"Go on your way..."

The Revised common Lectionary’s suggested gospel reading for this week is Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.  It is Luke’s version of the Commissioning of the Seventy.  A portion of the reading reads:

Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, “Peace to this house!” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the labourer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, “Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.” -- Luke 10:3-11

This is certainly an example of the austerity that Jesus asked of his disciples (and we remind ourselves that this is not just an undertaking by The Twelve, but a much larger endeavor by seventy disciples).  It also speaks of the faith that Jesus asks of his emissaries that God will provide for their needs.  These are good words.

There is, however, another possible way of looking at the passage.  We remember that, while Jesus died around 35 CE, the gospel of Luke was not put to paper until around 75 CE, a bit after the fall of Jerusalem in 72 CE.  In the forty years between Jesus’ ministry and the composition of the Third Gospel the church dealt with a number of difficulties within its membership.  One of those was the abuse of hospitality or generosity by would-be evangelists.  Luke 10 has the ring of a document that has gathered some material in order to address a more recent situation.  That is to say that it is possible that Jesus gave a piece of instruction here and another there which Luke has gathered into one place for emphasis and instruction.

We notice that there is a marked similarity between this teaching and the first-century document that didn’t make the final cut for inclusion in the Bible: The Dicache (“The Teaching of The Twelve”).   There is a section of that work that reads:

Chapter 11. Concerning Teachers, Apostles, and Prophets

Whosoever, therefore, comes and teaches you all these things that have been said before, receive him. But if the teacher himself turn and teach another doctrine to the destruction of this, hear him not; but if he teach so as to increase righteousness and the knowledge of the Lord, receive him as the Lord. But concerning the apostles and prophets, according to the decree of the Gospel, thus do. Let every apostle that comes to you be received as the Lord. But he shall not remain except one day; but if there be need, also the next; but if he remain three days, he is a false prophet. And when the apostle goes away, let him take nothing but bread until he lodges; but if he ask money, he is a false prophet. And every prophet that speaks in the Spirit you shall neither try nor judge; for every sin shall be forgiven, but this sin shall not be forgiven. But not every one that speaks in the Spirit is a prophet; but only if he hold the ways of the Lord. Therefore from their ways shall the false prophet and the prophet be known. And every prophet who orders a meal in the Spirit eats not from it, except indeed he be a false prophet; and every prophet who teaches the truth, if he do not what he teaches, is a false prophet. And every prophet, proved true, working unto the mystery of the Church in the world, yet not teaching others to do what he himself does, shall not be judged among you, for with God he has his judgment; for so did also the ancient prophets. But whoever says in the Spirit, Give me money, or something else, you shall not listen to him; but if he says to you to give for others' sake who are in need, let no one judge him.

False prophets and money-grubbing wolves in sheep’s clothing did not cease appearing with the closing of the New Testament.  Anyone with a television who turns the set on during weekend evenings can see these a-plenty.  You’d think we would have caught up with them by now.

Further thoughts on Naaman the Syrian

I have been thinking a little more about this week’s Old Testament reading from the Revised Common Lectionary.  The lection is 2 Kings 5:1-14, which is the story of the healing of Naaman the Syrian.  There are some important characters in this tale about whom we know very little, not even their names.  But without them we have no story. 

We encounter the first in verses 2-3.  That section reads:

Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, ‘If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.’

The story doesn’t spend time on details that we might find upsetting.  The narrative unfolds in the telling of the capture and enslavement of a young Israelite girl by some of the bad guys.  I kind of want there to be fire from heaven or for the oppressors to drop dead.  But that is not the way the story goes. This girl’s capture and enslavement is the vehicle by which Naaman, the Syrian general, comes to be aware of the authority of the prophet Elisha.

When Naaman arrives at the home of Elisha, he makes his healing request.  Then, verse 10 reports:

Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, ‘Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.’

Elisha sends a go-between with his reply.  If we examine these verses, we see that the general and the prophet never do meet face-to-face.  It is a servant who brings the words of power.

Farther along in the tale, Naaman reflects on the directions given by Elisha.  The prophet’s instructions are that the supplicant should go to the Jordan river and wash himself seven times.  Naaman is angry and complains both that the prophet did not engage him personally and that Elisha directs the general to wash in the local waters rather than in what Naaman considers to be the superior waters of his own country.  The narrative picks up in verses 12b-13:

He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, ‘Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, “Wash, and be clean”?’

Naaman washes in the Jordan and his leprosy leaves him. 

If we ask, “Who are the significant characters in this story?” the quick answer is, “Elijah and Naaman.”  But truth be known, it is these unnamed servants that make the story go.  Without the slave girl, Naaman may never become aware of the power of Elisha.  Without the messenger with the healing words, there is no contrast between the fantastic and the simple.  If the servants of Naaman don’t question him in his rage, perhaps the general goes back to his own land unhealed.  He may, as a slaveholder, take his anger out on the Israelite slave.  He may, as a general, wage war on Israel.  He may, as a leper, die a horrible death.

Naaman has all of these anonymous servants/slaves to thank in part for his healing.  And I am grateful to them for giving us a marvelous story.

The simple story of Naaman the Syrian

The Revised common Lectionary suggests this Sunday’s Old Testament reading to be 2 Kings 5:1-14.  It is the story of Naaman the Syrian.  It is a story that I greatly enjoy for a number of reasons.  In a nutshell, Naaman suffered from leprosy.  He goes to Elisha and sends the prophet word that he has come seeking healing of his malady.  Elisha sends the general instructions to go to the Jordan River and wash himself seven times.  Naaman gets angry, first that the prophet did not come and speak to the general himself; and secondly that Elisha’s instructions are so mundane as to go and take a bath.  He complains that the rivers of his home country should be at least as efficacious as these foreign waters.  He is about to leave “in a rage,” when his servants put it to him that if the prophet had demanded a mighty deed that Naaman would have done it in a heartbeat.  Why not, then, do this thing that Elisha directs?  The general capitulates, and his leprosy disappears.

I could go on and on about this story – trust me, you don’t want that.  One appealing aspect, though, is the initial refusal of the pilgrim general to carry out his healing prescription.  It is not complicated enough or difficult enough or miracle enough for him initially.  When cooler heads prevail, he undertakes the simple act and he receives that for which he asked.

I know a man who “just wasn’t feeling like himself,” and so he went to his doctor.  After a thorough examination, the physician took out a prescription pad, scribbled something on it, ripped the page out of his book and gave it to the patient.  When the seeker looked at the note, it said “Walk.”  The man objected a bit.  He said, “But, aren’t you going to give me any pills or tonic?  For the kind of money you charge, I at least want some Latin!”

While we sometimes try to make things more complicated than circumstances warrant, the simple – not simplistic – approach is frequently the most effective.

A New Testament echo of an Old Testament story

In the Season of Ordinary Time, the Revised Common Lectionary frequently offers two options for the day’s first reading.  This week the primary lesson is 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14, which is the narrative of the departure of Elijah.  The alternate reading is 1 Kings 19:19-21, which includes:

So he set out from there, and found Elisha son of Shaphat, who was ploughing. There were twelve yoke of oxen ahead of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and threw his mantle over him. He left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, ‘Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.’ Then Elijah said to him, ‘Go back again; for what have I done to you?’ He returned from following him, took the yoke of oxen, and slaughtered them; using the equipment from the oxen, he boiled their flesh, and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out and followed Elijah, and became his servant.

Now, admittedly there is not a lot of sizzle and pop here.  But what I find notable is that this reading finds a reflection in the Gospel verses for the day.  These include, in part, Luke 9:61-62, which reads:

Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.’ Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’

Now, there is a LOT going on here, and I don’t pretend to plumb the depths of it all in this one post.  But I find it intriguing that we have two very similar call stories, with two similar responses from those called, and yet the “main characters” – Elijah and Jesus – respond in very different ways.  Elijah feigns disinterest.  Jesus puts the whole event in terms of worthiness for the Kingdom of God.

One observation is that in the new way of doing things that Jesus ushers in, there is no room for indifference.  Jesus indicates that evaluation may be harsher in this new way of doing things.  As Jesus takes Old Testament verses and intensifies them in the Sermon on the Mount (You have heard it said by men of old… but I say to you…), so he does here with a person’s call to discipleship.

It is worth noting that, in Jesus’ eyes, Old Testament-based behavior is no longer enough.  Jesus does not refer here to laws or rules or regulations.  He speaks of behavior.  He speaks of behavior, and his Kingdom expectations of those who would follow him.

This is the word of the Lord

The late Hoyt Hickman, one of the Deans of modern United Methodist liturgical thought, wrote a book titled Worshiping with United Methodists.¹ In it, he sought to answer the question, “What is Christian worship?” He listed five principles that characterize Christian worship.  The first is “God’s word is primary.”  Hickman maintains that it is through the essential element of encountering the word of God that the worshipers discern who God is.

Throughout authentic worship the faith community reads the word.  It proclaims the word through (though not exclusively by) preaching.  Then the church engages in one or more responses to the hearing of the word.  He makes the further point that scripture is not only for the preaching moment but for other elements as well.  In gathering words, prayers, offertories, benedictions and other locations throughout the worship event Bible-based language increases the gravity of worship.

If it is true that encountering the word of God is a vital part of our worship (and I believe it is), then it might be that the community of faith should heighten its efforts to do a better job of handling the word.  This is not a blanket criticism of preaching.  I believe that most pastors take the task of proclamation seriously most of the time.  We have varying gifts, and the judgment is not on “how well a preacher does,” but on the faithfulness of “how conscientious that preacher has been in a given instance.” 

All preachers can testify that there are weeks when weddings and funerals and hospitals and administration and all the rest have crowded study time.  It happens.  It is also the case that our perspective can be skewed by how much effort we believe we have expended.  There is not a preaching minister in the world who hasn’t stepped down from the pulpit on a particular Sunday and thought, “Well, they can’t all be gems,” only to have congregants respond as if the preacher had delivered the Sermon on the Mount.  It is also true that we come out of the worship experience occasionally with the reflection of, “Well, that was a good one.  That’s about the best I can do.”  Then, as we greet people at the door, there is a uniformity in their response which goes something like, “Good morning, pastor.”  As I say, it happens.

I once heard Fred Craddock remark on William Sloane Coffin when Westminster John Knox Press published Coffin’s collected sermons.  Craddock said, “When Bill was prepared, he was the best preacher in the English-speaking world.  Of course, Bill wasn’t always prepared.”

The caution I would offer is not on preaching itself.  It is on the way that leaders handle other elements – particularly scripture-related elements.  I have heard preachers read their text as if they couldn’t wait to get through with it so that they could get to the business of preaching.  I have also heard leaders, lay and clergy alike, stumble through lessons as if it were written in a foreign language.  Sure, if you read Acts 2 or Romans 16 (which are both extensive lists of complicated proper names) that takes a little extra work.  But it is no surprise that these readings are part of the day’s liturgy.  I heard David H. C. Read say in a gathering of preachers, “I experience two categories of preachers when they read scripture in worship.  There are those who act as if they have never seen it before.  Then there are those who act as if they wrote it themselves.”

All I am saying is that, if the treatment of God’s word is of primary importance in worship, let’s take the time to do it right.  Read it (beforehand) aloud.  Get a since of the syntax.  Pause in the appropriate places.  Emphasize the meaningful words.  Handle it so that when we say, “This is the word of the Lord,” people can believe it.

¹Nashville: Abingdon, c. 1996.

Revelations about The Revelation

The epistle reading for this week according to the Revised Common Lectionary is Revelation 5:11-14.  It reads:

 Then I looked, and I heard the voice of many angels surrounding the throne and the living creatures and the elders; they numbered myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, singing with full voice,

‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered

to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honour and glory and blessing!’

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing,

‘To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honour and glory and might for ever and ever!’

And the four living creatures said, ‘Amen!’ And the elders fell down and worshipped.

Angels, living creatures, elders, Lamb – there are a lot of strange images here.  I don’t tend to preach from The Revelation of Jesus Christ to St. John for a number of reasons.  Imagery such as this is just the tip of the iceberg.  The historical context, the place of the church – and churches – in this historical moment, the numerology, the representations and other puzzles are all too much to unpack in a single sermon.  And, since the preacher can never count on addressing the exact same group two Sundays in a row, a pastor can either go back over previously-plowed ground, or just leave this week’s newcomers behind in a morass of confused jargon.  I have said throughout all my ministry that “there are 66 books in holy scripture, and I will be glad to lead a study of any of the first 65.”

The other element is that, in order to be able to interpret The Revelation responsibly, a person (teacher/preacher or congregant/student) needs to be Old Testament-literate.  There are over 500 Old Testament allusions in The Revelation.  If we don’t get that, we can never make since of the 66^th book.

There is some kind of infatuation with The Revelation in part, I think because so many people (especially non-prime time TV preachers) represent the book as being some kind of code regarding the end of time, and that if one could just uncover the key, vast knowledge would come to the reader.

No serious scholar takes this position.  No genuine student does, either.  The casual reader recognizes references to 666 or the seven-headed beast, but pursuit of the key to the end of the world is energy mis-spent.

And yet, that perception persists.  It is a hill I choose not to die upon.  There are too many aspects of the faith that are so much more vital than what some late-night, spooky doom-sayer says while trying to sell a set of DVDs.

Is it Scripture? Sure.  Is it inspired of God?  Without a doubt.  Is it the most important thing we will ever read in the Bible?

Not so much.

The Name Game

I have been thinking about John 21:1-19, which is the gospel reading for the week according to the Revised Common Lectionary.  As I have noted, this reading is chock-full of significant items both great and small.  There are the teachings that are grand in scope.  But there are also little nuggets that are worth our consideration as well.

One such piece of material is in the exchange between Jesus and Simon Peter in verses 15-17.  Three times Jesus asks this disciple, “Do you love me?”  And three times this disciple responds in the affirmative.  After each of the disciple’s responses Jesus gives a piece of direction: ‘Feed my lambs.’ ‘Tend my sheep.’ ‘Feed my sheep.'

Obviously, there is a lot in play here.  Historically the church has interpreted Jesus' three-fold questioning as being a response to Simon Peter’s three denials of Jesus during the time of Jesus’ arrest.  The church has also looked to this passage – and others – to find out about Simon Peter’s role in the organization of the early church. 

But there is a little something else there, and I emphasize “little.”  But I don’t mistake little for insignificant.

In each instance, Jesus' inquiry is, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”  Part of what interests me here is not the inquiry, but the address.  The narrator tells us, When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter…  Throughout the narrative the storyteller refers to this disciple as “Simon Peter.”  Yet Jesus himself begins each question, “Simon, son of John.”  I don’t think that is an accident.  Nor do I refer to it as being without meaning.

In chapter 1 verse 42, when Jesus and Simon first meet, Jesus says, ‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas’ (which is translated Peter).  Yet here Jesus refers to Peter by his former name.  Everyone knows Simon, John’s son.  Jesus gives him a new name.  Such a thing always reflects a major transition in scripture.  Abram become Abraham.  Sarai becomes Sarah.  Jacob became Israel.  Later, Saul of Tarsus will become the apostle Paul.  The change of name mirrors a transition in role or significance.

And Simon came to be known as Peter.  The writer of the Fourth Gospel refers to the apostle usually, but not exclusively, as Simon Peter, although he occasionally just uses Peter as the name.  "Simon” is not a reference that this writer uses.  But here, here Jesus asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”  I think that the address is as much a challenge as the question.  It is as if Jesus is saying, “Simon, when I met you, I gave you a new name.  It bespoke of your place as my disciple, my apostle, my witness in the world and as one who would speak with my authority once I departed.  So, Simon, are you worthy of that new name.  Will you be Peter?  Will you be the rock upon which I establish my church?”  The thrice-asked question and a triad of addresses are really saying the same thing: “Simon, do you love me so that you can be my rock?  Will you take up again the mantle of Peter that you have cast aside?  Will you leave behind the fish and truly fish for people?”

When Simon says, “Yes,” he is really affirming both.  He is saying, “I will feed, tend, feed."  

"And I will be Peter.”

The net will hold

The gospel reading for this past Sunday that the Revised common Lectionary suggests is John 21:1-19.  It is the last chapter of John’s gospel.  Some consider it an “epilogue” that someone added to the work after its original completion.  But there is only one dubious ancient manuscript that exists without the inclusion of chapter 21.  So, the argument that it does not belong, while interesting, is suspect.

This is the account of the appearance of the Resurrected Christ to some of his disciples by the shores of the Sea of Galilee and the subsequent great catch of fish.  There is a wealth of material here, and I intend to address some of it in the coming days.  But there is one nugget that captures my attention in this moment.  When Jesus shows the disciples that their overnight labor has been fruitless, and he instructs them to cast their net over the other side of the boat, the catch is enormous.  At this point the gospel writer is quick to point out that, according to verse 11, (they) hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn.  It should not be lost on us that this is a tremendous load of “large” fish (what fisher is going to tell his audience about the puny fish that s/he caught?).  We can infer that these professional fishers had never had such a haul in a single cast of the net in their lives.  It is important on the reporting for the author to tell us that in spite of the size of the catch, the net itself endured.

In other gospel accounts (not in John, interestingly enough) Jesus summons some of these disciples by charging them that they will some day catch folks instead of fish.  It is the call both to discipleship and to evangelism.

“Evangelism” is a word that desperately needs rehabilitating in our world.  For a lot of people, it carries with it images of tent revivals, or of fanatics shoving tracts under folks’ noses on street corners.  We use other terms, of course.  “Making disciples” is the current hot label.  “Faith-sharing” as a description had its day.  “Witnessing,” though a sound biblical principal, carries with it a sense of the aggressive.  People undertake certain (ineffective) practices like scattering tracts in the post office.  Putting a fish on the bumper of cars is a favorite, although I have never – not once – heard a story of someone coming to faith because they saw a fish on an automobile.  In point of fact, that symbol may have the opposite effect from what the driver intends, if that driver operates their vehicle in a discourteous manner.

So, there is a lot wrong with “evangelism.”  But, as I said, the solution is rehabilitation, not abandonment.  There is no more direct charge from Jesus than “Go, make disciples of all nations…”  What I am here to say is that, for the determined fisher, the net always holds.  It is sufficient for the task.  “It is a poor craftsman who blames his tools.”  There is nothing wrong with the net.  It is the fisher who needs examination.

An account of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus

The First Lesson suggested by the Revised Common Lectionary for the Third Sunday of Easter is Acts 9:1-20.  It is the first account in Acts (there are three altogether) of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus.  Paul’s story is an intriguing one.  Set aside his writings for a moment (he composed more New Testament material than any writer except Luke), and we still find a man who led an interesting life.  (The church’s Feast Day commemorating this event occurs on January 25.  This reading observes a portion of the church’s liturgical cycle rather than the Common of the Saints.)

Paul was born a Roman citizen.  He was well-educated in the tradition of Pharisaic Judaism.  He apparently had some standing in the Judaic hierarchy as the priests granted his petition to be credentialed to apprehend and bind any practicing Christians he found in the synagogues of Damascus.  While on that journey, the events of this scripture lesson occurred.  Paul went on to be the major figure in Gentile Christianity through the formative years of the church.  His missionary journeys and literary career spread the gospel message from Ephesus to Rome and in many points in between.  Tradition holds that he was under arrest in Rome when the government sentenced him to death by beheading around 64 C.E.

The observation I would make here is that Paul did not undergo his conversion one day and leap to the forefront of Christian mission the next.  The scriptural accounts (Acts 9, 10 and Galatians 1 in particular) record Paul as taking some time for reflection and formulating his own understanding about faith before he entered the public arena with any gusto.  Three years after his conversion – a time that includes a desert sojourn in “Arabia,” perhaps visiting Mt. Sinai itself – Paul visits some of the apostles in Jerusalem.  He then goes about his missionary work and does not return to Jerusalem for fourteen years. 

What I mean to say is that Paul (a.) understood the need for preparation and clarity before he began his work; and (b.) he was wholly reliant on instruction by the Spirit of God in achieving this clarity.  There were _no_ New Testament scriptural texts available to him.  He wrote all of the earliest himself.  There were other voices to instruct him, but they were involved with the Jewish-Christian movement of Jerusalem and Judea.  It took a lot of work on Paul’s part to establish a beachhead in the Gentile mission field.  Peter’s vision of the unclean animals eventually led to some credibility of Gentile acceptance, but he was never involved in Gentile evangelistic work to the extent we find in the work of Paul.

Paul more than once found himself in tough situations.  The abuses – physical and spiritual – that he endured would have turned back many a strong person.  I think that it was his foundation, his deepening of faith between the time of his conversion and his active ministry, that enabled him to persevere.

In the modern church, we are quick to give new converts or new church members responsibility for which they are not prepared.  When they encounter obstacles – and they will – they are ill-equipped for their ordeal.  So, they get discouraged, they fall away from church endeavors, and sometimes they are lost to the faith altogether.

In the twenty-first century I am careful about recommending Paul as a personal example in some areas.  But, his model of preparation for gospel work is as valid today as it was for Paul almost twenty-one hundred years ago.

Some thoughts on an early Christian witness

During The Great Fifty Days of Easter, it has been the custom of the church to repolace the Old Testament Reading in its various lectionaries with a reading from The Acts of the Apostles.  The Revised Common Lectionary's reading for the Second Sunday of Easter comes from chapter 5, verses 27-32.  That passage reads:

When they had brought them, they had them stand before the council. The high priest questioned them, saying, ‘We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and you are determined to bring this man’s blood on us.’ But Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than any human authority. The God of our ancestors raised up Jesus, whom you had killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Saviour, so that he might give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.’  (NRSV)

This is a rich mine from which we can extract a multitude of truths and lessons.  But one thing that caught my attention for the living of these days is Peter’s response to the high priest.  He (and “the apostles”) replies, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.”  That is easy to latch upon.  People can (and have) used this quote from Peter to justify just about any behavior or idea.  It is the perfect all-purpose rejoinder to religious authority.

On the other hand, sometimes religious authority becomes so restricting (or constricting) that a person of faith has no choice but to reject that authority.  One can argue that Jesus spent much of his teaching in trying to sort out authority for authority’s sake from genuine godliness.

We also remember that Peter himself would later on take the role of authority in the church, and I suspect that there were occasions when Peter said something like, “Look, Jesus Himself gave me the keys to the Kingdom of God.  He told me that whatever I bound on earth would be bound in heaven, and that whatever I loosed on earth would be loosed in heaven.  I think I have a right to some say-so in this matter!”

It is easy to challenge authority when we don’t have any.  It is difficult to let go of authority when we have achieved or grabbed a little.

The Book of Acts is making a specific point, and I understand that.  But such things are to be handled delicately.  Or we end up on a slippery slope awfully quickly.

Subsequent readings for Easter

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) has suggestions for Easter Evening, after having provided readings for Easter Vigil and the Main Service of Easter.  It contains this note regarding these lessons:

The following readings are for occasions when the main (eucharistic) Easter service must be late in the day. They are not intended for Vespers (Evening Prayer) on Easter Evening.

It is an interesting note.  I assume that the lectionary compilers believe that a congregation has already conducted some earlier service – either a vigil or sunrise service – before a worship time containing these readings come around.

The Gospel Reading for this grouping is Luke 24:13-49, which is the somewhat lengthy account of the walk to Emmaus.   That event takes place over in the day on the first day of the week, but it is certainly not at daybreak.  The empty tomb scenario is narratively in the past.  This is not to quibble, but I merely observe that this is a story that the contemporary reader has trouble assigning to Easter Day.  The storytelling is there, and there is no doubt.  But I think that we are so accustomed to hearing this on the week after Easter, or the week after that, that we double-take at the thought of rehearsing these events Easter Day.  I don’t know that I have ever been a part of “occasions when the main (eucharistic) Easter service must be late in the day.”  Even in churches that usually conducted evening worship, we always took Easter night off.

In considering this, I think that it is too bad that I have never been in a situation that allowed for this time-line.  It is a powerful story, but when I consider the possibilities of concluding the Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord with this tale I boggle at the possibilities.

So, I am a day (three, actually) late and a dollar short.  But, I intend to live with the Emmaus passage a while before too much time passes.

The Feast of St. Mark the Evangelist

The Badge of St. Mark the Evangelist

Today is the feast day of St. Mark the Evangelist.  Although the Second Gospel is anonymous, the church has associated Mark’s name with that work since the early days of Christianity.  Scholars recognize his account as the earliest of the four canonical gospels.  Indeed, history credits Mark with the invention of the gospel genre of literature.  While other biographies had existed since the development of writing, those works were in single-strand narrative form.  Mark takes small vignettes and sayings and weaves them together not so much for historical continuity, but to serve his theological purposes.

Mark’s gospel is the shortest of the four biblical gospels.  It includes no Infancy Narrative.  His work moves at an almost breathless pace, as he introduces individual accounts with the phrase “and immediately” over fifty times.  His Resurrection account (excluding the “longer endings” that were almost assuredly later additions) is inconclusive.

Yet, this work is a foundational source for the other Synoptic Gospels (Matthew and Luke).  There are only a handful of verses in Mark that one or the other (or both) of the Synoptists does not employ.  Some scholars support the tradition that Mark bases his writing on the preaching of Peter.  That view, however, does not meet with universal acceptance.

Be that as it may, the church’s debt to St. Mark is incalculable.  We particularly give thanks for his witness today.

Maundy Thursday

The phrase is novum mandatum – a “new commandment” that Jesus gives his disciples on the night Judas betrayed him.  This phrase lends its name to the title we give this day: Maundy Thursday (the day of the commandment).

It is a day that is chock-full of significant activity.  Jesus instituted The Eucharist on this night.  He washed the feet of the disciples while in the Upper Room.  He identified Judas as a betrayer, if only to “the disciple whom he loved.”  Jesus undergoes The Agony in Gethsemane this night.  The Sanhedrin guards arrest Jesus after Judas Iscariot betrays him.  The apostles abandon him.  The guards bring him before the Sanhedrin.  Peter thrice denies him.  He may even make the initial appearance in the presence of Pontius Pilate before Thursday is over.

The church will rehearse many of these things in Maundy Thursday worship services.  Each recollection reveals some aspect of the work of Jesus or of the Divine Plan.

It is worth noting that the church remembers this night every time it gathers at the Communion Table.  Outside of the acts that surround the institution of the Sacrament, the church doesn’t say much about the plenteous events of the night.  In fact, of all the other activities that took place in that evening, the church only references one.  Our Communion liturgy says, “On the night in which he was betrayed he took bread…”

I think that is striking.  Out of all that occurred that night, the church highlights the betrayal.  Judas’ identifying Jesus to the officials isn’t related to the activity surrounding the table at all, except that they both took place on the same evening.

Maybe – maybe –the church does this because Jesus is rehearsing his death prior to its imminent occurring.  At table he says, “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Later that evening, the events will set in motion that process by which Christ establishes the Kingdom in its fullness.  Maybe – maybe – it is of extreme necessity that the church links the two acts, Eucharist and betrayal, in its liturgy.   They may be two sides of the same coin.  Maybe -- maybe -- it is necessary to remember about that night that there were things Jesus did (like institute the Eucharist) and there were things humans did (wrapped up in the single act of betrayal; after all, of the things human beings did in the stories of that evening, none of them are very admirable).  

 "On the night in which Jesus agonized?"  No.  "On the night when all whom he held dear abandoned him?"  Uh-uh.  "On the night they arrested him?"  No pizzazz.

"On the night in which he was betrayed?"  I think I got it.

Wednesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary gospel suggestion for Wednesday in Holy Week is John 13:21-32.  Jesus is at table with his disciples in the upper room and he predicts his betrayal.  The disciple whom Jesus loved asks the identity of the scoundrel.  Jesus tells him that he will give a piece of bread to the culprit.  By this act Jesus marks Judas Iscariot as the one who will enable the Sanhedrin guards to arrest him.

As a literary figure Judas is well-known (indeed, his name is synonymous with “traitor” or “betrayer;” no one names their child “Judas).  At the same time the scriptures are a bit ambiguous about him.  Many interpret his epithet “Iscariot” to mean that he is a native of Kerioth, a town in the south of Judea.  This would make him the only non-Galilean in the band of Jesus’ twelve apostles.  There are many other understandings of the significance of this name, though, and they range from the plausible to the ridiculous.  Many refer to Judas’ character after the fact in a kind of over-the-shoulder reporting of history.  These references tend to interpret “Iscariot” as a negative character trait.

The gospels vary in describing Judas’ motive.  Mark makes no comment.  Matthew says Judas’ motivation was pure greed, as he desired the thirty pieces of silver.  Luke and John indicate that Satan possessed Judas and that was why he committed his betrayal. 

There are some other strains of tradition – many of them modern – that are more sympathetic to Judas.  They portray him as being an implement that God or the political machine employs, and that he was a victim.  Still others see him as selflessly carrying out a noble plan without regard to his reputation or legacy.  Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Last Temptation of Christ and Andrew Lloyd Weber & Tim Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar are prominent examples.  A caution: all of these interpretations are obviously extra-biblical.  They are interesting speculations but have no basis in scripture.

The Bible also contains two accounts of the death of Judas.  Matthew says that he felt remorse and attempted to return the money.  He then hanged himself.  The Jewish officials considered the money tainted, and so used it to buy “The Potter’s Field” as a burial place for strangers and paupers.  The plot acquired the title “Field of Blood,” because the Sanhedrin considered the money given to Judas blood money.  In Acts, Judas himself buys the field, falls headlong and dies there.

I have no need to defend Judas Iscariot.  Our approach to him and to his character is fascinating, though.  As Holy Week progresses, perhaps we would do well to recollect that the circumstances in which we try to exercise our faith are frequently more complicated than they first appear.

Tuesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) obviously has readings for each Sunday of the year.  A little more obscure is the Lectionary’s readings for all the days in Holy Week.  The gospel suggestion for today is John 12:20-36.  It includes an interesting little fragment.  Verses 27-28 read, ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say —“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’

It is interesting in that it takes the form of Jesus praying, but it is in fact a speech.  It is one of several instances in which the Fourth Evangelist employs this literary device.  Even with there being a “voice from heaven” in response to Jesus’ words, the initial words are addressed to the bystanders, not to God.

In point of fact John’s gospel does not report the content of any of Jesus’ prayers.  It sounds a little peculiar, but every time the narrative places Jesus in a prayer context, what follows is a speech or teaching discourse.  Even Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer in chapter 17 is really an address that encourages Jesus’ disciples (both in his context and those future disciples who read the text) to maintain their faith.

The takeaway?  I guess it is, “things are not always what they seem.”  Even in scripture.

The anointing at...?

Yesterday I commented on the gospel lection from the Revised Common Lectionary for the fifth Sunday in Lent.  The lesson is John 12:1-8: the anointing at Bethany.  I observed, “When we read this account, the story sounds familiar, and yet some of the details seem – what else to call it – wrong.  That is due in part to the fact that all four gospels contain a similar story.”

The stories are at the same time remarkably familiar and significantly different.  I don’t say this as a mere intellectual exercise, or as someone caught up in minutiae.  The trappings of these accounts can make remarkable differences in the meaning of the tales.

Mark 14:3-9 and Matthew 26:6 tell the story in essentially the same words.  The event happens two days before the Passover in Bethany, in the home of Simon the Leper.  During the meal an unnamed woman opens an alabaster jar of “valuable perfume made with real nard” and pours the perfume on Jesus’ head.  An unnumbered group of unnamed disciples protest, saying the perfume could have been sold and the proceeds could have benefited the poor.  Jesus defends the woman.  Then he echoes Deuteronomy 15:11:  Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbour in your land.’ (NRSV)  He interprets the act as an anointing for his burial, which unbeknown to his audience is in just a couple of days’ time.  Jesus concludes by saying, Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.  (NRSV)

Luke tells a story (in 7:36-38) that occurs much earlier in Jesus’ public life.  It takes place during Jesus’ Galilean Ministry.  In an unnamed town in that region Jesus is eating a meal in the home of Simon the Pharisee.  While Jesus and the others are at table a woman, who is characterized as “a sinner,” approaches Jesus with an alabaster jar of perfume.  She first weeps on Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  Then, she anoints his feet with the perfume.  Jesus perceives the disapproval of Simon and tells his host a parable of two debtors, one forgiven a great deal and the other a small debt.  He then says something a bit confrontational: Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  This story concludes with Jesus extending forgiveness of sin to the woman.

  

That brings us once again to the Fourth Gospel.  Here, the Evangelist reports an occurrence six days before the Passover, once again in Bethany.  As I observed yesterday, textually the meal may or may not have been in the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha.  But here Mary of Bethany – clearly identified – comes to Jesus with “a pound of perfume made from real nard.”  She anoints Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  It is Judas Iscariot alone who condemns Mary for the extravagance.  The gospel writer characterizes Judas as a thief who coveted the money for himself.  Then the writer reveals the value of the gift (300 denarii).  Jesus defends Mary with almost the same words that he uses in the similar story in Matthew and Mark: “Leave her alone.”  Here, too, he evokes Deuteronomy and its observation on the poor.  Then, he re-interprets the act of Mary in a little more detail than the other writers.  He again states that this anointing has prepared him for his burial – though again, his contemporary audience is unaware of the immediacy of the event.

Commentators go ‘round and ‘round with this.  Any two accounts have marked similarities.  But, no two records are identical.  Rather, they have profound differences one from another.  Where?  When? Who?  Head or feet?  Why?  It would take a long time to plumb the questions, much less to begin to offer satisfactory conclusions.

I believe that one of the bits of genius – and mystery – of these accounts is that each writer, under inspiration, takes a core bit of material and weaves it into his own narrative for a purpose that may be much larger than the occurrence itself.  Is it about penitence and forgiveness?  Well, yes.  Is it about an offering of homage, perhaps on behalf of all to whom Jesus comes?  Of course.  Is it an act of thanksgiving for mercies extended by Jesus – including the resuscitation of a brother?  Does this include an affirmation of faith that may have been somewhat lacking earlier (“If you had been here, my brother would not have died!”).  I think so.  But each writer tweaks the core truth in such a way that its circumstance and significance reflect each writer’s large proclamation.

Do we have just one story? Yes… and no.  Are there three different stories?  Again yes… and no.  Are we right in the middle of them all?  Oh, yes.

Upon the Collect of the Day

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns,

one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

This is the collect for the week (The Second Sunday in Lent) from The Book of Common Prayer. As with most of the prayers in this volume this collect has a simple elegance that I find in few other places.  If you compare the BCP to most of the liturgical and prayer resources of The United Methodist Church the UMC material hides its face in shame.  One of my mentors in commenting on Methodism’s rituals told me, “Some day our church will employ a poet as part of the liturgy production process, and we’ll be far better off than we are now.”

Truer words.

But, as I consider the work at hand, one term strikes me.  It is the word “unchangeable.”   It comes in the phrase “to hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son.”  I hear this with the ears of someone who has endured the blather of the United Methodist Church’s special called General Conference of a month ago.  I heard this word and similar ones bandied about by people who seemed to have no idea what their language meant.

Because there is a difference between “unchangeable” and “unchanging.”  Unchangeable is a word that we reserve for God and Christ and the Holy Spirit.  It speaks of Truth with a capital “T.”  Unchanging is a more stubborn word and folks seem to use it to defy the reality that things of the faith and understanding and revelation are fluid in their natures.  The list of things about which the church (or much of the church) has altered the literal language of the Bible is endless.  The role of women, slavery, treatment of children, polygamy, capital punishment and a host of dietary laws do not begin to complete the list of practices that modern-day Christians have modified beyond the letter of the law in Scripture. 

Anyone who says that faith and commandment and law are static terms in the practice of the Christian religion is either naïve or spends their entire life with their head in the sand.  God is unchangeable.  Revelation is ever-changing.  That we are not bound by a rigid set of laws under penalty of damnation is affirmed in the first line of today’s collect: O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy…  If it is God’s nature to put mercy first, it seems only fitting that those who would identify themselves as children of God should do the same.

"The Word of God for the People of God"

David H. C. Read was one of the true masters of the Protestant pulpit.  He was a well-known preacher and a brilliant author.  He has been gone a long time now.  But I still vividly remember hearing him speak to a group of ministers when I was just starting out.  He had a lot to say about the craft of preaching.  But the one memorable line for me had to do with that which comes (usually) immediately before the sermon.  He had some remarks about the public reading of scripture.  He said, “I find two kinds of readers in worship.  One reads like they have never seen the text before.  The other reads as if they had written it themselves.”

It was a cautionary moment for me.  I have, since that day, tried very hard to make neither of these errors.  I hear that Scottish accent and that godly admonition every time I step to the pulpit.  Seeking that balance has helped me enjoy reading in the community a great deal. 

But if you light a candle you cast a shadow.  Dr. Read’s observation has made me aware of the tendencies of other worship leaders.  I would not think of naming a name or describing a recognizable circumstance for anything in the world.  It is not up to me to be the scripture police.

Having said that, I do make some general observations about the practice of public scripture reading.  I would recommend to anyone who accepts the charge to perform this act that they read the text several times.  Read it aloud in the same volume and cadence that you plan to use in worship.  Make certain that you can pronounce the names.  Check your phrasing to assure that the way you read makes sense.  Be confident.  And for goodness’ sake, slow down!  No one ever gets criticized for reading too slowly.  But even good readers lose their effectiveness if they rush through the reading.

To others I would say, “Remember the task that is yours!”   You are representing Holy Scripture, the Word of God, to the people of God during their adoration of their Creator.  It simply isn’t an activity that you can take lightly.  A reader can be serious without being somber.  If the reader doesn’t take the texts seriously, how can we expect the worshipers to do any differently?

A reader can’t be timid.  Nor can they murmur.  There is no power in “Mumble, mumble, mumble; this is the word of the Lord.”

This screed would be incomplete if I did not make a general observation on being just plain sloppy.  I see preachers who dash through their text as if they are trying to see how few breaths they can take before finishing.  Some treat the scripture text as if it were some kind of preliminary to get out of the way before the main event.  If they mis-read a lection, they react as if it didn’t make any difference.

When I am in worship, I appreciate that the entirety of the experience is greater than the sum of its parts.  And I am not faulting people who have prepared and executed their dead level best.  People have different gifts and it is important that a wide range of folks join in this vital community work.  What I do ask is that we treat the task with respect, with a sense of the holy.  This may be a worshipers’ only encounter with holy writ the entire week.  Let’s give it every chance to be a positive encounter.

A reflection on the epistle reading for the week

The epistle reading suggested by the New Revised Common Lectionary (NRCL) for the second Sunday in Lent is Philippians 3:17—4:1. That reading begins: Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us.  In this pericope Paul uses a term that we don’t hear very often anymore.  That word is “example.” 

We see negative illustrations.  Poor paradigms of behavior dominate news reports in all media.  We find all kinds of samples of activity that we would do well to avoid.  But my question becomes, “Where are the role models?”

 I am not merely speaking of public figures whom we encourage children to imitate.  I wonder where are the positive examples, the exhibitors of outstanding character, after whom it is appropriate to model our own character?  It is difficult to describe something by what it is not.  It is challenging to speak of exemplary integrity by giving negative examples.  “Don’t be like this, or this, or this” doesn’t offer direction regarding what to pursue, only what to avoid.

Where is the figure about whom I can state, “I want to be like him/her?”  Where is the Paul of this age?  I don’t believe it is an unreasonable request.  Not only does a positive example encourage us, it also convinces us that “it can be done.”

Paul had no problems with personal insecurity.  He had a bit of an ego, and at times that gets in the way of our reading his letters.  But he walked the walk as well as talking the talk.  He reminds us of his hardships and abuses on a regular basis.  But the thing is, after the insults and beatings, he got up and continued his work exactly as before.

I have known people who encouraged me, either by their instruction or their actions.  But I don’t see so many of those folks lately.  I surely could use a role model in these days.

The Different Temptation of Christ

In preaching a sermon on the Temptation narrative, Fred Craddock makes an interesting observation.  He points out that the common perception of the devil is that of a being with horns and a red suit, pointy tail and sharp goatee.  If you look up the temptation of Jesus on Google, many of the images have the bat-winged, almost cartoonish figure that goes with the stereotype.  Even allowing for the symbolic representation of some of these pictures, the overall effect is a bit much.  Craddock says that, given this appearance, most of us would be on our guard and would be prepared to resist the Tempter.

My image comes from the Bible story books that used to be in the doctor’s office when I was a child.  The devil was a bit sinister in appearance, to be sure.  But he wasn’t a caricature.  He was gesturing in a welcoming fashion while Jesus was turning away and holding up his hand in a resisting posture.  That might prove a bit more daunting.  Or at least convincing.

Craddock, though, says that when he pictures Jesus in this setting, he pictures him alone.  He is after all in the desert. He has been there some time.  He has not eaten for over a month.  What more powerful ordeal might there be than to face the wilderness alone? 

That gives me something to conjure with.  It is the kind of perception that used to make radio so powerful.  If you listen to “War of the Worlds” or “Dracula” from the Mercury Radio Theater, these works can be much scarier than storytellers depict on any movie screen.  The imagination is the greatest narrator in the world.  In that light, a temptation without physical presence, a temptation guided by the psyche, might be the most persuasive of all.

Lead us not into temptation…