, to the hottest summer on record, to a water crises around the world.  

There are a lot of moments where we say to ourselves or each other, “Who’s going to fix this?  Who will make this better? Who is going to step up?”  

And according to this complicated book of Esther, some of us are born “for such a time as this”–to use what we have been given and our station in life to save each other’s lives.  We need people like Mordecai in our lives to remind us that we were born to do.  We need to be willing to lay down our lives “for such a time as this.”

But here’s my ongoing concern with Esther’s story–there’s no sign of God anywhere.  No mention of God, no inspiration of God, no conversation with God in prayer.  

There’s no sign in this book that God even exists.  

As a pastor, this bothers me.  As someone who believes in God, and in the centrality of God for our freedom from oppression, this story deeply troubles me.  This is the very thing that I worry about with people of faith: that we are concerned with “for such a time as this”, but not so concerned about where God is in all of this.

In the story of Esther, Mordecai declares that this is the right time for Esther to save the people, to rescue them from death.  But this is a very human appeal, which results in very human outcomes–that Mordecai and Esther, in their zeal to save the Jewish people, went further than just saving their people. They killed their enemies.  They didn’t just save themselves.

It’s not unlike what happens in the book of Judges where the people do what is right in their own eyes, and in an attempt to do the right thing, they end up  doing what they want.  They end up doing incredible violence.  

This story begs the question that I’ve been asking since my sabbatical–where is our faith in our social justice?  What role does it play?  Where is God in “for such a time as this?”  

My greatest fear is that in our zeal for social justice, we lose sight of God’s call, and we forget to listen for the spirit at work, we stray from the path of discipleship.  I fear that we might forget to balance our love for justice, with telling the story of Jesus and praying for wisdom to know how to act.  

So many of the stories in the Hebrew scriptures–Esther and the book of Judges included–are reminders of how much we need God.  When we do what is right in our own eyes, when we act “for such a time as this” without God’s guidance, I fear that we too might lose our way.  

The story of Esther is–today–a reminder of our need for God.  We can do much good without God, but we can also very quickly lose our way without God’s guidance and wisdom.  

We were born for such a time as this, but we still need God.  AMEN.