Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Plans
Tuesday, August 07, 2018
Changed from Within
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
Reflecting Light
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
The One who Sets Things Right
Jer 23:1-6[1]
We live in a world where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.[2] We live in a world where money makes the world go around, where might makes right and the race doesn’t always go to the one who deserves it. We live in a world governed by people elected not necessarily because they are the most qualified for the job, but because they have the slickest campaign. We live in a world where billionaires buy off representatives and senators in order to ensure that they keep getting a bigger slice of the pie.[3] And we live in a world where the ones who control the army also get to control aid money worth billions—funds intended to help the ones who have no food, no clean water, and improper sanitation, but that all too often end up enriching those who hold the purse strings.
Most of this is beyond dispute as a description of “the way it is.” My question, as we approach a time of year when we look for something better coming, is simple: why? Why, when the reality of injustice and violence and oppression and suffering is so obvious all around us, do we think we should look for something better? After all, some spiritual leaders will tell you that the only way to successfully manage our lives is to accept reality as it is. Wanting something different from what we have is a prescription for perpetual unhappiness and dissatisfaction. The way to “get along” is to “go along” with the way things are.
But there is a voice deep within us that simply will not let us go there—not without a fight. Not without the gut-wrenching stress of trying to live in denial of what we know to be the truth. Or not without generous doses of chemical anesthetics designed to make us feel nothing at all. The voice within us tells us the way things are is not the way things ought to be. In fact, whether we like it or not, sometimes that voice screams at us to get us to pay attention to what has gone wrong in our world. Down deep inside, we know that we were not made for the injustice and violence and oppression and suffering that define our world.
In a very real sense, I think it was that same voice that drove the prophets of ancient Israel to proclaim so loudly that the injustice that was rampant in the courts of the king would lead to the nation’s downfall. At least part of the reason for that was because the prophets also had one eye on the covenant Israel had made with their God—a covenant that included stipulations for all people to have an equal access to the means of making a living, a covenant that included the command to welcome the immigrant and the wanderers and the strangers, a covenant that included the demand to care for the weakest in society—those who were impoverished, who were forsaken, and who were excluded from the structures of life.[4]
When the prophets looked at the reality of the way the “covenant people” lived, what they saw appalled them. It wasn’t much different from our reality—the wealthy continued to get richer at the expense of the poor. The upper class indulged in conspicuous luxuries while the vast majority of people lacked basic necessities. The powerful took every possible advantage to gain more power, more wealth, and more land, not thinking twice about whom they were exploiting or enslaving or even murdering.
And right in the middle of all of this injustice, all this violence and oppression, all this suffering, sat the King. Now what we have to understand about the Kings of Israel and Judah is that they were intended to be representatives of God’s reign over the people. They were the ones who were supposed to ensure that all people were treated fairly, that they were free from violence and oppression, and that they were able to thrive in their daily living. They were supposed to be “shepherds” to the people—protecting them, caring for them, ensuring they had their needs met. But the reality of the Kings of Israel and Judah is that, more often than not they were complicit in the injustice that wracked the land, if not the very instigators in the first place.
And because the prophets had one eye on the covenant and the justice God intended for the people, and the other eye on the ones who were supposed to promote and maintain that justice but consistently failed to do so, they began to speak of one who was to come.[5] This one would be a true shepherd, not like the false “shepherds” who exploited the flock. This one would enact true justice, not the usurpation of power and wealth that masqueraded as justice. This one would bring true peace, peace that made it possible for all of them to thrive, not just the top 1% of the upper class, the richest of the rich. This one would be called “The Lord is our righteousness” (Jer. 23:6, NRSV), or “Yahweh is our saving justice” (NJB) or “God-Who-Puts-Everything-Right” (The Message)! The prophets were looking for the true king—the one we await during the season of Advent.
I don’t believe that is merely so much wishful thinking, or that it is foolish and positively harmful to look for this one who will set things right. I think looking for something better is wired into us at the very core of our being. Then as now, for those of us who will listen to that voice of conscience within us, it is plain as the nose on your face that the way things are is not the way things ought to be. And that leads us inevitably to look for something better—or perhaps in this case someone better. Someone who will instead oversee all who live and all of creation (no exceptions!) in a way that brings joy and peace and life to us all.[6]
[1] © 2010 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 11/21/10 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.
[2] Cf. Timothy Noah, “The United States of Inequality,” published Sept. 3, 2010 at http://www.slate.com/id/2266025/entry/2266026.
[3] Cf. Jane Mayer, “Covert Operations,” The New Yorker Aug. 30, 2010; accessed at http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/08/30/100830fa_fact_mayer.
[4] Cf, Patrick D. Miller, “The Book of Jeremiah,” New Interpreters Bible VI:745, where he points out that the benchmark for justice was “the weakest members of the community, the powerless and the marginalized, the economically depressed and the vulnerable.” He adds, by contrast (p. 746), “We tend to turn the matter on its head and assume that the good society is one that allows those with economic means to hold on to them and not worry too much about those who have nothing.”
[5] Cf. Pheme Perkins, “The Magic Kingdom,” The Christian Century Nov. 22, 1989:1083, who says, “The rule of justice and peace will not be created by the political configurations of the present age. They have already been condemned by God for destroying what should be protected.”
[6] Our Confession of 1967 puts it this way: “It is the will of God that his purpose for human life shall be fulfilled under the rule of Christ and all evil be banished from his creation.”
These are the Days
2 Tim. 3:14-17; Jer 31:31-34; Lk 18:1-8[1]
If you watch any TV at all, you are well aware that we have a whole bunch of elections just around the corner. You may be tired of hearing about it. And if you are following any of this, you know that candidates from all sides of the political field are promising to change things. I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that we’ve been promised so many changes, I’ve stopped believing all of them. What’s more, it’s easy for me to want to just give up on the whole sorry mess. But you know as well as I do that giving up isn’t the answer. For one reason or another, we keep trying to work for change, year in and year out, even though it sometimes seems like nothing ever changes in the way this world works.
Last week we talked about how we can count on God to always be there for us as a supportive presence. But if you’re like me, in times like these you may want more than a “supportive presence” from our God—you may want change, real change, change we can see in the world around us and in our own lives. Unfortunately, the notion of God actually intervening in our lives is complicated. Some people believe God is always working in miraculous and supernatural ways. Others believe that God isn’t capable of changing anything in our world. We see this view reflected especially in people who have suffered unspeakable atrocities, people like Elie Wiesel. And because they have suffered so much, we must always remind ourselves to treat them with utmost respect—especially when it comes to their loss of faith. Elie Wiesel was studying the Talmud and Kabbalah when he began his journey through the horror of the Nazi concentration camps, including Auschwitz and Buchenwald. As a result, Wiesel concluded that God is impotent, helpless, unable to prevent injustice and violence, unable to really make a difference for those who place their faith in God.[2]
I think it’s likely at least some of the people Jeremiah addressed must have felt that way. Everything that meant anything to them was gone. I could imagine they were asking whether God was anything more to them than a “supportive” but ultimately powerless presence. And Jeremiah looked at the people in exile, with all their doubts and discouragement, and said to them in the name of the Lord, “the days are coming.” Days of restoration—to their homeland and the lives they had left behind. Days of rebuilding—homes and families and communities. Days of returning—returning to hope and faith and joy.
But more than just giving them their lives back, Jeremiah’s message was that God had in store something hard to imagine: a whole new relationship with God. Instead of an arrangement where God’s actions on their behalf depended to some degree on their fidelity and obedience, Jeremiah said to them in the name of the Lord that “the days are coming” when God would make a whole new arrangement—one that depends solely upon God’s unfailing love and unshakeable faithfulness. This relationship would be one in which God would actually make some changes—beginning with transforming the people of faith into people who want nothing more than love God with all their hearts and to honor God with their lives. Jeremiah, in the name of the Lord, promised a whole new way of understanding “I will be their God and they will be my people” (Jer. 31:33).[3]
How could this happen? What magic would be able to take these people—flawed and fallible people like you and me; in fact probably just like you and me—and turn them into “instant saints”? Well, in some contexts, the prophets and apostles spoke of it as a transformation by the Spirit, something intangible and even to some extent perhaps even hard to trace.[4] In our NT lesson for today, St. Paul takes a more “pragmatic” approach: He suggests that it is the Scriptures themselves that are the tool God uses to make us “wise for salvation” (2 Tim. 3:15); they are the means by which we are trained in “righteousness” and become “competent” for the work we are called to fulfill.
Whatever the means—more tangible or more spiritual—it’s clear that prophets and apostles and saints throughout the ages have looked to God for more than just a “supportive presence” in answer to all that is so troubling about our world. And they have been bold to promise in the name of the Lord that the “days are coming” when God’s presence will transform the people of faith, along with all humankind and the whole of creation. In fact, in many cases they have been bold to declare that “these are the days” when God is fulfilling the promise to fill the whole earth with the life-giving knowledge of God, with God’s saving justice that makes it possible for everyone to thrive together, with God’s shalom that brings life.
With this in mind, we can take the lesson of Jesus’ parable to heart—we can find the faith not to lose heart in the face of all that is wrong with our world. We can face it confidently, knowing that God is in the process of changing things. In the parable Jesus calls it “giving vindication” (Lk. 18:7-8). But that’s not punishment or vengeance, but rather God’s gracious work of setting things right again. Restoring the land and their lives, rebuilding homes and families and communities, returning us all to hope and faith, renewing the joy of living. We can return to the task of working for change in our world inspired by the vision that there will come a time when God’s “commonwealth of peace and freedom” will be more than just a hope and a dream; it will define all life on the face of the earth. It may seem hard to imagine, let alone believe,[5] but we can take comfort in the assurance these are the days when God is changing everything. And God is beginning that process of renewal by transforming us.
[1] © 2010 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/17/10 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.
[2] See Elie Wiesel, Night, where he recounts his horrific experience.
[3] R. E. Clements, Jeremiah, 191: “what is promised is not so much a radically different covenant but a renewed form of the earlier, broken covenant.”
[4] Clements, Jeremiah, 190: “Although the word ‘spirit’ is not used, the implication is certainly that God’s Spirit will move the hearts of Israel to be obedient to the divine law.” Compare Ezekiel 36:24-28.
[5] Tillich, “Behold, I Am Doing a New Thing” in The Shaking of the Foundations, 182: “The new being is born in us, just when we least believe in it.”
Count On It
2 Tim 2:11-13; Jer. 29:4-7; Ps 66:12[1]
It’s hard to know what you can count on these days. You might expect that from a cynic like me. But when you look around, so much of what we have counted on seems to have fallen by the wayside. Here’s one for you—“stay in school and you’ll get a better job.” Well, that works up to a certain extent. But it’s a little disconcerting when the guy asking you if you want fries with your burger is wearing a button that says, “Ask me about my Ph. D.” How about, “all for one and one for all”? No, I wouldn’t count on that either. Seems it’s more “every man for himself” these days. What about “until death do us part”? Nope—I don’t think you can count on that either in this day and time.
Here’s one that we should all agree you can count on: “I will never fail you nor forsake you.” If you can’t count on God, who can you count on? I think the answer is that it depends on what your “counting on.” If you’re “counting on” God to make your dreams come true, you may find yourself disappointed. In fact, I think it’s all but certain you will find yourself disappointed.
So where does that leave us in relation to God? It belongs to the heart of the Bible’s witness that God is faithful—that God keeps all promises. I think our lesson from 2 Timothy affirms that faith: “if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself.” I think that means we can count on God to continue to love us, to help us, to always be there for us as a supporting presence—even in the worst of times, even if we are at times “faithless” (2 Tim. 2:13).[2]
Now, many in the history of the church have understood this “promise” more in terms of a warning than an assurance: they think it means that if we fall short or lose heart or in some way undermine the faith, God will remain true to himself by punishing us accordingly![3] After all, it does say, “if we deny him, he will deny us”! But whatever “denying” and being “denied” means in this context, it has to take into account the fact that Peter specifically “denied” Jesus three times, and yet he was not “denied” but restored! [4] Even that kind of “denial” didn’t consign him to eternal condemnation. Perhaps that’s the point—even if we go to the extent of denying Christ the way Peter did, God’s faithfulness provides a way back for us.[5] Even in that extreme case, we can count on God to remain committed to us.[6]
And yet, we all face times when it seems God has in fact turned his back on us, has in fact denied us, has in fact broken faith with us. I would say that the letter of Jeremiah to the exiles in Babylon was written in one of those times. Some of the Jewish exiles probably gave up hope altogether. Some were so desperate for fulfill all their presumptions that they deluded themselves with false hopes. As it turns out, there were “so-called” prophets who were stirring up the exiles with the idea that “any day now we will be on our way home.” But Jeremiah says, “Build homes, get married, have children. See that your children build homes, get married and have children.”[7] Jeremiah believed that they would be in exile a lot longer than they wanted to be.
But he also pointed them to the hope that, in the midst of the mundane routines of life in foreign exile, they could find God’s peace. Despite all their disappointed hopes and dreams, they might just find themselves having the experience recounted by the Psalmist. After going through fire and water, just when they may have thought their life was over, God brought them to a “spacious place”—a place where, much to their own surprise and contrary to their expectations they could find peace.[8] It wasn’t where they thought they would live out their lives, but it was a place where they could thrive.
It may sound harsh to say it, but we cannot count on God to make all our dreams come true, or to live up to all our presumptions about what our life is supposed to look like. I think one of the lessons that so often eludes Christians in our day and age is that there is a vast difference between faith and presumption. Presumption makes our loving creator and redeemer into a “God-in-the-box” who gives us everything we want. Faith entrusts oneself to Gods loving care because of a conviction that God is trustworthy. Even when we find ourselves in a place we didn’t want to be, if we can let go our expectations and accept the grace to thrive in surprising places, we may discover that we can count on God never to forsake us, to see us through whatever comes our way, to bring us to the “spacious place” where we can thrive. [9]
[1] © 2010 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/10/10 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.
[2] Cf. Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann, The Pastoral Epistles, 109; cf. also William Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 517-18, 520.
[3] See, notably, John Calvin, Commentary on the Epistles to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, 219.
[4] This is a difficult phrase, and it doesn’t seem to fit the rest of 2 Tim. 2:11-13, which encourages Timothy and others to endure hardship for the sake of the Gospel. Hanna Roose, “Sharing in Christ's Rule: Tracing a Debate in Earliest Christianity,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 27.2 (2004): 143-146, makes a convincing argument that “denying” relates to the promise of eternal reward for martyrdom.
[5] I think our understanding of this passage also has to take into consideration the fact that God has responded to “the apostasy of the creature” with grace, not condemnation. See Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 2.1:506-512
[6] Cf. J. D. G. Dunn, “The First and Second Letters to Timothy and the Letter to Titus,” New Interpreter’s Bible XI:844, where he refers to the tradition rooted in Judaism that “God remained faithful to the chosen people, even when they proved faithless time and time again.” In that light, it makes sense to conclude with him that “denying” is a deliberate and determined action, not simply a failure of nerve.
[7] William L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2, 138 and G. L. Keown, P. J. Scalise, and T. G. Smithers, Jeremiah 26-52, 80, see in this the promise of God’s grace in exile.
[8] Cf. H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 38, where he suggests that it is precisely this work of liberation that constitutes the “great deeds” with which the “whole earth is filled” according to Ps. 66.
[9] Cf. Patrick Miller, “The Book of Jeremiah,” New Interpreter’s Bible VI:795: where he says that the Lord’s peace (shalom) often “will not fit what we expect or want.”
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Keeping Up Appearances
Jer. 8:18-9:1; Lk. 16:1-13[1]
I find it interesting that, when our life in these United States fails to live up to our expectations, we inevitably ask, “Where is God?” It seems to me that question makes some pretty grand assumptions—that somehow this country is different from all the other nations and states and kingdoms that have come and gone in the history of the world. And it assumes that somehow God has a stake in whether or not this nation thrives. It seems to me that one of the biggest pitfalls in this way of thinking is that because we make a show of piety with our god-talk we expect God to look after us and protect us and pour out blessings on us.
This assumption is nothing new. The people of Jeremiah’s day made the same mistake long ago. They believed that God would protect them from any invading army because “the Lord is in Zion” (Jer. 8:19). They may have to endure the humiliation of invasion, but God would ultimately defeat any would-be invader, and Jerusalem would be preserved, because it is the place where God dwells.[2] But all the while, according to the prophet, they were pursuing their own course, one that ran contrary to God’s purposes. Hear the words of the prophet:
“Why, then, have the people of Jerusalem gone the wrong way and not turned back? They believe their own lies and refuse to turn around and come back. I have listened to them very carefully, but they do not say what is right. They do not feel sorry about their wicked ways, saying, ‘What have I done?’ Each person goes his own way, like a horse charging into a battle. Even the birds in the sky know the right times to do things. The storks, doves, swifts, and thrushes know when it is time to migrate. But my people don’t know what the Lord wants them to do.”[3] (Jer 8:5-7, NCV)
Jeremiah proclaimed in the name of the LORD that this smug, self-righteous attitude would be their undoing. The problem was not that they fell short, or stumbled, or made a mistake, but that they intentionally pursued a course of evil “without a tinge of regret.”[4] Time and again, in response to dire warnings of impending doom, the people of Jerusalem tended to ask not, “What have I done?” but, “Where is God?”[5] But that’s way too easy an out! It is too easy for us to blame God when something goes wrong in our world.[6] If there is no ‘balm in Gilead,” no restoration of peace and justice in our world, no healing from the wounds of violence and greed and selfishness and dishonesty, it is not for lack of compassion in God![7]
I think part of the problem is that the preoccupation with keeping up the appearance of holiness blinds us to our shortcomings. The people of Jerusalem were so blinded to their own wrongdoing that they would have had no problem joining the Psalmist in begging for God’s compassion to heal them while praying for God to destroy the heathen in anger (Ps. 79:5-9)! We can see the folly in their mistake, but Jesus gives us one that is much harder to see. I think part of the point of the parable of the dishonest steward is that our difficulty in sorting out the parable makes painfully obvious how accustomed we are to deceit, falsehood, and fraud as a way of life. The reality is that we, like the people of Jeremiah’s day, and Jesus’ day, do not know the justice of the Lord (Jer. 8:7)![8] We, like those who have claimed to be God’s people throughout the ages, are blinded to our own shortcomings by our efforts at keeping up appearances.[9]
It is difficult for most of us to see our own flaws. Sometimes we all need to be pulled up short by someone else and made to see our obvious failings. I had an experience with this when I lived in Europe. The church I attended in Stuttgart carried out a mission to take food to churches in Romania. On the way we spent the night in Budapest with the family of one of our members. Like many people in Europe, the father of the family wanted to talk about the United States. He was particularly concerned with the movies that came from our country. Now, this fellow wasn’t naïve enough to think that our movies accurately depict our society. But the question he asked was, “What kind of people go to see these movies?”
I must say I was taken up short by that question. Things that I as a Christian minister took for granted, he saw in a much different light. Here was a Hungarian Christian who saw movies coming out of our country that glorify violence, that plaster sex without boundaries all over the screen, that make heroes out of villains and buffoons out of traditional role models. And he couldn’t understand how such movies were so popular in a culture that claimed to be Christian. I think his simply straightforward question helped me to see how we engage in the folly of keeping up appearances.
The painful truth is that we are not the people we envision ourselves to be—not always. We do not live up to the convictions we profess to be the basis for our lives—not always. We may be in tune to the “justice of the Lord” in some areas of our lives, but I guarantee that there are others where we are not, and we are clueless about that fact. Jeremiah calls us to ask not “Where is God?” but “What have I done?”—to pull back the veil of our appearance of godliness so that we can find the way to real healing.
[1] © 2010 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 9/19/10 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.
[2] Miller, “The Book of Jeremiah,” New Interpreter’s Bible VI:646, 648; cf. also Ronald Clements, Jeremiah, 60.
[3] Literally, “the justice of the Lord.”
[4] Clements, Jeremiah, 55.
[5] Cf. Miller, “Book of Jeremiah,” NIB VI:649.
[6] Clements, Jeremiah, 58.
[7] Cf. Miller, “Book of Jeremiah,” NIB VI:648: though it is Jeremiah who is putting pen to ink in this lament (so to speak), it is incredibly difficult to sort out Jeremiah’s anguish on behalf of his beloved people from God’s!
[8] Cf. Miller, “Book of Jeremiah,” NIB VI:646: “They do not know the order (mishpat) of the Lord for their lives, an order that is centered in justice (mishpat)” therefore “they also do not know the judgment (mishpat) that is to come into their lives” to restore that order.
[9] Miller, “Book of Jeremiah,” NIB VI:650.