Advent 1 – November 28, 2010

 Isaiah 2:1-5

            Once again this Sunday, there’s a distinctly eschatological tone to the readings.  It’s like we’re going through a door from one church year to the next: Christ the King is one side of the door, and the First Sunday in Advent is the other side.  I’m reminded that Advent is, after all, about Christ’s coming to bring God’s reign to the world.  Those who received Jesus the first time around were looking for the dawn of God’s kingdom; this time around we’re longing for the kingdom’s completion. 

            With that in mind, I hear this Isaiah text somewhat differently from how I have before.  Verse 4 is the most familiar part, about beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  I have tended to hear this verse as ethical teaching, as saying that we ought to be doing these things.  But I now notice that this is not presented as an “ought”, a “should”, but rather as a vision of what God’s future reign will be like.  God will take up residence in Jerusalem, Isaiah says in verses 2-3, so that the whole world will notice and be drawn there to learn God’s ways.  God will be in charge, mediating our conflicts for us.  As a result, our swords won’t be any use anymore, so we’ll have to repurpose them – makes a dandy plowshare!  Same with the spears – just no need for a heavy, sharp-pointed weapon made for hurling at an enemy when God is making all our enemies friends, or peaceful neighbors anyway.  In a way, it makes this verse much more powerful to hear it this way – do we even dare to dream of such a future?  I think maybe what Advent is about first is having our eyes opened to God’s vision of a future that’s different from our present.  I also think that, as Christians, this vision of God’s future reign is the source of any hope we have of doing any sword-beating in our present age.

Romans 13:11-14

The Epistle text follows nicely on the OT reading, because essentially Paul is exhorting the Roman Christians to behave morally because of the nearness of God’s kingdom.  The part that’s interesting to me is verses 11-12: “… it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.  For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first became believers….”  Paul is tipping his hand a little, revealing his assumption that Jesus’ return is in some sense imminent.  While we may not share this assumption, I think it’s crucial for us to have the sense that we – and history – are headed somewhere, are moving toward something.  And that something is God’s reign.  As our beloved seminary professor Stanley Hauerwas used to say, for us life isn’t just “one damn thing after another.”  So, Paul says, in anticipation of God’s kingdom, we should get dressed for the party by “putting on the armor of light” (a beautiful image). 

Matthew 24:36-44

The Gospel text finds Jesus discussing his eventual return.  It appears to me that this text puts together some sayings that didn’t originally go together, which gives it kind of a disjointed feel.  Jesus starts off (verse 36) saying that no one, not even he, knows when he will return.  As a result, people will just go about their day-to-day lives not expecting anything unusual, and the kingdom will take them by surprise (verses 40-41).  He compares it to the flood that caught people off guard in Noah’s time (verses 37-39).  (To me the “two will be there, one will be taken” structure echoes the “two by two” of the animals going into the ark.)  So stay awake, he says, because we don’t know when he’s coming.  Then in verse 43 comes the curveball: “’Cause, if you know what time the thief’s going to show up, you can just stay awake and keep him from breaking in.”  Wait a sec - I thought the point was that we didn’t know what time it was going to happen, and that’s why we should stay awake.  (Besides, I like my sleep – if I know what time the thief is coming, I’m going to bed and setting my alarm.)  This is why I think there’s some editing/cobbling in this passage.

I can’t read this text without recalling a friend’s stories about being a teenager in East Tennessee, going down to this certain church after school and being treated to pizza and a “Rapture movie.”  The problem with the literalist approach to eschatology here–mapping out the end times, turning them into a bad horror movie or blockbuster book series— is that Jesus’ whole point in this reading is that his coming is mysterious.  We don’t know the time.  Also, I notice that those two women grinding meal don’t look any different from each other until the coming of God’s kingdom separates them.  It reminds me of some of Jesus' earlier teaching in Matthew (see 6:1-6), where he tells his followers not to make a show of their piety but rather to let their reward come from God.  Come to think of it, I'd say “staying awake” in Matthew’s gospel means faithfully practicing Jesus’ teachings (think the Sermon on the Mount).

Christ the King – November 21, 2010

Jeremiah 23:1-6

            On this Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the church year, we have an OT text that contrasts the past leadership of God’s people with God’s promise of future leadership.  And it’s a stark contrast – first God condemns “shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture” – presumably the unfaithful kings who got Israel into the mess that eventually led to their exile in Babylon.  That’s a disturbing image: shepherds, who by definition are supposed to keep the sheep together and take care of them (think Psalm 23), instead are scattering and destroying the flock!  It’s like an abusive parent – it’s just all wrong.  And I suppose there are such leaders at times – of nations and of churches – leaders who do more harm than good.  God says he will “attend” to them.  But God has other business too: gathering what’s left of the scattered flock and bringing them back into the safety of their pasture where they can thrive and multiply.  Again, the immediate context was a promise that God’s people would return from exile to their homeland.  Then we’re told God will raise up shepherds who will do their job, so that God’s people don’t have to live in fear – a vision of restoration, renewal.  Verse 5ff. gets more specific, saying God will promote a “righteous Branch” from King David’s family tree who will deal out justice for God’s people.  Christ the King, anyone?  Of course, Jeremiah didn’t have Jesus in mind, but the nature of biblical prophecy is that it can have more than one meaning and be fulfilled over and over – so it’s appropriate that the church sees Jesus in this promise.

I wish verses 7-8 were part of the reading as well, because they really deliver the payoff of this text: Jeremiah says God has such good things in store for God’s people that, when they talk about the “good old days,” they won’t be reaching way back to the Exodus from Egypt – they’ll be talking about what God has just now done.  Good stuff.

Colossians 1:11-20

            This text is from the beginning of Paul’s letter, and Paul typically follows his initial greeting with a prayer of thanksgiving for those he’s addressing.  And that’s what he’s doing here – praying that God will strengthen them.  What were the Colosssians dealing with?  Well for one thing, competing theological points of view.  On the one hand, he mentions folks who are all about the “elemental powers of the universe,” which would appear to be a polytheistic Greek worldview; on the other hand he refers to others who stress things like circumcision and Sabbath-keeping – i.e., adherence to the Torah.  I’m reminded of all the hectoring and “advice” that comes at us constantly through the media about what we’re supposed to be thinking, doing, valuing.  I’m also reminded what a challenge it is to figure out what it means to be a follower of Jesus in a 21^st-century American context.  Well, in verse 13, Paul says something quite profound: through Jesus’ death and resurrection (and our participation in them), God the Father has “transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son….”  So, even though all the other kingdoms are still around, nonetheless in some sense we’re already living in Christ’s kingdom.  Paul then goes into what’s commonly believed to be a hymn about Christ, the basic idea of which is that all things were created through Christ, so even now he is holding everything together.  I observe two particularly interesting points in the hymn.  First, even the rulers and thrones of our world were created through Christ (verse 16).  Second, God reconciled (made peace with) all things through Christ’s death on the cross – a pretty different form of governance (and throne) from those of our world.  It makes me think that, as messy as it seems to work out following Jesus in our context, somehow he can work it out and help us “hold it together.”

Luke 23:33-43

            I’ve always thought it was gutsy to have this text in the Lectionary for Christ the King – here just before Advent we hear this very Lenten reading, which tells us in very stark terms about Jesus’ style of ruling (see also the last verse of the Colossians text).   Notice that Jesus on the cross has a criminal at either side of himself, which reminds me of all his teachings dealing with people’s obsession about where they’re sitting at the table in relation to the host, and what it says about their status (e.g., 14:7-14).  Also, the people standing around the cross, the soldiers and the one criminal taunt Jesus to “save himself,” which calls to mind his earlier teaching about “those who want to save their life” (9:24) and the need to take up our cross.  The second criminal to me embodies Jesus’ earlier teachings about prayer.  When he admits his own guilt and asks Jesus to remember him in his Kingdom, I’m thinking “thy kingdom come” (11:2) and “God be merciful to me, a sinner” (the Pharisee in 18:13).  So it’s no wonder Jesus responds positively to him. 

That response – “Today you will be with me in Paradise” – presents something of a conundrum to me.  If Jesus isn’t raised for another couple of days, and if the Jewish idea was that when you’re dead you’re dead, then how does that work?  I don’t know; the best I can say is that maybe it’s an already/not yet paradox – that, even though the kingdom hasn’t arrived yet in its fullness, the dead already get to take part in it.  I think of Jesus’ words to the Sadducees, that God is “God not of the dead but of the living” (20:38).

Works Consulted:

Richard J. Clifford’s notes to the Jeremiah text, and David Tiede’s notes to the Luke text in the HarperCollins Study Bible

Proper 28 – November 14, 2010

Malachi 4:1-2a
 

            As we approach the end of the liturgical year, the theme of the lectionary readings turns to judgment and the end times – not the favorite topics of most of us “mainline” Christians, yet I think holding onto the eschatological aspect of our faith is critical.  It’s the source of our conviction that history has a telos - that ultimately God’s reign will prevail.

And so the OT reading this week comes from the last book in the OT, a prophetic book from the postexilic period.  Rhonda Burnette-Bletsch says the historical context of Malachi was such that, “a few generations after the Jews’ return from exile, conditions were not greatly improved.”  God’s people were experiencing hard economic times, the political and religious climate apparently left a lot to be desired… you get the picture.  So in the midst of this, the prophet points ahead to the coming day of God’s judgment, when the “arrogant and all evildoers” would be burned up like stubble in an oven.  If I’m not mistaken, I believe this is a reference to burning up the stalks left in the field after the harvest, so that the field would be ready for the next year’s planting.  I tried to corroborate this in the resources I have, but didn’t find anything addressing it.  If I’m right, though, then it’s a fitting image for this time of year (as I smell burning leaves down the street).  On the other hand, for those who revere God, the “sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.”  Apparently the winged sun is an image borrowed from Egyptian and Mesopotamian religions – and it’s a nice image, full of light, warmth and life.  And presumably the “healing” is for God’s people as a body: God’s judgment is a cleansing so that God can start over and give God’s people new life, a second (or third or fourth?) chance.

Psalm 98

            A beautiful psalm, with its images of creation praising God (verses 7-8).  But I notice that the reason for all the joy is the expectation of God’s coming as judge.  Again, “judge” may not be our favorite image of God, but think of it this way – if you feel you’ve been wronged, chances are you’d appreciate the chance to get your case in front of a good judge who’s going to intervene on your behalf and rule in your favor.  And verse 9 says God “will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.”  That’s good, right?  And the opening verses of the psalm paint a picture of God’s intervention on behalf of his people – God’s “right hand and holy arm” swinging in battle, fighting for God’s people, vindicating their cause.  Part of our expectation of God’s coming is an expectation that God will straighten out what’s wrong with our world, and that God’s reign will not reflect the inequities and injustices of our world.

Luke 21:5-19

            This week’s Gospel text finds Jesus preparing his followers for trying times to come.  Jesus speaks of the destruction of the Temple (verses 5-6), then later Jerusalem’s destruction (verses 20-24), and his eventual return (verses 27-28). 

It’s funny, I used to regard this part of Luke as something of an interruption – “well, and here’s this apocalyptic stuff” – but now it seems to me that there is an eschatological edge to Luke’s entire gospel that just gets sharper as the story moves along.  It starts (chapter 2) with Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that her son would “reign…forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”  Mary responds with her song about God bringing down the powerful and lifting up the lowly (cf. Psalm 98).  When John comes on the scene in chapter 3, he calls the people to repentance because God’s ready to gather the wheat up and burn the chaff (cf. Malachi 4:1-2).  When Jesus then arrives (chapter 4), he announces that God’s jubilee year has dawned, and the people are so upset by his preaching that they try to throw him off a cliff.  As Jesus begins his healing ministry, it is an extension of his proclamation that God’s kingdom has arrived (see 4:43).  Then in chapter 5, his table fellowship with sinners and tax collectors is part of his calling “sinners to repentance” (5:32; cf. John the Baptist); it’s the bridegroom’s feast with the wedding guests at the dawn of God’s reign (5:34-35).  In chapter 6, he lays the “blessings and woes” on his followers, telling them what the social structure of God’s kingdom is going to look like.  In chapter 7, Jesus answers the question whether he is “the one who is to come” by pointing to his healings and preaching of good news to the poor (7:22-23).  In chapter 9, he sends the apostles out to announce the arrival of the Kingdom, and soon afterward Peter acknowledges that he is the Messiah.  After that point in the gospel, there’s a greater urgency.  Jesus tells his followers they’ll have to take up the cross, and that some of them won’t “taste death before they see the kingdom of God.”  (9:27)  He says the dead can bury themselves, but we can’t look back if we’re going to be “fit for the kingdom.”  In chapter 10 he steps up the effort, sending out the seventy into “the harvest” (again, cf. Malachi).  In chapter 11, he instructs the disciples to pray “your kingdom come,” then he says his generation will be given the “sign of Jonah” (impending judgment).  In chapter 12, Jesus tells us to be ready and watchful for his return, and that his coming will mean division even between family members; chapter 13 finds him warning that “unless you repent, you will perish” (13:6); and in chapter 14, he lays out the high cost of discipleship (14:25-33)… 

Anyway, we get the idea.  So chapter 21 doesn’t come out of nowhere, but rather is something of a culmination of this theme that’s been developing throughout Luke.  What’s interesting to me about this text is that Jesus paints a picture of all this chaos and destruction swirling around, and basically says our job is not to worry or be too eager to jump on any bandwagon, or even to prepare what we’re going to say if/when we’re arrested, but just to be ready.  This text, and the rest of Luke's gospel leading up to it, suggests to me that responding to the kingdom Jesus has brought and striving to live the life of that kingdom will be preparation enough. 

Works Consulted: 

Rhonda Burnette-Bletsch, Studying the Old Testament: A Companion

New Jerome Bible Commentary

Gene Tucker’s commentary on Malachi in Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year C

David Tiede’s notes on the Luke text in the HarperCollins Study Bible

Proper 27 – Nov. 7, 2010 (Part 2: Luke)

Luke 20:27-38

            By this point in Luke’s story, Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, having been headed in that direction since 9:51 (the chapter and verse, not the time of day).  This explains why he would encounter Sadducees, who were a religious faction concerned with Temple life.  This also makes the topic of the resurrection a timely one, since the events of Jesus’ passion are soon to take place.  As Luke tells us, Sadducees didn’t believe in the resurrection (as opposed to Pharisees), so their “question” about it is really just an attempt to show how ridiculous the whole notion is to them.  They present Jesus with this scenario which is based on a Torah provision whereby, if a man died childless, his brother was supposed to marry his widow in order to bear children on his behalf (see Deut. 25:5-6).  In other words, life after death meant procreation.  Their scenario is that these seven brothers, one after the other, all married the same woman and died childless– so isn’t that going to create some chaos in the afterlife when they all meet up around the punchbowl?  The Sadducees’ method is familiar to those of us who live in the age of "infotainment," because they’re not really attacking the idea of the resurrection – rather, they’re attacking their own flimsy cutout version of the resurrection.  It’s like when it snows one day and someone says, “So much for global warming.”

So Jesus’ response to the Sadducees is essentially dismissive: “Yes, it would be ridiculous, if that’s what the resurrection was.”  They’ve assumed resurrection is like walking from one room into another, continuing the life we had with all its trappings and traditions, just in a new location.  But Jesus tells them (verses 34-36) that it’s a wholly new and different existence.  There’s no need for the family structures of this life with all their “hatching, matching and dispatching,” because there’s only one family where we’re all God’s children.  Then (verses 37-38) Jesus goes on to do a little Torah interpretation of his own, observing that when God spoke to Moses he said “I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” therefore they must all have been alive to God, since God is not the God of the dead but of the living.  (Cue Keanu Reeves: “Whoa.”)  I don’t know if Jesus convinced the Sadducees at all – presumably not, given the way things turned out – but they surely got a lot more than they bargained for with that conversation.

Proper 27 – Nov. 7, 2010 (Part 1: Job)

Job 19:23-27a

Love me some Job.  If you’re not familiar with Job, it’s like this fantastic theological anti-fairytale.  If you just read the prose sections at the beginning and end (specifically 1:1-2:10, 42:10-17), what you’d have is a too-neat story in which “Satan” makes a bet with God that, if upstanding and faithful Job has everything taken from him, he will turn on God.  God takes the bet, takes away Job’s children, wealth and health, but Job still remains faithful and in return God rewards him with double what he had before.  But that’s not all we have in Job – in between the prose sections are forty or so poetic chapters in which the clever author/editor/biblical jazz artist riffs on all that might have happened between Acts I and II.  In its entirety, Job asks in so many words, “What if staying faithful to God doesn’t just mean assuming that suffering is always the consequence of our sin?”  And so Job is a challenge to the theological conventional wisdom of its day (see, e.g., Proverbs), which basically held that the righteous prosper and the wicked are punished, therefore those who prosper must be righteous and those who suffer must have done something wrong.  In Job, this conventional wisdom is represented by Job’s “friends” who come to “comfort” him - which means they try to convince him that his suffering is his fault and that he should just confess his sin to God and be done with it.  Job, however, will have none of it: he insists he has done nothing to deserve his lot, and he calls God to account for it.

Which brings us to this week’s OT reading.  It’s a bit of his answer to one of his friends, and essentially Job is insisting on his innocence – and that eventually he will be proven right.  That’s why he says he wants his words written down, put in a book, engraved in rock: because he may not live to see his vindication.  And that’s why the next verses make sense: “I know that my Redeemer lives…”  This is understood to be a reference to a Torah provision (see Num. 35:19) whereby a person who was murdered was to be avenged by a designated “avenger of blood.”  Is Job saying he believes God is the redeemer who will avenge him, or is God the one he holds responsible for his suffering?  It’s kind of vague, but either way Job is – I think – making a powerful theological statement: that, whether in life or death, he will be vindicated before God.  Which is why this text is fitting for the Sunday after All Saints.