God is Coming!

 

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!

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[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 11/29/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

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

What Counts in the End

 

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.

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[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.

Earning our Way to Heaven?

 

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!

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[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm.  A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 11/15/20 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

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!

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

Practicing What We Preach

 

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.

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[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.