The Waking Dreamer: 2020

Sunday, December 13, 2020

Joy to the World!

Isaiah 61:1-11[1]

As I mentioned last week, for some of us this time of year is very difficult. It’s hard to feel like you’re a part of the “festivities.” Instead of joy, the “Holidays” bring sadness. As a matter of fact, I’m one of those people. I’ve dealt with this all my adult life. It relates to issues that go back to my family of origin, but that’s too long a story to tell here. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve always loved Christmas Eve services. Somehow, the “pall” that seems to hang over me during this time of year lifts with Christmas Eve. But otherwise, it’s difficult for me to “get into the spirit” of “Christmas cheer.” I know that I’m not alone in that. That’s one reason for mentioning it—so that others will know that they’re not alone.

For those of us who struggle with the “Holiday Season,” the promise of joy can seem hollow. The wounds we’ve endured in this life have so sensitized us to the suffering in our world that no amount of tinsel or lights or wrapping or sweets can distract us from the fact that it can all feel very hollow! While we are spending an incredible amount of money on ourselves, we are surrounded by people who are struggling just to put food on the table, just to keep the electricity going, or just to keep a roof over their heads. It makes it hard to get into the whole message of hope, peace, joy, and love when it seems like there’s precious little of it going around for those who need it most.

I believe our lesson from Isaiah for today addresses this problem. As I’ve mentioned before, this portion of Isaiah was addressed to those who had lost everything at the hands of the Babylonians. God had made good on the promise to bring them back to their homeland, but when they got there, the reality of their “salvation” fell far short of what they had hoped. They returned to a land that had been devastated by war and left a wasteland. Their lives were harder than ever, and it seemed that the God who had promised to deliver them had failed to make good on those promises. Their faith was spent and their lives seemed hopeless.

What’s more, after going through years of exile that were intended to teach them to follow God’s ways, they still hadn’t learned their lesson. They still failed to practice what the prophet spoke of as “righteousness” and “justice,” which refers to God’s intention that all people should thrive together, equally. Isaiah defines “righteousness” this way: “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke” (Isa 58:6). He gets more specific: God’s intent was that they would share with the hungry, shelter the homeless, and clothe the naked (Isa 58:7). But they were too wrapped up with their own concerns to actually put God’s “righteousness” into practice.

As a result, God promised to come and set things right himself. And that brings us to the lesson for today. Here, one who speaks like “the Servant of the Lord” announces that God had anointed him to “to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners” (Isa 61:1). He promised to give the “oil of gladness” to those who were mourning—very likely because they were struggling just to survive. The prophet promised in the name of the LORD that God would cause “righteousness” to grow up and flourish like a lush garden! In other words, God promised to set right all that was wrong, to relieve their suffering, and to establish true justice that would enable them all to thrive together, equally.

We know of this message in the Bible—we call it “social justice.” But for some reason, we seem to miss how important it is in God’s saving purpose. We tend to think of our “eternal destiny” as the “important” part of “salvation.” From that perspective, anything we do to help alleviate suffering in this world is good, but it’s not “necessary.” It’s sort of something “extra” that those who are exceptionally caring do, but it’s not a “required” part of the Christian life. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth! Throughout the Bible, it is clear that the work of “righteousness” or “justice” that makes it possible for us all to thrive together is not a “side note” to God’s purpose. Rather, it central to God’s saving work in this world![2] And God’s promise to do this calls us all to take up the work of establishing “righteousness” in our world!

The thought occurred to me that perhaps this year we’re all having difficulty finding joy in the holiday season. This year we may not be able to observe all the “festivities” we would like. However, it might not be a bad thing for us to have to look deeper to find the joy of Christmas. True joy is about the promise that God would send us a Savior who would not only proclaim the good news, but who would also enact it by relieving suffering and setting all things right in the world. If we find it challenging to see that promise fulfilled in our day and time, we can remember that that God isn’t finished with his saving work. The promise points forward to the time when Jesus will complete the work of establishing “righteousness” so that all people can thrive together and enjoy the life God intends for us. I think that may offer a hope that can bring joy not only to us, but also to the whole world!

[2] Cf. T. E. Fretheim, “The Prophets and Social Justice: A Conservative Agenda,” in Word & World 28 (Spring 2008): 163, “God's concern about matters of social justice was believed to be so strong and so pervasive that it was built into the very heart of the covenantal promises. And God was and will be faithful to such promises.”

Sunday, December 06, 2020

Peace on Earth

Isaiah 64:1-12

For some of us, the search for peace takes us no farther than our own family, our friends, our community of faith, and our home. For some of us peace is as close to us as our hearts. For others, the search for peace can be incredibly elusive. Especially this year, in this time of pandemic, political turmoil, and economic uncertainty. And for many of us, this time of year is anything but peaceful. When, for whatever reason, our lives have seemed to come to a standstill, it can leave us feeling left out and alone. Anything but joyful. Anything but peaceful. For many of us, this is a time of year not to celebrate, but to survive. The promise of “peace on earth” can seem hollow.

And yet the promise of a true and lasting peace is just what our lesson for this morning is talking about. The cry “Comfort, O comfort my people” introduces a major shift in the book of Isaiah. Prior to this, the message of Isaiah mostly concerns a rebuke of the people’s sins and a call to repentance. But now, there is something new at work. The God who gave the people over to the consequences of their sins and allowed them to go into exile now announces that he comes to bring peace to those who have suffered for so long.

As we saw last week, the prophet gives voice to the doubts and fears of a people who have struggled to endure the long years of their exile. He calls out, “All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass” (Isa. 40:6-7). In other words, they think they have about as much chance surviving the exile as the grass does surviving a severe drought. For a people who had lost everything and have had to put forth every ounce of effort just to survive in exile, the promise that God was coming to comfort them may have seemed an empty one. During their exile there were many false prophets who had gotten their hopes up for a speedy release. Now, when this prophet announces in the name of the Lord that the time for their restoration has finally come, they may have had no more faith to give to promises.

In response, one of the themes of this section of Isaiah is that God’s word does not fail. Here, the answer to the cry of despair, “surely the people are grass” is that, while grass may wither, “the word of our God will stand forever” (40:8). While some might apply this to Scripture in general, in this setting it is an assurance that God will not leave his promises of salvation, restoration, and renewal unfulfilled. In another passage, Isaiah puts it this way: “as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace” (Isa. 55:10-12). The prophet declared in the name of the Lord that “the word of God” accomplishes what it promises—to bring comfort, peace, and renewed faith to a weary people.

In Isaiah, the good news is that God comes to reconcile and to heal and to restore all people, along with all creation. That’s why Isaiah could speak of God’s coming like a shepherd who gently carries the lambs who are either too weak to make it back to safety or who perhaps have been injured (Isa. 40:11). And the message of restoration fills the whole book of Isaiah. Through the prophet the Lord promises to end violence and warfare (Isa. 2:4), suffering and oppression (Isa. 25:8). The Lord promises to set a rich feast for all peoples (Isa. 25:6), and to set right all the wrongs (Isa. 28:5-6). The Lord promises to restore and heal those are weak and injured (Isa. 35:3-6). And again, in case there is any doubt about these promises, the Lord affirms, “My purpose shall stand, and I will fulfill my intention” (Isa. 46:10).

As we discussed last week, the season of Advent is a time for examining our hearts and lives. But the season of Advent is also a time to lift up our hearts and look for the peace that God has promised to bring to his people. In our lesson for today, “preparing the way for the Lord” means that “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain” (40:4) In other words, the return journey to Jerusalem would be much easier for the exiles than their forced march into Babylon. And the prophet promises that at that time “the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together” (40:5). The heart of that glorious display would be God’s restoration for all people, bringing us true peace at last.

Advent is season when we’re called to look to God in faith. Part of that involves taking a hard look at ourselves. But the season of Advent also calls us to trust in the promises of our God, promises of salvation, restoration, and renewal. Promises that, like a shepherd gently and tenderly cares for sheep who have been injured (Isa. 40:11), God will bring peace to all those who are suffering. In these days, some of us may have no more faith left to give to promises of any kind. But even when we don’t see God’s promises fulfilled immediately, we can trust that God will fulfill them ultimately. When God promises to bring “peace on earth,” we can trust in those promises because what God promises, God accomplishes!

[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 12/6/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Sunday, November 29, 2020

God is Coming!

Isaiah 64:1-12[1]

After nine months of living with a pandemic, our day-to-day lives may seem pretty “humdrum.” Most of what we did before we either can’t or shouldn’t do. Many of us experienced a very different Thanksgiving this week than the ones we’ve had before. In midst of the “routine” of staying safe, of avoiding the “three C’s,” and of social distancing, the days seem to run together. It makes it hard to find any hope when much of what gives life meaning is “off limits” to us. Where do we turn when all the doors seem closed?

With the start of Advent, our thoughts turn to Christmas. Many of us have already started decorating our homes to help us out of the pandemic “funk.” While that may help, I wonder whether we may have some much more serious work to do. That’s what hard times are for. They present us with an opportunity to re-examine our lives and make any “course corrections.” I think one place we all may need some work is in our faith. When life is good, it’s easy to believe that we are doing everything God wants us to. We go through the motions of our lives assuming that God is pleased with us. While I would not call God’s unfailing love into question, I think times of distress present us with the opportunity to take a hard look at ourselves and our faith.

The people whom the prophet Isaiah addressed were in that kind of a situation. After losing everything at the hands of the Babylonians, they had kept up at least a trace of faith during their exile in the promise that God would again “let his face shine” (Ps. 80:3) upon them and restore them to their homes and their lives and their land. But when they got back to Judea after their long years of exile, the reality of their “new life” fell far short of what they had hoped. The temple lay in ruins. Even the city of Jerusalem had no walls to protect them. Instead of returning to a “land flowing with milk and honey,” they returned to a land that had been devastated by war and left a wasteland. Their lives were harder than ever, and it seemed that the God of their deliverance was nowhere to be found.

In that situation, the prophet speaks aloud the questions that must have been on the minds of the people. After all they had suffered, he asked “where are your zeal and your might?” (Isa. 63:15) and “will you keep silent?” (64:12). Their circumstances and God’s seeming silence and absence contradicted what they had been told for generations, that God “will never forsake you” (Deut. 31:6, 8; Ps. 37:28; 94:14). They simply could not comprehend being abandoned by the God who revealed himself time and again as “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). And yet there they were crying out to God, asking why God had forsaken them.

The prophet could have given them a lot of different answers. Like other prophets in that day, he could have assured them that God would shortly make all their hopes come true. But that is not what this prophet does. This prophet moves from lamenting God’s silence and absence to the confession of sin. In the name of the people, he confesses “We have all become like one who is unclean” (Isa. 64:6). The prophet omits no one from his heart-wrenching confession: “we all” echoes throughout the passage like a bell tolling: we all, we all, we all. The hard truth is that the people had forsaken their God, time after time for centuries. No one could protest, “I never did anything wrong.”

And yet, though the confession of sin might seem only to make matters worse, it is precisely the way to recover hope. After pouring out his heart in confession, the prophet returns to the faith that they who had stumbled badly remained God’s people. He recalls that “you are our Father,” and he calls on God to act accordingly (64:8). Just as “we all” had turned away from God, the prophet reminds the people that “we all” were still God’s people (64:9). The prophet points out to God that their lives and their lands remained in ruins, and asks, “After all this, will you restrain yourself, O Lord? Will you keep silent, and punish us so severely?” (64:12).

When it feels like God is absent and all hope is lost, one path to restoring our hope takes us through confession and repentance. At this time, I’m not sure we want to hear about confession and repentance. We’d rather just forget about our troubles and go about shopping and cooking and celebrating. The last thing on our minds is confession and repentance. And yet that is precisely what the season of Advent is: a time to “prepare the way for the Lord” by examining our own hearts and lives. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit that, like the people of Judah, “we all” have fallen short.

Times like these test our faith. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. A test like this can help us to identify where we need to grow stronger. When times are “good,” we all have a tendency to “make God in our own image.” Hard times provide the chance for us to deepen and strengthen our faith in God as God truly is, not as we would have him to be.[2] When we use the time of “waiting” at Advent to examine our faith, we can discover that God is always the coming one: the one who is always approaching us, loving us, and drawing us into the joy of that love. Wherever we go, whatever our situation may be, God is always “coming” to us!

[2] Cf. Christopher Seitz, “The Book of Isaiah 40-66,” New Interpreters Bible VI: 531.

Sunday, November 22, 2020

What Counts in the End

Matthew 25:31-46[1]

When push comes to shove, what counts for many of us is the ability to maintain our life as it is. We value our safety and that of our loved ones above all else. We have certain patterns of living that we are comfortable with, and we want to maintain those patterns as much as possible. We have also embraced the message of Jesus to live with concern for others, and we try to do so where we can. I would say, however, that we tend to do that in ways that feel familiar and safe to us. We want to be able to “check” the boxes we believe are important, but we want to do so with minimal risk.

I would say the life to which Jesus calls us is not one that fits within the limits of what we would consider “minimal risk.” Jesus calls us to “deny” ourselves, to take up our crosses, and to follow him in a life of service to others. That’s not always going to be safe or comfortable. It’s not going to be easy for us to die to ourselves—to set aside our self-interest, our wants, our needs, and our fears—and follow Jesus in extending God’s love to those who are the least and the last and the left out in our world today. That’s going to take us to some places that don’t feel safe or comfortable.

I believe that challenge lies at the root of our Gospel lesson for today. Jesus tells us a parable about separating people at the judgment like a shepherd might separate sheep from goats. I think we should read this as a parable, and not a lecture outlining what’s going to happen to “good” and “bad” people at the end of time. I think the fact that it follows two other parables along with the fact that Jesus continues the analogy of “sheep” and “goats” throughout the story points us in this direction. Since a parable is a story told to emphasize a point, the question for us is what is the point of this parable.

I think we may find a clue in the fact that both the sheep and the goats are surprised at the “verdict.” The sheep are commended for being kind and merciful to Jesus, but they are completely unaware of ever having done anything special. In response he told them when they were kind and merciful to “the least of these my brothers and sisters,” they were being kind and merciful to him. Similarly, the goats are criticized for not having practiced kindness and mercy, but they seem shocked as well. They thought they had checked off all the religious “boxes” they were supposed to, but Jesus said that they were not kind and merciful to the least and the last and the left out.

I believe the main point of this parable is that Jesus wanted to challenge the self-righteous hypocrisy that is such a prevalent temptation in religion. I think the “goats” were actually those who thought themselves pious and religious because they were devoted to worship, or because they were scrupulous about following the “rules,” or because they were pillars of their religious communities. But no amount of tithes, no zeal in keeping religious rules, no supposed places of honor in the congregation could change the fact that they were unkind toward others. In the end, what counts is practicing mercy toward the “least of these.”

And so the parable presents us with a challenge. We can all fall into the trap of thinking that we’ve “checked off” all the right “boxes.” We support the food pantry, we contribute to our favorite causes, we may even volunteer to feed others. But I think what Jesus confronts us with is the question whether we have truly practiced mercy toward the least and the last and the left out in our community. That’s a big step up from simply “checking off boxes.” We have to set aside our own fears if we’re really going to put Jesus’ love into action. We have to take the risk of getting to know those who are hurting if we’re really going to practice mercy.

While this parable is challenging, I think there is some comfort here as well. The sheep who were commended for being kind and merciful were also unaware of having done anything special! What’s more, Jesus says to them, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt. 25:34)! As John Calvin points out, this is meant to be a message of hope and encouragement, because their relationship with God was based not on the merit they earned but rather on grace.[2] That’s true for us as well. I’ve found that some of the people who are the most kind and merciful in this life are also quick to “apologize” for the fact that they aren’t very “religious.” In God’s eyes, however, all those who practice mercy are “blessed” and have the promise of a “kingdom prepared for them,” simply based on God’s grace!

These are difficult days. Safety is something we all need to be thinking about during a global pandemic. But at the same time we need to hear Jesus’ challenge to be willing to show mercy and kindness to the least and the last and the left out, even when it pushes us beyond what is familiar. I realize this may create a feeling of tension for us. We may wonder how we can put kindness and mercy into practice, especially in these days. I think Jesus meant for us to feel tension, because it’s the tension Scriptures like this create for us that pulls us toward deeper discipleship.

What counts in the end is practicing a lifestyle of mercy. Now, make no mistake: the clear teaching of Scripture is that our relationship with God, and our eternal destiny, is based solely on God’s grace. There’s no way we can ever do enough good to earn that. But the clear teaching of Scripture is also that those of us who experience God’s grace will practice mercy towards others. Grace and mercy: they go hand-in-hand. God’s gift of grace calls forth in us a lifestyle of mercy toward the least and the last and the left out.

[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 11/22/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] J. Calvin & W. Pringle, Commentary on a Harmony of the Evangelists Matthew, Mark, and Luke, vol. 3, pp. 176–177.

Sunday, November 15, 2020

Earning our Way to Heaven?

Matthew 25:14-30[1]

Our economy is based on the premise that we have to pretty much earn our way in life. Some of us may have inherited significant resources, but the vast majority of us in the “middle class” start from “scratch.” We are a culture that very much believes in “pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps.” There was a time when that system worked pretty much like clock-work. You did your job, you worked hard, and you slowly but surely “climbed the ladder.” More recently, that implicit guarantee of upward mobility has been called into question. Large corporations started “right-sizing” by “reductions in force,” which meant laying off many of those who had worked long and hard.

Unfortunately, some of us take that assumption that you work for whatever you get and translate it into our faith. Many people in our day still believe that they have to build up spiritual “merit” in order to receive heavenly “rewards.” That’s true even in the Presbyterian world. Some of us still think that participating in worship, attending Bible Study, volunteering for VBS, or singing in the choir are ways to make sure we get to “go to heaven when we die.” Unfortunately, that perspective is reinforced by certain Christian traditions that actually present these actions as “obligations.”

It seems to me that a lot of people look at the parable of the talents in our Gospel lesson for today and think that the “Kingdom of Heaven” operates like that. Now, I realize that among the parables of the kingdom in Matthew’s Gospel, this one may be the hardest to see as ironical—that it is in fact talking about the opposite of what the kingdom is like. Most of us have heard the “sanitized” version of the parable: the “talents” are abilities that you’ve been given to invest on behalf of the kingdom. And most of us have used the language of this parable to commend the faithful service of those whom we know and love. But if you look closer, you find a very different story!

In the first place, a “talent” in that day and time was a large fortune—the equivalent of sixteen years’ wages (perhaps $500,000)! This story should actually be called “The Parable of the Fortune Funds.” That puts it in a completely different realm of life—that of profits and margins and commissions! But more importantly, if you pay close attention to the details, this parable is about earning rewards. You get five fortunes, you earn five more, and you get to keep all ten as a reward. You get two fortunes, you earn two more, and you get to keep all four. It’s very structured, very predictable. The rewards match the deeds; the merits match the achievements. But the down side applies to any “under-achievers.” If you’re like the servant who got one fortune and did nothing with it for fear of losing a great deal of money, then you don’t even get to keep that. And because you didn’t live up to the basic minimum requirements, you get thrown out and punished.

If that’s really what the “Kingdom of Heaven” is like, God looks more like a ruthless Wall Street tycoon than a loving creator and redeemer. That’s the impression you get from the third servant: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid” (Matt. 25:24-25). In that version of the kingdom, “to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away” (Matt. 25:29). If the parable of the talents is not ironical, then we all have to earn our way into the "kingdom of heaven," and there’s not much room for grace or forgiveness or mercy.

I don’t know about you, but to me that doesn’t sound much like the God who blesses the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness (Matt. 5:3-6). It doesn’t sound much like the God who freely gives the blessings of sun and rain to all alike (Matt. 5:45). It doesn’t sound much like the God who feeds and clothes those who have little faith (Matt. 6:25-30), or the God who gives good things to those who ask like any parent does with a child (Matt. 7:7-11). And it doesn’t sound like the God who seeks us out like a shepherd seeking one lost sheep because it is not God’s will that even “one of these little ones should be lost.” (Matt. 18:14).

The Kingdom of God that Jesus came to bring to us all is very different from a system of “pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps.” In God’s kingdom, there is nothing to earn—no merits or rewards to rack up. And everybody gets the same gift—God’s full and free acceptance. In God’s kingdom, the religious “under-achievers” gain entry ahead of those who think they’ve racked up plenty of “spiritual points” (cf. Matt. 21:32). In God’s kingdom, we’re all “underachievers,” and rather than throwing us into “outer darkness,” God in his mercy forgives us, God in his love embraces us, and God in his grace creates the possibility of new life. God’s kingdom works completely contrary to the way things work in our world. You may have to earn your way in this world, but nobody has to earn their way into heaven!

Sunday, November 08, 2020

God's Judgment

God’s Judgment

Matthew 25:1-13[1]

I’ve always been amazed when people speak with absolute certainty about what’s going to happen “in the end times.” For whatever reason, there are people out there who seem to think they can describe the entire process in great detail. And depending on who’s sketching out this end-time scenario, our eternal destiny depends on having said the “right words” and “done the right things” with reference to faith in Jesus. Of course, these people are also supremely confident that they will be rewarded because they have said all “the right words” and done all “the right things.” And they are supremely confident that if “you” haven’t said the same words and done the same things then you will be rejected.

Our Gospel lesson for today raises questions about what we think we know about the “end times.” In it, Jesus presents a parable about bridesmaids waiting for a bridegroom. Five of them are wise, and they bring enough oil to keep their lamps lit in case the bridegroom delays. Five of them are “foolish,” and they don’t think to bring extra oil. When the bridegroom arrives, the “foolish” bridesmaids are left behind and shut out because they didn’t have any oil. The story seems to conform to Matthew’s fondness for pointing out that there are some in the church who follow Jesus’ teachings and there are some who don’t (cf. Matt. 7:21-23).

But there are some problems with this parable. Although this is a parable about a wedding, there is no bride! And when the bridegroom does arrive—at midnight!—the “wise” bridesmaids tell the “foolish” ones to go out and buy oil for their lamps—at midnight! Furthermore, although the main point of the parable is that we are to keep awake because we don’t know the day or the hour (Matt. 25:13), all of the bridesmaids fell asleep! Perhaps the most important difficulty is the fact that when the foolish bridesmaids return, they cannot enter because the door is shut. That turns a wedding celebration, which ought to be thoroughly joyful, into the threat of exclusion!

This seems to be consistent with Matthew’s idea that there are some in the community of Christ who really don’t belong there, and when judgment comes, they will be exposed and shut out from the blessings of salvation. But I’m not so sure he got that idea from Jesus. In fact, this kind of thinking was prevalent in that day—it’s called “apocalyptic.” It originated in response to the trauma the Jewish people suffered at the hands of their Greek and Roman oppressors. The main idea of apocalyptic is that at the end of time, God will come to vindicate the faithful by taking revenge on the powerful oppressors who have tormented them. Ultimately, all those who do not belong to the people of God will be violently destroyed—either at the hands of God or at the hands of God’s people marching to victory in battle. If those ideas sound familiar to you, its because they’re still around today.

My problem with this is that there’s not much about that viewpoint that rings true to the message of Christ! Although the church has shut doors for centuries, God doesn’t shut doors. Although supposedly “righteous” people have been keeping people out since the beginning of our faith, Jesus doesn’t keep people out. In fact, I would say that contrary to shutting people out, Jesus occupied himself by breaking down the barriers that kept people out.

I find it interesting that we see this represented clearly in Matthew’s Gospel, right alongside that other, more exclusive view. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus crosses barriers to include a leper, a Roman Centurion, a demoniac, a paralyzed man, a tax collector (“Matthew” himself!), a woman considered unclean because of her ailment, a man whose hand was crippled, a gentile woman, and many who were ill in foreign territory. In fact, in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus says plainly that “It is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost” (Matt. 18:14).

Now, there’s no question that Jesus pointed forward to the fulfillment of God’s kingdom, but it’s something that we cannot know in detail now. And it’s also clear that Jesus taught that we would all be accountable for our actions in this life. But the biblical view of judgment is very different from what you find in apocalyptic. Biblical judgment always leads to restoration, not destruction. Biblical judgment is about leading those who have gone astray back to God, not punishing them. Biblical judgment is about God’s mercy that forgives sin and creates the possibility of new life for us all.

No, the apocalyptic obsession with destruction and punishment that is still around in our day and time simply is not consistent with God’s judgment. It seems to me that the only thing final about God’s judgment is that God has determined to “make everything new” (Rev. 21:5). In God’s judgment, the only things that are destroyed in the end are sin and death (1 Cor. 15:58). In God’s judgment, all people are restored by Jesus our Savior (Eph. 1:10). In God’s judgment, every knee shall bow and every person who ever lived or ever will live will one day acknowledge God as their Savior and Jesus as Lord (Isa. 45:22-23; Phil. 2:10-11). In God’s judgment, nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ (Rom. 8:38-39). From that perspective, the “end times” look very different: rather than violent destruction we look forward to the fulfillment of God’s love which is open to us all!

[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 11/8/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Sunday, November 01, 2020

Practicing What We Preach

Matthew 23:1-12[1]

There are a lot of reasons why people engage in religion. For some, it’s simply what their family has always done, and so they do it too. For others, attending church or synagogue or mosque is an integral part of their ethnic identity. But there are other motivations. Some practice their religion as a way of “keeping up appearances.” For others, their religious accomplishments are a source of personal pride, and they parade them every chance they get. In recent times, especially in this country, the Christian faith has become a sanctified means of wish fulfillment: if you pray the right way or follow the right steps, all your dreams will come true. I would have to say that some of our motivations for faith are problematic!

Talking about motivations may seem confusing. We’re used to thinking about our faith in terms of what we do. And while that’s important, I’m afraid it’s easy to fall into the routines of what we do and overlook what’s going on in our hearts. To do that is to risk making our faith superficial, hollow, and even somewhat phony. As we follow up on the Gospel lesson where Jesus teaches us about the two great commandments, to love God and to love others, I think one of the ways they can help us is by clarifying our motivations.

Our Gospel lesson for today is all about motivations. This chapter stands at the conclusion of the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish leaders in Matthew’s gospel. At this point, it reaches a fairly high pitch. If we were to read the whole chapter, we would find that it’s filled with references to the Jewish leaders’ hypocrisy. Simply put, they did not practice what they preached (Matt. 23:3). What’s more, it would seem that their main motivation was their own ego. Jesus said, “They do all their deeds to be seen by others” and “they love to have the place of honor” (Matt. 23:5-6). I would say those two—ego and hypocrisy—tend to go hand-in-hand in religious circles.

Now, I think it’s important to say that while no one would dispute that there were “pious frauds” among the Jewish leaders, it would be unfair to assume that all of them were hypocrites.[2] It’s also important to recognize that this kind of hypocrisy has found a home in all religions, including the Christian faith! As one commentary puts it, “all the vices here attributed to the scribes and Pharisees have attached themselves to Christians, and in abundance”![3] A brief overview of Christian history demonstrates that. And our own experience in the church confirms it!

Given that caution, when you look at all the ways Jesus criticized some of the Jewish leaders, it seems clear that they were motivated by their own ego. In all the ways that he pointed out their hypocrisy, it seems that where they went astray was that they used their religion to get “strokes” to make themselves feel important. The truth of the matter is that, whether we want to admit it or not, religion has always been susceptible to being corrupted into just another way for us to feed the unhealthy pride that lurks in the corners of our insecurities. It’s what tempts us to try to make ourselves look more important or more moral or simply better than others.

But when we indulge that temptation to “exalt ourselves” at the expense of others, we’re really only reinforcing our own insecurities. If my sense of self depends on being better than you, then I always have to find ways of reassuring myself that I am indeed better than you. And I do mean always. And so it becomes a vicious circle—insecurity, pride, ego, hypocrisy. It becomes something of an obsession. Or perhaps even an addiction.

The remedy to this pandemic of hypocrisy in religion is simple but not easy: we humble ourselves and serve others. Jesus said it this way: “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted” (Matt. 23:11-12). The antidote to the vicious circle of ego and hypocrisy is humble service. When we experience God’s love so deeply that we can truly love him with all our hearts, we will find that we can love our neighbors. Instead of viewing them as “competition,” we can see them through the eyes of compassion. Then we can humble ourselves enough to serve them. It’s important to note that even here, where Jesus harshly criticizes the pious frauds of his day, he also expresses his compassion for them (Matt. 23:37-39).

Our motivations truly determine the quality of our faith and the way in which we put it into practice in our lives. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit that we all have some of the “Pharisee” in us. We all have that part of us that practices our faith because it makes us feel good about ourselves. We all have that part that looks down on certain people as “inferior.” When we practice our faith from those motivations, we can easily fall into the trap of hypocrisy. But when we can squarely face our own insecurities and open ourselves to God’s love, we can have a change of heart. We can begin to love God and love others. We can view them with compassion instead of envy. And when we view them with compassion we can humble ourselves enough to serve them. When we do that, we will be following Jesus’ example: we will be practicing what we preach.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2020. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 11/1/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Douglas Hare, Matthew, 263.

[3] W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, Matthew 19-28, 262.

Sunday, October 25, 2020

Getting Specific

Matthew 22:34-46[1]

We have all kinds of images about what love is “supposed” to look like. If you’re in my generation, you will remember the line that “love means never having to say you’re sorry.” That “romanticized” view of love gets in the way of what I would say real love looks like. From the perspective of the Bible, love is about what we do. Love means caring enough about another person to set our wants and needs aside. Love means giving of ourselves without asking “what am I going to get out of this?” Whether it’s feeding the hungry, or clothing the poor, or comforting the sick and dying—or just listening enough to really hear someone—love is about what we do. And the Bible can get pretty specific about what that looks like.

In our Gospel lesson for today, when Jesus was asked about the “greatest commandment,” he answered with two well know passages from the Hebrew Bible: you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. This would have been nothing new to the people of the day. The first command to love God was something that pious Jewish people prayed on a daily basis. The fact that Jesus added a “second” command to love your neighbor would also have come as no surprise. These two commands were the foundation for all the teachings of Scripture.

Where I think we may get hung up is on what loving God and loving your neighbor looks like in daily life. I think a closer look at the Hebrew Bible may help us. The “first” command to love God comes from Deuteronomy 6:5. If we look at the book as a whole, we find that God was establishing a relationship with his people. And the commandments were meant to define what that relationship would look like. Deuteronomy says it this way: “loving God” means “obeying the commandments of the LORD your God … , walking in his ways, and observing his commandments” (Deut. 30:16). That’s right, we love God by keeping his commandments!

This perspective isn’t limited to the Hebrew Bible. Jesus also defined love for God in terms of keeping commandments (John 14:23-24). And he went on to spell out what that looks like in very specific terms in the Sermon on the Mount. For Jesus, loving God means we avoid hatred and anger and we find ways to make peace in our broken relationships. For Jesus, loving God means we keep our intentions toward others honest, in both our actions and our words. For Jesus, loving God means we proactively do good to all people, even those who may be “enemies.” In other words, for Jesus, loving God looks very specific.

The second “great” command, to love your neighbor as yourself, comes from Leviticus 19:18. Again, I think it will help us to take a closer look at the Hebrew Bible. In Leviticus, loving your neighbor means leaving the edges of the fields and the gleanings of the harvest “for the poor and the alien” (19:11). Rather than using all our material wealth for ourselves, we’re to reserve a portion to help those in need. Loving your neighbor means not mistreating the deaf or the blind, but rather giving respect to all people (19:14). Loving your neighbor means not talking about others in a manner that diminishes them (19:16). And it means not taking revenge or bearing a grudge (19:18). This Scripture gets quite specific when it defines what it means to love your neighbor as yourself!

I hope that you heard some echoes between what it means to love God and what it means to love your neighbor as yourself. Those two “great commands” are intertwined throughout the Bible. Loving God and loving others go hand-in-hand. It’s no coincidence that when the Bible gets specific about what it looks like to love God and love your neighbor, there’s quite a bit of overlap in what it has to say to us. We love God by the way in which we live our lives. And a big part of that is the way in which we treat others.

Some of us may be experiencing a “disconnect” with this sermon. We’re used to thinking that the “Old Testament” has been replaced and we really don’t need to pay serious attention to it. We’re used to thinking of the commands as “law,” which we associate with “enforcement.” But the Hebrew word for “law” is Torah. And it’s fundamental meaning is “instruction.” That’s the point of the very specific commands of the Bible. They are instructing us about what it looks like to live our lives based on love for God and love for others. That’s right—all the “thou shalt not’s” and “thou shalt’s” are meant to lead you and me into a relationship with God. In that relationship we love God and love our neighbors by putting into practice in our daily living what we learn when the Bible gets specific with us.

[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 10/25/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

What Belongs to God

Matthew 22:15-22[1]

We have a saying: “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” Nobody likes to be played for a fool. When we find out that someone we may have trusted has actually deceived us, it sticks in our craw. Maybe for years, or even decades. And the worst is when somebody “sets us up” to play the fool. That can be just downright cruel. Unfortunately, we live in a world in which there are people who take a kind of perverse pleasure in showing others up in this way. I can’t say that I understand it, but it seems that those who feel inferior have a need to “prove” that they’re smarter or better than others in this way. I’d have to say that the times when I’ve been “played” like this have been some of the most unpleasant experiences of my life.

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus was being “played” by the Jewish leaders. There are several clues about this. First, the Pharisees and the Herodians were at the complete opposite ends of the spectrum in the Jewish world. “Herodians” were known as collaborators with the Romans. The only thing they had in common with the Pharisees was their desire to get rid of Jesus. Otherwise, these two groups would have seen each other as “enemies.” Second, the way in which they approached Jesus was clearly dishonest. No one but a disciple of Jesus would have said “we know that you teach the way of God truly!” The Pharisees and the Herodians certainly did not believe that!

So it probably didn’t take a great deal of supernatural insight for Jesus to see through their scam. It was pretty obvious that he was being set up. And I would imagine that the Jewish leaders were proud of themselves for coming up with this particular trap for Jesus. They assumed that whatever answer Jesus gave, he would lose. If he said that it was indeed lawful to pay the tax, he would have lost favor with the people. Taxation was the way in which empires like Rome paid for their conquests. They taxed the people they conquered. So you can imagine that paying this tax was something disgusting to the people.

On the other hand, if he suggested that they shouldn’t pay the tax, he would have given them grounds to denounce him to the Roman authorities. Not paying the tax was tantamount to rebellion, and the Romans were particularly effective at quashing even a hint of rebellion. When the Jewish people did launch a full-scale revolt some 30 years later, the Roman war machine ground them down so thoroughly that there was no Jewish nation until 2000 years later! For Jesus to advocate not paying tax would have meant a death penalty.

But they underestimated Jesus. They took him to be someone like themselves: hypocrites whose main concern was holding onto their power, prestige, and wealth. That’s part of the story here. Throughout this section of Matthew’s Gospel, the Jewish leaders repeated tried to set Jesus up for embarrassment or worse. The tension between the Jewish leaders and Jesus was running high, and they were looking for any way to get rid of him.

Jesus offers a simple solution to their question. He asks the Jewish leaders to show him the coin they used to pay the tax. It was a Roman Denarius. It was the standard wage given to a day laborer for one day’s work. The thing about coins in that day is that most kings, even “puppet” kings, minted coins with their image. The image on the Denarius would have been that of Caesar. The implication was that a coin ultimately belonged to the one whose image was on it. In fact, because Caesar’s image was on this coin, pious Pharisees would at least make a show of refusing to use it.

Since Caesar’s image was the one on the coin, Jesus made a simple suggestion: give back to Ceasar the coin that belongs to him. But he goes on to remind them that the God’s claim on our lives goes far beyond what you do with your money. The clear and consistent witness of Scripture is that God calls for us to love him with all our heart, our mind, and our strength. In effect, Jesus answered the question put to him by saying, pay Caesar his tax, but give your life to God!

I think Jesus was pointing them and us to a fundamental truth in Scripture. In one sense, everything belongs to God, including a coin with a man’s image on it. But God’s claim on our lives goes far beyond the money in our pockets. Not only all that we have, but also all that we are belongs to God: our families, our careers, our abilities, our hopes and wishes, and even the hours in our days. It all belongs to God. Jesus managed to take what was a “set up” meant to entrap him and turn it around to point his accusers to the basic truth they had forgotten in their hypocrisy: we’re meant to give back to God what belongs to him, and that means all of life!

Sunday, October 11, 2020

All Are Chosen

Matthew 22:1-14[1]

Many of us experienced the childhood ritual of “choosing up teams.” A group of children would decide to play a game, and two would be selected as “captains.” Then the “captains” would take turns choosing their teams. If you were like me, you were one of the last to be chosen. I was a bit clumsy in those days. My hand-eye coordination wasn’t the best. Most times I was one of the last to be chosen—if not the very last! Which meant that my team didn’t “choose” me, they got “stuck” with me. No matter how many times I went through that ritual, I don’t think I ever got used to the feeling of being “chosen” last.

Fortunately, we also had church sports leagues. I played on our church’s volleyball and softball team. There was no question about whether or not you would get to be on the team. Anyone who showed up was on the team. But, again, I wasn’t the fastest, or the best at bat, or the best at fielding a ball. I played right field. Anyone who’s played softball knows what that meant. In church league terms, that’s the spot for the weakest player on the team. And when I came up to bat, I was the “easy out.” Even on our church’s sports team, I felt like they didn’t “choose” me, they got “stuck” with me.

Our Gospel lesson for today has to do with this dynamic in our world. Jesus tells a story about how “many are called, but few are chosen.” I think we have to be careful here, because I would say this is another ironical parable. Jesus is teaching us about the Kingdom of God by telling a story that illustrates the opposite way in which the world works. In the story, a king throws a wedding feast for his son. Now, in the Mediterranean world of Jesus’ day, any “king” was nothing more than a “stand-in” for Caesar. And it would seem that the people he ruled knew that he was no real king, because when he threw a party for his son’s wedding, none of the “movers and shakers” of his kingdom would come. What we have to understand is that a royal wedding was about demonstrating the ongoing legitimacy of one’s rule. And that means that when the wedding guests refused to come, they were repudiating his rule over them. Not a very welcome RSVP, to say the least!

So the king responds the way any petty ruler of the day would—with force. He sends his soldiers in and they attack his “subjects” and kill them and burn them out. No surprises there. But then the king does something strange—he decides to invite all the “riff-raff” to the party. After all, he’s throwing a party to celebrate his rule and its continuation through his son. When you throw yourself a party, and nobody shows up, it’s not much of a party! So he decides to save face and fills the banquet hall with anyone and everyone his servants could find on the streets.

Just in case you’re beginning to think this guy must not be all bad, the story includes his not-so-friendly interaction with one of the guests. When the king sees one of the people who have been whisked off the street to fill the party not dressed in the appropriate garment, he flies into a rage and throws him out. After all, perhaps the fact that he didn’t have the right wedding garment was a reminder to the king that the party was a sham and his “guests” were really just there to make the party look like a “success.” So he vents what’s left of his anger over being snubbed on this unsuspecting fellow.[2] And the justification for his temper tantrum sounds reasonable enough: “many are called but few are chosen.”

I find it interesting that while Jesus said many things that sound like that, this is the only place where those precise words are recorded. At first glance it seems that “many are called, but few are chosen” would be something Jesus might have said. But if you compare the way Jesus acted, you find a different picture. You find Jesus welcoming those who were outcast. You find Jesus sharing meals with the most notorious of sinners. In fact, so much so that Jesus had the reputation of being “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners” (Matt. 11:19)! In light of that, I don’t think it makes sense to take the statement that “many are called, but few are chosen” at face value.

That’s the way the world in which we live works. Only the best players are “chosen” to play for the team. The rest sit on the bench. Appropriate attire is required; and if you’re not dressed appropriately, don’t bother showing up. But the Kingdom of God that Jesus envisioned and proclaimed works very differently. In fact, you could say it’s completely opposite from the way the world works. There is no dress code. Everyone is welcome at the table. Everyone is invited, and you can come to the party just as you are. In the Kingdom of God, “all are called, all are chosen!”

[2] Cf. Daniel Berrigan, “A Parable For Today, If Not Tomorrow - The Parable Of The King's Banquet,” in National Catholic Reporter (May 4, 2001): 10-11: “Imagine a homeless person in New York rounded up to appear at a wedding and then berated for not being clothed in a tuxedo!”

Sunday, October 04, 2020

Time for the Fruits

Matthew 21:33-46[1]

Faith is an aspect of human life that has many facets. Our “beliefs” play an important role in faith. Gathering for worship is central as well. The music, the Scriptures, and the words we say together are both an expression of our faith and a way to encourage faith. We “act out” our faith together when we celebrate the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Our personal spiritual practices also build up and provide an outlet for our faith. While it’s possible to have faith without a community, we gather with others because they help us hold on to faith when life gets difficult.

At the end of the day, however, the call to follow Jesus is not simply about what we say or about how we worship. It is a call to live life in the way that he did. When Jesus calls us to be his disciples, he doesn’t just ask us to say the right words. Rather, he calls us to “take up our cross” (Matt. 16:24). I think that means that we are to commit to living our lives in the way Jesus did: loving God so completely that we choose to follow his ways no matter what it costs, and loving others even to the point of sacrificing ourselves for them. Following Jesus means “bearing fruit”: the fruit of a life that looks like his.

I believe our Gospel lesson for today addresses this challenge. Jesus tells a story that is traditionally called “the Parable of the Wicked Tenants.” It’s a story of a man who built a vineyard and leased it to tenant farmers. When it came time to collect his share of the produce, he sent his servants, but the tenants beat them and threw them out. Finally, the landlord sent his son, and they killed him. When Jesus asks what the owner of such a vineyard would do to the tenant farmers, the Jewish leaders answer in a way that is predictable—he will take his revenge by killing them.

The problem with this lies with the way we have traditionally interpreted this parable. We have tended to see it as a metaphor for the way God works—the landlord is God, the vineyard is Israel, the tenants are the Jewish leaders, the servants are the prophets, and the son is Jesus. But if we read the parable that way, it makes God into an absentee landlord who makes unjust demands of those he has put in charge of his vineyard. What’s more, God doesn’t seem to be a very competent landlord, because he sends his servants to collect the rent without any protection. And in the end, God acts just like the oppressive land owners of the day by taking revenge on the tenant farmers.

That image doesn’t work for me when it comes to my understanding of God. In the first place, the original command to love our neighbors in the Bible specifically prohibits revenge: “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18). Furthermore, Jesus teaches us instead of taking “an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” not to retaliate even against evildoers (Matt. 5:39)! And when Jesus describes who God is, he says “your Father in heaven … makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matt. 5:45). When you put it all together, the traditional way of understanding this parable doesn’t work for me.

I think we need to look at it differently. Jesus tells a story about an absentee landlord who follows the standard customs regarding tenant farmers. He takes such a large cut of the crops as to leave the farmers who are actually working the land with barely enough to keep their families alive. As a result, the tenants rise up and determine to overthrow their tyrant of a landlord. In response, he sends in an army and wipes them out. That’s not how the kingdom of God works! I think Jesus is teaching us about the kingdom of God by telling a story about the opposite way in which the world works.

The kingdom of God works very differently: enemies become friends. Those who rebel may indeed find themselves broken and crushed by their defiance, but they also find that God is the one who heals the broken and lifts up those who are crushed (Ps. 145:14; 147:3). In the kingdom of God, there is no more “eye for an eye,” because operative rule is to forgive as you have been forgiven, to be merciful as you have been shown mercy. There is no place for revenge, because we’re commanded to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

I think Jesus used this unusual method of teaching to shock the “religious people” of his day out of their complacency. They were so used to considering themselves “righteous” and believing the way they lived was blessed by God that they ignored the fact that they were blatantly contradicting the clear teachings of Scripture. It’s easy to fall into that trap: most of us like the comfort of believing the way our world works is what God endorses. But if we look closely, and pay more careful attention to the Scriptures, we may the truth to be unsettling.

I think Jesus may have been warning the “religious people” of his day and ours that the “time for the fruits” is at hand. That’s the literal phrase that is translated “the harvest time” in the parable. “Bearing fruit” is an important theme in Matthew. The idea is that our faith is meant to make a difference in the way we live our lives. If it doesn’t, then it’s not “bearing fruit.” And the fruit that God looks for from all of us is that we love him so fully that we choose to follow his ways no matter what the cost, and we love others even to the point of sacrificing ourselves. I would say it’s likely that means we all may need to make some changes in our lifestyle. We all need to recognize that now is always the time for the fruits!

Sunday, September 27, 2020

"Righteous"

“Righteous”

Matthew 21:12-32[1]

Most of us have opinions that we believe to be right. That’s a perfectly normal part of being a living, thinking person. There are just some things that make sense to us, and others that don’t make sense. When it comes to matters that are near and dear to the heart, we can often tighten our grip on our opinions. We may even blur the difference between “opinion” and “truth.” Granted, our opinions can be more or less “informed,” but they are nevertheless opinions. Assuming that our opinions are “true” can set us up for some unfortunate conflicts with our fellow human beings. Especially when they also have opinions they believe are “true.”

Again, so far we’re just dealing with normal life. This has been going on as long as there have been people. Things can get a bit dicey when we go from assuming our opinions are “right” to assuming that they (and we who hold them) are “righteous.” That adds another dimension to the problem. When we take that step, not only are those who hold different opinions “wrong,” we may view them as “enemies.” When we see ourselves as “righteous,” it’s not far from seeing those who disagree with us as dangerous. And when we perceive people to be a threat, it becomes easier to attack them.

I think Jesus was addressing this problem in our Gospel lesson for today. It’s no secret that Jesus had a tense relationship with the Jewish religious leaders. In our lesson for today, he “got in their face” about their hypocrisy by driving the merchants out of the temple. Now, we have to understand that the base of power for the Jewish religious leaders was the temple and the synagogue. Part of what that means is that by definition they got to define who was considered “righteous” and who was branded a “sinner.” And of course, in that setup, they were the ones who got to be “righteous,” and they were the ones who got to target others as a “threat.”

So when Jesus dared to criticize the religious leaders on their own turf, they responded in a way that is perfectly predictable. They asked him, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” (Matt. 21:23). This is predictable because they assumed they were the ones whom God had given authority in religious matters, and that Jesus had no such authority. But Jesus saw through their intentions, and so he asked a counter question. He asked them where John got his authority to baptize. He knew they didn’t recognize John’s baptism any more than they recognized his authority. And their response is interesting and instructive.

The “argument” that followed among them showed where their true concern was. They weren’t concerned about the authority of Jesus’ ministry, any more than John’s. They weren’t even concerned about what was true. Their sole concern was about maintaining their power and prestige and about how they looked to the people! So they kept their place firmly on the fence and simply answered, “We do not know.” Now, these are men who were used to answering questions with definitive answers that were to be taken as God’s truth. I would say they rarely, if ever, spoke those words to anyone.

So Jesus told a parable that exposes their hypocrisy. In the parable, a father asks a son to go work in the vineyard and he refuses, but then changes his mind and goes. The father asks his second son to go to work and he says yes, but then doesn’t go. The clear implication is that it’s not always those who make a lot of noise about being righteous who actually practice what they preach. In fact, Jesus told the “righteous” religious leaders that the tax collectors and prostitutes—those who were at the top of their list of “sinners”—were way ahead of them when it came to actually doing God’s will!

For all their presumption of being “righteous” and the pious play-acting that went along with it, they had rejected what Jesus called “the way of righteousness” (Matt. 21:32). What’s more, the people they scapegoated as being “sinners” were actually the ones who believed John and Jesus and accepted the good news of the Kingdom of God they came to preach. The very fact that the leaders considered themselves “righteous” was simply a convenient way for them to keep up appearances with their sham religion by diverting the attention to others. In fact, their whole system of religion was an elaborate self-justification for their self-designation as “righteous.”[2]

This behavior was not the exclusive prerogative of the “righteous” people in Jesus’ day. People of faith throughout the ages have identified others as “sinners” simply as a way of justifying themselves. We all can fall into the trap of deflecting attention away from ourselves so we can keep up the appearance of being “righteous” and avoid facing our own sins. But whenever we use our religion to make ourselves look good at the expense of others, we’re not only hurting them, we’re also hurting ourselves. The more tightly we draw the circle of who is “righteous,” the more pressure we feel to live up to expectations that no one can fulfill. Instead, Jesus offers us God’s full and free acceptance as a gift. When that gift takes hold in our hearts, it no longer matters who is “righteous,” because none of us are!

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 114: Jesus was “breaking through the vicious circle of their discrimination in the system of values set up by the righteous.”

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Generous to a Fault

Matthew 20:1-16[1]

We live in a world where the value of your labor is determined by how much someone is willing to pay for it. If we look at respective salaries for different vocations, it’s rather revealing as to what we value. We pay entertainers and athletes millions of dollars for what they do. But living in a pandemic has highlighted the fact that what we pay those who are truly “essential workers,” who do the jobs that keep our lives going, is meager by comparison. Maybe one of the changes this time will provoke is for us to re-think the way we reward a few for entertaining us and wind up paying those who do the jobs that are truly important much less, sometimes not even enough for them to live on.

Of course, we can be a very generous people. Whenever we are confronted with images of human suffering, we can be “generous to a fault.” Relief efforts for national and international disasters raise millions of dollars. “GoFundMe” drives for individuals in crisis raise tens of thousands. We clearly have the capacity to help those in need in times of crisis. I wonder what it will take for us to realize that many “essential workers” like teachers, police officers, grocery workers, nurses, and many others provide services that are in fact far more valuable than those who entertain us. Maybe it’s time we reevaluate who gets to be “first” in our world, and who is considered “last.”

This is the theme of our Gospel lesson for today. Jesus tells a parable about a man who owns a vineyard. The harvest is ready and he’s anxious to get the grapes out of the field as quickly as possible. So he goes to the market at the break of day to hire day laborers for his field. Then he keeps going back all day long, sending more workers to help with the harvest. When it comes time to pay the workers things take a surprising turn. The vineyard owner instructs that the workers be paid beginning with the last to be hired—and he pays them all the same thing! Those who worked only one hour got a full day’s wage, just like those who put in a full twelve hours!

When those who had worked all day complain, the employer simply insists that he has a right to be generous with what belongs to him. I think a big part of what this parable is about is that in the kingdom of God, the realm in which God’s grace and mercy and love defines life for all people, there is nothing to earn. In a very real sense, we are all “eleventh-hour workers,” regardless of what we may have done. We all receive far more than we deserve. In this kingdom, everyone receives grace, unconditional love, and unfailing mercy equally. And that is true simply because God is generous! As Desmond Tutu puts it, “There is nothing we can do to make God love us more” and “there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.”[2]

On one level, this comes to us as unbelievably good news. But on another level, I wonder if it makes us a bit uncomfortable. When the first are last and the last are first, it upends our expectations that life will follow the predictable pattern that those who work the hardest get the most rewards. The Kingdom of God is a strange one: those who are deemed godless gain entry ahead of those who are supposedly righteous. Little children are the example by which we all must measure ourselves, not those who are accomplished and successful. Those who serve are viewed as the “greatest,” and those who seem to be “great” are in fact viewed as “least.” For those of us who have worked hard all our lives, this may not sound like good news at all! In fact, we may perceive it as a threat to our way of life!

But then maybe that’s part of what this parable is meant to address: we are comfortable with a world in which the first are first and the last are last. Giving everyone the same grace, mercy and love regardless of what they do sounds unsettling. So does the idea that everyone receives God’s blessing equally, regardless of how hard you work. We’re much more comfortable with a life that is based on the principle that you have to work hard to earn your way in life. Those of us who have worked our way to being “first” in this world like having the “rewards” of our labor.

The truth of the matter, according to our Scripture lesson, is that in God’s sight we are all “eleventh hour” laborers. We all receive far more than we deserve. The fact that in God’s kingdom, all people have equal shares means that we all enjoy God’s grace, mercy and love freely and equally. That amazing gift is more than we could ever earn, because we can never do enough to “earn” anything from God! The Bible reminds us that this not only applies to our relationship with God, but to all of life. We cannot claim anything we have as a “reward” for our labor, because all of it ultimately comes from God. If this makes it sound like God is generous to a fault, that should lead us not to object, but to rejoice like the “last” workers in the vineyard did when they received more than they expected!

[2] Desmond Tutu, God Has a Dream: A Vision of Hope for Our Time, 32.

The Waking Dreamer