Jesus’ Financial Text of Terror

Based on Mark 10:17-31, and borrowed heavily from the work of Ched Myers.

In 1984, Phyllis Trible, feminist theologian and biblical scholar, wrote her groundbreaking book–Texts of Terror.  This book took a critical look at some of the worst stories in scripture in their treatment of women. It focuses on four stories in the Hebrew scripture–the story of Tamar, Hagar, The unnamed woman at Gibeah, and the daughter of Jepthath.

If you’ve never heard of these stories it’s because we don’t teach them in Sunday school.  They are rarely preached on. Scholars and preachers can’t put a positive spin on them. They are stories of assault, violence and deeply rooted oppression against women.

While these stories are difficult, they have also been empowering for women to talk about.  Because this is the struggle women continue to face today–violence, oppression, assault have not gone away.  It’s been very important for women that the church honestly and publicly address these wrongs both in scripture and in our daily living.

There are another set of stories in the gospels that are also terrifying, though not in the overtly violent way that Trible’s book described in these stories about women.  There are texts of terror from the mouth of Jesus–and they are terrifying because they have to do with money. Our money.

In the 39 parables in the gospels stories, Jesus talked about money in at least 11 of them.  One in every seven verses in the Gospel of Luke refers to money. But how often do we talk about money in church?  We talk about salvation, justice, discipleship, service, and a whole host of other things, but not often do we talk about money.  Not often do I preach about money.

Talking about money (in church and culture) is taboo.  We don’t want to get into it because it gets close to things that feel pretty private, pretty touchy, pretty personal.  The best we do is to talk about why we should give money to the church–that sermon happens about the time when we are preparing our church budget for the next year.  It’s not a condemnation, by the way, just the reality of how churches work.

But Jesus doesn’t seem to have any issue talking about money.  So perhaps we should also be willing to dive in and talk about this taboo subject–this financial text of terror.  

This text came at a crossroads for Jesus.  This was the last story we heard from Jesus in the gospel of Mark before he turned towards Jerusalem, and towards his inevitable death.  This is a theological crossroads as well, because while this rich man–and probably many others–were concerned about eternal life, what Jesus was talking about was the kingdom of God.  The man was concerned about what happened to him when he died, and Jesus was concerned about how people were living here and now, and how this man’s wealth was making life for others around him more difficult.  

I am convinced that this text is speaking directly to us at this crossroads.  To Frazer Mennonite Church. To the Mennonite Church in North America. To Western Christianity.  Because we represent the rich man.

Certainly this text can’t be about us though, right?  We’re not rich. I know I don’t feel rich. I struggle some months to pay the bills.  I can’t send my kids to a private school, I have debts to pay and I have to keep the lights on, food on the table, and clothes on my growing children.  I’m certainly not rich.

But panning back from our own bank accounts, we middle class North Americans are among the richest 1% of the world.  We are wealthy. We have resources, or connections to resources. Many of us own property. We are the rich man.

So, what is Jesus trying to say to us?

This rich man came to Jesus ready to do anything so that he could to inherit eternal life.  He promised Jesus that he kept all the commandments

But–and this is something I’ve missed every time I’ve read it–no one can inherit eternal life.  This statement from the rich man reeks of entitlement–eternal life, like property was something for him to inherit.

This is what we know about the rich man–he “possessed” many properties.  In first century Palestine, land was the basis of wealth, and the wealthy took great care to protect their entitlement to it from generation to generation.  Wealth grew for the rich in a few different ways–assets could be consolidated through marriage or political alliances. But the most common way that land could be gained by the wealthy was through debt default of the poor.  When the burdens of rent, taxes and operations were too much, a poor farmer would take out a small business loan from a wealthy person. If they fell behind on those payments, they lost their land to the lender, to the rich man.

It was for this reason that there was so much inequality in the time of Jesus.  And it is almost certainly how this man that came to Jesus ended up with so many properties.

Here’s the other often overlooked part of this story–when Jesus recited the commandments, and our eyes start to glaze over because we know them so well, Jesus slipped in something that’s not a commandment.  He snuck in a word from Leviticus. “You shall not defraud.” In the greek, this word, translated as “defraud”, can also mean “deprive.” Jesus snuck a bit of midrash, a bit of interpretation into this recitation of the commandments.  He snapped into focus the problem with the rich man’s question when he mentioned fraud–that this is how this man had become more and more wealthy. He had been defrauding the poor.

And Jesus looked at this rich man, and he loved him and said, “You lack one thing.  (or, more accurately said, you do not possess this one thing) Get up (which by the way is a phrase Jesus often used when he healed someone), sell what you have, and give to the poor.”  In other words, according to theologian Ched Myers, the rich man “must deconstruct the fraudulent system from which he derives his privilege, and restore to the dispossessed what has been taken from them.”

Jesus was not telling this man to change his attitude about wealth, to treat his servants better, or to change anything about his personal life.  Jesus was saying here that the precondition for discipleship is economic justice. Economic justice must happen in order for the kingdom of God to be seen and known. Jesus did not seem to care about eternal life.  Jesus cared about the kingdom of God, right here and now for all people.

The rich man, stung by the story, slipped away into the darkness–and was the only person in Mark’s gospel to refuse the call of discipleship from Jesus.

But the story didn’t end here.  Jesus turned to the disciples and overturns, in a few short sentences, their assumptions of wealth and power coming from human merit or #blessing.  And by now the disciples were confused and outraged, so they ask, “Who can possibly be saved, Jesus?  The bar is too high, Jesus”  The disciples felt hopeless about seeing a change to the system of oppression that was so deeply entrenched in their culture.  And Jesus assured the disciples–and us–in his words, “It seems impossible to you, but to God all things are possible.”

Here’s what is so problematic about this whole story, and probably why this text is not taken more seriously in Christian circles–In capitalism, redistributive justice is heresy. The justice that cares that all are fed, that all have what they need to live goes against the over-simplistic “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” philosophy of capitalism.  But for Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, redestributive justice is the kingdom of God. So those of us who are rich have reason to be concerned by this text. If we take it seriously it has an important challenge for us.

But, if we look at it from a kingdom of God perspective, to practice redistributive justice, to return that which has been taken from the poor, means that we are participating in God’s joyful economy, an economy of grace.

The rich man in this story was willing to do anything in exchange for an inheritance of eternal life.  Anything except change his economic practices. Anything but share his wealth and resources.

Maybe this is why church folks doesn’t talk about money that much, except to talk about our congregational budgets. Maybe this is why this text feels terrifying.   Because Jesus is asking us to turn our economic systems upside down. Jesus is asking us to move from a reliance on capitalism to a reliance on the economy of grace, a reliance on the upside down kingdom of God. Jesus is asking the church to look differently than the economic systems that exist outside these walls.

You will hear me talk a lot about God’s love.  And rightly so, because Jesus said these difficult words with deep love for the rich man.  But church is also about mutual accountability and discipleship. So, if we are going to truly live as members of the reign of God, Jesus’ words are clear–wealth amassed on the backs of poor people must be redistributed.  Discipleship is about following in the way of Jesus, a way that demands economic justice.

Are you feeling terrified by these words from Jesus?  Are you feeling prickly? Are you considering this whole Jesus-following thing?  Jesus’ words here are biting and personal.

It’s ok.  It’s ok if these words from Jesus are terrifying.  It is ok if they feel like too much work, to much to ask.  Too much to give up. Because we are not alone in feeling this challenge.  We rich North American folks can take this challenge and face it together.

Having these hard conversations about money brings to light all the practices we employ without knowing their impact on our neighbors around the world. And just as it has been essential to women around the world that we talk about the violence against women found in our scriptures and in our daily lives, we too must wrestle with these terrifying stories from Jesus about money and its violent impact on poor people around the world.

Because changing how we use and amass our wealth and possessions doesn’t just save us rich people.  It saves everyone. AMEN.

#Blessed

I revamped this “oldie but goodie” sermon and preached it at Frazer Mennonite Church and Church of St. Martins-in-the-Field.

October 7, 2018

Based on Job 1:1; 2:1-10

 

If you are on social media, like instagram, twitter, or facebook, you may be familiar with hashtags.  You put the hashtag in front of a word or phrase you can search for the phrase and find out what people are saying.  

The one I see a lot is #blessed.  

“I got into graduate school”  #blessed

“I went on the vacation of my dreams.” #blessed.

“What a great day with my best friends.” #blessed

It’s become the equivalent of a humble brag.  Folks don’t like to say how much money they have or how many good friends they have, or what an amazing school they are attending, so they 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, gotten into school or have so many friends. But blessed? I don’t know.  Blessed is one of those biblical words that has been removed from our relationship with God, or falsely used to talk about our good fortune.  And I would like to explore the nature of this word, in the context of the book of Job.

There’s a lot in these verses from the book of Job that are disturbing.  Just listening to this text again gives me the shivers. God was playing games, using Job as a pawn to prove the goodness of Job.  

So, here’s a little backstory on this book.  Satan–better translated as–the accuser or the adversary–is an associate of God’s.  It’s Satan’s job to wander the earth, and gather the worst of humanity. So Satan reported to God that after journeying the whole earth, he decided humanity was made up of bad people.  And God, unconvinced, reminded Satan of Job.

Now already in the first chapter of Job, Job’s children were killed in a freak accident, his oxen and camel were stolen, and his servants were murdered.  And after Job heard this news, he tore his robe, shaved his head, sat naked in a pile of ashes, and worshipped God. He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

And now, in chapter 2, the part of the book that we just read, God invited Satan to test Job once again.  And God gave Job over to Satan, and Satan inflicted sores all over his body, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.  

I take issue with humanity being used as pawns in a game between God and the Adversary.  I have to be reminded–when my blood begins to boil and I begin to take this story literally–that this is a story written by humans about humans trying to understand the place of God in the suffering of this world.  

So, in this sermon, I’m not going to get into the issue of humans in this chess game between God and Satan, because this story is a literary device.  This book is a classic theodicy–a kind of story used to interrogate the ongoing human struggle and ask the question: Where is God in this human mess of suffering and evil?

You may have read other books outside the bible that try to address this question too:  CS Lewis has written a few of them, like The Problem of Pain and A Grief Observed; Night by Ellie Wiesel, and the contemporary work The Shack.

Job and his wife had been through more than their fair share of suffering in a very short amount of time.  And in her grief and frustration, Job’s wife says to Job, “You should Curse God and Die.”

Maybe you can relate to Job’s wife’s anger here. I’ve had more than a few days where I’ve had some very unsavory one-sided conversations with God.  I’ve cursed God. I’ve cried out to God, “Where are you? Why aren’t you fixing this? What good are you?”

Maybe this is not something you want to hear your pastor say, but I have to be honest about this.  This relationship with the divine is not often an easy one.

Curse God and Die–That’s what Job’s wife suggested he say to God.  In taking a look at the Hebrew word for curse here, you’ll find something very curious.  The Hebrew word for curse is actually “Barach”.

Besides this being the first name of our last president, who knows what Barach means?

It means to bless.

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

According to Biblical Scholars, this word for bless, barach, is also a euphemism for “curse” because no one would want to actually say “curse God” out loud.  That would be blasphemous. So instead, Job’s wife says, “Bless God”, but we all know what that really means.

It is like families 100 years ago saying that their daughter was “going to visit family out of town” instead of saying she want to have a baby.  Or like saying that someone “passed away” instead of saying that they died. Sometimes it’s easier to sugar coat the language we use than it is to say what we mean, and what is really on our hearts. So “Bless God” is just a nicer ways to say “Curse God”

Job’s wife could have been blessing or cursing God.  We don’t know which it is. Maybe it was both. Rabbinic scholars believe that blessing and cursing is very closely linked.  Because how can we bless God when good things happen but not hold God equally responsible for bad things. If we are all about blessing God for the good things, should we not also 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 perhaps we must also attribute the bad things to God.  And this is where I start to get a little nervous. Does this mean that when bad things happen, they are God’s doing? Because it starts to feel like we are living in a Biblical theodicy, that perhaps God is pulling strings from heaven, deciding when good things and bad things happen.  It starts to feel like maybe we need to tiptoe around God and not raise the ire of God.

But for many of us, we operate with a view of God that is like this–God is someone we have to appease to make our lives good.  If God is angry with us, then 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 good person,but if you are born in a refugee camp in Syria, life is just going to be tough. You can pray every day, but if you are born into poverty, you will have extra challenges in your life. 

You can go to church every single Sunday, read the scriptures faithfully, do all the right things and still get diagnosed with a debilitating disease, or have fertility issues, or struggle with depression or addiction.

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

So if we are going to bless God for the good, perhaps we also need to ready to bless God for the bad.  Because good things are not about being lucky or #blessed by God. More and more I understand this life to be about God walking with us, in the #blessed and in the #worst day ever.

You will never hear me say as a pastor, that God made a good or bad thing happen just for you.  I believe God’s power is far more creative than that. When I pray for healing, I do that sure that healing will come, but not always in the way we expect it and not always with immediate effect.  When I pray for a change in a situation in my life, I pray convinced that in whatever happens, God will walk with me. When I pray for an end to suffering, I recognize that while the suffering may not end, God will give me strength.

God is not our fairy godmother, available to grant our wishes.  God is not our puppet-master, pulling the strings while we have no control or agency in our lives.  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 feel 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? Because in all of these times–the good and the bad–God is with us.

For Job, by the time we get to the end of this book, he had put God on trial.  He cursed God, he blessed God, examined and cross examined God. And God finally replied by saying in chapter 40, “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 realized just how little he knew.  And he gave up. Job stopped interrogating God.  God responded to Job’s demands, not by giving Job what he wanted but by reminding Job of his place in the universe.  And what could Job say to that?

So Job relented.  Job blessed God, and cursed God just as every person of faith had done before him.  

We come from a long line of faithful followers of God who live in that mess–who live somewhere between the blessing and the cursing.  Blessings and curses aren’t mere hashtags to be strewn about on social media. 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 fully know or understand. And that is a good thing.  

Let us Bless the Lord.  Thanks be to God.