sermon notesA collection of resources, background information, and periodic reflections on the scripture readings in worship from Pr Josh Ehrler. Archives
July 2018
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Power Moves in Matthew 22.15-2210/20/2017 Our reflection for this week is on Matthew 22.15-22.
The gospel reading for this weekend is not about paying taxes. We can debate somewhere else whether or not taxes are a moral or social good and what the right amount should be for each person to contribute. Jesus himself tells us to “give to the emperor the things that are emperor’s” (22.21). Our responsibility is to pay something toward our collective needs; go forth and finish your 1040’s. Jesus is confronted by a group of Pharisee and Herodians in the Temple, the dwelling place of God in this world. Matthew tells us that their goal is to entrap him in his own words, which means they’re not debating the merits and frustrations with dropping coins in the government till. This is about power. Possession. Who has say over another’s life. The Pharisees are in God’s house, approaching God’s Son, hoping for the right turn of phrase to finally have the evidence they need to have Jesus arrested. This has been the goal since back in 12.14, when the leaders saw Jesus heal a man in a synagogue on a Sabbath day. What sounds benign to us was seen as a criminal offense, and it was enough for them to start their plotting and scheming. Now he’s come home to preach, he’s in the most sacred building in the nation and of faith, the hunting should be easy. “Jesus, is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” (22.17) Again, for us 2000 years later in the US, where taxes are a part of our civic responsibility, this seems a simple question. It’s hardly going to get Jesus in a bind. Though it’s worth noting the language and the word “lawful,” which has nothing to do with Roman law. It’s about the Torah and remaining faithful to God (Daniel J Harrington, SJ, Sacra Pagina: The Gospel of Matthew). Is it faithful to God to pay the taxes to the emperor, the pagan leader of the Roman religion? This is going to be good. If Jesus announces that he pays his taxes while standing in the Temple, his followers will desert him. He says he loves God, but he’s just in it for himself. If Jesus declares that taxes are wrong, those Romans soldiers over there in the corner will haul him off for a conversation. The Pharisees are convinced they’ve got all the power and its Jesus who needs to bend. He’s right where they want him. Jesus asks for a coin, a denarius. A Pharisee produces one from a pocket and Jesus, keeping it simple, asks who’s head is on it. The emperor’s, naturally. Our modern coins and bills all have faces on them, though to be fair, all of our images are of dead people. Dead men, specifically. Would be interesting if even one had the face of a significant woman from American history. That’s an aside. The trap is set and the Pharisees have stepped in it. In God’s house, the Temple, a building that represents the nearness of God in our world, Jesus’ antagonists are carrying items with graven images. Because the emperor is a pagan leader. The entire structure has been desecrated by this coin. As Michael Joseph Brown observes in True to our Native Land, “the Pharisees are asking if it’s right to participate in a system in which they already participate” (p.112). Beyond that, they are revealing their own allegiance to the emperor. They’re already under his control. The coin is one of the ways for the emperor to exert his power over the people. Unlike our American currency with its long deceased faces, the coinage of Jesus’ time bore the image of a real, living person with real power. The emperor owned the cash, which meant he owned how the people of Israel paid for their goods. He had his head shot stamped on walls and icons, his likeness was carved into stone and scattered around the city. He gave the impression that he was everywhere and always watching. He reinforced his power over the people by displacing local authorities with puppet governors and dispatching soldiers in key locations to police the crowds. Protests were quickly and violently silenced and folks who spoke publicly against the empire, for instance, saying that they don’t pay the tax, would disappear in the night. The Pharisees are complicit as much as they are being manipulated by the power and privilege of the emperor. He has laid claim over every life in his empire and will not let them exist beyond his influence. Making Jesus’ response all the more crafty and may be why even his ardent rivals walk off “amazed” (22.22). Jesus, in typical Jesus fashion, flips the script and tells his challengers in a practically flippant way to give the coin back to the emperor. He wants it so bad, let him have it. It’s nothing but a coin and the emperor is nothing but a empty shell with no power. He may think he owns the people, but he owns nothing. He may think everyone belongs to him, but everyone belongs to God. He may have all the sabers in the world to rattle in Jesus’ face, but Jesus bears the image of God. And our God is a living, breathing, all powerful God who walks this earth and stands with God’s people. The emperor can have his clay coins. God claims us humble clay jars and breathes life into our lungs. God brings blood to coarse through our flesh. God declares us free and sends us off unbound from the powers of this world. Jesus takes our image and places it on the cross. He reorients our vision from our need to scrape together what we can to see what we are capable through his broken body, and what we are meant to be through his resurrected life. We in our human sin readily become like the Pharisees, easily moved by the whims of power in our world. We sense a lack of control and agency within our homes and we lash out, fighting to claim what little influence and power we can. We use our presence to force women to be subservient and feel diminished, as we are reminded through the #MeToo campaign launched by Tarana Burke. We rationalize racism, sexism, genderism, ageism to distinguish who deserves to speak and live and who is worth less. We humans steal identities from immigrants and pull back influence from our brothers and sisters of unique religious backgrounds. All for our own glory. Sometimes even in God’s house, where our call is to be focused only on our Lord. Jesus sees all of this in our words and deeds and he claims us. he marks us with his cross and declares us worthy to stand in God’s presence. He also sends us out to live out our forgiveness and surrender our fear of loss by seeking reconciliation with our neighbors. Through Christ, we are called to give up our notions of possession in order to hear the voices of God’s people who continue to be held down and ignored by powerful people. Jesus dismisses the emperor and all his coins and reminds us that God provides us all we need. And that God will provide for our care as we give up our lives for those around us. Our presence is the image of God that our neighbors will receive and witness. May we use this privilege to reflect God’s love and compassion for our people who are crying out.
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Our reflection for this week is on Matthew 18.15-20
Our reading for today has long been used as a model for congregations to live out their polity, especially in the midst of conflict. Matthew 18 is regularly brought to the pulpit and to council meetings when there is a disagreement between disciples of the church and lifted high as our definitive way to find resolution. This model sometimes gets extended out and watered down in our communities at large. Clearly, since it comes from Jesus, its not a bad method. At least, not when we are considering the nature of sin in our relationships. Sin is separation, it is an active movement away from another person that forms a rift between the two people, creating two isolated individuals. Sin is turning from God, carving the chasm between us. God mourns our loss and strives to regain our relationship. Not that God gets lonely up there or out there or over there (wherever God dwells), but that we are formed in God’s likeness and we are designed to be in community. Sin destroys community. That is the weight of the argument and the heart of the matter that Jesus is getting us disciples to in this reading. He is not referring to Chevy and Ford fans disagreeing over performance numbers, Jesus is pointing to the sin that slips in between us. Every single one of us. The sin that permeates our worship and pushes us away from each other and away from Christ’s table. The sin that drives our budgets to care more about buildings and stuff than any human who might want to use them. And beyond our churchy realms, we're talking about the sin that build border walls and declares immigrants and the children of immigrants disposable and deportable because they’re not from around here. Our human sin convinces us that some of God’s people with more tone in their skin are inherently different and must be treated as such. That brothers and sisters must be judged by the ones they love. That neighbors can be marked by type by their ability to find work and pay their health costs. We know all the ways we sin. We know all the paths we trod to get ourselves out of relationship with our community. We know all the words we use and our people use to push each other as far from our lives as we can. We know sin. Jesus knows sin. He’s about to confront the heart of our sin on the cross. However, he’s not there yet in Matthew. Its only chapter 18, after all, we’ve got a little time. Before Good Friday casts the pall of death upon our lives, Jesus wants us to remember the cost of our sin. It destroys lives. It executes innocent people. It rips families and churches and neighborhoods and nations apart. No wonder Jesus is clear in his caution when he says, “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” (18.18) Our sin has long ranging consequences the end of which we cannot and may never realize. Because Jesus is talking about the depth of sin in our lives, his model of reconciliation is all the more intolerable for it requires us individuals to talk to each other. Meaningful, active listening conversations in which both parties can speak their peace and keep their mouths shut to hear the other perspective. This is about sin and shame and conflict and damage that has been inflicted. It will be painful and challenging and as Jesus notes, necessary. Communication and mutual respect is the path toward community. And as much as we want to walk this world alone, we are made by God to live in community. The fact that we are engaged by God and believe in Christ is rooted in a communal experience. Warren Carter in Fortress Commentary on the Bible:The New Testament, reminds us that accountability for each of us comes through our relationships. As much as we need to hold our own understandings of God and question unmerited group consensus, we still are part of a greater whole and we inherently share values. We don’t get to walk alone and we can’t, because even in the valley of isolation, our thoughts have been shaped by others (p.157). Jesus is bringing us back together to see our need for each other. He is pointing out the fruitless damage we have inflicted on African American, Muslim, and immigrant people (God’s people) because of fears and stereotypes that are baseless. We are being called on by Christ to reconcile ourselves with our people whom we have harmed, begging for forgiveness. Because as much as we want to be the accuser in this text, sin knows no boundaries and it gets all over us. Often, more often than we’d care to confess before God, we are the one inflicting the sin upon another. Ultimately, as we know because we are faithful followers of Christ, we’re not going to willingly reconcile ourselves to anyone. We humans are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. We don’t need anyone. Yet Jesus needs us to be in relationship with him, that we can be in relationship with God’s people. Thus, Jesus comes to us as the accuser and when we do not relent, he brings the rest of the Trinity. When we still refuse to give up our posture, he brings us before the entire Law of faith. And when we still do not stop in our sin, he lifts the cross and becomes an outsider, bearing our sins in order for us to be placed back in communion with him. Our reading for today is not so much about church polity as it is our human experience. We do everything we can to break each other and Jesus breaks himself to heal us. We pout and protest and use our worst words and Jesus speaks the Word over us to make us new. As often as we wander off, he draws us into community and drags us kicking and screaming to his communion table, where our lives are reconciled to him. And to each other over a body broken and poured out for us. We know the cost of our sin. Jesus reveals the cost of his love for Creation. He makes us right with him, that we can follow his wisdom and make ourselves right with God’s beloved. We’re not meant to walk alone. We are created to care for each other.
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Wanderlust in Matthew 16.21-288/30/2017 Our reflection is on Matthew 16.21-28
One of the fundamental rules that a new wilderness hiker learns is simple enough: when you are separated from others, stay where you are. Do not move around, do not try to find your way back, stay and you will be found. Wander and you’ll get lost. The fundamental symbol of our faith as Christians is the cross. Jesus tells us to stay near the cross. Peter, who speaks for all of us, wants to wander off. And for his want, he quickly gets lost. Matthew opens our reading with his comic book style transition, “from that time on,” implying that the tone of his book is changing in the next few verses. This is the first of four Passion announcements that Jesus makes in Matthew, each one more direct and tangible than the last (17.22-23; 20.17-19; 26.2). For the disciples, this is a relatively new topic of discussion, even if Jesus had implied this outcome back in chapter 10 (“sheep in the midst of wolves”-v.16, “do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul”-v.28). It is no surprise, then, that Peter leaps from his seat, pulls Jesus off to one side, and rebukes him. Besides this being a stark offense that a student would dare speak so sharply to his teacher, Jesus gives us the deeper issue of this exchange. Peter has revealed the devil in his heart and its reaching for Jesus. Though Jesus has confronted and cast out many demons already in Matthew, this time it’s different. This specific moment has happened before. Michael Joseph Brown, True to Our Native Land, takes us back to the wilderness of chapter 4 and suggests that Peter is a test of Jesus’ loyalty to God. The first test with the devil was to challenge Jesus’ identity as the Son of God. We know and the devil knows that Jesus is fully capable of going his own way, leaving the burdens of this world in the dust and caring for himself. In chapter 16, the same old thinking returns through our brother Peter, who is trying to get Jesus to wander away from the cross and protect himself. Jesus doesn’t really need to die on some Roman tool of death to bring forth the promise of the kingdom (p.107). What Peter is asking is what we’re all asking in our pews when we hear this: do we really need to pick up a cross to be with Jesus? For one, Jesus is Jesus. Not to be crass, but he has already died on the cross. He broke the bounds of life and death and grants us hope and Grace through his Resurrection. He has destroyed the power of sin and every force of this world that works against God. We are set free. We are a new Creation. We are one with Christ. And another thing, Jesus. Why a cross? Why not use those divine powers that God has poured into you to pour out your kingdom here and now? Jesus has been telling us in Matthew that “the kingdom of heaven is near.” And still, our neighbors suffer. Our friends are starving. Our African American brothers and sisters are persecuted, abused and declared unworthy of life in our streets. Powerful people are using their power to mightily crush God’s presence revealed through the presence of clerics and voices for hope. We do not need another martyr on a cross, Jesus, we need a savior. The temptation of the devil is in us all, convincing us daily to leave the cross and make our way back to safety. At least, what we define as safety. Daniel J Harrington, Sacra Pagina: The Gospel of Matthew, defines Jesus’ words about “the whole world” in terms we understand: financial, social, political and food security. Back to the wilderness of chapter 4, the temptations the devil throws at Jesus are as old as humanity and as fresh as our fears from the morning news (p.249). Jesus tells us that the cross gives us life. We, like Peter before us, are trying to convince Jesus of what that life is supposed to be. We keep trying to get away from the cross. It terrifies us. It speaks of violent ends and tragic outcomes and silence in the night. The cross is destruction and loss and the eradication of everything we know and everything our people know about us. The cross wipes the slate clean and casts us from the earth, never to be seen or heard again. The cross is final, there is nothing else. And this is the Grace we find in this weapon of human devastation. It is our end. The devil cannot cross over to life through the cross, it will always die by the nails. The sins of our humanity can never reach the kingdom of God, they will only be buried under stone and dirt. The assumptions of this world that we must protect ourselves are silenced by God’s Word, proclaimed through wood and steel and reverberated across every tree and stream. The abuse and violence of this world is hammered out, never to be known again. God is our source of life. God provides our every need. God is our protection and care, our end and our beginning. Dietrich Bonhoeffer speaks from the foot of the cross when reminds that it is the “beginning of our communion with Christ” (The Cost of Discipleship, p.89). The holy meal that binds us in worship does not come from the pantry, it is offered by Christ who has died at our hands and gives us his life for ours. Suffering through the cross is not an accident and it is not tragic, it is necessary. It is our call and our response to Christ, who leads us where we are needed (p.88). From the table, Christ takes us to the feet of our neighbors who are suffering, our friends who are lost and abandoned, our people who are denied hope for the color of their skin, the ways they love, the amount of money in their pockets. The cross bears the marks of our sin and the sign of our forgiveness. Jesus hands the cross to us and tells us that, if we want to bear his name, we must bear these marks ourselves for our people. Because, as Bonhoeffer writes, “the Church stands before God as the representative of the world” (p. 92). For the kingdom of heaven to be revealed, this world must come to an end. The cross is the only way to destroy suffering. There is never enough money, never enough power or military might, never enough intellect and innovation to silence and eradicate the sin rooted in our lives. We keep hoping that we can drift from the cross and find a more perfect way to save our people. With each new turn, we get lost and the despair only grows. Jesus finds us in the wilderness and calls out the devil within us, releasing us from our fears and returning us to the cross and life.
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Faith, Not Skill in Matthew 14.22-338/8/2017 Our reflection is for Matthew 14.22-33.
The human body has a density of 0.98 compared to water, meaning we are designed to float. Not always well or with much style, yet our nature is created to bob on the surface of the water. Maybe Peter needed scientific knowledge more than faith and he would have made it. Our gospel may be one of the most famous, or at least one of the most utilized images, in human culture. Walking on water is a euphemism, it’s a command, it’s a denial of ability, and it creates 49 M hits on a Google search. This one phrase, and its derivatives, has been the title of countless books, movie posters and even this memorable hit from 80’s power ballad master, Eddie Money. Eddie Money asks the right question, “If I could walk on water would you believe in me? My love is so true.” However, his question is a little off angle from what Jesus might be attempting to reveal to the disciples. Jesus isn’t putting their faith to the test by conducting a parlor trick. Instead, he is asking them to remember his love for them and their love for him and that through this love, faith is revealed. Douglas RA Hare, Interpretation: Matthew, makes an interesting observation that the disciples out boating on the sea are “far from land and being tortured by the waves.” (p.169) This translation is harsher than most Bibles use, yet he’s working off the Greek word that is dynamic and implies more than mere hard work. Matthew uses the word three times in his gospel. The first is 8.6, where we hear a Roman soldier confront Jesus with a plea that his son be healed because he is “paralyzed, in terrible distress.” The second comes from a pair of demons Jesus finds in a cemetery at 8.29. They push back against him, begging to not be “tormented before the time.” All this is to note that the disciples are not simply tired, they are suffering. The storm that has come upon them is violent, thrashing, and unmanageable. They could very well drown because they are helpless. And because of that, Jesus leaves his private space of prayer and heads out on the storming waves. Hare wants us to consider the notion that Jesus, ever the Savior in Matthew’s gospel, is going toward them to reveal his love for them (p.169). This story takes a turn, however, that Mark and Luke do not, and Peter is given a key role. Quite possibly the role of his lifetime that could propel this story from Biblical lore to cultural mythology. Matthew tells us that Peter wants to try out water walking and Jesus invites him out. Though it’s tempting to hear Jesus’ response, “Come,” as a command, its not. Its closer to a statement of response. As in, “Go for it,” or “Let’s see how this goes.” At first glance, Matthew seems to put Peter’s failure to walk squarely on his shoulders, which makes Jesus’ question-after immediately rescuing Pete-“You of little faith, why did you doubt?” sound like a rebuke. That will happen between Jesus and Peter later, chapter 16 (the famous “Get behind me Satan” exchange) but this time he's not so harsh. Jesus has revealed a few moments earlier his love for his disciples despite their doubt. They’ve been wrestling with the limitations of God’s kingdom for most of their ministry with Jesus. Their colleague, John the Baptizer is dead. The powers of their world are beginning to rise up and confront them in public. They were not so sure there was enough bread and fish to feed a flash mob of 15,000. Now they’re getting nearly thrown out of their boat on seas they’ve otherwise known all their lives. Whether they voice it or Jesus is merely reading body language, he’s been responding to their questions and their frustrations and their doubt with his presence. He keeps showing up and sticking around. He keeps reaching his arm out toward them as they bounce and rock and hang on for dear life. He does not stop saving them. Peter was eager to be like Jesus and that didn’t work out so well. Because we’re not Jesus. We need Jesus to walk on water in the midst of our storms and come for us when we cannot get ourselves to shore. Jesus did not walk on water to impress them or turn them from disbelievers to determined disciples. They were already in the boat and in the crowds and by his side. They are slowly starting to recognize that he is more than a cool rabbi with awesome hair. As they proclaim for the first time in the gospel, they are beginning to recognize him as the “Son of God.” (14.33) With that, they will continue to notice the nearness of God and the movement of God’s kingdom through their lives, their community and the crowds they consistently encounter. Peter was never going to walk on water, and he was never going to drown, either. Besides the physics of density, Jesus was with him the entire time. Whether Pete could see Jesus as he is or simply as a ghost hovering nearby, Jesus’ action was not dependent on Peter’s vision. Jesus was going to grab him up out of the water and get him back in the boat. Jesus was going to silence the winds and calm the waves. Jesus already knew their helpless suffering and with his compassion deep, he went to them. Maybe there were no more boats on shore. Maybe the disciples needed to witness the power of God moving through Jesus. Maybe there was no time. Jesus walked on water out of love for his disciples. He continues to walk on water for you and me who are getting violently thrown about in our boats, unsure and feeling unsafe. He comes to us if we call and he shows up when we can’t. Doubt is a sign of being human. Faith is revealed through Christ’s love and compassion for us wherever we find ourselves.
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Welcome the Littles in Matthew 106/27/2017 Our reflection for this week is for Matthew 10.40-42.
No one likes to be called “little.” Worse, still, would be “insignificant.” In v.42 of our reading, Jesus refers to the “little ones,” micros in Greek. Micros means as it sounds, little, small in stature, powerless. Often the translation and interpretation of this world leans toward size and age, leading us to imagine children darting through the feet of the disciples and throughout the crowds. That is wholly appropriate and since Matthew loves paints large crowds near Jesus (whether they are listening to him or merely living their lives near him), there were probably little humans bouncing around. This image is also used directly by Jesus in chapter 18, which Matthew could be pointing us toward in this reading. At 18.5, Jesus tells his social climbing disciples, “Whoever welcomes one such child (micron) in my name welcomes me.” We can’t ignore these parallels. In chapter 10, Jesus is pointing his disciples, who are still getting trained up, toward his broad, radically inclusive concept of welcome. The Greek word for welcome, diczastha, occurs ten times in Matthew. It may not be the most frequently used word in this gospel, yet its critical. This reading in chapter 10 is the first of three instances where welcoming another is directly linked to the notion of little ones (the others are chapter 11 and chapter 18). We interpreters are tempted and practically encouraged by Matthew to start painting another piece of art depicting Jesus smiling or holding or playing with or reaching toward or storytelling to a small cluster of adorable cherubs. There’s nothing wrong with that, but its not enough. Micros and diczastha are more than words of welcome to children. No doubt many of us have heard the sermon that describes children as insignificant in Jesus’ culture. Some of us preachers have probably taken poetic and homiletic license to describe them as worth less than all other humans. Fun as that may be, it is historically suspect. Joel B Green, in his commentary on the gospel of Luke (a contemporary of Matthew’s), finds a clearer middle ground when he notes that children “might be valued for their present or future contribution to the family business…but otherwise they possessed little if any intrinsic value (The New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Luke, Wm Eerdmans, 1997, p.650).” Children may not have borne much monetary value but they were still loved, regarded, and cared for by their families. Family units were fundamentally important in Jesus' day, and even then, finances were not the only driving cultural force. Still, all this talk of kids is not enough for this text. The sermon this weekend can revolve around children and be quite good and fair and in line with the text. Another way to hear “little ones,” micros in the light of diczastha “welcome,” is to note its presence at the end of chapter 10. Jesus has been instructing his disciples for 39 verses already, gearing them up to be his missionaries to neighboring towns and cities. He’s given them such inspiring thoughts as, “I’m sending you out like sheep in the midst of wolves (10.16),” “you will be dragged before governors and kings because of me (10.18), “do not fear those who kill the body (10.28)," and “those who lose their life for my sake will find it (10.39).” Now, get out there go speak some good news to the adoring crowds! Verses 40-42 are Jesus closing lines before they roll out and he seems to be reading the faces of his disciples when he starts talking about welcome. Fun fact: he uses the word for welcome for the first time in this training seminar, 10.14. Thus, he reminds them one last time of who they are serving and for whom they are speaking as his missionaries. Anyone who receives them is receiving Christ. Anyone who welcomes their words and their presence is welcoming the presence of Christ. And if anyone gives them a cup of cold water after a long journey in the sun is truly a gift from God and will be gifted by God. Micros, “little ones,” is not simply a description of age or maturity, it is a statement of who the disciples are in the kingdom. Jesus reminds them at 10.24 that “a disciple is not above the teacher.” They are less than him, less significant, less powered, they bear less authority. Even when Jesus gives them authority to cure diseases and be his presence, they are not him. We followers of Christ are, at best in Martin Luther’s words, “Little Christ’s.” We are saintly sinners, flawed and forgiven, guilty and washed daily in Grace. These words are a reminder for us to be conscious of the young ones in our worship and near us, of course. Being negligent or obstructive to any child is hardly being a faithful disciple. These are also words of encouragement for us when we fear, when we doubt, when we stay cloistered in our patterns and assumptions and cannot get ourselves beyond our own comfort. When we do, when we risk and break barriers and speak God’s promise of the nearness of the kingdom, we are passing on a blessing from Christ. Anyone, literally any person, who is willing to hear us or receive us or simply give us a cup of water, is a blessing and is blessed by our shepherd’s compassion (9.36). Our not speaking of love and Grace and defying the stereotypes and assumptions of our culture is our holding back that Grace from God’s people. Jesus wants us out in the streets, where the crowds are, to be a dimly lit reflection of the glory of God’s kingdom already here. We easily count ourselves as insignificant, lowly and little in the eyes of others around us, but with Christ, we are a sign of love. We get to be that sign, flawed as we are, for our people who are wandering about, like harassed and helpless sheep (9.36). We get to be messengers and bearers of the great news that no one is alone in this community, and that nothing will stand between God and God's people. Need more thoughts on Matthew 10.40-42? workingpreacher.org textweek.org Dancing With the Word
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Authority Issues in Matthew 286/7/2017 Our gospel reading for this weekend is Matthew 28.16-20, often labeled "The Great Commission." These are the final words that Christ has for the Church he has been organizing since his arrival as a fully formed adult in chapter 3. In many ways, this last paragraph reinforces, synthesizes, and bears the weight of every other word Matthew has written.
For instance, one way to think of Jesus in the gospel of Matthew is as a community organizer. The book was written roughly 80-90 BCE, about two generations after the death and resurrection of Christ. The first Church is already off the ground and running, thanks to Peter, Paul, Barnabas and the many unnamed messengers in the book of Acts. The kingdom of heaven Jesus proclaims is taking shape and yet, its still vague and scattered. Matthew portrays Jesus as one who pulls together a ragtag group of misfits that he calls his disciples (akin to bringing together a loose association of new church bodies) and spends the rest of the gospel teaching with authority. Authority is a significant word for Matthew and it appears one last time in 28.16-20. Jesus declares that he has it and because he's got it, the disciples should head out to spread the message they've been holding onto, making disciples by discipling nations. Ten times Matthew refers to authority, often reflected through the eyes of onlookers who recognize it in Jesus. It is as if everyone (minus the Pharisees and those moving against Jesus in chapter 21) can see it. The disciples have already received Jesus' authority as part of their first mission trip in chapter 10. By chapter 28, Jesus is stating the obvious that still requires stating because, even though the disciples worship the risen Christ, they doubt (28.17). By the way, this same thing - worship and doubt - happens at 14.31-3, after Peter tries to drown himself imitating Jesus in the sea. Jesus saves him, the waves cease, the disciples worship him and doubt him. Maybe this is a subtle word of reassurance from Matthew for any of us who wander into worship on any given weekend. With great authority comes great responsibility and since Jesus has been organizing the Church all along, the duties are formally shifted to the disciples post-resurrection. "Go disciple disciples" across Creation (28.19) is a continuance of Christ's church building, it is not a call to save individual souls. Douglas R A Hare observes in Interpretation: Matthew that the disciples are instruments of Jesus. Baptism is not the final goal, it is part of the on-going movement of faith in community that "must continue indefinitely" (pg 334). Michael Joseph Brown, commentator in True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary, takes this call to community building well beyond its current church confines by quoting Delores S Williams, womanist theologian, who writes, "The goal of this community building is, of course, to establish a positive quality of life-for black women, men, and children" (pg.117, "Womanist Theology: Black Women's Voices," in Black Theology: A Documentary History, ed James H Cone and Gayraud Wilmore, pg 269). The disciples are being called by Christ, through his authority already transferred to them, to leave the hill upon which their light passively shines (5.14) and be of the world God is creating. This authority is their protection from fear, it is their encouragement through doubt, it is their confidence when the kings, rulers and powerful of this world claim their own false authority. "The kingdom of heaven has come near!" is the refrain Jesus opens his ministry with (4.17) and it is the good news that has been transferred to we disciples today, wondering what we can do against the crashing waves of doubt and powerful voices who wield their weapons against God's suffering people. Keep discipling disciples with hope and expectation that wherever we go, Christ is with us, building the kingdom here and now.
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Notes for Revelation 225/24/2017 Our text for worship this weekend, May 28, is Revelation 21.22-22.5.
It is not uncommon to hear portions of this reading at a funeral service. John the Revelator offers a grandiose, hope filled description of a new city in the midst of a "new heaven and new earth" (21.1) that bears every promise God has given since the first Creation story. John even notes that the trees will bear fruit that sustain life and none of them will be toxic to humans (Genesis 2.9ff). Hearing this text during a funeral wraps it in the enduring expectation of God's fulfillment as we face our own mortality and reminds us that nothing, not one thing, will stand between us and God. There will be no gates to unlock or break through, no shortage of food or water, no need for electricity and rent, no expensive medical bills. Nothing will remain except God's love lived through Christ, who stands at the center of our lives and receives us as God's people. In True to our Native Land, scholar Brian K Blount reminds us that this promise of access is not just for those of us who are easily recognized as disciples, earthly kings will be welcome to stand upright in the presence of Christ. Throughout Revelation, earthly kings are described as power hungry oppressors who will stop at nothing to use and abuse God's people for their gain. Christ, however, offers forgiveness to all of God's children, and that means forgiveness to those who have wielded their earthly power against others. Blount is quick to note that this is the depth to which God's Grace extends, far beyond what we humans can comprehend (or possibly even accept). Justice and liberation is a promise from God that we long for as it will transform every person and corner of Creation. Pablo Richard, author of A People's Commentary on the Book of Revelation, takes the opportunity in these final verses of Revelation to help us with the natural problem of what to do with this profound vision. Richard observes, through John's letter, that the lived time is where we can act on God's behalf shaped by "a plan of hope and utopia" (p.171). In essence, knowing that God will fulfill every promise is meant to be our encouragement to live expecting these promises. We know what God has done by glancing over human history and our own guideposts of faith. We also know where God is leading us by reading and internalizing this hopeful vision in Revelation. Our call becomes one of moving forward, trusting that we have been forgiven and capable of more than our destructive habits. Our lives can be a reflection of what God's Word will be by striving for access to basic needs, working toward justice and peace, speaking out against hateful words and biased assumptions that only build barriers between God's people. In the new heaven and new earth, there is nothing between us and God. This doesn't mean we have to wait until we're taken home through the grave to witness a glimpse of this promise here and now. Our question remains, then, how will we live in our hope today? How will we reflect our forgiveness and resist our temptations to continue unchanged by Grace? A few Biblical connections to the text: Isaiah 65.17-25 seems to be a strong visionary reference for this reading Verse 21.23 finds parallels in Isaiah 60.19-20 Verse 22.1, "river of life," can be found in Ezekiel 47.1-12 and Zechariah 14.8 Verse 22.4, "they will see God's face," is a positive contradiction to the historic accounts that no one can see the face of God, Exodus 33.20, Deuteronomy 4.12, John 1.18
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Notes for Revelation 21.1-75/17/2017 Our sermon text for the weekend of May 22 is Revelation 21.1-7.
John is bringing his long and winding letter to a close with a vision of a "new heaven and new earth." Immediately we might ask, 'What will happen to this one?' This is one of the significant challenges to reading John's revelation, acknowledging that everything we know about this world will come to an end. For some, this is desperate relief. For others, this is pure anxiety, since this is literally the only existence that we know. It is impossible to fully understand what it means to have our lives transformed completely. The good news, though, is that Christ was there before Creation and He will be there in the end. inf fact, Eugene Boring, in his commentary on Revelation, notes that the "end" will not be an event, it will be an encounter with Christ. This new heaven and earth is not about what we'll lose but who Creation will be joined to and be enlivened by forever and ever, Amen. For Pablo Richard, author of A People's Commentary on the Book of Revelation, the good news is found in the free gift of Grace that God offers. For instance, the water of life in verse 6. God calls this a gift and it is for anyone who is thirsty. Many of us have to pay for our water, even if its a surcharge from the city. Our people in Flint, Michigan, are paying mightily to have clean water. There seems to be a cost for everything in this world. In God's heaven, which will be here on earth, there is no cost, no charge, no debt. All that we need will be free and available and within reach. How might we live now knowing this promise is coming? How can we share this vision without telling people they have to wait for it? What would it be like to give away everything we have, as if it were a gift for others? Are we ready to lose everything? A few more brief notes: Verse 1 may be a reference to Isaiah 65.17-19 Verse 5 is similar to Isaiah 43.19 Verse 7 is covenant language found throughout the Hebrew Writings ex: Exodus 3.12; 2 Samuel 7.14; Psalm 2.17; Jeremiah 3.19 Verse 6 - Jesus describes himself as Alpha and Omega in the beginning of Revelation 1.8 |