The Crux of the Matter

"Do not be overcome by evil, rather overcome evil with good."
So St. Paul tells the new church in Rome, right before he is about to sign off his famous letter to them. This Letter, an early part of the Christian scriptural canon, contains the crux, the very core of Christian theological proclamation: that God has formed a new relationship with humanity through the person and work of Jesus Christ, who saves us from our sins and brings complete healing. The way we understand what God has done and is doing in Christ is "by grace through faith." This Letter has been definitive for our understanding of the core of Christianity almost since the very beginning. In fact, some argue there would BE no Christian faith had not Paul of Tarsus, the Apostle who never met the earthly Jesus, only the Resurrected one, articulated so clearly the basic faith. Be that as it may, in the first part of the Letter, Paul sets forth the theology. In the second section, chapters 13-15, Paul gives a basic directive, dependent on that theology: it does no good unless Christian belief is part of Christian witness, part of the everyday lives of Christians. Christ lives through us; God saves through Christ; the world needs the example of Christ, lived-out through in small and practical ways by all who claim to be His disciples.
The preaching text this week is part of that section: 12:9-21. It is a beautiful part which begins with "Let love be genuine." And,it gets better from there:
"hate what is evil,
hold fast to what is good;
love one another with mutual affection;
outdo one another in showing honor.
Do not lag is zeal,
be ardent in spirit,
serve the lord.
Rejoice in hope,
be patient in suffering,
persevere in prayer.
Contribute to the needs of the saints;
extend hospitality to strangers.
Bless those who persecute you;
bless and do not curse them . . . . ."
There's so much more. You'll just have to read it. But the final verse is the most convicting to me: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
Our world is no different in many ways from Paul's world, the Greco-Roman world of 2,000 years ago. Evil abounds, and it is almost always pretty and enticing.
According to St. Paul, the only way to make Christ real and alive in the face of it is to live as Christ did, and as Christ commands us to do also.
That's the 'crux of the matter.'
Talk amongst yourselves and let me know if you agree.
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Mudwrestling with God . . .

You gotta know the backstory: twins who hated each other, and fought constantly. One, big, brawny, and maybe not so bright. The other, smaller, smarter, quicker and 'graspy' -- all for him, nothing for anyone else. He was the center of the universe, and if he forgot that fact, his mother reminded him. He was her favorite. Twin Two steals not one, but two valuable things from slower Twin One. Twin One explodes in anger, threatening to kill Twin Two. Twin Two, smaller and more wiley -- escapes and hides out at the home of relatives in the East. Years pass. Parents die. Families grow. Twins One and Two have had no contact. Twin Two gets older, wiser, and yearns for home. So, he packs up the fam and heads in that direction. It is a long, long trip. They are camping along the way. They reach a river, and he knows Twin One is on the other side waiting for him to cross. He also knows he has to face what he has done, what he has stolen from his only brother. But it is night, and he won't cross the river to face what he knows he deserves as the consequences of his past, selfish actions. Not just yet. Everyone else is sleeping but he can't. He is alone at the river. And in the dark, a stranger appears. No words are exchanged and he can't see the stranger's face. But the stranger attacks him -- and they wrestle. The fight and fight in the dark until dawn. As the day breaks, neither has won -- and Twin Two has, finally, the upper hand. He won't turn the stranger loose until the stranger cries 'uncle' -- and blesses him. The stranger does, and in the blessing, changes his name. He is no longer Twin Two, graspy and selfish . He is now the "one who has struggled with God." Or, "Israel." Twin Two, now in older middle age -- is finally a man. He has faced God, and his own demons -- and come away, not broken, but changed. He will go on to be a good father of great people -- people charged to bring such wrestling to the world -- in order that it might be changed, as well. Twin Two/aka Israel does come away wounded, however -- marked for life in his hip joint. He limps. He who wrestled with God was not vanquished, but transformed forever. He now is marked, with courage and hope.
We'll be talking about Jacob on Sunday -- come and join the conversation.
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What does God "expect" of us?

We know what God requires of us from the prophet Micah. He says it clearly: "What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God." But requirements are different than expectations, aren't they?
We are required to pay taxes, but we are expected to behave according to the laws set up by the entities those taxes support.
We are required to have car insurance, but we are expected to drive in such a way as to NOT have to use that insurance.
We are required to go to school, but we are expected to get something out of that schooling.
In our texts this week (Matthew 13:31-33; 44-52), Jesus is talking not about requirements for discipleship, but rather expectations. By this time in Matthew's Gospel, he's has pretty much set up the requirements for discipleship. It is all in Chapters 5-7, what we know as "The Sermon on the Mount."
Required for disciples of Jesus is a passion for justice, unconditional love and provision for those in need, acceptance of others no matter our differences, a heart filled with mercy, and keen devotion to God.
Expected of those disciples: Do this -- all of the above.
Jesus once again tells parables in this section of Matthew. He's on a parable roll, it seems. Here he's talking about the Kingdom of God being LIKE a mustard seed, yeast, a buried treasure, a fine piece of jewelry, and a net full of fish that needs to be sorted. Translation: the Kingdom of God is recognized through faith, even when it is small; it is subtle and surreptitious and spreads like leavening, quiet and on its own timeframe; it is a treasure worth sacrificing everything for; it is as precious as the most precious pearl; and there will be judgement (hence, the fish-sorting story).
In this last section, Jesus speaks directly to the disciples and, basically, says to them: DO THIS -- all of the above. To paraphrase, he says, basically: "You are the ones who have been given a glimpse and knowledge of the Kingdom. You are my disciples. I EXPECT that you will see that it happens, today -- here and now -- by being people of justice, mercy and humility in my own name."
Requirements, sometimes, can make us feel like we have fallen short when we don't meet all of them. I find expectations, however, to be far more appealing where behavior and decisions are concerned. We don't want to disappoint. In this case, Jesus has high expectations for anyone presuming to claim the mantle of discipleship. And, we don't want to disappoint Jesus most of all, do we?
Talk amongst yourselves and letme know what you think.
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What's a parable?

Yeah, we all know what a parable is: a story that is not really a story, but sort of a riddle -- with a point we may or may not get.
Half-right.
A parable is a story, from everyday life, which tells of bigger meaning in everyday life, using the things and people of everyday life.
For Jesus, parables seemed to be his favorite way of talking, his favorite way of telling. And, he was ALWAYS telling stories about one thing: the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven. He was ALWAYS trying to illustrate what it IS like (note present tense, as in PRESENT REALITY, as in "the KINGDOM IS AT HAND"). This Sunday's scripture is from the section in St. Matthew's Gospel that is almost nothing but Jesus telling parables, chapter 13. There's just one after the other, after the other, and they are all about the reality of the Kingdom of Heaven, what it looks like, what it feels like, what it IS like. A couple of times in all this telling, the disciples get perplexed because to them (and to us) those parables seem like riddles. But he calms them, and explains, giving answers to their confusion. This week, Matthew 13:1-9; 18-23, he explains about how the Kingdom is based on the Word of God, which is like a farmer who sows seeds indiscriminately in his fields. Some seeds land where the birds come and eat them. Some seeds land on rocks and thus get no root. Some seeds land on soil that is not deep and they can't grow. Some seeds land where the sun parches them and they die. But a few, just a few, land on fertile soil with all the right conditions for growth. And these few provide a rich and bountiful harvest, a harvest so great it is hard to even imagine.
Later he explains:
God is the sower, and God's word is the seed. It is out there, provided for us richly and lavishly. God's word either takes root, or it doesn't.
But here's the clincher: God doesn't just sow once, but again and again and again and again through every season imaginable, every harsh condition for growth, including flood and drought . . . God is tireless and relentless in pursuit of us, no matter what. And God's word is eternal. It will not die.
Jesus tells a nice story here with the sole purpose of giving hope and meaning to our everyday lives.
THAT'S a parable. A good one.
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The Worst Story in the Bible . . .

. . . is the Akedah, or commonly called The Binding of Isaac. It is found in Genesis 22:1-14. If you don't know it, the story goes like this: God commands Abraham to go to the "holy mountain" and there to build an altar upon which to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. This is the SAME son that God has promised to be the heir of the covenant, and through whom children too numerous to count will descend. (The logic, then, of God making such a demand is questionable). As the story goes, Abraham does as commanded, and the boy (we don't know how old he was but we know he could walk) Isaac accompanies his father, carrying the wood for the altar fire. When they get to the appointed place, Abraham does as he is charged: he binds the boy, lays him on the altar and hoists the knife to kill him. But just in time, an Angel of the Lord appears and directs Abraham to a ram caught in the brambles nearby. The ram is sacrificed instead.
I hate this story!
What was God thinking????
It is an abhorent request. As a mother, it infuriates me. I can only imagine what Sarah must have thought -- if she ever even knew.
Through the centuries, Jews, Christians and Muslims all have tried to unlock its meaning. It is in the Qu'ran, too. Most argue it is a story of Abraham's obedience and faith, that God knew what God was doing in making that request. There are some who offer it was Abraham rather than God who was doing the testing. Perhaps. Some argue that it was the ancient Hebrew's way of condemning what was common practice among the Semitic people of the era (1500+/- B.C.E.): child sacrifice. The One True God, YHWH, rather than demanding child sacrifice as the pagan gods were thought to do, actually was against it and not shy about proving that. Interesting. Maybe . . . ? I rather adhere to another interpretation: that God was pushing Abraham (and us) to turn loose of what we hold dearest in the world, entrusting it to God's faithful care. That makes more sense to me. I guess you could argue that interpretation is about faith, as well. But it also is about trust -- trusting that there is nothing, no one in our lives that we can love more than God loves them. I like that . . . because it is not only reassuring, it is also convicting. It is a warning against idolatry in whatever form it presents itself, that is -- turning ourselves, or others, or things into 'gods' in our lives, making them the central focus of our existence, instead of the One who created us and calls us to service for good. To understand that interpretation, we need to view sacrifice not as "killing" but rather as "freeing up." I like it, too, because it seems like that is exactly what God did those centuries later, on Calvary. There, the One so precious to God, God's own Incarnate Son, was loosed to the world. It didn't turn out so well, either. There was no ram caught in the brambles at Golgotha. Yet, in that real and grizzly sacrifice -- in the "killing" sense of the word -- God gave to us the possibility for eternal freedom in God and God alone. Maybe, then, the Akedah is the Second Worst Story in the Bible -- but ties with the Cross for turning out the best.
Talk amongst yourselves . . . and let me know what you think.
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The Work of Creation __________________...

Fill in the blank.
The work of creation -- goes on.
The work of creation -- is finished.
The work of creation -- is described in Genesis, blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . .
The work of creation -- is boring.
The work of creation -- is evolving.
The work of creation -- is just a story.
The work of creation -- is amazing.
And so on.
This weeks Scripture passage takes us back to the very taproot of the Bible: Genesis 1-2:4a. It is the story of how and why God created the world. Not much about when, however. Timeframe -- we just don't know. It speaks of a God so magnificent and powerful as to be ABLE to create something/everything out of a big black hole. It speaks of a God so meticulous as to be able to PLAN that all things work together for the good of that same creation. It speaks of a God so involved with this creation that there is NO LINE OF SEPARATION from it. It speaks of a
God so pleased with the work as to prounounce it, over and over and over again, "GOOD!" How does it feel to be a part of that creation, still? Don't think about it much? Maybe you should . . . because it is pretty overwhelming that the same God who made all of this, cared enough for it to dive into to it full-force in the person of Jesus of Nazareth -- no matter the consequences. It is also pretty reassuring to know that the same God who made it, and cares so much for it, is still involved, active and present -- with no plans to turn it or us looose. This Sunday, June 19th, is Trinity Sunday: Creator/Redeemer/Sustainer = One God = Our God. Father/Son/Holy Spirit.
Come, and give thanks for YOUR creation as we worship together, and remember our partnership in it with God that we sometimes -- oftentimes -- forget.
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Carried Away

I just got home from a brief trip to Las Vegas, a gift to my daughter as a belated 21st birthday present. I have never been to Vegas, and it was quite an experience. I don't gamble. Rarely drink, and usually champagne if at all. I don't shop at high-end expensive shops like Gucci and Versace. I do love Broadway shows and we saw two. I also love the desert air, and it was wonderful. But I got completely carried away by two things: Hoover Dam and people watching. I'd always seen pictures of Hoover Dam, but never have been there. It is such a magnificent testimony not only to human ingenuity, but also to the role government can and should play in a crisis. It was a WPA project in the Depression and put thousands of people back to work in it the 1930's and early 1940's in its construction. A magnificent sight, to be sure. I also got carried away watching people come and go from various perches around Vegas: lunch at the grand hotels, on the sidelines in the casinos, walking up and down the strip. I saw lots of other people "carried away" by booze, drugs, solicitation, overindulgence, overspending, and of course, losses at the gaming tables. You name the human sin, and Vegas has an opportunity for it -- in spades. It dawned on me that Jesus got carried away, too. Literally, on a cross. Literally, up from a grave. Literally, up into heaven on that mountaintop after his resurrection. This Sunday is Ascension Sunday, when we remember that this Incarnate Son of God got carried away, back to the place from which he had come. But he left one thing as a great act of trust: us. He placed the future of his Reign in this world in the hands of disciples who, on any given day, get carried to places we dare not even imagine. Yet, that is what he did, with the great assurance of his final words: "I am with you until the end of time."
When have you been "carried away"? Talk amongst yourselves . . . and come to worship on Sunday, when we'll celebrate this Feast in style and remembrance.
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