Try to imagine what it would have been like in Joppa. In this story, a kind of parallel to the story of Lazarus, Dorcas is raised from apparent death, and picks up a new life. Like much of the world today, including Canada, people spoke more than one language. In Joppa, they spoke at least Greek and Aramaic - some would probably have spoken Hebrew. Depending where she was and with whom, Dorcas was also known as Tabitha – both names meaning gazelle.
You probably know people like her. Most of us know there are only so many hours in a day or days in a week. Dorcas wasn’t one of those people - she always seemed to have more than enough time to get more done than is possible to do in the regular day or week. Somehow, though, despite al the things she did, it seemed as though she always had lots of time to give her undivided attention. If there was a job that needed to be done, she was always there to do it; doing it well and with a smile..
Sounds like some people we know, doesn’t it?
What few people saw in Dorcas, however, - and what we probably don’t see in some of the seemingly tireless people around us - is that Dorcas was becoming weary of requests for her time,
weary of the hurts and sorrows she was carrying for people, weary of the growing expectations that she could do it all.
“She was devoted to good works and acts of charity,” but it seemed as though no one else was devoted to them (v 36). The church in Joppa loved having Dorcas do the work.
Maybe it was a combination of her personal style, and a complacent church, but no one else seemed able or willing to carry some of the load. So when Dorcas died, there was a crisis. No one else knew what to do. All they could think of was who would replace her. No one had taken time to thank her. They just compared themselves to her, and decided that she was so talented, their gifts didn’t measure up to hers. So they would find a way to say “Oh, I don’t have any gifts or talent, I can’t really do anything.” Rather than recognise that God had given everyone gifts, they were happy to leave it to Dorcas.
Funny, though, when she died they found a way to minister to her. They gently and carefully washed her body and laid her on a bed (v 37). The woman who had in many ways washed their feet is now being washed from head to toe by the people she had served.
Dorcas was an exceptional woman, and the only women named in the Bible specifically as a disciples. But her ministry had allowed people to think that the church was there to serve them - that it was OK to expect it. Dorcas’ way of caring for people created a self-centered group who thought there was no future if she wasn’t there. To them, her death spelled death for the church.
But God had something else in mind. God’s vision of the church was larger than their vision of the church. God knows there is more to the church than just caring for the people who attend.
So when God raises Dorcas from the dead, there is a dramatic change as God’s vision for the church comes into focus. The church begins to change from simply caring for the “widows and saints” who had benefited from her charity to one concerned about the community around them. The people begin to share the good news of God’s love and grace as they tell her story (v 42).
In the book “The Holy Longing”, Ronald Rolheiser talks about two kinds of death and two kinds of life. He uses a word that not too many people are familiar with. This particular word is “paschal.” It comes from the Hebrew word ‘pesach’, which means Passover. In Christian circles, it’s often used to speak about Jesus’ death as the Passover lamb given for the people of Israel.
Rolheiser talks about terminal death and paschal death. Terminal death ends life and ends possibilities. Paschal death is a death that, while ending one kind of life, opens the person to a deeper form of life. Paul spoke to the Corinthians about a grain of wheat being planted and dying but returning as new life in a new form - that is a paschal death.
There is resuscitated life and resurrected life. Resuscitated life is, for example, someone who has been clinically dead and is resuscitated, brought back to the physical life they left. Resurrected life is not a restoration of the same old life but the entering into a radically new life. Lazarus got his old life back, a life from which he had to die again. Jesus did not get his old life back. He received a new life – a richer life and one within which he would not have to die again.
Dorcas died a terminal death and was gifted with resuscitated life. She takes up where she left off, so to speak. Dorcas’ church died a paschal death, and from is death came a resurrected life.
Dorcas doesn’t change - she carries on as before
Her church, however, changes. Their resurrection helps them change the basis for their existence, change the way they live and contribute to the life of their congregation. They find ways to respond to God’s love and grace by living out - within the congregation and outside it - gratitude for what has been given.
They participate in acts of piety and commitment, they participate in acts of charity, they are open and welcoming, they witness to the good news by working to ensure the church is able to live fully, they imitate the Disciple Dorcas.
If you read through the entire book of Acts, you begin to understand that this isn’t just about Dorcas, but about the work of the Spirit - which is a story without end. The Holy Spirit begins work among us as we experience a paschal death and our own resurrection.
If the ultimate aim of stewardship is that our whole lives are to honour God, then we need to work from theologies of abundance, gratitude, and active discipleship. A theology of abundance celebrates that God created all that is and generously gives us every gift that we have and are. God calls us into relationship, to make our world better. We honour God when celebrate the abundance of God’s love for us, when we celebrate our lives together; we also honour God when we respond with gratitude.
Discipleship means a focus on Jesus, God’s great gift, who shows us how to live in ways which reflect our relationship with God in community. Through our giving - of time, of talents, of money - we participate in the preaching, teaching, healing, feeding and caring. We are the embodiment of God’s love, and the hands and feet of Jesus.
God also gives us the gift of the Spirit. We honour God by being open to the Spirit’s guidance. In opening ourselves to the Spirit’s leading, we are able to discern God’s call to both abundant living, and abundant giving.
The work of resurrection - and it is work - is not something that happens fast. It takes a change in our focus, a revitalisation of our purpose. The story of Dorcas, and the life of her congregation, is a story about stewardship. Each of us has something which is vital to the life of our congregation. Each of us has Spirit-given gifts, and the only way the congregation can experience the paschal resurrection is if those gifts are put to the best use possible. It has always been a reality of the church, that it cannot be resurrected without the hands, feet, and gifts of everyone in it.
May it be so.
Sources:
1. Based on the sermon “ Resuscitated for Service”, a sermon based on Acts 9:36-43 by Rev. Randy Quinn
2. Ronald Rolheiser, “The Holy Longing”. Doubleday, 1999, p. 146
3. “Celebrate Stewardship”, by Judith and Warren Johnson, copyright 2004The United Church of Canada. Used with permission.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Dramatic Encounters a sermon based on Acts 9:1-6 Third Sunday of Easter Glen Ayr United Church
For most of his life the late Malcolm Muggeridge professed to be agnostic. In 1969 he became a Christian, publishing “Jesus Rediscovered”, then “Jesus: The Man Who Lives” in 1976, a more substantial work describing the gospel in his own words. He also produced several important BBC documentaries with a religious theme, including In the Footsteps of St. Paul.
In 1982, Muggeridge converted to Roman Catholicism. He was 79. His last book “Conversion”, published in 1988 and recently republished, describes his life as a 20th century pilgrimage - a spiritual journey.
In today’s reading from Acts, there is a word which never shows up, and yet its presence almost screams out of the story. Rev. Tom Hall calls it “a disruptive word--a word that intrudes into our life, a word that rocks our boat, threatens us with priority shifts.”
The story of Saul on the road to Damascus is not a story about a conversion to the Christian faith. Saul was a Jew, and remained a Jew even after his experience. It is a story about a change in nature or character. Unfortunately, the Damascus Road incident has become kind of the yardstick by which everyone measures “conversion”. I suggest that this story is one of a huge epiphany for Saul.
A little background. Saul seemed to arrive just when he was needed most. The religious leaders and the sanhedrin thought new the movement could not be stopped even after the death of Jesus. Saul volunteered to take on the job of getting rid of the Jesus movement. He was young, intelligent, well educated as a rabbi and absolutely committed to the traditions of the faith. There were reports of followers in Damascus, and off went Paul, determined to stomp them out.
And he finds himself flat on his keester in the road, blinded by an incredible light. He has to be led into Damascus, and wait in the city for instructions. So he sits for three days in a room in an inn - hungry and unable to function. A human comes into the room, he feels hands on him and then hears "Brother Saul; Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit." The lights come back on, and suddenly he sees more clearly than ever. He really sees, for the first time in his entire life. His perspective changes. His commitment changes. His relationships change. Even his name changes.
We tend to think of conversion as someone becoming a Christian when they were some other faith prior to that. Saul, now Paul, was still the same man as before in the sense that he was still a practicing Jew. He hadn’t changed his faith, but he had changed his perceptions and understandings of how that faith was to be lived out. His understanding of God changed.
Paul had a conversion experience - no question of that - but his experience was one of conversion to a new life in ministry within the faith he had professed all his life. He understood his scriptures and his faith differently, and the new insight propelled him into ministry with the small group he had elected to eliminate. Sometimes conversions are loud and bold affairs--much like Paul's. Often they are not.
One of the most well-known conversion experiences is that of Kagawa Toyohiko. He had been an orphan from an early age, and became a Christian while learning English from western missionaries. His extended family disowned him. He studied at the Tokyo Presbyterian College, in the United States. The real conversion, I believe, came when he attended Kobe Theological Seminary, and found himself distressed by the pickiness of the seminarians around technicalities of doctrine. He believed that Christianity in action was the real truth of those doctrines.
In 1909 he moved into a Kobe slum as a social worker, and sociologist. He recorded many aspects of slum society previously unknown to middle-class Japanese - illicit prostitution (i.e. outside of Japan's legal prostitution regime), informal marriages (which often overlapped with the previous), and the practice of accepting money to care for children and then killing them.
Kagawa was arrested in Japan in 1921 and again in 1922 for his part in labour activism during strikes. After his release, he helped organize relief work in Tokyo following the 1923 Great Kanto earthquake, and assisted in bringing about universal voting rights for men in 1925. He organized the Japanese Federation of Labour, as well as the National Anti-War League in 1928, and continued to speak on behalf of Japan's poor; he pushed for the vote for women, and a peaceful foreign policy.
His conversion began through a simple prayer: "O God, make me like Christ." That was it. That was the blinding light and heavenly voices that accompanied his conversion. He was an orphan, half blind, always sick, yet he walked into the slums of Tokyo and became the greatest slum reformer.
Conversion is not a word we associate very often with our own lives. We don’t often have those wild experiences where we see with absolute clarity, if even for just an instant, and find ourselves blinded by the insight. Sometimes it’s something very small, which we might easily overlook. Other times the mighty persistent God breaks in to disrupt our lives completely. Saul’s experience on the Damascus road challenges us to be open to conversion. The Good News of Easter, and for us, is that God brings a profound change in nature or character. As Christians, we have to be open to conversion. That means seeing our selves, our lives, our congregation, our church - differently - and making a commitment to being a part of the church’s life, in whatever way we can.
Sources:
1: “Conversion”, a sermon by Rev. Tom Hall
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malcolm_Muggeridge
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toyohiko_Kagawa
In 1982, Muggeridge converted to Roman Catholicism. He was 79. His last book “Conversion”, published in 1988 and recently republished, describes his life as a 20th century pilgrimage - a spiritual journey.
In today’s reading from Acts, there is a word which never shows up, and yet its presence almost screams out of the story. Rev. Tom Hall calls it “a disruptive word--a word that intrudes into our life, a word that rocks our boat, threatens us with priority shifts.”
The story of Saul on the road to Damascus is not a story about a conversion to the Christian faith. Saul was a Jew, and remained a Jew even after his experience. It is a story about a change in nature or character. Unfortunately, the Damascus Road incident has become kind of the yardstick by which everyone measures “conversion”. I suggest that this story is one of a huge epiphany for Saul.
A little background. Saul seemed to arrive just when he was needed most. The religious leaders and the sanhedrin thought new the movement could not be stopped even after the death of Jesus. Saul volunteered to take on the job of getting rid of the Jesus movement. He was young, intelligent, well educated as a rabbi and absolutely committed to the traditions of the faith. There were reports of followers in Damascus, and off went Paul, determined to stomp them out.
And he finds himself flat on his keester in the road, blinded by an incredible light. He has to be led into Damascus, and wait in the city for instructions. So he sits for three days in a room in an inn - hungry and unable to function. A human comes into the room, he feels hands on him and then hears "Brother Saul; Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit." The lights come back on, and suddenly he sees more clearly than ever. He really sees, for the first time in his entire life. His perspective changes. His commitment changes. His relationships change. Even his name changes.
We tend to think of conversion as someone becoming a Christian when they were some other faith prior to that. Saul, now Paul, was still the same man as before in the sense that he was still a practicing Jew. He hadn’t changed his faith, but he had changed his perceptions and understandings of how that faith was to be lived out. His understanding of God changed.
Paul had a conversion experience - no question of that - but his experience was one of conversion to a new life in ministry within the faith he had professed all his life. He understood his scriptures and his faith differently, and the new insight propelled him into ministry with the small group he had elected to eliminate. Sometimes conversions are loud and bold affairs--much like Paul's. Often they are not.
One of the most well-known conversion experiences is that of Kagawa Toyohiko. He had been an orphan from an early age, and became a Christian while learning English from western missionaries. His extended family disowned him. He studied at the Tokyo Presbyterian College, in the United States. The real conversion, I believe, came when he attended Kobe Theological Seminary, and found himself distressed by the pickiness of the seminarians around technicalities of doctrine. He believed that Christianity in action was the real truth of those doctrines.
In 1909 he moved into a Kobe slum as a social worker, and sociologist. He recorded many aspects of slum society previously unknown to middle-class Japanese - illicit prostitution (i.e. outside of Japan's legal prostitution regime), informal marriages (which often overlapped with the previous), and the practice of accepting money to care for children and then killing them.
Kagawa was arrested in Japan in 1921 and again in 1922 for his part in labour activism during strikes. After his release, he helped organize relief work in Tokyo following the 1923 Great Kanto earthquake, and assisted in bringing about universal voting rights for men in 1925. He organized the Japanese Federation of Labour, as well as the National Anti-War League in 1928, and continued to speak on behalf of Japan's poor; he pushed for the vote for women, and a peaceful foreign policy.
His conversion began through a simple prayer: "O God, make me like Christ." That was it. That was the blinding light and heavenly voices that accompanied his conversion. He was an orphan, half blind, always sick, yet he walked into the slums of Tokyo and became the greatest slum reformer.
Conversion is not a word we associate very often with our own lives. We don’t often have those wild experiences where we see with absolute clarity, if even for just an instant, and find ourselves blinded by the insight. Sometimes it’s something very small, which we might easily overlook. Other times the mighty persistent God breaks in to disrupt our lives completely. Saul’s experience on the Damascus road challenges us to be open to conversion. The Good News of Easter, and for us, is that God brings a profound change in nature or character. As Christians, we have to be open to conversion. That means seeing our selves, our lives, our congregation, our church - differently - and making a commitment to being a part of the church’s life, in whatever way we can.
Sources:
1: “Conversion”, a sermon by Rev. Tom Hall
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malcolm_Muggeridge
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toyohiko_Kagawa
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Butterflies in the Garden A sermon based on Luke 24:1-12 Easter Sunday April 4, 2010 Glen Ayr United Church
But very early on Sunday morning the women went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes.
The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”
Then they remembered that he had said this. So they rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples—and everyone else—what had happened. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and several other women who told the apostles what had happened. But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn’t believe it. However, Peter jumped up and ran to the tomb to look. Stooping, he peered in and saw the empty linen wrappings; then he went home again, wondering what had happened.
****************************************************
Two weeks ago on a Saturday, a call came from North York General Hospital that a United Church chaplain was needed in the intensive care unit, as a patient was going to be removed from breathing support. I arrived to find some of the family gathered around the bedside, and a woman with a breathing mask lying on the bed. She struggled to breathe even with the mask on, and with morphine to ease to the pain. In some ways it was as if she struggled to get free of her body. I was reminded of the struggle of butterflies to break free from the chrysalis, to shed the thing which held them trapped to this earth, to spread their wings and take off into a new life.
Luke tells us that it was very early Sunday morning when a group of women went to the tomb. There was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and some other women who are not named by Luke - but clearly it was important enough to include. The women went with their spices to prepare Jesus’ body for a proper burial. Luke infers that these are the women who provided for Jesus out of their own resources, when the twelve were on the road. These women arrive to see the yawning entrance to the tomb, and the mighty stone rolled away. It is hard for us to imagine, we are so used to the stories now. It must have been at first puzzling, but when they find themselves confronted by two men in dazzling white, they were absolutely terrified - so afraid, in fact, they fell to the ground and covered their faces. The men asked the most confusing question, too: Why do you look for the living among the dead. He is not here, he is risen. Remember, he told you this would happen.
I’d be willing to bet the women were thinking - what did he tell us? What are these men talking about? The women were probably physically and emotionally exhausted from the events of the week, and in the midst of those events, being bound by religious law, that they could do nothing till the Sabbath was officially over. They had seen the excruciating execution and death of Jesus, and probably wanted to forget - not remember. They were moving on autopilot, in many ways, but still thinking enough to go to the tomb, taking the spices needed to prepare a body properly for burial.
Remember what? Remember how Jesus told you this would happen? It was back in Galilee! Remember he said he would be handed over? He told you that he would be crucified! Remember? And he said that he would rise again on the third day. Well, it happened just as he promised. Remember?
Suddenly it all came back to them - like a flood of light- not that it made any sense- but the women remembered that this was what Jesus said would happen and it did. The women remembered and so they returned to tell the others. They were met with disbelief, and even some concern that they were hysterical women who couldn’t accept real life. Isn’t that the human reaction, after all?
And yet, Luke tells us Peter got up and ran to the tomb, saw the gravecloths - went away wondering what had happened.
It’s the statement, and the question of the two men which are so significant for this day. Why do you look for the living among the dead? He isn’t here any more, he is alive. Remember what he told you? Remember?
In the first letter to the new house church in Corinth, the apostle Paul had his work cut out for him. None of the converts was an eye-witness to any events; Paul himself was not an eyewitness. Yet he accepted on faith that the Jesus had been resurrected; some of the other converts obviously weren’t so sure, so they wanted some explanation - some proof. Paul says to them “You ask how the dead can be raised? How silly can you be? Of course, the dead do not get up and walk again, in the same body. But each kind of life is given a body - one kind of body for plants, another kind for animals, another kind for birds, one for fish. And just as there all these different kinds of flesh, so it is with the human body.
Remember, says Paul, what you plant cannot live unless it first dies. A grain of wheat in the ground looks like nothing and appears dead, yet when it grows it has a body completely unlike the grain of wheat. It’s that way with humans and resurrection. Only by dying do we live.
So why go looking for the living among the dead? A lowly and often mundane caterpillar disappears inside a chrysalis, but when it finally struggles and pushes and breaks its way free, what emerges from the chrysalis is something completely changed from the body which went in.
Remember. Resurrection can happen in so many ways. A dying person’s soul struggles to emerge from the chrysalis which holds it to this earth. A living person’s soul can also struggle to break free, to come out of the closed chrysalis and spread out its wings. Resurrection is an invitation to make such major change in our selves, that we truly become something wholly new.
Sources:
1. "They Remembered" by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
2. "Finding Out for Ourselves", by Rev. Elizabeth Darby
The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”
Then they remembered that he had said this. So they rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples—and everyone else—what had happened. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and several other women who told the apostles what had happened. But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn’t believe it. However, Peter jumped up and ran to the tomb to look. Stooping, he peered in and saw the empty linen wrappings; then he went home again, wondering what had happened.
****************************************************
Two weeks ago on a Saturday, a call came from North York General Hospital that a United Church chaplain was needed in the intensive care unit, as a patient was going to be removed from breathing support. I arrived to find some of the family gathered around the bedside, and a woman with a breathing mask lying on the bed. She struggled to breathe even with the mask on, and with morphine to ease to the pain. In some ways it was as if she struggled to get free of her body. I was reminded of the struggle of butterflies to break free from the chrysalis, to shed the thing which held them trapped to this earth, to spread their wings and take off into a new life.
Luke tells us that it was very early Sunday morning when a group of women went to the tomb. There was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and some other women who are not named by Luke - but clearly it was important enough to include. The women went with their spices to prepare Jesus’ body for a proper burial. Luke infers that these are the women who provided for Jesus out of their own resources, when the twelve were on the road. These women arrive to see the yawning entrance to the tomb, and the mighty stone rolled away. It is hard for us to imagine, we are so used to the stories now. It must have been at first puzzling, but when they find themselves confronted by two men in dazzling white, they were absolutely terrified - so afraid, in fact, they fell to the ground and covered their faces. The men asked the most confusing question, too: Why do you look for the living among the dead. He is not here, he is risen. Remember, he told you this would happen.
I’d be willing to bet the women were thinking - what did he tell us? What are these men talking about? The women were probably physically and emotionally exhausted from the events of the week, and in the midst of those events, being bound by religious law, that they could do nothing till the Sabbath was officially over. They had seen the excruciating execution and death of Jesus, and probably wanted to forget - not remember. They were moving on autopilot, in many ways, but still thinking enough to go to the tomb, taking the spices needed to prepare a body properly for burial.
Remember what? Remember how Jesus told you this would happen? It was back in Galilee! Remember he said he would be handed over? He told you that he would be crucified! Remember? And he said that he would rise again on the third day. Well, it happened just as he promised. Remember?
Suddenly it all came back to them - like a flood of light- not that it made any sense- but the women remembered that this was what Jesus said would happen and it did. The women remembered and so they returned to tell the others. They were met with disbelief, and even some concern that they were hysterical women who couldn’t accept real life. Isn’t that the human reaction, after all?
And yet, Luke tells us Peter got up and ran to the tomb, saw the gravecloths - went away wondering what had happened.
It’s the statement, and the question of the two men which are so significant for this day. Why do you look for the living among the dead? He isn’t here any more, he is alive. Remember what he told you? Remember?
In the first letter to the new house church in Corinth, the apostle Paul had his work cut out for him. None of the converts was an eye-witness to any events; Paul himself was not an eyewitness. Yet he accepted on faith that the Jesus had been resurrected; some of the other converts obviously weren’t so sure, so they wanted some explanation - some proof. Paul says to them “You ask how the dead can be raised? How silly can you be? Of course, the dead do not get up and walk again, in the same body. But each kind of life is given a body - one kind of body for plants, another kind for animals, another kind for birds, one for fish. And just as there all these different kinds of flesh, so it is with the human body.
Remember, says Paul, what you plant cannot live unless it first dies. A grain of wheat in the ground looks like nothing and appears dead, yet when it grows it has a body completely unlike the grain of wheat. It’s that way with humans and resurrection. Only by dying do we live.
So why go looking for the living among the dead? A lowly and often mundane caterpillar disappears inside a chrysalis, but when it finally struggles and pushes and breaks its way free, what emerges from the chrysalis is something completely changed from the body which went in.
Remember. Resurrection can happen in so many ways. A dying person’s soul struggles to emerge from the chrysalis which holds it to this earth. A living person’s soul can also struggle to break free, to come out of the closed chrysalis and spread out its wings. Resurrection is an invitation to make such major change in our selves, that we truly become something wholly new.
Sources:
1. "They Remembered" by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
2. "Finding Out for Ourselves", by Rev. Elizabeth Darby
Friday, March 26, 2010
Palm Sunday March 28, 2010 Glen Ayr United Church
The Reading and reflections are taken from Luke 22:1-23
I. The Festival of Unleavened Bread, which is also called Passover, was approaching. Leading priests, and teachers of religious law were plotting to kill Jesus, but they were afraid of the people’s reaction.
Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests and captains of the Temple guard to discuss the best way to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted, and they promised to give him money. So he agreed and began to look for an opportunity to betray Jesus so they could arrest him when the crowds weren’t around.
Reflection 1
Luke is the one Gospel which tells us from the beginning that he is relating as closely as possible what he has been told by others. Some of the leading priests and teachers of the religious law were already planning to get rid of Jesus, according to Luke, but didn’t have a good excuse.
Then there is Judas. Judas had been one of the twelve all along, and probably he was one of the few who really believed Jesus was in fact the hoped-for Messiah. He had been there where Jesus had done so many things, he likely believed it would be easy for Jesus to just call up the power of God and demonstrate to the religious leaders and the Romans who he really was. I don’t think Judas ever thought Jesus would really die. I think he took the money, and figured the joke would be on the leaders when Jesus demonstrated his real power.
II. The Festival of Unleavened Bread arrived, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed. Jesus sent Peter and John ahead and said, “Go and prepare the Passover meal, so we can eat it together.”
“Where do you want us to prepare it?” they asked him.
Jesus said “As soon as you enter Jerusalem, a man carrying a pitcher of water will meet you. Follow him. At the house he enters, say to the owner, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?’ He will take you upstairs to a large room that is already set up. That is where you should prepare our meal.” They went off to the city and found everything just as Jesus had said, and they prepared the Passover meal there.
Reflection 2
If we take Luke at face value, it looks as if Jesus is predicting everything which will come. More likely Luke leaves out the bits where Jesus has made arrangements ahead of time; maybe those details weren’t related; maybe Jesus had other people do the arrangements; maybe Jesus had a premonition that this would be the last Passover together, and he wanted it to be special. Knowing how the people would crowd into Jerusalem, he wanted to be sure they had a place where they could sit in comfort and eat in peace, and enjoy each other’s company. Everyone Jesus loved, together in one place. Not just the twelve, but all the people who went with them everywhere - the women and the children too.
What would it be like, if you just had a feeling you were going to die soon, and wanted to have one last get-together with all your friends. You would make sure everything was arranged - the place, the food, the atmosphere. Jesus sends Peter and John ahead to prepare the food, but he has already made sure everything else is organised so there won’t be any glitches. There is water, food, wine, bread - and a comfortable place where everyone has everything they need.
III. When the time came, Jesus and the apostles sat down together at the table. Jesus said, “I have been very eager to eat this Passover meal with you before my suffering begins. For I tell you now that I won’t eat this meal again until its meaning is fulfilled in the Kingdom of God.”
Then he took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it. Then he said, “Take this and share it among yourselves. For I will not drink wine again until the Kingdom of God has come.”
He took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me.”
After supper he took another cup of wine and said, “This cup is the new covenant between God and his people—an agreement confirmed with my blood, which is poured out as a sacrifice for you.
“But here at this table, sitting among us as a friend, is the man who will betray me. For it has been determined that the Son of Man must die. But what sorrow awaits the one who betrays him.” The disciples began to ask each other which of them would ever do such a thing.
Reflection 3
So the meal is prepared. Long low tables set around the room, cushions and benches to recline on, simple dishes for the food - and the traditional meal.
Some of the detail in Luke is interesting though. Jesus takes the cup at the beginning of the meal - and offers thanks to God. In fact, he would have offered a blessing on God, and then thanks. He says he will not drink again until God’s realm comes on earth. Then he takes the bread - also the custom - but the words are changed and the bread becomes his body. Then he takes the cup a second time, saying that it is the new covenant, a confirmation of the agreement between God and the people.
We’ve always thought that Jesus knew from birth that he was going to die. That’s what we’ve been taught. Jesus wasn’t stupid. He had been in the face of the religious authorities one way or another all the time; he had been abrasive and critical - and he had been right about their hypocrisy. Luke tells us at the beginning that the religious leaders were already plotting Jesus’ death. Jesus’ statement that his death has already been determined is simply a matter of fact, not psychic abilities or supernatural knowledge. He knows more than Judas had realised. No, Jesus wasn’t stupid at all. He saw it coming.
The disciples of course, react exactly the way everyone would. Who on earth would turn him in? Who would ever betray Jesus? Who would ever renege on the friendship which had been formed? Who would turn against him, or deny knowing him?
Knowing the physical danger, wouldn’t we all?
I. The Festival of Unleavened Bread, which is also called Passover, was approaching. Leading priests, and teachers of religious law were plotting to kill Jesus, but they were afraid of the people’s reaction.
Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests and captains of the Temple guard to discuss the best way to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted, and they promised to give him money. So he agreed and began to look for an opportunity to betray Jesus so they could arrest him when the crowds weren’t around.
Reflection 1
Luke is the one Gospel which tells us from the beginning that he is relating as closely as possible what he has been told by others. Some of the leading priests and teachers of the religious law were already planning to get rid of Jesus, according to Luke, but didn’t have a good excuse.
Then there is Judas. Judas had been one of the twelve all along, and probably he was one of the few who really believed Jesus was in fact the hoped-for Messiah. He had been there where Jesus had done so many things, he likely believed it would be easy for Jesus to just call up the power of God and demonstrate to the religious leaders and the Romans who he really was. I don’t think Judas ever thought Jesus would really die. I think he took the money, and figured the joke would be on the leaders when Jesus demonstrated his real power.
II. The Festival of Unleavened Bread arrived, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed. Jesus sent Peter and John ahead and said, “Go and prepare the Passover meal, so we can eat it together.”
“Where do you want us to prepare it?” they asked him.
Jesus said “As soon as you enter Jerusalem, a man carrying a pitcher of water will meet you. Follow him. At the house he enters, say to the owner, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?’ He will take you upstairs to a large room that is already set up. That is where you should prepare our meal.” They went off to the city and found everything just as Jesus had said, and they prepared the Passover meal there.
Reflection 2
If we take Luke at face value, it looks as if Jesus is predicting everything which will come. More likely Luke leaves out the bits where Jesus has made arrangements ahead of time; maybe those details weren’t related; maybe Jesus had other people do the arrangements; maybe Jesus had a premonition that this would be the last Passover together, and he wanted it to be special. Knowing how the people would crowd into Jerusalem, he wanted to be sure they had a place where they could sit in comfort and eat in peace, and enjoy each other’s company. Everyone Jesus loved, together in one place. Not just the twelve, but all the people who went with them everywhere - the women and the children too.
What would it be like, if you just had a feeling you were going to die soon, and wanted to have one last get-together with all your friends. You would make sure everything was arranged - the place, the food, the atmosphere. Jesus sends Peter and John ahead to prepare the food, but he has already made sure everything else is organised so there won’t be any glitches. There is water, food, wine, bread - and a comfortable place where everyone has everything they need.
III. When the time came, Jesus and the apostles sat down together at the table. Jesus said, “I have been very eager to eat this Passover meal with you before my suffering begins. For I tell you now that I won’t eat this meal again until its meaning is fulfilled in the Kingdom of God.”
Then he took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it. Then he said, “Take this and share it among yourselves. For I will not drink wine again until the Kingdom of God has come.”
He took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me.”
After supper he took another cup of wine and said, “This cup is the new covenant between God and his people—an agreement confirmed with my blood, which is poured out as a sacrifice for you.
“But here at this table, sitting among us as a friend, is the man who will betray me. For it has been determined that the Son of Man must die. But what sorrow awaits the one who betrays him.” The disciples began to ask each other which of them would ever do such a thing.
Reflection 3
So the meal is prepared. Long low tables set around the room, cushions and benches to recline on, simple dishes for the food - and the traditional meal.
Some of the detail in Luke is interesting though. Jesus takes the cup at the beginning of the meal - and offers thanks to God. In fact, he would have offered a blessing on God, and then thanks. He says he will not drink again until God’s realm comes on earth. Then he takes the bread - also the custom - but the words are changed and the bread becomes his body. Then he takes the cup a second time, saying that it is the new covenant, a confirmation of the agreement between God and the people.
We’ve always thought that Jesus knew from birth that he was going to die. That’s what we’ve been taught. Jesus wasn’t stupid. He had been in the face of the religious authorities one way or another all the time; he had been abrasive and critical - and he had been right about their hypocrisy. Luke tells us at the beginning that the religious leaders were already plotting Jesus’ death. Jesus’ statement that his death has already been determined is simply a matter of fact, not psychic abilities or supernatural knowledge. He knows more than Judas had realised. No, Jesus wasn’t stupid at all. He saw it coming.
The disciples of course, react exactly the way everyone would. Who on earth would turn him in? Who would ever betray Jesus? Who would ever renege on the friendship which had been formed? Who would turn against him, or deny knowing him?
Knowing the physical danger, wouldn’t we all?
Saturday, March 20, 2010
“A Prodigal Muchness” John 12:1-8 Fifth Sunday in Lent Glen Ayr United Church
Has anyone seen the new Alice in Wonderland movie yet? I confess I have not, but it’s on the to-do list for this week. My friend and colleague, Rev. Susan Leo, did go to see it. She comments that it is a sequel to the Disney animation of 1951, rather than a remake. Alice, in this movie, is now a young woman, almost an adult. She’s not happy with her options, but isn’t certain of herself, not sure of what she should do, or what she could do. So when she falls down the rabbit hole into Underland, she is older than when she first visited, and also a very different person: less bold, less confident - so much less herself that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter are sure that she’s The Wrong Alice. “You were so much more, muchier then”, the Hatter says, looking sad. “You’ve lost your muchness.”
“You’ve lost your muchness.” It happens doesn’t it? As we get older, exposed to life, we gradually lose our muchness. We’re supposed to tamp our muchness down - we might be considered improper, or misunderstood, or judged too much - we might be judged.
As we look at the story from the Gospel of John today, there are a couple of things for you to hold in your mind.
First, in scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance.
Well, the story today from John is about muchness: the muchness of Mary, the muchness of God, and the judging it provokes.
Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. These three are never identified as official disciples, although I think they were, because although they lived at home, they were friends of Jesus. We don’t know how they became friends, but Jesus was obviously very close to them. It sounds like he had been there often for a breather from the people wanting him. This friendship had just recently been tested. In the story right before this one, Lazarus had become seriously ill. Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come and help, believing that he would make Lazarus well. They believed he could heal Lazarus.
Even after Jesus received the message, he flatly refused to go, and even spent time relaxing by the Jordan River for a couple more days. When he did eventually go, he found himself confronted with anger, accusations of betrayal from the grieving sisters. Moved by their grief, Jesus went to the tomb, and called Lazarus out. The crowd surrounding the tomb that day was amazed. Some went away bewildered, some left filled with wonder and awe. Still others ran off to the Pharisees and told them of what they had seen. Now this would not sit well with the Pharisees - because only a real prophet can raise the dead to life. They would be really angry - just as John paints them in his gospel. Jesus might just be who everyone says he is.
So here we are: a comfortable home, friends eating and relaxing together, just a couple of days after the miraculous thing, and just before Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time - although they don’t know that yet. Relaxing, drinking a little or a lot, talking and laughing. Martha, the older sister and a perfectionist, has put another incredible meal on the table. Mary, the younger sister, the one whose mind is always off in the clouds, sitting near Jesus and just drinking in everything he says. Lazarus, maybe still pinching himself after the ordeal, laughing with Jesus and the gang.
Mary goes to another room for a moment, and comes back with a jar in her hands. She kneels in front of Jesus, opens the jar, scoops out the spicy nard, which has a scent reminiscent of mint and ginseng. She warms it in her hands, and the fragrance fills the whole room. The room goes silent. Mary massages the very expensive perfume into his feet, then lets her hair down, and begins to wipe away the excess.
This is an astonishing and provocative scene. Not only was it totally unexpected, it was outside the acceptable norms of behaviour for a woman; when Mary broke open the jar, she broke a whole pile of taboos. Anoint a man’s head was a symbol of royalty; to pour perfume on a man’s was the action of a slave. A woman might touch the feet of a man to whom she was married, but otherwise not. And a respectable woman would never let down her hair like that.
Judas was the one who spoke. What a waste of money! Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money used to help the poor??? John tells us Judas didn’t care about the poor, he cared about the money. So instead of seeing this action as gratitude and extravagant love, - prodigal love, profligate in is extravagance - he only saw waste. He couldn’t deal with the “muchness” of the whole thing! That oil would, indeed, have fed many poor people for a long time!
Last week's story of the prodigal son brought us a jubilant father pulling out all the stops to celebrate his son’s return, despite conventional wisdom, and the petulance and anger of the other son. The father lives with “muchness”. Mary demonstrates the same kind of extravagant love in this story. It is a story about “muchness” - me’od.
Mary makes us uncomfortable - she is so adoring and driven to give a blessing. Jesus makes us uncomfortable because he is so willing to receive it - we would have expected Jesus to chastise Mary for the waste, wouldn’t we? Judas is just opposed to muchness in any of its manifestations.
Yet here, through Mary the dreamer, is an expression of extravagant love, magnanimous love; lavish love. She offers Jesus an incredible blessing; to give or receive a blessing, is to become vulnerable, revealing more of ourselves, our desire, and our love. We don’t like looking “over the top”. Usually, for us, when we’re given a blessing, we think we don’t really deserve it, we automatically think there must be strings attached somewhere. Who are we to give a blessing to others? So many of us think that. Oh, Im nobody special what do I have to offer anyway?
And unlike Mary, when we give we don’t give out of “muchness”, we give with a poverty of soul. Then, playing the role of Judas, we judge people who are as lavish as Mary, or the overjoyed father in the prodigal son story. This is a story of prodigality and muchness: through Mary, we see the muchness of God. Through a woman, no less, the generosity and extravagance of God is demonstrated. Mary's gift was a prodigal and profligate, incredible blessing, with no regard for propriety, cost, or the fear of being too much. Gods gift of Jesus is an even greater muchness, a large extravagant blessing given without regard for propriety, regulation, cost, or the fear of being too much. God wishes for us to be as much as we are capable of being. God wishes that we stop paying attention to the Judas who would curb our muchness. God wishes us to give with extravagant generosity from those blessings whenever and wherever we can. God wants us not to lose our “muchness”, but to celebrate it and work on it
In the second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes “Thanks be to God, who in Christ, always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing Christ. For we are the aroma of Christ....”
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2. 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 - “Scent of a Disciple” by Rev. Wes Morgan, First Christian Church Disciples of Christ, Conroe, Texas..
“You’ve lost your muchness.” It happens doesn’t it? As we get older, exposed to life, we gradually lose our muchness. We’re supposed to tamp our muchness down - we might be considered improper, or misunderstood, or judged too much - we might be judged.
As we look at the story from the Gospel of John today, there are a couple of things for you to hold in your mind.
First, in scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance.
Well, the story today from John is about muchness: the muchness of Mary, the muchness of God, and the judging it provokes.
Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. These three are never identified as official disciples, although I think they were, because although they lived at home, they were friends of Jesus. We don’t know how they became friends, but Jesus was obviously very close to them. It sounds like he had been there often for a breather from the people wanting him. This friendship had just recently been tested. In the story right before this one, Lazarus had become seriously ill. Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come and help, believing that he would make Lazarus well. They believed he could heal Lazarus.
Even after Jesus received the message, he flatly refused to go, and even spent time relaxing by the Jordan River for a couple more days. When he did eventually go, he found himself confronted with anger, accusations of betrayal from the grieving sisters. Moved by their grief, Jesus went to the tomb, and called Lazarus out. The crowd surrounding the tomb that day was amazed. Some went away bewildered, some left filled with wonder and awe. Still others ran off to the Pharisees and told them of what they had seen. Now this would not sit well with the Pharisees - because only a real prophet can raise the dead to life. They would be really angry - just as John paints them in his gospel. Jesus might just be who everyone says he is.
So here we are: a comfortable home, friends eating and relaxing together, just a couple of days after the miraculous thing, and just before Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time - although they don’t know that yet. Relaxing, drinking a little or a lot, talking and laughing. Martha, the older sister and a perfectionist, has put another incredible meal on the table. Mary, the younger sister, the one whose mind is always off in the clouds, sitting near Jesus and just drinking in everything he says. Lazarus, maybe still pinching himself after the ordeal, laughing with Jesus and the gang.
Mary goes to another room for a moment, and comes back with a jar in her hands. She kneels in front of Jesus, opens the jar, scoops out the spicy nard, which has a scent reminiscent of mint and ginseng. She warms it in her hands, and the fragrance fills the whole room. The room goes silent. Mary massages the very expensive perfume into his feet, then lets her hair down, and begins to wipe away the excess.
This is an astonishing and provocative scene. Not only was it totally unexpected, it was outside the acceptable norms of behaviour for a woman; when Mary broke open the jar, she broke a whole pile of taboos. Anoint a man’s head was a symbol of royalty; to pour perfume on a man’s was the action of a slave. A woman might touch the feet of a man to whom she was married, but otherwise not. And a respectable woman would never let down her hair like that.
Judas was the one who spoke. What a waste of money! Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money used to help the poor??? John tells us Judas didn’t care about the poor, he cared about the money. So instead of seeing this action as gratitude and extravagant love, - prodigal love, profligate in is extravagance - he only saw waste. He couldn’t deal with the “muchness” of the whole thing! That oil would, indeed, have fed many poor people for a long time!
Last week's story of the prodigal son brought us a jubilant father pulling out all the stops to celebrate his son’s return, despite conventional wisdom, and the petulance and anger of the other son. The father lives with “muchness”. Mary demonstrates the same kind of extravagant love in this story. It is a story about “muchness” - me’od.
Mary makes us uncomfortable - she is so adoring and driven to give a blessing. Jesus makes us uncomfortable because he is so willing to receive it - we would have expected Jesus to chastise Mary for the waste, wouldn’t we? Judas is just opposed to muchness in any of its manifestations.
Yet here, through Mary the dreamer, is an expression of extravagant love, magnanimous love; lavish love. She offers Jesus an incredible blessing; to give or receive a blessing, is to become vulnerable, revealing more of ourselves, our desire, and our love. We don’t like looking “over the top”. Usually, for us, when we’re given a blessing, we think we don’t really deserve it, we automatically think there must be strings attached somewhere. Who are we to give a blessing to others? So many of us think that. Oh, Im nobody special what do I have to offer anyway?
And unlike Mary, when we give we don’t give out of “muchness”, we give with a poverty of soul. Then, playing the role of Judas, we judge people who are as lavish as Mary, or the overjoyed father in the prodigal son story. This is a story of prodigality and muchness: through Mary, we see the muchness of God. Through a woman, no less, the generosity and extravagance of God is demonstrated. Mary's gift was a prodigal and profligate, incredible blessing, with no regard for propriety, cost, or the fear of being too much. Gods gift of Jesus is an even greater muchness, a large extravagant blessing given without regard for propriety, regulation, cost, or the fear of being too much. God wishes for us to be as much as we are capable of being. God wishes that we stop paying attention to the Judas who would curb our muchness. God wishes us to give with extravagant generosity from those blessings whenever and wherever we can. God wants us not to lose our “muchness”, but to celebrate it and work on it
In the second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes “Thanks be to God, who in Christ, always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing Christ. For we are the aroma of Christ....”
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2. 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 - “Scent of a Disciple” by Rev. Wes Morgan, First Christian Church Disciples of Christ, Conroe, Texas..
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Prodigals!!! A sermon based on Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 Glen Ayr United Church March 14, 2010 Fourth Sunday in Lent
“What? You want ME to go to a party for that moron? Look, Dad, I’ve really had it up to here, ya know? I’ve worked the farm year in and year out, done everything you asked without ONCE complaining. Meanwhile that little moron takes all the money he can get, runs off and blows the lot on women and drinking. He’s a totally irresponsible idiot. I told you this would happen, didn’t I? And now you want me to welcome him home, act like everything’s OK? It *isn’t* OK. But you and mom always did love him best....”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A Fig Tree? Lent 3 Year C Glen Ayr United Church Luke 13:1-9
About this time Jesus was told that Pilate had murdered some Galileans, as they were offering sacrifices at the Temple. “Do you think those Galileans were worse sinners than all the other people from Galilee?” Jesus asked. “Is that why they suffered? Not at all! And you will perish, too, unless you repent of your sins and turn to God. And what about the eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them? Were they the worst sinners in Jerusalem? No, and I tell you again that unless you repent, you will perish, too.” Then Jesus told this story: “A man planted a fig tree in his garden and came again and again to see if there was any fruit on it, but he was always disappointed. Finally, he said to his gardener, ‘I’ve waited three years, and there hasn’t been a single fig! Cut it down. It’s just taking up space in the garden.’ “The gardener answered, ‘Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.’”
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US, California and Texas. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine subfossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - were found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common food source around.
But there’s another little piece in this scripture which needs to be noted. The translation I just read uses the word fertiliser, but the Greek word is kopria, which means literally “manure”. So the gardener says to the owner “Leave it with me for a year or so. I will prune it and give it lots of manure.”
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. Remember, it was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture. ...then there are two parts to the story of the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
Yesterday, at the coffee and conversation get together, we got slightly off into plants that don’t bloom. I have two orchids which have sat proudly putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids are now putting forth spikes and preparing to bloom.
So here is a tree - something which has been around longer than anything else - something which represents everything the children of Israel are, and it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died in the world trade centre worse than others? No!! They died because of random acts of violence. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is being out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, fertilise with study and reflection, taking out what we’ve always believed and giving it a good second look. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden our lives and bearing fruit.
Anna Murdock, who continues to offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. He and his wife spent the fruitful season making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. They would go throughout the town, knocking on doors and giving little gifts of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US, California and Texas. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine subfossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - were found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common food source around.
But there’s another little piece in this scripture which needs to be noted. The translation I just read uses the word fertiliser, but the Greek word is kopria, which means literally “manure”. So the gardener says to the owner “Leave it with me for a year or so. I will prune it and give it lots of manure.”
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. Remember, it was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture. ...then there are two parts to the story of the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
Yesterday, at the coffee and conversation get together, we got slightly off into plants that don’t bloom. I have two orchids which have sat proudly putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids are now putting forth spikes and preparing to bloom.
So here is a tree - something which has been around longer than anything else - something which represents everything the children of Israel are, and it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died in the world trade centre worse than others? No!! They died because of random acts of violence. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is being out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, fertilise with study and reflection, taking out what we’ve always believed and giving it a good second look. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden our lives and bearing fruit.
Anna Murdock, who continues to offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. He and his wife spent the fruitful season making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. They would go throughout the town, knocking on doors and giving little gifts of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
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