Third Sunday in Lent -- Perseverance

Passages: Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42


"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." -- Romans 5:2-5

The Apostle Paul, imprisoned near the end of his life.

There is a certain danger in rationalizing suffering. It is important to see how God works in our lives, including our deepest trials, but it should not affect our sense of compassion and duty to each other when in need. Often, when Christians are faced with suffering they will either see God's wrath and punishment, or -- like Paul -- see God's blessings and how even the worst times can build up our character and faith. But we must also see the injustice of suffering, and act in accordance to the teachings and commandments of Christ.

Not all suffering is an injustice -- but all injustice causes suffering. There are certain agonies (the Greek word "agwn" or agon means a contest or struggle) that are a necessary part of life, and even a blessing as Paul suggests. But those tend to be the sufferings of the universal human condition: heartbreak, failure, sickness, injury and betrayals. These are all difficult parts of life, but part of its richness and wholeness. But there are sufferings that cannot be seen as blessings -- torture, rape and murder. Children dying from hunger or unsafe drinking water. The wholesale exploitation of human beings for greed and power.

True, even in the worst of human conditions (perhaps especially in the worst of human conditions) you can find great character and hope. The kind of hope that can only emerge the deepest of despairs. The Early Christians faced severe persecution and often gruesome, torturous treatment. Paul was beaten and arrested many times in his life, and is best known for his sense of mission and his perseverance (even more than his gift of pen and persuasion). And no doubt, Paul is able to write this inspiring passage because he knows first hand how his persecution has given him greater hope and connected him with the Holy Spirit. Yet these words were written to Christians during a time of persecution and limited power -- there was yet to be significant danger for the Early Christians to grow callous about the sufferings of others, or perpetuate systematic injustice against others.

Today, we are in a much different historical and social context. We must remember that these words come from the depths of persecution and social powerlessness. It was written to communities who were suffering together, and sharing hope for a better world through Christ together. It was meant to encourage them, and help them see how God continues to bless them even in these difficult times.

Two thousand years later, Christians still suffer and hope together. Paul's words resonate with them now as it did for the first Christians. But unlike the first Christians, the Church has great power and resources. We cannot let our understanding of suffering as a blessing -- and something that is part of God's plan for our lives -- dilute our mission of healing and compassion. We cannot pass the Samaritan on the road and not see someone in great distress.

Born from Above

Passages:

Genesis 12:1-4a, Psalm 121, Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 and John 3:1-17

Maybe it's the Sunday Schooler in me, but I have a soft spot for this style of religious artwork.

On being born again

Today’s lection in John 3:1-17 is one of the foundational passages to born-again evangelical Christianity. In this passage Jesus tells Nicodemus the Pharisee, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again” (John 3:3). Also in this lectionary passage is the famous John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,^[f] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” The evangelical view of salvation, for many, is laid bare in this passage. To achieve salvation, you must believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and be “born again.” Unfortunately, this passage is often interpreted in a highly legalistic, literal way that castes aside the compassion and mercy of God.

When I was a teenager I would visit my great grandmother in her retirement home. We were close, and I loved listening to her stories, particularly her early years in marriage with my great grandfather (during the Depression they moved about 3 or 4 times a year as my great grandfather hopped from temporary work to temporary work). She was a borderline fundamentalist, a family trait that was not passed down to her children. She would read this passage and worry that I was not truly saved. She pulled from the passage the absolute necessity of proper baptism, and to her that was complete submergence in the water. Politely, but unfailingly, every time I visited her she encouraged me to think about my baptism and consider a new one.

I knew better than to engage in a theological debate with my great grandma (I loved her too much anyway), but if I did I would have pointed to Luke 23:40-43, where Jesus tells one of the criminals on the cross, who asked to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom: “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus tells Nicodemus that unless someone is born again, they will not see the kingdom, but tells the criminal on the cross he will be in paradise with Jesus.

But this man was not baptized. This man did not recite a doctrine of belief. This man had done no good works. He simply acknowledged the divinity in front of him, when so many could not. He repented and came to Christ with honesty and sincerity. Luke does not mention this criminal being suddenly “born again.”

You may argue that Jesus made an exception to the rule – but I think it demonstrates that the born-again doctrine is overly literal and legalistic. In fact, if you want to get very literal about the passage, the Greek word used for “again” is “a;nwqen,” which also means “from above” – an equally plausible translation. Nicodemus interprets it as “again” by his reaction, but Jesus mocks him for his literalism and inability to understand the spiritual world: “You are a teacher of Israel … and do you not understand these things?”

Jesus also says, “Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.” If you read this line through the lens of “born from above” instead of “born again,” it seems likely that Jesus is talking about a spiritual birth that is inherently separated from earthly signs.

I’m not arguing against baptism or renewing your life in Jesus Christ – baptism is an extremely meaningful sacrament that symbolizes being buried to sin and being “born from above” into new life in Christ. But it is the physical symbol for a very spiritual reality. It is not necessary to salvation, nor is a new life in Christ guaranteed.

It is the Spirit that truly baptizes, and that seems to come only when you acknowledge your own sin and look to the Lord with honesty and sincerity. To try and limit how this could happen to baptism or being “born again” places an unnecessary dogma to someone’s conversion and looses sight of what’s truly important: beginning a new life in Christ.

Ash Wednesday

Readings: Joel 2:1-2, 12-17, Psalm 51:1-17, 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Author’s note: We have missed a couple weeks in the lectionary, partly due to my winter break and finals. I have decided to resume with the beginning of the next liturgical season, Lent (my apologies to Epiphany) with the Ash Wednesday lectionary. This entry takes a more personal, autobiographical approach. The subsequent entries will resume a more informative, thorough tone.

Psalm 57:10 – “Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

My first semester at Harvard Divinity School was full of excitement and challenge. I was taking the maximum load of courses, learning a new job in the library and making new friends in a foreign land (as Southern California native there was a bit of culture shock when I got here). But these challenges were met with the optimism and strength of an invigorated spirit: I was pursing my call to ministry. I was doing God’s work, and long days on campus and even long walks through the snow didn’t bother me.

Second semester I took a full load of courses (one less than the previous semester), was at a familiar job and had a wider circle of friends. It should have been easier, but it wasn’t. Third semester I had an even lighter workload. I did have two new jobs beginning my second year, one here at MBS and another at a homeless shelter, but I didn’t expect to struggle the way I did. Halfway through my tenure the honeymoon with Harvard was over. I was tired, cold and wanted to go home. The zeal of my first year had officially faded.

Then I had a conversation with my father that reminded me of the special opportunity I had to be studying at Harvard and pursuing my call to ministry. These few weeks leading into Lent I’ve been thinking a lot about that conversation, and find myself excited for classes to start this semester. Lifting your spirits and facing the challenges before you isn’t as simple as flipping a switch in your brain. And I know that the enthusiasm of a new semester will be fleeting unless I find a way to reconnect with God’s mission and purpose for my life.

When I read Psalm 51, the first nine lines described the despair of being alienated from God and its longing to be united with the divine. But it’s 51:10 that resonated with me most: “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit in me.” It expresses what I have been longing for a while now: A renewal of spirit. And there is no better time of year for renewing your spirit and relationship with God than Lent and Easter.

The ashes imposed on believers on Ash Wednesday are often made from the previous Palm Sunday’s branches. The beginning of the holiest liturgical season is ushered in with the decay of the previous year’s climax. It is a powerful symbol of the cycle of life and rebirth – every spring, every Lent, new life blossoms from yesterday’s ashes.

It is my humble Lenten prayer to be reunited with the passion and enthusiasm that moved me across the country a year and a half ago. To be ever-conscious of the service I am preparing for, and the service I am providing to others as I learn. And to most of all, through His will and strength, heed God’s call in my life with a pure heart and steadfast spirit.

Sunday, Dec. 23 -- The Nativity

Passages: Matthew 1:18-25, Romans 1:1-7, Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19, Isaiah 7:10-16.

Above: The familiar Nativity set
Below: Nativity scene based on Luke alone

If you look at the two pictures above, you will notice some striking dissimilarities (other than artistic quality). The top is the familiar Nativity set that is displayed in millions of homes and churches. It has everything you'd expect: Shepherds, Angels, Wise Men, animals, Mary, Joseph and, of course, the baby Jesus asleep in a manger. Many sets even have a star that hangs from the top of the stable. The painting below it is based on Luke, and is missing the three magi and the angels. But the wise men and the star of Bethlehem only appear in Matthew, not Luke. There are no Nativity paintings based solely on Matthew, because although the Gospel of Matthew delivers a birth narrative, there is no manger, shepherds, animals or even a minor description of where the birth took place (other than Bethlehem). The familiar Nativity scene crams the two accounts together, which is okay.

The disparity between Matthew's and Luke's choices for witnesses to Jesus' birth (wise men and shepherds, respectively), tell us a lot about their focuses. Luke goes to great lengths to show that Jesus, although divine and conceived through the Holy Spirit, came to us humble and poor. Jesus was born in a stable and placed in a manger. There was no special star for Jesus, no powerful rulers coming to pay homage, and no expensive gifts. The witnesses to this miracle were mere shepherds. Since shepherding required long hours outside, but was not rocket science, often the youngest son of a family was burdened with the task. Notice how young the two shepherds in the painting are. They are just kids! Luke is interested in exalting Jesus by showing how he came to the world humbly and in poverty.

Matthew isn't as interested in that. He doesn't depict Christ as born into privilege, but he doesn't stress it like Luke. Jesus' birth, in Matthew, changes the order of the cosmos. Astrologers from the East see the star and visit Christ and pay homage with expensive gifts. Jesus, instead of being an anonymous birth in a stable, is seen as a political threat to King Herod, who orders a massacre of infants to quell any challenge to his power. Like Moses, Jesus escapes a decree to kill infants from a paranoid tyrant and is taken to Egypt (of all places).

There is another significant disparity in the two birth narratives, one that involves today's lectionary. In the Matthew lection (1.18-25), we are given the account of an angel appearing to Joseph in a dream, exhorting him not to break his engagement with Mary. The passage is not in Luke. In Luke's account, Joseph never has to be convinced to stay with Mary. Furthermore, in Luke the angel's commandment to name the child Jesus is given to Mary, not Joseph. Joseph is actually a relatively minor character in the birth narrative, as Luke devotes quite a bit of time to Mary.

Luke does something unique in devoting so much detail and thought to the women in the story. It is very much in tune with his emphasis on the marginalized, on those with a lower status. In fact, the person with the highest status in Luke's account -- Zechariah, the husband of Elizabeth and a priest -- is struck mute. He regains his voice after the birth of his son, John the Baptist. In yet another reversal of power, relatives wanted to name John Zechariah after his father, but Elizabeth insisted upon the name John. Women are given a special power and attention in Luke's narrative, and it is important to note that.

Matthew tends to focus on the males in the story: Joseph, the wise men, and Herod. Angels appear to Joseph in his dreams three separate times: 1) to foretell Jesus' birth 2) to warn Joseph to flee to Egypt and 3) to tell Joseph it was safe to return to Israel. The commonplace details present in Luke are absent in Matthew. However, the bigger issues absent in Luke are stressed in Matthew. The Gospel of Luke makes no mention of the massacre of the infants or the escape to Egypt.

The two accounts are not incompatible -- as the familiar Nativity scene above demonstrates, it is easy two cram the accounts together and add some harmless details (there is no mention of how many wise men came to visit Jesus). But when reconcile the two birth narratives, we should not forget the differences and details that make them unique. We have four Gospels for a reason: one perspective wasn't nearly enough.

Sunday, Dec. 16 -- the Voice in the Desert

Passages: Isaiah 35:1-10, Psalm 146:5-10, James 5:7-10, and Matthew 11:2-11.

This picture reminds me of Sunday School. John the Baptist -- the Voice in the Desert.

What's in a question?:

Have you ever wondered why Jesus seldom answers a question directly? People will come to him, ask him something relatively straight-forward like “Should we pay taxes?” (Mt. 22.17), but never get a simple answer (“Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s” Mt. 22.21). In today’s Matthew lection, we get another example of a somewhat simple question: “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else” (Mt. 11.3)?

Jesus answers: “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the good news is preached to the poor” (Mt. 11.4-5). Instead of saying, “Yes I am,” which – to me – is the implied answer, Jesus compares his works to works found in various places in Isaiah (26.19;29.18; 42.7, 18; 61.1), including today’s Isaiah lection (32.5-6). Today’s Isaiah lection reads, “Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy.”

Why does he do this? I think it is because he wants to teach people about the scriptures and let them make the connections for themselves. Jesus did not come to dictate faith to people – he was a teacher. Jesus spoke in parables, not only so it would be easy to retell and pass on the stories, but so each person can find meaning in the narrative. Jesus was here for more than just answers – he had a message that was more profound than do and don’t; yes and no.

My roommate in undergrad used to ask me a lot of questions about philosophy, religion and politics (I was a philosophy major and opinion columnist for the university paper, and we were both people concerned with spiritual questions). Often, he would tease me about frequently answering questions, “yes and no…” and then immediately proceed into an explanation. Even though he joked about it, he also appreciated it. My answers revealed not only the answer, but how I arrived there. It also sparked a discussion. After all, he didn’t walk into my room and ask “Do you believe you can petition the Lord with prayer?” for a simple yes or no. He had his own ideas, and he wanted to know mine.

Jesus is so inspiring because, when people ask Jesus questions, he sees what is behind the question, what is on their minds. John’s disciples wanted to know if Jesus was the one John preached would come, if Jesus fulfilled Scripture. But they didn’t come just to see if Jesus was legit, but also if their teacher was correct in his prophecies. It is not a coincidence that Jesus assures the crowd that John is “the one about who is written: I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you” (Mt. 11.10) as John’s disciples are leaving. In just a few verses after the lection ends, Jesus claims John is Elijah: “and if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. Let anyone with ears listen” (Mt. 11.14)! Without directly answering John’s disciples, he gives them what they long to hear, and they learn for themselves.

I am thankful that Jesus not only had answers, but was willing to teach them.

Sunday, Dec. 9 -- From the Stump of Jesse

Passages:
Isaiah 11:1-10, Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19, Romans 15:4-13, and Matthew 3:1-12.

Depiction of the Tree of Jesse

My Take:

Isaiah 11 is one of my favorite passages in the Hebrew Scriptures – it is prophetic in every sense of the word. It is dense in meaning and rich in image, but most importantly it is a powerful vision into God’s intentions for the world. Many Christians see this passage pertaining to Jesus Christ, a descendent of Jesse. I agree, if it is assumed that the final vision of peace and universal understanding of the Lord has yet to be actualized.

In Isaiah 11, I see an outline of sort (I have taken some interpretational liberties):

• A leader will arise from the lineage of Jesse and David (“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a branch will bear fruit” Isaiah 11.1).
• He will be ordained by God in his ministry, endowed with great wisdom and insight (Isaiah 11.2-3).
• His message will be extremely powerful (“He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth”), and the message will advocate for the poor and slay the wicked.
• He will usher in an era of profound peace (Isaiah 11.6-8, described in poetic detail) where the “wolf will live with the lamb.”
• The Lord will be known universally, and the faith will be open to all people (Isaiah 11.9-10).

With one reservation, I feel as though Christ has accomplished – or set the stage – for the things in this outline. He was a descendant of Jesse, and upon Christ’s baptism the Spirit of the Lord “descended upon him like a dove.” His profound message of love and peace has inspired good will and charity to the poor. My one reservation is found in Isaiah 11.4: “With the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.” My understanding of Christ is one of a pacifist – the man who chastised Peter for injuring the Roman soldier sent to arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane; the savior who sacrificed himself, forgiving his tormenters on the cross. His message preached forgiveness for the wicked and an opportunity to repent, not death or retribution.

Many say that this aspect of the Messiah – the dispenser of justice – will be fulfilled upon Christ’s second coming. It’s not called Judgment Day arbitrarily. Many of these same people say that it is only after this Judgment Day that the vision of peace where the “wolf lives with the lamb,” can actualize. This may be true, but I think Christ challenges us to rethink justice and peace, and transformed their meaning in many ways. True justice is freedom from wickedness, and Christ provides redemption for all of our imperfections. The chains of sin and death are broken by Christ, and in that liberation there is true peace.

Instead of “slaying the wicked” Christ was slain on behalf of the wicked. Just like Christ’s execution literally freed Barabbas from death row, spiritually we are all sprung from our jail cells of sin. But since the message of Jesus Christ gives “the wicked” a chance at rebirth and renewal, it does “slay wickedness,” in a very metaphorical sense.

There is a lot in this Isaiah passage, and I find it interesting what Paul focuses on and cites in today’s lection from Romans. Paul uses Isaiah 11.10 to explain and justify his ministry to the Gentiles. His translation is different than most standard translations, but still recognizable: “The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the nations; the Gentiles will hope in him” (Romans 15.12). Paul sees Christ as an open invitation to all people to “glorify God for His mercy” (Rm 15.9) and encourages us to “Accept one another, then, just as Christ has accepted you” (Rm 15.7). Christ opened the Jewish faith, traditionally associated with an ethnic group of people, to all races and cultures across the world.

In Paul’s time, the first generation of Christians, this particularly applied to the Greeks and the Romans. Pre-Rabbinic Judaism was not only struggling with its role in an expanding world that did not share its religious tradition, but also being under the rule of the greatest military force the world had known. It was also confronted with a highly imperialist culture that actively exported its language, education and customs. Passages from the scriptures that assured that “the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as waters cover the sea” (Isaiah 11.9) must have been a source of inspiration and assurance during this time where their land and culture was being occupied by the Romans.

Paul saw Christ as a way of bringing the God of Israel to the Roman world, and making the “Root of Jesse” a “banner for all people.” I wonder if Paul ever imagined, during one of his many trials or in a jail cell, that four hundred years later a Roman Emperor would convert to Christianity, or that 2,000 years later his words would survive to the information age. Today, knowledge of the Lord – or at least the Scriptures – is accessible at every corner of the earth in any language.

Sunday Dec. 2 -- Liturgical New Year

Passages:

Isaiah 2.1-5, Psalm 122, Romans 13.11-14, and Matthew 24.36-44. I will be dealing primarily with Isaiah and Romans.

My Take:

The first Sunday of Advent is the beginning of the liturgical calendar, so it is a sort of liturgical New Year’s Day. New Year’s is one of my favorite holidays because it is both reflective and forward-thinking. It anticipates the coming year, and puts forward resolutions. It’s fitting then that our lections for this week deal with prophecies for the future, and with regard to the New Testament lections, the second coming.

The second coming has always been the part of the New Testament that I struggle with most. Passages like Romans 13.11-14 have even affected my attitude toward Paul and the Epistles. It can be gathered from his writings that Paul believed that Christ would return in his lifetime to pass judgment and establish a new era. In this passage, Paul writes, “it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near.” The tone of this passage is one of impending collective judgment. This is not a personal passage – that as mortals each of our times are near – but one that has the presupposition that the entire world will face judgment soon. Seeing this assumption in his words 2,000 years later naturally casts doubt on his message.

His false belief that Christ’s historical return would happen soon affected a lot of Paul’s message, particularly his attitude toward children and marriage. Paul had almost nothing to say about children and their role in the Christian community and his attitude about marriage was that it is better to stay celibate (like him), but if you cannot control your urges, marriage is preferable to immorality (1 Corinthians 7.1-7). To Paul, there was little value in long term planning for the church and instituting how Christ’s message would be passed through the generations – it was important to get things right now, immediately, before it’s too late.

However, this opinion of Paul made too easy for me to dismiss the parts of his message I struggled with. I enjoy life – even through the roughest of times, I have always been thankful for the gift of life that God has afforded to me. It is not comforting to think the Apocolypse is right around the corner; or that this era would be wiped away “like a thief in the night” as the Matthew lection describes.

I prefer the message in Isaiah – the Kingdom of the Lord will be established slowly by obedience to God’s will. When we make God our highest priority (“established as the highest of mountains”) the world will begin a transformation where instruction flows forth from Zion and is accepted around the world – or, in New Testament terms, disciples are made of all nations. Isaiah’s vision of peace is promising, especially in a time of global warfare and strife: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.”

I think Isaiah’s message resonates stronger with many modern Christians because of their ability to influence society, and their missionary and activist spirit. In the 2,000 years since Christ’s sacrifice, the Christian community has had a long time to establish, formulate and grow the church. It now has a great deal of global influence, and it seems more optimistic to believe the church will play an active role in bringing about God’s kingdom than Christ suddenly returning on a cloud of glory and wiping the current society away.

Because of the “Left Behind” series, Christian movements that anticipate and fantasize about the Apocalypse have been put into the spotlight. Throughout Christian history there have been brothers and sisters who believe that their lifetime will see the Second Coming. And not to overly generalize, but they tend to be very dissatisfied with the spiritual state of the world. I mean, it stands to reason that if you pray for Christ to come, right now, and establish a new world, you must not like the current one very much.

Because I hope to have a long life serving God and helping better society, I’m partial to the lection of Isaiah. But, it’s important for me – as a Christian – to take the words of Paul and Matthew seriously. Judgment could be tomorrow, for all I know. This resonates on a personal level more than a cosmic level – I could die crossing the street. These really could be the last days of my life, and I shouldn’t take the future for granted.

With respect to personal action, Isaiah and Paul’s visions for the future are not as contradictory as they seem. The manner in which “Kingdom of God” is made manifest may be different, but the mandate to the individual is the same – obedience to God. If I work toward the peace in Isaiah, I will be ready for the judgment in Paul. Perhaps I will have a long life where I am afforded the social power to positively impact the world and “beat swords into plowshares,” or perhaps my end is around the corner, and “the day is near.” Either way, the message remains the same: “Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Romans 13.12) and “come, let us walk in the light of the LORD” (Isaiah 2.5).