What Do You Want Me to Do for You? Preached on October 28th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Mark 10:46-52 This morning, instead of the usual prayer for illumination we begin with a meditation. After this brief meditation the sermon will begin. And so I invite you to settle comfortably in your seat, close your eyes or let your gaze fall softly in the distance. What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asks. Let the question sink in. What do you want me to do for you? Allow the question to enter through your ears and reside in your head for a moment. What’s your reply? Pay my rent this month? Find me a new partner, someone who will actually understand me? Get me an A on the test? Cure my sick child? What do you want me to do for you? Allow the question to sink down to your throat, and spread out over your shoulders. What’s your reply? Mend my broken heart? Free me from the painful memories that haunt me? Teach me how to forgive? Take away my addiction? What do you want me to do for you? Let the question sink deep into your chest, penetrating your heart. What’s your reply? Help me, help me, help me! In the gospel of Mark, Jesus asks this question more than once. Let’s hear from the cast of characters who first heard it and gave their answer. My name is Bartimaeus – Bar – timaeus – son of Timaeus. And my patch is a spot on the road just outside of the walls of Jericho. Or it was, until I met the one called Jesus from Nazareth. Jesus Son of David, that’s what I called him. I’d worked that patch for years, sitting cross-legged with my cloak spread out beneath me. When night came in and the travelers stopped passing by, I’d gather up the coins I’d collected on my cloak. I’d pull it around me, and go to the spot among the other beggars where I slept. I was begging because I was blind. I could not see, so I could not work. I could not marry. But I could hear, I could taste, I could smell. When the Rabbi called Jesus came out of Jericho, he was followed by his disciples, and by a crowd behind him. I could tell something important was going on. I could hear their excitement and anxiety. “Next stop Jerusalem,” some of them were murmuring. They’d been on the road for a while. I told you I could smell. I could feel the grit on their hands as some of them placed coins in mine. I’d heard of the teachings of this Rabbi, and I could feel the beat of his purposeful stride. I knew there’d be trouble in Jerusalem. We’d heard of the executions going on down there, the crucifixions for insurrectionists. And this Rabbi was about doing something. Who was this? King David, come to take Jerusalem back for our people? He had a power others could not see. Their sighted eyes prevented them from grasping it. This was my chance. There’s nothing to lose when you spend your days sitting in the dirt begging for scraps. I cried out as loud as I could “Jesus, Son of David, take pity, have mercy on me!” The crowds tried to stop me. They formed a wall in front of me and muttered “shut up” between their teeth. The more they did that, the more I cried out. I may have been blind but I could wail. And he heard me! He called me forward. And then he asked … he asked me: “What do you want me to do for you?” …………….. We’re Jesus’ disciples, the ones he called first: Peter, James and John. We’ve been following Jesus for some three years. First we’d just traveled through the villages of Galilee, healing the sick, casting out demons, proclaiming the Kingdom of God was coming near. But, then, just a few months ago the message changed a little. The direction of the tour became more purposeful. We were headed for Jerusalem, for the Passover. Jesus had been talking a little crazy these past weeks. We were trying to get him back on message. But he kept talking about suffering and death and something about rising again. The first will be last and the last will be first. Crazy stuff. When he first started this I, Peter, rebuked him. He set me straight. And then there was that day on the mountain top, when he was shining with divine light and talking with the old prophets. Now we don’t know whether to be excited or afraid. We brothers, James and John, saw this was our chance. We asked for a special favor. It was for our loyalty and our courage, you understand. “What do you want me to do for you?” He’d asked. We asked to sit on his right and left when he came into glory. We wanted him to know we had confidence in him. He would take Jerusalem and reign. We’d have a share, after all, we were the first disciples, right? He didn’t make any promises. He was vague as usual, something about a baptism and cup … and then he said “what you have asked is not mine to grant.” Now, as we are leaving Jericho, he hears this blind beggar. The crowd tries to shush him and hide him but he is crying out “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” He won’t stop. The wailing goes on and on. There’s really no need – Jesus always sees and hears. He called him forward – called him! Then he asked the question, the same question he asked us, just a few days before: “What do you want me to do for you?” ……………… I am the man, yes, just the man, no name in this gospel. You know me as the rich man. I’d met him on the road, back north, before he came to Jericho. They told me this Rabbi knew all the answers, and so I had asked him, what could I do to inherit eternal life? I’d already inherited a lot, my family was wealthy. But, I needed to know: would I get into heaven? He quizzed me on my life, but I passed the test. I’ve obeyed all the commandments since my youth. I have a position of respect in the community. He told me I must sell everything, give it all to the poor, come and follow him. Then I would enter the kingdom of God. This wasn’t even what I asked. I didn’t pay attention. He’s only a dirty itinerant Rabbi from Nazareth, after all. But I followed the crowd. I wanted to know what would happen. Ha! Things don’t look so good for them now! They’re headed for Jerusalem and there’s talk of suffering and death. He has that right. I see no future in this “movement” of his. That would have been a useless investment. And then here, just outside the walls of Jericho, he stops. He stops because a blind, filthy beggar is crying out for attention. All this man has is his cloak on the floor and the scraps he has begged for. Not so much for him to give up! The Rabbi calls him over – the outrage – and he asks: “What do you want me to do for you?” What do you want me to do for you? The next time you pray, imagine Jesus is asking you this question. And then reply, “help me.” We’re not supposed to pray this way, are we? We’re not supposed to come to church for what we can get out of it. We’re not supposed to talk about our needs and wants, are we? We good Christians are supposed to meet the needs and wants of others. And yet, here is Jesus, giving us this chance … to ask for anything. There’s a catch, though. In fact there are a couple. The first catch is, we can’t pull seniority or loyalty. We can’t say, ”I’ve been your good friend for so long, just look what I’ve done for you!” My 50+ years in the church won’t cut it. Whether it is time served on the missions committee, teaching in Sunday School or providing coffee hour. None of these things will cause Jesus to ask that question. The next catch is that “Just look how I’ve obeyed the rules and always done right!” won’t count for anything either. Really? My self-righteous recycling, my Bible study and praying, my abstinence from smoking and recreational drugs, my moral objection to a state-run lottery, my visitation of the elderly and the sick … all make no difference. Zero. So, what will do it? Let’s return to Bartimaeus and see how things worked out for him. …. When he called to me, oh how the crowds changed their tune! “Take heart” they said, “he is calling you.” I know, I heard. I leapt up. I left my cloak, my patch on the road, my blanket. The collection of coins taken that day scattered and rolled in the dust. I didn’t turn back. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked, and I answered “teacher, let me see again!” And, just like that, I could see: everything. I could see the sign pointing to Jerusalem, 15 miles away. I could see the disciples bright eyed, and anxious. I could see the crowd, not understanding but filled with hope. He told me my faith had made me well and I could go on my way. But I could see his eyes, inviting me to go with him. He had heard my cry, what else could I do? I would follow him, all the way. ………………. Writer Anne Lammot says there are three essential prayers: Help, Thanks, Wow. She says “Sometimes the first time we pray, we cry out in the deepest desperation, ‘God, help me.’ This is a great prayer, as we are then our absolutely most degraded and isolated, which means we are nice and juicy with the consequences of our best thinking and thus possibly teachable.” [1] And, as one of my seminary professors used to say, “the only prayer you ever say, is when you haven’t got a prayer.” “Help me!” Is the plea that Jesus hears, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me, take pity!” The trick is, we have to cry, and we have to cry out loud. We can’t allow the crowd to block us out. We can’t let Miss Manners shush us. We can’t let years of loyalty and credentials get in the way. And, so, I invite you to let it rise, from your heart, from your inner most being. The grief, the lament, the wail. At first it’s a low moan, barely audible. Up, from the gut, to your throat. Don’t stifle it, don’t swallow it back down. Let it out … Jesus Son of David, have mercy on me! And then hear him say “What do you want me to do for you?” You will know the answer. May God’s people cry out, Amen [1] Anne Lammot, Help Thanks Wow: Three Essential Prayers, (New York, Riverhead Book, 2012)
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Can You Drink the Cup? Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On October 21st, 2018 Scripture: Mark 10:32-45 In the passage from Mark’s gospel that we heard this morning, Jesus refers to drinking from his cup. This is the first of three references to “the cup” leading up to the final moments of Jesus’ life on earth. Our text also includes the third time we hear Jesus predict his suffering, death and resurrection in this gospel. The prediction is given to the disciples while they are on the road, coming ever closer to Jerusalem. Jesus says that, here in the holy city, the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes and they will hand him over to the Gentile rulers. He will be mocked, spat upon, flogged and killed. After three days he will rise again. It’s not surprising that the crowd of followers are afraid. The disciples are still digesting this grim but hopeful prediction when the brothers, James and John, come up with a bold request. First of all they ask Jesus to give them whatever they want. They are already acting kind of forward. And then when he asks what it is they want, they say: “grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left in your glory.” These young fishermen, who left their father’s business to follow Jesus, seem to have a notion that glorious things lay ahead of them. They are ready for their reward. And, although it may seem pushy, they want to seize the moment. What’s to lose if they ask Jesus about getting the best seats in heaven? He can only say no. Jesus does not say yes and he does not say no. There’s always a different way of looking at things with Jesus. He tells them that they don’t know what they are asking. And then, as a Rabbi would, he answers them with a question: “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" The book “Can You Drink the Cup?” was written by Dutch Priest, theologian, and author, Henri Nouwen. This small volume is entirely focused on the question Jesus asks the brothers, James and John: “Can you drink the cup?” Henri Nouwen, a celibate gay man, was known for his quest to live his faith authentically. Ultimately he left a successful academic life and an appointment at Harvard Divinity School. He went to live in L’Arche community at Daybreak: a community for people with mental and physical disabilities in Canada. There he served as pastor and cared for a young man named Adam, who had severe disabilities. In that setting, Nouwen was finally able to live into his true self and to confront his own hidden wounds. [1] Nouwen sees the response to Jesus question “can you drink the cup?” as living life deeply and fully. It means discovering our true selves and exposing the wounds we have hidden. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ first reference to the cup is in the passage we heard today. A few chapters on, we can read of Jesus gathering with the disciples for the last supper before his crucifixion. During this gathering, Jesus takes the cup of wine from the table where they are feasting, holds it and give thanks for it. He says “this is my blood of the covenant which is poured out for many.” He offers the cup to each friend gathered around the table. Later that same night Jesus and the disciples are out in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus is waiting with James, John and Peter. Soon the soldiers will come and arrest him. Jesus asks the disciples to sit with him while he prays, but they keep falling asleep. While they are sleeping, Jesus prays “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible: remove this cup from me. Yet, not what I want, but what you want.” He is talking about the cup of sorrow. He is wrestling with his calling to go to the cross and die. The communion cup was central to Henri Nouwen’s life. He had known he wanted to be a priest from a young age. He was honored on the occasion of his ordination, when his uncle, also a priest, gave Nouwen his own communion cup. This was a golden cup, embellished with diamonds, that had once belonged to Nouwen’s grandmother. Since his ordination, Nouwen was the only person to touch that cup. At the time he was ordained in the Catholic Church, only the priest ever drank from the cup during communion. Years later at L’Arche community, communion was celebrated with several glass cups. Every member of the community could hold, lift and drink from the cup. The cups were transparent and the contents could be seen. The residents and staff knew what they were taking and they drank gladly. Daybreak was a place of both joy and sorrow for Nouwen. At first he had feared Adam and his disabilities. He says “After caring for Adam for a few months I was no longer afraid of him. Waking him up in the morning, giving him a bath and brushing his teeth, shaving his beard and feeding him breakfast had created such a bond between us … knowing Adam became a privilege for me.” [2] The sorrows of L’Arche community at Daybreak were evident and on the surface. The residents clearly struggled each day just to get through the tasks of living. Some had terribly sad family histories and L’arche was the first place they had found a family. The able-bodied people who came to assist at L’Arche, like Nouwen, also had sorrows. They had broken families, sexual unfulfillment, spiritual alienation, career doubts and confusing relationships. The only difference is that the assistants’ sorrows were hidden. There was also great joy at L’arche, Nouwen says. The members of the community lived together and ate together, they also laughed and cried together. Sorrow was on the surface, but so was joy – joy in the power of human community. This past summer, Pr. Alissa, of Good Shepherd Church, and I led some spirituality sessions at a local addiction treatment facility. We had thirty minutes, first with a group of women and then with a group of men. We’d share a story from our tradition with the group, inviting the participants to “find themselves in the story.” We were careful to say that we were not there as an attempt to convert or persuade anyone to join our churches. We were simply there to sit with those in treatment and share stories. Once we’d told our story, we’d lead the men and women in a short meditation. Some people in the groups were resistant to our ideas, and so we’d remind them that they could leave the group at any time. Others would find the stories opened wounds that were too raw, and they would leave of their own accord. Some people stayed in the group but couldn’t grasp how to find themselves in the stories. And others made themselves vulnerable, relating powerfully to the stories and sharing their struggles with addiction. One week, two young women told us about their struggles simply to sit still and meditate. “I have never known joy” said one woman. I couldn’t speak for a moment. The sadness was too much. No moments of joyful play from childhood, no moments joy in a body that can run, and swim, and embrace another, no moments of sheer pleasure with family and friends. I couldn’t imagine living a life without even moments of joy. Being present with this woman in her sorrow felt like a great privilege. We invited her, in the meditation, just to imagine freedom from her addiction as a possibility. My prayer is that one day she will taste joy. I believe that being present to one another in sorrow and joy is what Jesus is talking about when he asks us if we are willing to drink his cup. During the last supper Jesus goes through the motions of demonstrating how the cup contains both joy and sorrow. It is passed, in celebration, around the circle of a shared community. The friends look into each other’s eyes. Communion accentuates both sorrow and joy. The most sorrowful moment of Jesus’ life was when he was taken to the cross. He knew the pain and suffering he was about to experience, but the sorrow came from something deeper. This moment was his deepest connection with all of humanity. He experienced all the sorrow that human life has to offer. He took on all of the suffering of the world. His invitation to us to drink from his cup means to participate in all the joy and the sorrow of the world. This is the cup of salvation. I’m afraid that James and John, though, live in their optimistic “first half of life” when Jesus offers them the cup. For these young men, living life fully means shooting for the stars. They are ambitious disciples, focused on the honor of getting alongside Jesus when he rises in glory. They have not yet encountered the cup of sorrow and joy, and they do not know their need for the cup of salvation. We meet Jameses and Johns in life all the time – the ones who have their “eye on the prize.” Our schools tell our children that they can live their dreams. And we buy into the story, cheering them on, whether in sports, academics, or the performing arts. Even in our church, we sometimes skirt the need for true community gathered around the table. We are anxious to be released from the intimacy of communion to the bustle of the coffee hour in the social hall. But Nouwen brings us back to the cup. He offers us three ways to drink from it: The first way to drink our cup is in silence because, he says, “it is precisely in silence that we confront out true selves.” [3] So often we’d rather distract ourselves with entertainment than face ourselves in silence. When the quiet becomes uncomfortable, do you turn on the TV or reach for your phone ready to check email or social media? The second way to drink the cup is with the word, says Nouwen. We need a trusted circle of friends to share and hear our stories. “Silence without speaking is as dangerous as solitude without community.” [4] Do you have a hope or fear you have not spoken out loud? Can you find someone in this church community, or among your close friends, who will listen to that joy or sorrow with respect? And the third way to drink the cup is in action. This may sound like being busy, but it is not. Nouwen says “true action leads to the fulfillment of our vocation.” [5] What action are you being called to right now? Have you explored this as a part of your vocation? Does this action lead you to drink more completely of the cup of your life? Does this action draw you more deeply into true community? Today, I ask more questions than I answer. The most important question is the one Jesus asks those brothers: “Can you drink the cup that I drink?” May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup? (Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, IN, 2006) [2] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup? (Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, IN, 2006), 44 [3] Ibid., 102 [4] Ibid., 106 [5] Ibid., 109 Treasure in Heaven Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church on October 14th, 2018 Scripture: Mark 10:17-31 This week I have another confession … I don’t like talking about money. I get bored with discussions about investments and the economy. That kind of conversation often goes over my head. And, then there are the conversations about my money, and my wealth that are just uncomfortable for me. This is not a problem, for those who prefer that the sermon doesn’t touch on money. We’re on the same page, right? “Pastor Liz doesn’t like talking about money, and we don’t like hearing about it.” What’s to fix? Well, of course, there is a small problem. Jesus liked talking about money, a lot! 16 of the 38 parables talk about the ethics of one’s money and possessions. In the Gospels, one out of ten verses deal directly with the money. The Bible has 500 verses on prayer, less than 500 verses on faith, and more than 2,000 verses on money and possessions. [1] Today’s gospel text is one of those many examples. So I’m afraid to say, we have no excuse. The story follows on from last week’s text. Jesus is continuing on his final journey toward Jerusalem. We hear that as he is traveling, a man runs up and kneels at his feet and asks: “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” This man seems to be unsure about his salvation. He seems to be seeking for answers. And in his case, the answers concern obtaining eternal life. First Jesus checks in to make sure that the man is following the main commandments. It seems that he lives an exemplary life. He has kept the commandments since he was a youth. Then Jesus looks at him carefully and with love. He says, “you lack one thing, sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” The man is deeply saddened by this news. He owns many possessions. He is a rich man. We don’t know what he does. We don’t find out whether he is saddened because he will lose all his possessions. Or perhaps he is saddened because he doesn’t have what it takes to build treasure in heaven. Jesus isn’t talking about eternal life at this moment. Jesus is talking about something far more immediate for the man. He is talking about him becoming a part of the community of faith and a part of God’s kingdom. He’s inviting him to be a part of the answer to the prayer “your will be done, your kingdom come, on Earth as it is in heaven.” As the conversation progresses we see this disconnect between Jesus and others. Jesus makes the point that riches get in the way of people participating fully in the Kingdom of God. And the disciples ask “who then can be saved?” Even though they are not getting the idea, Jesus commends them. After all, they have left everything to follow him. And he tells them they are to be rewarded – both now and in eternal life. They will receive a hundredfold of what they have given up. Then Jesus gives a warning, that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God." This is a well known story from the gospel. Jesus likes to challenge his followers to give up on their attachments to follow him. And these attachments include money and the things that money can buy. One reason I may not like to talk about money is that I have quite a lot of it. I don’t earn a lot, being part-time in this position. But I do have significant resources from my former career. My family situation also allows for a lifestyle far beyond what a part-time pastor’s salary would usually provide. Even before I came into this embarrassment of riches, I was uncomfortable with this particular story of Jesus. I grew up in post-World War II austerity of England. My family might have been described as “well to do” and Middle Class. By all accounts, we were comfortable. Yet our lifestyle was nothing like the contemporary American or British way of life. As a child, I had everything I needed, much more than my parents had during the war. One toy I remember was a miniature chocolate machine. I loved those little squares of wrapped chocolate the machine would dispense when I deposited a penny. At the same time, I could see the finite of supply chocolate going down. And when I ran out, that would be the end. I didn’t know how or where to buy more. And so I was miserly in my use of that machine, because I always feared running out. I was the same way with the allowance my grandfather gave me each week. I’d save it, with some plan of what I was going to buy. I would never make a large purchase until I’d saved a few more weeks to buffer the shock of having nothing left. No wonder the story of Jesus telling the rich man he must give everything away makes me uncomfortable. And, maybe that’s the intention of the story. Let’s remember, that although this instruction is uncomfortable and challenging, Jesus looks on the rich man with love, not anger. We know that Jesus is deeply concerned for the poor, we have heard him talk about that many times before. Right now, though, he seems to be most concerned with saving this man. Not saving him from the fires of hell, but from the trappings of his wealth. Not only for eternal life, but for full participation in the community of faith and the coming kingdom, for full relationship with God and with others of the community. When we hear Jesus’ instruction to the rich man “sell what you own, give the money to the poor, and you will find treasure in heaven; then come, follow me” we realize the man’s wealth is an obstacle that prevents him from following Jesus. The disciples are commended by Jesus for leaving behind all their attachments to follow him. He assures them they will receive far more in return. They will gain mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. They will receive houses and fields. These are the things that represent wealth. And there will also be persecutions. The list of benefits sounds little odd, but isn’t it something like the advantages of becoming a part of the Church? In coming into this community, we have a new family, new friendships. We have a new fuller lifestyle, more authentic connections than before, with God and with one another. Just this week I heard a story of a man who left behind a lifestyle of material wealth for the sake of his soul. I listen a National Public Radio show called Marketplace. This show has enough human interest stories to keep me engaged. And the reports on the markets and the economy are simple enough for me to understand. This year Marketplace has been presenting a series of “How We Changed” stories. These are stories of how different people have changed since the financial crisis of 2008. This past week they interviewed a 39 year old Rasanath Das, an immigrant from India who was an investment banker on Wall Street. Growing up in India in the 1990’s Das saw the movie “Wall Street” and heard the message “greed is good.” He was decided to come to the USA and his plan was to own a yellow convertible and a blue motor boat. He was convinced the New York was the place he was meant to be. After graduating with an MBA, he interviewed for a job as an investment banker. In the interview he was given the quote “investment banking is a business where thieves and pimps run freely on the corridors and a few good men die the death of a dog.” The interviewer asked the question “which are you?” Was this Wall Street’s way of saying that it easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God? In the booming economy of the early 2000’s, Das felt discontent and experienced a hollowness in his working environment. He spent time in a monastery in New York, talking with the monks about his conflicts. Even while he was still working on Wall Street, he began living by monastic principles. He meditated 2 hours each day, and abstained from meat, alcohol and caffeine. In 2007 there were six rounds of layoffs in his workplace. There was a feeling of inhumanity as employees were let go and walked out of the premises. They were not even allowed to return to their desks to collect their personal belongings. This was a wakeup call for Das. He realized that he had been living a life of “success without substance” and so he moved into the monastery. He lived there for four years. Since then he has started a business developing mindfulness and his life is back on track. [2] Most of us are not investment bankers and yet we all have attachments that keep us from full relationship with God and with one another. They are the pennies we hold on to, the chocolate and treasures that we squirrel away and eek out. These are the things that we cannot bring with us because they will not squeeze through that eye of a needle and into the kingdom. Jesus recommends letting go of these attachments and storing up treasure in heaven. The band Ceili Rain sings of a man who dies and goes to heaven. He is shown his home there by St Peter. It’s just a two room shack. The man is confused. Why doesn’t he have a one of the many mansions? Peter tells him that his heavenly house is this size because that is all the lumber he’d sent ahead. The man had not lived a generous life. He had not stored treasure in heaven. The man gets the point, and says if he had his life over again he’d be “the givin’est guy” that he could be. And, so perhaps, this is the reason why we give our tithes and offerings as a significant part of our worship service. When we offer our money to God, through the community of the Church, we are not just participating in a fundraiser. It isn’t only about shoring up our institution. When we give, we are depositing treasure in heaven. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.preachingtoday.com/illustrations/1996/december/410.html [2] https://www.marketplace.org/shows/marketplace/10092018 Created for Relationship Preached on October 7th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Mark 10:2-16 I have a confession to make this morning. I have a pet peeve when it comes to biblical interpretation. It’s one of those peeves that has me calling out the “message” that arrives in my inbox, or the sermon delivered by a TV evangelist. My hackles rise when someone takes part of the Bible out of context, especially if their interpretation is prefaced with the phrase: “the Bible says …”. The Bible says “the world was created in seven days and dinosaurs never existed.” The Bible says “women should not teach or exercise authority over men” … another woman minister and I were confronted with this one recently when we were speaking to a group of men. The Bible says “sex before marriage is a sin” And then there’s the Bible says “divorce is an abomination” and the Bible says “marriage is (only) between a man and a woman.” These last two “teachings” make their case using the gospel text we read today. So, let’s take a closer look. Jesus has been traveling around the countryside with the disciples for some time. He has been performing healing miracles and teaching what the kingdom of God is like. Now his journey has taken a turn toward Jerusalem. Jesus has warned the disciples several times that this is a journey toward suffering, death, and then resurrection. Today’s reading finds Jesus on the far side of the Jordan river, in John the Baptist’s territory. John had criticized King Herod for divorcing his wife, Phaseaelis, and unlawfully marrying Herodius, the wife of his brother. Herod threw John into prison, and later he was beheaded. This was done at the request of Herodius’s minor daughter, who had been summoned to dance provocatively for Herod. Context. Now, as crowds gather around Jesus to hear teaching, some religious leaders come with a question. These are the types of people who like to say “the Bible says this or “that.” They like to know that God is on their side. And they like to contemplate the terrible things that will happen to those who are on the other side. They ask Jesus "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?" This is a test. They know that the Torah, in the book of Deuteronomy, allows for divorce, at least for a man against his wife. Perhaps they are wondering if Jesus has the same view as John the Baptist. Perhaps they hope to connect Jesus with John so that Herod will also have him imprisoned and beheaded. Context. First Jesus gets them to tell him what is in the law. Then he turns the question around on them. He moves from the religious leaders’ prescriptive style of teaching, to a descriptive mode. And he summons a much earlier, affirming text from the story of creation in the book of Genesis. He says: “… from the beginning of creation, 'God made them male and female … For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.'” “From the beginning of creation, God made them male and female” the man and the woman. God also made many other things: every animal and every plant, a great diversity of sea, land, and sky creatures. All flora and fawn. And of humanity, God made them male and female. There’s nothing to say that variations on this description are a problem. In this story there is only blessing, that all of creation was good. All of it. Next Jesus says that a man leaves his parents to be joined with his wife. Because this is what happens in a 1st century Palestinian marriage. The man leaves his parents’ home, where he has lived his whole life, and moves in with his in-laws. Then comes a more universal description: “And the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate." Jesus describes God’s entering into the union of the married couple. Somehow, in marital intimacy, they have become something holy. Elaborating on the story of creation, Jesus is saying this is “good and blessed”, that their relationship is affirmed by God. He has moved beyond a description of a 1st century contractual marriage and into something quite timeless and wonderful. We do not hear how the religious leaders respond, but we don’t really need to know. We have enough to sit with, for today. This juxtaposition of the prescriptive “the Bible says …” and Jesus’ lovely description of holy relationship. And we could end right there. Only we know that this is not the end. There is more to talk about than this. We still have to deal with the reality of divorce. Historically, marriage in the church has been modeled on this passage and passages in scripture. The focus is often “what God has joined together, let no one separate.” And yet, we all know, divorce still happens. And perhaps we are left wondering why Jesus describes marriage in these terms. And why, later, when the disciples ask him about this, he is even more strict. He says that whoever divorces their spouse and remarries, commits adultery. And again, I say, context. First century Palestinian marriage favored the man. As the religious leaders rightly cited from the book of Deuteronomy, a man could divorce his wife simply because she was not pleasing to him. And this could leave her, and their children, destitute. A wife and her children had no legal recourse. Jesus speaks harshly about those who divorce, because it hurts the vulnerable. So, how are we to think about marriage and divorce in our, very different time and culture: in our context? - In our context, a woman’s family no longer provides a dowry for her husband. - In our context, many young adults live independently before they are married. - In our context, a couple does not usually move in with the in-laws, although it can happen. - In our context, a young girl is not espoused to man by her parents before she’s had the chance to meet other possible partners. - And, of course, in our very particular context – something few could have imagined in generations past – a man may marry a man, a woman may marry a woman. And some people know that they are neither all male nor all female, and still they are created for relationship. Jesus could not have anticipated these changes in culture. There is no reason why we’d expect him to know. There’s no reason why he would have to include these things in that one brief description of marriage for them to be acceptable. One thing that has not changed, though, is that humans fall in love with one another and wish to spend their lives together. What has not changed is that God created us to be in relationship. Relationship reflects God’s relationship and love for humanity. What has not changed is that some people do not marry, and still have different loving relationships with one another. And these relationships also reflect God’s love for humanity. God is love and anytime we love, God is in the midst. A second thing that has not changed is that relationships often do not work out. What Jesus calls “hardness of heart” applies universally to the human condition. Often it is the baggage of one partner’s past that causes a breakdown in relationship. We promise to remain together in sickness and health, but mental or physical illness may cause a marriage to fail. If one partner abuses the other, the victim may need to end the marriage for their own safety. And even though children often suffer in divorce, sometimes they will do better once their parents have separated. The United Church of Christ service book provides a liturgy for the end of a marriage. A marriage can be ended well, and the sadness can be recognized, if both partners are willing to acknowledge it. The duration of a marriage very often has to do with circumstances beyond the control of one of both of the partners. This is something my parents tried to acknowledge, just this August when they celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. It caused some consternation in the family! We celebrated the anniversary with a lunch party. The extended family arrived in their Sunday best: toddlers and children with their parents, grandparents and great-grands. Everyone wanted to hug and kiss my parents and say “congratulations.” And on an occasion like this, a member of the family will often give a speech and propose a toast. But, my parents had also told my brother and myself that they didn’t want “any of that.” Their thinking was that they had not done anything to deserve their long and happy marriage. It was all by the grace of God and they were simply thankful. They thought it was inappropriate to be congratulated on something they saw as a gift. They would be embarrassed by speeches that lifted up their virtues and ignored their failings. However, they did allow me to give a grace at the beginning of the meal and my brother to propose a brief toast at the end. Before praying the grace I did get a chance for a little speech. I told my parents, that like it or not, they had played their part in making it to that day. I asked them to humbly accept whatever we had to offer: congratulations, compliments and gifts. My brother book-ended the meal with a toast to warm every heart. He recalled a Tahitian practice of love and forgiveness: “I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me and thank you.” And that, in the end says it all. We honor our God, of relationship, every time we say “I love you” to another person of God’s good creation. We honor our God, when we say we are sorry to our loved one for our hardness of heart. We participate in God’s grace and mercy when we seek forgiveness. And, of course, we honor our God, of relationship, every time we say “thank you” to our loved ones and for our loved ones. So let all God’s married, single, divorced and widowed people say: Amen |
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April 2022
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