The Waking Dreamer: Epiphany

Showing posts with label Epiphany. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 04, 2026

Open Hands

You may have gathered that I’m something of a people watcher. I find it fascinating to observe the way our society functions. Of course, all that observing I do is from my perspective, and therefore it’s limited and biased! Unfortunately, I’m not always as aware of that fact as I should be, and as a result, I have an unfortunate tendency to pass judgment on people about whom I really know very little! I’m afraid that the inconvenient truth is that we all can do that from time to time. The hard part of it is that it’s not a very generous outlook. I have to confess that I’m not very “generous” when it comes to “Superbowl Sunday.” I must admit that part of that comes from the fact that some of the players in the game will make more in one evening than most people will make in their whole lifetime. But then that can be true of a lot of top athletes in other sports as well, including the ones that I love to follow.

I think what concerns me about what I see in connection with the Superbowl is how much money we’re spending this weekend—essentially on our own entertainment. For example, this year retailers are projecting that we will spend twenty billion dollars in connection with the Superbowl. That’s just consumer spending. That’s just what we’re expected to spend on TV’s, fan gear, and food for hosting parties. To put that in perspective, the agricultural production in the state of Nebraska for the whole year is around twenty-five billion dollars, if I have my figures correct. We’re going to spend that in one weekend. When you think about everything that goes into “Superbowl Sunday,” I’m not sure anyone can measure the total amount of money that we Americans will spend on this event. To my eyes, eyes that admittedly can be judgmental at times, that can seem like an awful lot of self-indulgence.

By contrast, when I read our Scripture lessons for today, I’m reminded that one of the central messages of the Bible is that we who claim to be people of faith in the God of Exodus—the God who looked on the oppressed people with compassion and who liberated the captives—are called to embody that spirit in the way we relate to people around us. And over and over again, the Bible defines that in terms of practicing “justice.” What I find striking in our lessons for today is the clear and concrete way in which they define practicing justice! The prophet Isaiah says this means that we’re to “free those who are wrongly imprisoned”; we’re to “lighten the burden of those who work for you”; we’re to “let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people” (Isa. 58:6, NLT). More than that, we’re to “share food with the hungry,” “give shelter to the homeless,” and “give clothes to those who need them” (Isa 58:7, NLT)! It seems clear that “justice” means “compassion” and “generosity.”

Unfortunately, we tend to take a different approach toward the needy in our world. That’s especially true with those who may challenge our sense that the world is an ordered and predictable place where we can rest assured that everything will turn out the way we want it to as long as we “follow the rules.” When we feel threatened by someone like that, we tend to fall into the pattern of judging them. We analyze them and assume we know why they “fell through the cracks.” When we adopt a “judging” mindset, it’s impossible to practice “justice.” Rather than opening our hands to share generously, when we live out of fear we tend to close our fists to protect what’s ours. But as I read our Scripture lessons for today, it occurs to me that the prophet Isaiah was trying to encourage people recover a spirit of generosity as a way of restoring their relationship with God and as a way of restoring their community.

The hard question that our Scripture lesson confronts us with is how we can find a way to open our hands to give the gift of generosity to the people around us. I would say it starts with faith. To learn generosity toward others, we have to overcome the fear that there might not be enough and trust that God will provide for our needs. There are times in our lives when we wonder whether there will be enough, and it can be hard to trust that God will provide. But as I look over my life, I realize that there was always enough. Learning generosity starts with trusting that God will provide for our needs. I think generosity also comes from cultivating a spirit of gratitude. When we recognize that we have received far more than we could deserve or expect, it leads to sincere gratitude. And when we’re grateful for our lives, we can be a lot more willing and able to relate to others with generosity. And I think practicing generosity takes a good dose of humility. When we remember how many times we’ve failed and instead of getting what we deserved God’s grace has let us off the hook, we’ll be more likely to extend that grace and let others off the hook.

Generosity is not easy to learn. And it can be even harder to practice. It’s hard to know when someone is truly in need and when they’re just scamming you. And it’s hard to know how much you should give a person who is destitute. And it’s risky, because you can’t control what they’ll will do with the help you give them. But for my part I would say I think practicing generosity is worth the risk. Again, I think it’s important to hear what the prophet Isaiah says about practicing generosity as a way of restoring our not only relationship with God, but also as a way of restoring our community and our society.

At the end of the day, we who profess faith in the God of Exodus, the God who liberated his oppressed people out of his great love for them, are called to practice the same generosity toward the oppressed people in our world. We who have received the gift of being let off the hook time and again by God’s grace are summoned to extend that same grace to those who fall short, for whatever reason. We who have experienced the open hand of God giving us all that we need and more can do no less than open our hands and extend them to the people in need around us.

The Bible can get uncomfortably specific about whom that includes. Isaiah says that we practice the generosity we’ve received from God when we stop hiding from those who need our help (Isa 58:7, NLT). I don’t know about you, but I’ve been there, and it can be uncomfortable. It can be hard to practice generosity, but when we open our hands and offer generosity to those around us, particularly those in need, we’re demonstrating the difference God’s grace has made in our lives. Jesus calls that living as the salt of the earth and the light of the world. The good news is that in 2024, the last year for which we have statistics, our charitable giving as a society totaled almost 600 billion dollars. The not so great news is that’s only about two to three percent of our national economy. Of course, it’s hard to measure generosity simply in terms of dollars. It’s clear that there are a lot of people who are giving a lot to help a lot of people. But there’s always room for improvement. I think we all have room to grow when it comes to practicing generosity in our daily lives. I think that’s at least part what Jesus had in mind when he said, “you are the light of the world.” I think he wants us to show the difference God’s grace makes in our lives every day by opening our hands and giving the gift of generosity to the people we encounter.

How Blessed We Are!

Matthew 5:1-12[1]

If you asked someone to define what it means to live the Christian life, you’d probably get answers as varied as the people you ask. Some would likely say it means seeking to follow Jesus more every day. Some would say it means becoming a part of a church family and participating in their life and work. Others might say it’s about following the Ten Commandments. Or perhaps the two “Great Commandments” Jesus identified: to love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself. And there would be truth in all of those answers. But part of the truth of all of those answers is that it’s no easy matter to live the Christian life!

As a matter of fact, in some circles, the answer to the question about the Christian life would be to follow the beatitudes. In fact, in one of the study Bibles I’ve owned, there was a whole “sermonette” in the notes section on how the Beatitudes constitute a kind of “staircase” for living the Christian life. Yes, in some cases, people have believed that practicing the Beatitudes was a literal “staircase to heaven.” That idea actually goes back centuries in the history of the church. It’s still the primary way that the Beatitudes are taught in the Catholic tradition today in some places. Many other Christians as well see the Beatitudes as a “blueprint” of what you have to do to “make it” into heaven. The benefit of that answer is that it keeps things pretty clearcut. The problem is that I would say Jesus’ teachings about how his followers were to live are both simpler and harder than that.

That approach to the Beatitudes makes our relationship with God based on what we do. And once we start down that path, we likely will not stop with just the Beatitudes. We’ll add the Ten Commandments. And maybe the whole Sermon on the Mount. And maybe more of the “laws” from the Hebrew Bible. Essentially, the attempt to quantify our relationship with God in terms of how much we “have” to do will likely lead us to an endless list of demands. There are traditions around us in this community that practice that approach to faith. I think that makes things a lot more complicated. And people who practice their faith in those traditions do so in constant anxiety about whether they’re doing enough to “make it” to heaven. I don’t think that’s what Jesus intended!

That way of reading the Beatitudes misses the very wording of the Scriptures. They don’t say “blessed are those who become “poor in spirit,” or “meek,” or “pure in heart.” They say, “blessed are the poor in spirit,” “blessed are those who mourn,” “blessed are those who are humble.” It’s not about what you “become,” it’s about who you already are. I think the first clue to being able to hear the Beatitudes is to understand that they’re meant to reinforce the promise of salvation for all who open their hearts to the good news of the kingdom Jesus came to proclaim! In Matthew’s Gospel, we’re meant to read the Beatitudes in light of the statment that Jesus was “proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people” (Mt 4:23). That’s important context for understanding the Beatitudes. And Jesus didn’t check the spiritual “credentials” of the people he healed. And he didn’t just heal Jewish people. Matthew tells us that he shared the blessings of God’s grace with everyone who came to him.

From that perspective, it doesn’t make any sense to read the Beatitudes as a “blueprint” for the Christian life. Rather, they are a beautiful way of spelling out the “good news of the kingdom” that Jesus was proclaiming. The Beatitudes show us the blessings we find when we align ourselves with God’s purposes in the world. That’s particularly important for the kind of people Jesus was addressing. Those who align their lives with Jesus’ “good news of the kingdom” often do so at their own expense. Those who look to God and God alone for what they need in this life—the “poor in spirit”—aren’t typically the “movers and shakers” of our world. In fact, they are often precisely the opposite: the last, the least, the left out, and even the powerless.

We who seek to follow Jesus in this world, who may not be last and least and left out and powerless, often find ourselves in the kinds of situations he talks about in the Beatitudes. We mourn: we mourn the condition of a world that thrives on greed and violence. We may even find ourselves “reviled” or worse because we refuse to endorse the way things are. We hunger and thirst for God to come and set things right. Because we’ve come to know God’s mercy in our lives, we cannot help but extend that mercy to others, giving without any thought of receiving, turning the other check, welcoming those whom others see as outcast. The good news that Jesus preached in the Beatitudes is that we are blessed: blessed because we know that our lives rest securely on God’s unfailing love for us.

At the same time, in Matthew’s Gospel, we’re meant to read the Beatitudes as a kind of introduction to the Sermon on the Mount. Even within the Beatitudes themselves, there’s a subtle shift that changes the emphasis from who we are to what we do. Jesus says, “Blessed are the humble,” but he also says, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” (Matt 5:7). Being merciful is something you do. He says, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matt 5:9). Again, being a “peacemaker” involves action. The Beatitudes shift from assuring us of God’s blessing, to calling all who have received God’s blessing to put that grace into action in the way they live their lives every day. This pattern of grace as a gift that demands we live in certain ways is one that’s found throughout the Bible. Jesus adopts it in the Sermon on the Mount. When you move from the Beatitudes to the rest of the sermon, you find that Jesus makes quite challenging demands on those who would follow him.

I think Jesus knew that all who would try to follow him would desperately need the assurance offered in the Beatitudes. I think he knew we would need to hear that we’re supported and surrounded by God’s grace every hour of every day of our lives. And so it is that in the Beatitudes, Jesus makes clear that our relationship with God is always based on God’s grace and his unconditional love that never fails, not on what we do. And yet, I think Jesus also knew that we would always need reminding that God’s grace always demands all we have to give. He sums it up with the “golden rule”: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you” (Mt 7:12). We heard something similar in our reading from the prophet Micah for today: God’s grace demands that we “do what is right, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God” (Mic 6:8, NLT). But in the Bible, grace always comes before demand; and the demand about the way we live our lives is always based on God’s grace. That’s why Jesus starts his most famous sermon with a striking reminder of how much we truly are blessed. Before he instructs us about what it looks like to follow him in some uncomfortably specific ways, Jesus spells out for us just how blessed we are by the gift of God’s grace.

Tuesday, March 04, 2025

Not In Vain

Not in Vain

1 Corinthians 15:25-28, 35-58[1]

I mentioned last week that hope is something we all need to thrive in this life. But hope can be tricky, because it can be hard to know what to place your hope in. Especially in times when it feels like everything you thought you could count on in life has dropped out from under you. Those of us who practice faith in Jesus Christ have a hope for something more, beyond this life. But that hope has resulted all too often in an attitude that what happens now doesn’t really matter. That was why Karl Marx criticized religion as a kind of drug that made people passive in the face of the wrongs that were being perpetrated against them. I think that’s why we need the full version of the Christian hope: not just that we’ll go to heaven when we die, but also that God is working to restore all our lives and everything he created in the same way that Jesus was raised to new life. The miracle of the resurrection on that first Easter Sunday points us to the promise that God is working to change this world, and everyone and everything in it.

Even with that hope, there are still some pitfalls to avoid.[2] For some of us, it becomes all too easy to take an overly optimistic view. Because we have the hope of being with Jesus at our death, we can treat death like it’s no “big deal.” It’s just “passing on” to another stage of our journey. That’s not the biblical view. As Paul puts it in our lesson for today, death is an “enemy” (1 Cor 15:26). Death has a “sting” that is real and harmful (1 Cor 15:55). Paul’s not just talking about physical death, although as many of us have experienced, that can be truly harmful to those of us who have lost loved ones. Paul is also talking about the destructive power that “death” exerts in our lives and in our world to this day through the powers and persons who align themselves with evil.[3] Our hope is not that somehow death is no “big deal.” Our hope is that in Jesus’ very real death on the cross, and especially by raising Jesus to new life, God has overcome the power of death.

The other pitfall goes to the opposite extreme. For some of us, it becomes all too easy to take an overly pessimistic view. Because of the harm that death continues to inflict in our lives and in our world, we can decide that God must not be able to do anything about it.[4] But that’s also not a biblical view! Not by a long stretch! The God to whom the Apostle Paul points us is the God who not only worked in the lives of the people of Israel and in the lives of believers in the early church all those centuries ago. This God is the God who continues to work in and through us to bring life out of all the harm that death can inflict on us. We have this faith, this confidence, this hope, because Jesus died a very real death on the cross. But we also have this faith, this confidence, this hope, because God raised Jesus to a new life that is just as real. That means death will not have the last word for anyone.

The hope of the Gospel is the promise of Jesus’ resurrection. It’s the promise that the life God revealed in Jesus’ resurrection is a new kind of life that is stronger than the worst that death and all its powers and those who align themselves with them can throw at us. Paul points to this hope when he insists that “Death is swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor 15:54), the victory Jesus won when God raised him from death. Paul can go so far as to “taunt” death like one might do to a defeated and humiliated bully: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55, NLT). The reason he can act so confidently in the face of the harm that death still can and does inflict on us is because he knows that God has given us “victory” over all of it “through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 15:57). The life that God has injected into this world through Jesus’ resurrection has already defeated death and all the powers and persons aligned with it. And the promise of our faith is that this new life will finally and fully define all creation. For everyone and everything!

Our faith and our hope exist in a balance. We don’t naively water down the power of death or the very real harm those who align themselves with evil can do in our world. Rather, with Paul we take all of that seriously as an “enemy.” But on the other hand, we don’t just give up in the face of the sometimes overwhelming discouragement we feel over the influence of those powers and persons. That’s because we’ve seen the light of new life that dawned on that first Easter morning, and with Paul and the hosts of believers throughout the ages we put our faith and our hope in the power of that new life.[5] We hold our faith and our hope in the power of God to overcome evil in this world in a balance. But the scale is tipped in favor of hope, because Jesus’ resurrection points us to the day when the final victory will come.

We don’t place our hope in some idealistic vision that attributes to humanity a goodness that can prevail against all evil. There is much goodness to be found in the human family, to be sure. But it’s not equal to the task of overcoming the powers of evil and those who align themselves with it. Neither do we place our hope in sheer determination and willpower to resist in the face of all the wrongs that are so blatantly perpetrated in our day, every day. Human willpower isn’t sufficient to the task either. We place our hope in the confidence that, as the great Swiss theologian Karl Barth said, “God is not God in vain.”[6] Or as Paul puts it in our lesson for today, ultimately God will be “utterly supreme over everything everywhere” (1 Cor 15:28, NLT).[7] And so we place our hope in God, and in the victory he has won in Jesus Christ. And that hope leads us to the confidence that God will fulfill all that he has promised to do. One day, we will share in the new life that Jesus now enjoys.

So how then shall we live in these times of turmoil? Do we retreat behind the walls of our homes and churches and sit back, waiting for God to work a miracle? Or do we “plunge into the present struggle” as our affirmation of faith last week called us to do, putting the courage and energy our faith and hope give us to good use here and now?[8] I think St. Paul would have us do the latter. After all that he had to say about the reality of Jesus’ resurrection and the hope it gives us, Paul concluded this chapter by saying, “So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless” (1 Cor 15:58, NLT). That last phrase is often translated more literally “in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” We may or may not see tangible results from our work. But I believe that every act of integrity, every act of kindness, every act motivated by faith and hope and love can and does make a difference.[9] Not just because of our sincerity, or our determination, but because the new life of our resurrected lord Jesus means that what we do here and now is “not in vain”!

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 2/23/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church.

[2] Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, rev. ed, 378.

[3] Paul speaks of this especially in Romans 5, where he contrasts the effects of death’s “reign” with the effects of God’s grace that lead to the “victory” that we have through Jesus Christ (cf. esp. Rom 5:17). See especially The Message translation: “If death got the upper hand through one man’s wrongdoing, can you imagine the breathtaking recovery life makes, absolute life, in those who grasp with both hands this wildly extravagant life-gift, this grand setting-everything-right, that the one man Jesus Christ provides?” Cf. also Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: a commentary on the Greek text, p.1302.

[4] This was Harold Kushner’s view in Why Bad Things Happen to Good People. He and his wife had experienced the loss of a child, so while I may disagree with his view, I would not want to criticize him personally.

[5] Cf. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 283. See also ibid., 285, where he says that Christians “know of a power at work here and now greater than the power of evil, a power that keeps breaking into our godless and godforsaken world to heal old wounds, make new beginnings, and (if only now and then, here and there) give us a glimpse of the final victory of God’s compassion and justice that are on the way.” See further, ibid., 375: “The God in whom we hope is a God who not only will be but is the powerful and compassionate Creator and Ruler of the world. The crucified and risen Christ who will come to overthrow all the powers of darkness and evil that spoil God’s good creation and human life in it has already triumphed over them and even now is at work to complete the work he has begun.”

[6] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 3.4.1:196. While he concedes that work of reconciliation that Jesus has accomplished through the cross and resurrection (elsewhere he calls it “the accomplished alteration of the whole world situation”; ibid., p. 191) still faces opposition in this world, he insists that we must see this “battle” as resulting in the victory of God.

[7] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 163, where he points to the final victory of Jesus’ resurrection as serving “the sole and all-embracing lordship of God.”

[8] Cf. “A Declaration of Faith,” 10.5 (Presbyterian Church in the United States, 117th General Assembly 1977, reissued by Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1991).

[9] Cf. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 280-81: “we can and must confidently throw ourselves into the fight against evil in our own lives and in the world around us, knowing that we do not fight alone but with the one who is stronger than all the forces of evil.”

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

Our Hope in Christ

1 Corinthians 15:12-26[1]

Hope is a crucial aspect of human life. We cannot thrive without a sense of hope. While I think many would agree that hope is a mindset we can learn, it doesn’t just come automatically. And when we lack a healthy sense of hope about our lives we can find it hard to believe that they have meaning and purpose. That puts us at risk for sliding into depression, anxiety, or even suicidal thoughts. A lack of hope can affect us in more “physical” ways, like diminishing our ability to cope with the stress we all face as a part of life. Hope gives us confidence to persevere in hard times, because we believe that there is indeed meaning and purpose to our lives, each and every one of our lives. That kind of resilience enables us to move forward with our goals in life and with our commitments to family and work and service.

Hope keeps us going when everything in life seems to conspire against us. But hope can be risky as well. We can put our hope in all the wrong things. We may be hoping for a nicer car, a bigger home, a better job, a more fulfilling relationship. Hoping for those things isn’t in and of itself wrong. There is a forward-looking aspect to all hope. But when we stake too much of our well-being on hoping for the wrong things, if those hopes come crashing down, so do we. That’s when false hope can hurt us deeply. It can shake our faith in others, in the meaning of life, even in the goodness of God.

Our lesson from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians for today addresses hope from the perspective of Christian faith. Specifically, Paul was addressing the hope of the resurrection. I dare say that’s not something that’s high on our list of hopes these days. As Christians, we hope to “go to heaven” when we die, to be with Jesus and to be reunited with our loved ones. But that’s not the focus of hope in the New Testament. The focus of Christian hope is that we will share Jesus’ resurrection, in bodily form, and that in that new body we will enjoy new life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation.[2] In fact, for Paul the hope of sharing in Jesus’ resurrection is so foundational for Christian faith that he could say, “if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then your faith is useless” and “we are more to be pitied than anyone in the world” (1 Cor 15:16-17, 19, NLT).

It may be hard for us to understand how Christians who lived only 30 years after the first Easter Sunday could somehow doubt the resurrection of Jesus. Part of the problem in Corinth may have been that in the Greek world, the idea of a future “resurrection” in which the dead live again in physical form was thought to be crude and disgusting. In the Greek world, people looked forward to being set free from the “prison house” of the body. They believed that death was a transition from physical life in a body to living among the stars in the heavens as an immortal soul. “Resurrection” just didn’t compute to them. They would have been much more comfortable with our notions of “going to heaven” when you die. In fact, it was the influence of this line of thinking about three hundred years after Paul’s day that shifted Christian hope from sharing Jesus’ life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation to eternal life in heaven.

Some of the believers at Corinth went to the opposite extreme. They heard some of the wonderful promises of new life in the Gospel message Paul and others had preached. And because they heard in that message that they already had eternal life fully and completely because of what Jesus did, they believed that they had all they were ever going to receive of salvation. They bypassed the promise of God’s future as resurrected people living on a recreated earth in the way God had intended in the first place—without sadness or pain, suffering or injustice, violence or even death. They believed that all they were ever going to get from their faith was what they had right then and right there.

But St. Paul wouldn’t accept either of these options. For him, the inevitable consequence of Jesus’ resurrection on that first Easter Sunday morning was that we would all share in the new life Jesus now enjoys. He says it this way: “Christ has been raised from the dead” as “the first of a great harvest of all who have died” (1 Cor 15:20, NLT). For Paul, Jesus’ resurrection meant more than God had intervened to vindicate Jesus and his message. For Paul, Jesus’ resurrection meant the beginning of the transformation of all things and all people! It meant the beginning of God’s whole new creation that would eventually “make all things new” (Rev. 21:5).[3] It’s hard to wrap your head around that big of an idea. But for Paul tampering with that hope meant tampering with the Gospel message. And that was something he never allowed!

The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that he died on the cross so that we could know without a shadow of a doubt that God loves us—he always has and always will. The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that his death broke the power of everything that could separate us from God or harm us in any way. The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that his resurrection overcame even death itself and brought new life to everyone. Paul said it this way, “In Adam all of us die. In the same way, in Christ all of us will be made alive again. (1 Cor 15:22, NCV). And that means that what God has done through Jesus is nothing less than to set in motion the process of restoring everything in all creation to the way that he intended in the first place. Just as Jesus enjoys that resurrected life now, so we too can look forward to enjoying the same life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation.

We need all kinds of hopes to keep us going. Hope in the form of looking forward to doing something fun. Hope in the form of knowing that there are friends and family who will always love us no matter what. Hope in the form of trusting that all our needs will be supplied by our God. But more than that, we need a hope that can motivate us to do as our affirmation of faith for today puts it: “to take up our cross, risking the consequences of faithful discipleship; to walk by faith, not by sight.” It takes serious hope to give us the courage and the strength to “plunge … into the present struggle.”[4] The reason for that is that we can see injustice and violence and even death at work all around us to this day.

Yes, we already have a taste of the amazing grace of God at work in our lives here and now. But I think our experience with the bitterness of death can help us truly appreciate the hope Jesus gives us by rising from the grave.[5] Those of us who have looked into the eyes of a loved who was there a few moments ago, but is gone now, those of us who know the bitterness of death, must know that we cannot accomplish God’s work in this world on our own. It’s just too big! Because what God is doing is nothing short of restoring of all things and everyone to the life that God intended for us in the first place. And that’s what he is doing even now through the power of Jesus’ death and the power of Jesus’ resurrection to new life. Our hope is that power is already working to change our lives now. But our hope is also the recognition that we have not yet tasted it fully and finally as we will when we all share in Jesus’ life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation. Sharing that life, the life that Jesus now enjoys, in God’s (re)new(ed) creation: that is our hope in Christ. And that hope gives us courage and strength to press on, come what may.

[2] Cf. Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: a commentary on the Greek text, 1229: “the resurrection of Jesus was not to restore life in the conditions of continuing earthly existence (and eventual death) but to initiate a transformed mode of existence as the firstfruits (v. 20) of the eschatological new creation.”

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Ethics of Hope, 55, where he says that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ “the eschatological turn of the world begins, from transience to non-transience, from the night of the world to the morning of God’s new day and to the new creation of all things” (emphasis original).

[4] Cf. “A Declaration of Faith,” 9.5, 10.1, 5 (Presbyterian Church in the United States, 117th General Assembly 1977, reissued by Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1991).

[5] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 171-72, 210-11. He holds in tension the “deadliness of death” which still persists in our experience of life with the “promise and hope of a still outstanding, real eschaton,” that is, a future that is defined not by death but by life.

Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Worthy

1 Corinthians 15:1-11[1]

The question of our personal “worthiness” can be a thorny one. Some of us may feel that we’re unworthy at the very core of our being. We may think we don’t even deserve to be here. Others may believe without a doubt that they are deserving, worthy of every opportunity, achievement, and accolade they’ve ever received. And perhaps more! It can be tricky navigating the middle ground between a basic sense of shame over who we are and a fundamental arrogance. Many of us have worked hard throughout our lives, and we have a well-earned right to be appropriately proud of our accomplishments. Others of us have worked hard and have seen all they hoped for slip through their fingers. The question of our “worthiness” as individuals is one that is complicated and fraught with pitfalls. But it’s one that we all must face.

Our scripture lesson from 1 Corinthians for today addresses this question from the perspective St. Paul’s life story. The lesson tells us part of the story of Paul’s calling to serve as an Apostle, proclaiming the good news of Jesus. We might find it strange to hear Paul talking about how he was the “least” of the Apostles, and didn’t even “deserve” to be called an Apostle. When you take a close look at what Paul says about himself in his letters, two things emerge.[2] First, he confessed that all he was and all he was doing was the result of a life-changing encounter with Jesus Christ. When he met the risen and living Lord Jesus on the road to Damascus, it transformed his whole life. Using the language of our lesson, Paul could say that all that he was and all that he was doing was the result of God’s grace at work in and through him. That’s what made Paul’s zeal for following the way of Judaism give way to his conviction that Jesus Christ had chosen him to serve the body of Christ—from “before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4)!

The other thing that Paul says about himself is that he was unworthy to be an Apostle. I think a part of this came from the fact that he was always very consciously aware of his failures and shortcomings. Several times he expressed his feeling that, because he had persecuted the church before being called by Jesus, he wasn’t fit to serve as an Apostle. And this wasn’t just initial reluctance on his part. Even toward the end of his life, Paul continued to see himself as unfit to be an Apostle because he had previously “blasphemed the name of Christ” (1 Tim 1:13-15, NLT). But I think the other side of this sense of “unworthiness” on Paul’s part was because he knew in the deepest part of his heart, that “whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his grace on me” (1 Cor 15:10, NLT). And he knew two things about God’s grace at the same time: there was nothing he could ever do to deserve God’s grace, and he would never have to try to deserve God’s grace. It was all a gift!

I think this applies to the issue I raised last week: how we find the strength and the faith to continue serving others in a challenging time. For myself, I must confess that, like Paul I don’t think I deserve the opportunities I’ve been given. But, like Paul I’m also grateful because I believe it’s all been through God’s grace. Many of the people I grew up with wouldn’t be surprised that I’ve spent most of my life working in ministry. They would consider it a natural outcome of who I am. But it was never something that I would have thought. I came from a nowhere town and a no-name family. Although I knew I was good at school, I never thought of myself as being all that special.

I “volunteered” for ministry at the ripe old age of 17. I’ve always wondered whether God really wanted me or he just “had” to take me because I stepped forward. And, truth be told, I never thought I had what it took to be a pastor. I was quite comfortable in the classroom as a Seminary professor. It was an environment that I knew well, and it was a task that I was confident I had the skills and expertise to carry out. Working as a pastor felt a bit too risky for me. To me it seemed like starting a business from scratch, and I wasn’t sure I wanted go out on a limb like that. In fact, when I was 40 I stepped away from ministry for several years. I tried to move into a parallel career, but only made it more clear to me that serving the body of Christ was where I belong.

When it comes right down to it, however, I would have to say with Paul, “whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his grace on me.” Like Paul, I have certain gifts and abilities that God has used in my service to the body of Christ. And like Paul I’ve worked diligently to serve to the best of my ability for decades, continuing to “sharpen the saw” to be as effective as I can at what I do. But I would also confess with Paul that “it was not I but God who was [and still is] working through me by his grace.” Like Paul, I would say that, despite my reluctance about whether I am worthy to serve the body of Christ, I believe God chose me from “before the foundation of the world.” God’s grace led me down the path of life that has brought me to this place and time. And, like Paul, “I’m not about to let his grace go to waste.”

I bring this up because I think there are others who may find themselves at places in life where they never thought they would be. And I think most of us would agree that we could never have imagined we would be facing the issues we are today. You may know that I’m a “Lord of the Rings” fan. Throughout the years, I’ve found myself agreeing with Frodo Baggins when, while talking about the rise of evil, he says to Gandalf the wizard, “I wish it need not have happened in my time.” To which Gandalf replies, “So do I … and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”[3] The truth is that none of us gets to choose the backdrop against which we live our lives. We don’t always get to choose the direction our lives take in the circumstances we face. All we get to choose is how we will live our lives right where we are.

Again, if we’re trying to figure out how to keep on serving in circumstances that make it all seem futile, I think we can take our cue from St. Paul. What I didn’t say above is that he faced opposition and criticism of his ministry from the very first. Not just from “enemies” outside the church. Some of the believers in churches he had founded, some of the believers at Corinth, thought that Paul was unworthy to be an Apostle of Jesus Christ. In the face of that fierce opposition, Paul responded in a couple of ways. First, he admitted that he wasn’t worthy in and of himself to represent Jesus Christ. I think it may be healthy to follow his lead in that respect. Not one of us, and especially not me, deserves to serve the body of Christ in the ways we have open to us. But secondly, Paul confessed that all that he was and all that he did was due to God’s grace poured out in his life. I think each and every one of us can make the same humble confession today. We may not understand why we have been placed in this particular time and this particular situation. But we can trust that God will use our gifts and abilities right where we are. And we can draw encouragement from the community of faith that supports us as we seek to use our gifts and abilities where we are. But at the end of the day, God’s grace has called us, God’s grace has brought us to this place, and God’s grace is working in and through us. And that’s all the worthiness we need!

[2] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.1.4, 196-211, where he surveys the story of Paul’s change of life from zeal for Judaism to proclaiming Jesus and serving the body of Christ as a prime example of the interaction between the knowledge and ignorance of “the accomplished alteration of the whole world situation” by God through Jesus Christ. Barth argues that this tension between knowledge and ignorance can arise only “to move to it’s overcoming” because “God is not God in vain” (ibid., 191). Of Saul/Paul’s conversion, he says (ibid., 202), “It was in the power of the self-witness of Jesus Christ that he passed from ignorance to knowledge. Jesus Himself met him before Damascus. … . This is the decisive element in the story.”

[3] J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Houghton, Mifflin, Harcourt, 2004, p. 51

Tuesday, February 11, 2025

The Energy to Serve

1 Corinthians 13:1-13[1]

There are times in our lives when we are full of energy. Our work, our relationships, our hobbies are fulfilling to us, and we feel like nothing can stop us. There are other times in our lives when it seems like everything is against us. No matter how hard we may try, it seems like other people, or God, or perhaps even our own shortcomings conspire against us to make everything seem hard. In those times, it can feel like we’re trying to swim through molasses. Or perhaps quicksand. We just can’t seem to find the will, let alone the strength, to keep moving forward. Those are the times when we may ask ourselves why we’re going to so much trouble. We may do some deep soul searching to figure out whether we really want to keep pushing so hard.

It's those hard times in life that test what we’re made of. When we find ourselves running the gauntlets that life puts in our way, we may wonder what made us choose this path in the first place. We may wonder why we keep going. We may wonder whether we should change direction and just walk away from it all. But if we stay the course, we find that those hard times become the times in our lives when we do some of the most important growing we can ever do. Our ability to endure even the hardest of times may surprise us, as our faith grows strong and resilient. And the test of how strong our faith has become is, as always, how we respond to hard times. We can choose to respond in a wide variety of ways. We can feel hurt and decide to “pout.” We can get angry and perhaps nourish a grudge. But, as the Apostle Paul says it, faith “works” through love (Gal 5:6). When we respond to hard times with faith, it will clarify for us what keeps us going.

In our lesson from 1 Corinthians for today, the Apostle Paul is addressing a church that was badly divided. They were squabbling over just about everything, even who their “real” leader was—Paul, or Peter, or Apollos. While Paul had founded the church at Corinth, both Peter and Apollos had visited them, and had fruitful ministries there. I doubt that any of them could have imagined that the result of their work would have been a congregation fighting one another over which of them were most important. As Paul asks, “Has Christ been divided into factions? Was I, Paul, crucified for you? Were any of you baptized in the name of Paul? Of course not!” (1 Cor 1:13, NLT). It was ludicrous to think that they had any other “Lord” than Jesus Christ!

One of the issues the believers at Corinth were fighting over was “spiritual gifts.” It was a time when spectacular displays of spiritual power were particularly valued. Perhaps like the “faith healers” of our day, many of the Corinthians believed that if your faith is real, you should be able to demonstrate it through obvious acts of spiritual power. Now Paul didn’t completely shut them down on this thinking. And the analogy of “faith healers” might not be the best one. For Paul, everything every one of us does in the name of Jesus Christ is a demonstration of the power of the Holy Spirit working though us. That’s one of the main points he wants to get across to them. The Spirit is at work in and through us most powerfully in ways that might not be so obvious.

This brings us to our lesson for today. Paul was trying to help the believers at Corinth find a healthier perspective than trying to prove they were more “spiritual” than each other. And to do that, he called them to follow what he called the “way of life that is best of all” (1 Cor 12:31, NLT). And that way is the way of love. It is the way that Jesus chose for his life. And as Paul says elsewhere, our faith really works only as we put it into action through love (Gal 5:6). Here he puts it more bluntly: he says that even if he had the ability to demonstrate spiritual power in the most obvious ways, if what he did wasn’t motivated by love, he would only be making a lot of noise (1 Cor 13:1, NLT)! He says that even if his faith were such that he could “move mountains,” if it didn’t express itself through loving actions toward others, he would be “nothing” (1 Cor 13:2, NLT). He said that even he sacrificed everything he had, even his own life, if he didn’t do it out of love, it would do no good for anyone (1 Cor 13:3)!

For Paul, the measure of our service is the motivation that energizes it. From his perspective, our service has meaning only when it is motivated by love that actually cares about the well-being of another person, especially those who are different from us, and most especially those whom we may perceive to be “on the other side” from us. Again, as I mentioned before, in the Christian sphere of life, Paul could say that the only thing that matters is “faith working through love” (Gal 5:6, NET). From one perspective, that’s how we demonstrate that our faith is real: by putting it into action out of love for others. Of course, there are other motivations for our service. We may serve out of a sense of leaving a legacy, or because we are grateful for the gifts we have been given. But for Paul, it all comes down to faith put into action through love.

Some of you know that one of my “heroes” of the faith is Henri Nouwen. He was a Roman Catholic Priest who lived with a great deal of personal pain, and he became a pioneer in the field of pastoral care and pastoral theology. Because of that, he became something of a celebrity in American Christianity. He taught at the most prestigious and influential divinity schools in the country. But all of that left him burned out and empty. After spending a year living in France at L’Arche, a community where intellectually challenged people lived with their caregivers, he came back to serve as the chaplain at the Daybreak L’Arche community in Toronto. Many of his friends urged him not to “waste” his talents, reminding him of how much more “good” he could do in the Academic world. But I think Henri had found the joy of serving others out of love for them, and he never looked back.

We’re all facing some of the most challenging days of our lives. The very fabric of society has become frayed and is unraveling before our eyes. Sweeping changes are completely transforming our whole way of life in ways that none of us could have imagined or dreamed, even ten years ago.That has implications for everything from families to work to the ability to even talk to people who have different convictions from us. We’ve become so “tribal” that we can’t even talk to people who have different views from us. What does that have to say about where we are as a people and as a society? It can leave us feeling like all our efforts for good in this world are useless, just making a lot of noise. The difficulties we all face right now can test our motivation. It can leave us asking ourselves why we are doing what we are doing. Especially when it comes to what we are doing in and through the church to serve others. If we take our cue from Paul, we may find that the only way we can continue to have the energy to keep serving in a way that truly helps other people is through love. Whether through “obvious” acts of service, or simple everyday interactions with the people around us. The lesson that Paul wants us to learn is that faith works through love! It always has and always will!

Tuesday, February 06, 2024

Have You Not Heard?

Isaiah 40:18-31; Mark 1:29-39[1]

Everybody wrestles with faith at some time or other. That’s because, as much as we like to present our lives as “picture perfect,” nobody actually has an “ideal” life. Pretty much everyone is dealing with some kind of problem. It just seems to be the nature of life. Just as soon as you get one thing nailed down, two more come loose. And it’s also the nature of the Christian life. As one of my college professors put it, everyone you meet is either heading into a time when their faith will be tested, or is in the midst of a time of testing, or is coming out of a time of testing. When we go through hard times, it’s easy for us to wonder what went wrong. We think a life that’s free of troubles should be “normal” for a Christian. But the fact of the matter is that we follow a Savior and Lord who suffered, and who called us to follow him in that path. So we should expect the troubles in our life as “normal.”

Part of the problem is that when hard times come, we tend to think that God is punishing us. It’s actually a line of thinking that starts with the Bible. Especially the book of Deuteronomy. The idea there is that when we do what we’re supposed to do, God blesses us. When we do what we’re not supposed to do, God punishes us. But the problem with that line of thinking is that there are a lot of people out there whose lives seem to be “blessed” who aren’t making any effort to do what’s right. And there are also a lot of people out there who are making every effort to do what’s right whose lives nevertheless are filled with hardship. In the language of the Psalms, the fact that the “wicked” so often “prosper” while the “righteous” suffer makes it plain that the line of thinking that equates hardships with punishment just doesn’t work.

Sometimes we may take this all the way to questioning whether God really is as good and loving as we’ve been taught to believe. In fact, this is a question that people have been asking for centuries, going back to ancient times. One of the Psalmists asks God if he has forgotten to be loving (Ps. 77:8-9), essentially asking if God has forgotten who he is! Another Psalmist asks God if he has fallen asleep instead of coming to help his people in their time of need (Ps. 44:23), again asking if God has somehow gotten too tired to make good on his promises. Those are some pretty bold questions. Not everyone goes through tragedies painful enough to bring us to question God to that extent. But there are many of us who have and still do, and I think it’s important for us to recognize that if psalm-singers and prophets could ask these questions in the Bible, it’s okay for us to have and to give voice to our questions. If Jesus could cry out to God “why have you forsaken me” from the cross, we can ask our questions too. God’s big enough to handle it, and he understands.

From the point of view of some Philosophers and Theologians, the presence of so much unjust suffering, or “evil,” in the world means that God cannot be both loving and all-powerful at the same time. If God is loving, he must not be all-powerful, because a loving God “would” prevent the tragedies that come upon the most innocent and vulnerable people. From this point of view, God is like a beloved grandparent who is simply powerless to protect us.[2] On the other hand, if God is all-powerful, he must not be loving, because being all-powerful means God can stop the terrible things that happen in life but chooses not to. From this point of view, God isn’t even a good father, because no parent would neglect a child in need![3]

As much as I understand why some people ask these questions (and why I’ve asked them myself!), the problem with posing the alternatives so starkly is that it presupposes that God’s ways are our ways. But the Bible bears witness again and again that God’s ways are as much higher than our ways as the heavens are higher than the earth (Isa 55:9). We know a lot more about how “high” the heavens are in our day than they did then. Generally speaking, science tells us that the universe is infinite! And so our lesson from Psalm 147 today says, “there is no limit to [God’s] understanding” (Ps 147:5, NIrV). That’s one way of dealing with the painful experiences of our lives: we may not understand what’s happening, but none of it escapes God’s notice, nor his wisdom, power, and love!

That’s the point of our lesson from Isaiah for today. The people of Israel languished far from home for a lifetime. In that land so far from everything they had known, they wondered whether God even noticed that they were suffering, or whether God even cared. And the prophet speaking in the name of the Lord reminds them who God is: “The LORD is the everlasting God; he created all the world. He never grows tired or weary” (Isa 40:28, GNT). God always knows what we’re going through in this life, and God always cares. That doesn’t mean things will always turn out the way we want or hope. But what it means is that “those who trust in the LORD for help will find their strength renewed. They will rise on wings like eagles; they will run and not get weary; they will walk and not grow weak” (Isa 40:31, GNT).

It’s something our lesson from the Gospel of Mark for today demonstrates. Although Jesus knew his task was not primarily to work miracles, but to proclaim the good news that he had come to bring the kingdom of God, wherever he was faced with suffering he met human pain with compassion. He was never too preoccupied with his sense of calling to comfort those who were suffering. And when he followed that calling all the way to the point of giving up his life on the cross, he showed us all once and for all that God shares our burdens. Although Jesus cried out in agony, and it seemed as if the only reply God made was silence, what our faith teaches us is that in Jesus God was right there, taking all of our suffering upon himself.[4] Just as Jesus didn’t abandon those who came to him in need, so also God didn’t abandon Jesus on the cross. And God will never abandon anyone in this world, especially in the midst of their suffering.

When I’m going through hard times, and I’m having a hard time believing that God notices or cares about what I’m going through, I know that it’s usually because I’m stuck in fear or pain or sadness. I think when we get stuck in those feelings, we lose our sense of perspective on our lives. We may even lose our faith for a time. That’s precisely when we need to remember the lessons those who wrestled with these questions in the Bible learned. While my understanding is most definitely limited, there is no limit to God’s understanding. We may not understand what’s going on, but none of what’s happening in our lives escapes God’s notice, nor his wisdom, power, and love. Just as Jesus never abandoned those who came to him in need, and just as God didn’t abandon Jesus on the cross, so God never abandons us, especially in hard times. God is always there for us; when we think God is silent, perhaps it’s because God is weeping right along with us. As our affirmation of faith reminds us today, God watches over us each day of our lives. It’s what we’ve heard from the very beginning. God always knows what we’re going through in this life, and God always cares.

[2] This was the view of Rabbi Harold Kushner in When Bad Things Happen to Good People. His views were likely influenced by the death of his son from cancer at an early age.

[3] This is the view of Sam Harris: “God visits suffering on innocent people on a scope and scale that would embarrass the most ambitious psychopath” (post on Twitter dated Aug. 5, 2015).

[4] Cf. Helmut Thielicke, The Silence of God, 14: “Even when He was silent, God suffered with us.” Cf. also ibid., 13: When we don’t understand what’s happening, perhaps God “is fitting stone to stone in His plan for the world and our lives, even though we can see only a confused and meaningless jumble of stones.”

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

Not Just About Me

1 Corinthans 8:1-13[1]

Most of us have lived our entire lives during great upheaval. That turmoil began with the sweeping social and political changes in the 1960’s and 70’s. In those days people began questioning everything from morality to economics to religion to government. To be sure, there had been those who marched to a different drum beat before that time. But in those days it seemed like everyone was willing to cross all the formerly recognized boundaries in their quest for personal “freedom.” Scandals like the Pentagon Papers and the Watergate burglary only added fuel to the fires that were already burning. To those who were committed to traditional values, it was a time when the accepted standards began to break down. To those who saw the status quo as unjust, hypocritical, and biased to benefit the powerful few, it was a time of righting social wrongs. In a very real sense, our society has been wrestling with this fundamental divide ever since.

One of the questions that is at the heart of this struggle has to do with morality. It’s the question of how you know what’s right from what’s wrong. There have always been those who advocated certain absolute rules that represented lines that were never to be crossed. And I think most people would agree that there are some things that are never right under any circumstances. It’s never right to harm someone who is weaker than yourself simply because you have the power to do so. It’s never right to enrich yourself by taking unfair advantage of others, especially those who are most vulnerable in our society. But, as the scandals of our era have sadly demonstrated, many of those who are the most vocal supporters of traditional values don’t practice what they preach.

Because the voices that supported traditional values so blatantly ignored them in their own lives, many have simply decided that there is no absolute right or wrong. If it seems right to you, then it is, regardless of what anyone else may say. In my day, the way people put it was “if it feels good, do it.” But of course, the real point was “if it feels good to me.” Again, I think it’s clear that we as a people have made progress over the last several decades toward recognizing the rights of those who had long been denied justice. But in the process, morality became personal and private, which didn’t actually make things any more just or fair. It merely opened a pandora’s box of self-indulgence. In the name of “rights” we as a people have claimed that we can do whatever we please. And the result has been lives broken by moral license, selfishness that approaches narcissism, epidemic levels of substance abuse, and greed for ever more power and wealth. And all of this without any concern for how our actions affect anyone else.

Of course, there are many who continue to make a sincere effort to try to do what’s truly right. But it gets complicated. Take, for example, the commandment “You shall not kill.” That seems pretty straightforward. It seems like an absolute boundary that no one should ever cross. I would say we could all agree that it’s absolutely wrong to murder someone in cold blood. But it’s not so clear when a person kills someone in self-defense or in the course of saving the life of another. It’s still a “violation” of the commandment, but as a society, we consider it to be “justified.” I’ve never been there myself, but I would say that anyone who has ever had to take a life in the line of duty, whether soldiers at war or officers keeping the peace, would agree it affected them profoundly, even though it was the right thing to do in that situation.

All of this is a way of getting into the lesson from 1 Corinthians for today. The first Christians lived in a world of competing moral standards, no less that we do. And it wasn’t always clear to them what the right thing to do was in every situation. St. Paul addresses one of those situations. Because the believers in Corinth lived in a world that was dominated by the worship of pagan idols, the question of how to remain true to God and avoid idolatry, which was another of the Ten Commandments, wasn’t always clear in that setting. The Hebrew Bible goes to great lengths to argue that idols are nothing but “smoke and hot air” (Isa 41:29, MSG). As a result, some of the believers at Corinth had decided that there was nothing wrong with taking part in a meal held in honor of a pagan god, where the main course was meat that had been offered as a sacrifice to that god. After all, as Paul himself could say, “we all know that an idol is not really a god and that there is only one God” (1 Cor 8:4, NLT). If that’s the case, then it’s just another meal.

But the problem was that those who were confident in this “knowledge” weren’t thinking about other believers who weren’t so confident. Many of the Christians in Corinth had lived their whole lives believing that the pagan gods were indeed real, and that the sacrifices made to them were a way of acknowledging their influence. For them, a meal held in honor of a pagan god was a violation of the commandment to avoid idolatry. But if they saw other believers partaking in those meals, they may have become confused and decided to partake in an idol feast themselves. But because of their upbringing, they would likely feel convicted that they had sinned by breaking the commandment by being unfaithful to God. In St. Paul’s words, by exercising their freedom, those who were confident that idols weren’t real were causing the others to stumble in their faith. So he concludes, “if what I eat causes another believer to sin,” at least in their own minds, “I will never eat meat again as long as I live—for I don’t want to cause another believer to stumble” (1 Cor 8:13, NLT).

In a world with a confusing array of competing moral standards, St. Paul argued that one principle for deciding what was right from what was wrong was the question of how an action would affect others. As he said elsewhere, “live in such a way that you will not cause another believer to stumble and fall” (Rom 14:13, NLT). And the way to do that was to make love the deciding factor. In this situation, Paul himself acknowledged that idols were not real, and that there was nothing wrong with eating meat that had been sacrificed to a pagan god. But he also recognized that there was more at stake in his actions than just his own welfare. He had to consider the welfare of those who would be influenced by his actions. That’s what it means to live in the community of faith with other believers: to live in a way that benefits others, not just yourself.

There was a cost to this course of action, and I think Paul knew it. The worship of pagan gods was such a common part of everyday life that it was hard to avoid these feasts. It would be like avoiding going to a football game in our culture! To avoid those feasts would be to risk more than just a loss of social standing in the community. It would and did mean the loss of livelihood, the loss of community, and even the loss of family. Paul knew the sacrifices following Jesus involved. But despite the sacrifices, I’d say Paul thought it was worth it to safeguard the welfare of fellow believers. For him, living in a community of faith meant sacrificing your “rights” for the sake of the good of the whole community. We used to believe in that. These days, our “rights” are almost our “idols,” and we will do anything to safeguard our “right” to do whatever we please. But Paul advocates a different way. Considering how his actions affected others was a central factor in his decisions when it came to moral questions that were not straightforward or clear-cut.

I’d like to be able to tell you that the principle of considering how your actions will affect others will make your moral choices clear and straightforward. But in the context of social turmoil in which we live, I’m not sure it’s ever possible to be completely certain of our actions. For most of us, whatever we choose to do is going to offend someone somewhere. Whether it’s what we eat or drink or what we watch or read, someone somewhere is going to think it’s wrong. To avoid offending anyone in any way, we would have to withdraw from life altogether! I think what we’re left with is doing the best we can to live our lives in a way that brings honor to Christ, not dishonor. I think what we’re left with is doing the best we can to follow his example in all our actions. I think what we’re left with is recognizing that for all of us, our decisions are “not just about me.” Knowing that, we can do our best, in so far as it’s humanly possible, to act in ways that will help others, and not harm them.

Tuesday, January 23, 2024

Compelling

Mark 1:14-20[1]

There are some people we encounter who are unique. They have a quality about them that draws us to them. It may be their ability to make us feel at ease. Or it may be the fact that they seem to be able to make friends with anyone. Or it may be their gift of making conversation with just about anyone on just about any topic. I could go on and on. We’re drawn to people like this for reasons as varied as their individual personalities. There was a time when we called this quality “charisma.” That’s a good word for it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to define. Suffice it to say that these people tend to be the ones toward whom we are naturally drawn, and they wind up being the center of attention, or the “life of the party,” wherever they go. They also tend to be the ones who wind up in leadership positions simply because they have a gift for it, whether they’re aware of it or not.

As we’re looking at the witness of Mark’s Gospel to Jesus as the “Son of God,” I think there was a compelling quality about him that drew others. He had this same quality that we find so hard to put into words today. In Mark’s Gospel, it’s called “authority.” I don’t think that was referring to any formal authority, but rather the fact that his words, his actions, his very person had the power to influence the people around him. In fact, the word in the original Greek text can also be translated “power.” Again, I don’t believe that was referring to any kind of force that Jesus wielded like a club. Rather, his words, his actions, his very person had the power to influence the people around him. People were drawn to him. They responded to him. Although he rarely sought the center of attention, he often wound up there, at times surrounded by a crowd of thousands. They came to him because he had a compelling quality that drew them to him.

I think we see this reflected in our Gospel lesson for today. It’s the story of Jesus meeting four fishermen and inviting them to follow him. We know the outcome because we’ve heard it before so many times: they left their boats and their nets and their families and they followed Jesus. But if we think about this episode as if we were hearing it for the first time, I would say it’s reasonable to ask why they made such a radical change in their lives just because he asked them to. The Revised Common Lectionary organizes our Gospel readings this year in a way that’s intended to make us think this wasn’t their first encounter with Jesus. Last week we heard about John the Baptist pointing out Jesus to Andrew and Simon Peter in John’s Gospel. But Mark’s Gospel doesn’t tell us that story. In Mark’s Gospel, they “immediately” leave everything behind to follow him, and we’re left to simply wonder why they would do that.

They aren’t the only ones who responded to Jesus in that way. To be sure, not everyone who met Jesus was drawn to him. There were many who saw him as a threat and a danger. But there were many others who were drawn to Jesus just as the four fisherman in our lesson for today. Mark tells us that on one evening in Capernaum the people brought all who were suffering to him so that “the whole city” was gathered (Mk. 1:33)! Historians estimate the population of Capernaum at that time to have been around 1500 people. Mark also tells about a time when he was teaching beside the sea of Galilee, and such a large crowd had gathered that Jesus had to get in a boat and push out from shore to be able to address them all. At one point, when Jesus and his disciples were trying to get some time away from the crowds, Mark tells us that over 5000 people met him when he came ashore, and after teaching them he fed the whole group with five loaves and two fish.

Again, I think it’s a fair question to ask what drew all these people to Jesus. One part of the answer is that his “fame” was spreading throughout Galilee (Mk 1:28). But I don’t think that was all there was to it. People don’t stay in a deserted place without food and shelter just because they’ve heard about someone famous and they want to get a glimpse for themselves. His “fame” may have brought them to Jesus, but there was something more that kept them there. Especially in a deserted place where there wasn’t enough food for them all! If it had been nothing more than curiosity, they wouldn’t have stayed too long to get back to food and lodging. Certainly not families with children! His message about God’s love for them and God’s promise to set things right was something many of them longed to hear. Again, I would say that it was Jesus’ words, his deeds, and more than that his very person that compelled them to stay.

In one sense, the whole New Testament was written to try to define this compelling quality the first Christians encountered in Jesus. They used terms like “Messiah,” “Son of God,” and “Savior” to try to express who Jesus was. But there are many, many other ways they tried to define this “quality” he had. One interesting episode is when Peter was preaching to Gentiles for the first time in the book of Acts, in the household of the Roman Centurion Cornelius. I think it’s interesting because up to that point, they were speaking to Jewish crowds, and they used Jewish concepts. But when he tried to explain who Jesus was to Gentiles for the first time, Peter said that Jesus was the one whom God had “anointed” with “the Holy Spirit and power,” and that he “went about doing good” and healing all who were suffering (Acts 10:38). And he explained this not only by the power with which God had “anointed” Jesus. He also explained it by insisting that “God was with him.”

I think that’s a pretty good way of explaining this mysterious quality about Jesus that was so hard for people to define: when people met Jesus they sensed that God was with him. But there’s another interesting episode where the disciples described this quality of Jesus in a different way. In Luke’s story about the disciples who met the risen Jesus as they were on the road to Emmaus, after Jesus revealed himself to them—that is, after their “eyes were opened” and they were able to recognize him—they said, “were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?” (Lk 24:32). I’ve always liked that way of describing the impact of Jesus. When we have eyes to see the truth and ears to hear what Jesus is saying to us, our hearts burn within us. St. Paul describes this experience as the Spirit of God in our hearts crying out “Abba, Father!” (Gal 4:6; cf. Rom 8:15-16). In other words, we recognize in our own hearts that we are encountering God when we encounter Jesus.

I mention these last examples because there may be a tendency among us today to think that we don’t have the same direct access to this compelling quality of Jesus that the people of ancient times had. They had their encounters with Jesus firsthand, like the fishermen in our lesson today; we only have their stories, and the stories of those who have gone before us. But that doesn’t mean that our faith in Jesus is only “secondhand.” Jesus’ words and the stories about his deeds still cause our hearts to “burn” within us with the conviction that there’s something there that’s life-changing for us as well. And we have the Spirit of God in our hearts no less than they did, so that we too can recognize that when we encounter Jesus, we’re encountering God, and our hearts cry out, “Abba, Father!” No less than the first disciples, Jesus’ words, his actions, his very person still have the power to influence us today. We only need the eyes to see and the ears to hear that Jesus is among us still, calling us to follow him.

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Confirmed

John 1:29-49[1]

These days the question of whom you believe can be a controversial one. People line up behind certain news outlets, for example, and draw a line in the sand to separate themselves from those “on the other side.” There are a lot of reasons offered up for why we as a people have become so “polarized” around this question. Some say it’s the influence of social media. And it’s true to some extent that we may be too quick to believe something we read on Facebook or someone we hear on YouTube without really checking the facts. Some say our problems are the result of fundamental differences among us regarding our attitudes toward education, patriotism, and the very nature of truth itself. Others trace the problem back to different groupings or “tribes” among us going back to the very beginnings of our country.

I’m not sure about all of that. Some of it seems like it’s “above my pay grade.” What I think is that the human family has always had a tendency to believe whatever confirms what they already suspect to be true. The phrase “that sounds about right to me” is one that we use to confirm what we hear. In many ways, that can be just an idiom. But behind that, there may be something more. For example, the spread of rumor and gossip is nothing new. It’s been around as long as there have been groups of people. It’s not a new phenomenon that we’re drawn to those who share our opinions, and we’re suspicious of anyone who dares to voice something “different.” If anything, I would say that the technology behind email and the internet and social media has only made rumor and gossip much more powerful. And it’s made it much harder for us to sort out fact from fiction. After all, the real question isn’t whether something “sounds about right to me.” The real question is whether something is true.

That’s a much harder question to answer. Especially when the truth is inconvenient, or challenges our long-held beliefs, or we simply don’t like it. Some of us use facts to try to answer the question of truth. What’s true is what is backed up by facts, by hard data. That sounds reasonable, but as many of us have learned the hard way, people can “spin” the facts to prove whatever point they want you to believe. Others rely on common sense. They trust what makes sense based on their life experience. Again, that sounds reasonable, but the problem is that our life experience is limited. That’s true for all of us. Nobody can know the lived experience of every member of the human family. Others rely on “gut instinct.” Basically, they go with what “feels right.” Again, that can work sometimes, but we all know that our feelings can lead us astray.

This problem with discerning truth in our daily lives also applies to our faith. When you look at the spectrum of churches out there and the different ways they approach faith, you may wonder why that’s the case. It has to do with how they answer the question of what is true. For many, the basis for truth is an authoritative book, the Bible. You might think that’s obvious for all Christians. But the problem is that the Bible can be difficult to read, and harder to understand. Between the Bible and every truth claim based on a Scripture text is the interpretation of the person reading it. And we’re all flawed and fallible Bible readers. I’m sure we’ve all heard of cult leaders who twisted the Bible to get people to carry out their bidding. But a more common problem is how to sort out all the different ways people can “spin” the Bible.

This issue with interpreting the Bible has been around from the beginning. That’s why many Christians believe that the basis for the truth of their faith is an authoritative church. Because we are all fallible Bible readers, they believe it takes the guidance of the “right” church and its leaders to know what’s true. Usually, the “right” church is their church, and other churches are judged to be right or wrong based on how they line up with their church’s teachings. But the problem is that every church that has ever been is a human organization, made up of flawed and fallible people. More than that, because every church is made up of fallible people, the more attention, the more power, the more influence someone has in a church organization, the more they are subject to the temptations of their own self-will. As one famous observer noted, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”[2] He was talking about the church!

In the face of the fallible interpretations of the Bible by fallible church leaders, some Christians believe that the basis for the truth of their faith is an authoritative experience. They claim that in order to truly have faith a person has to have a dramatic spiritual experience, much like that of the Apostle Paul on the Damascus Road. Once again, however, whether or not one’s spiritual experience is “real,” and therefore a sufficient basis for faith, depends on how well it conforms to their experience. Those who insist on a particular spiritual experience tend to make themselves the yardstick by which they measure the faith of everyone else. And if it doesn’t match up closely enough with their experience, then it’s not “true” Christian faith.

If we can’t rely absolutely on an authoritative book, or an authoritative church, or an authoritative experience, some might be tempted to think that there’s no way to know whether our faith is true or not. In fact, I think there are many these days who harbor that thought. But I wouldn’t say we have to just throw up our hands and give up. As with many things in life, I would say that the answer lies in finding balance. We rely on the witness of the Bible as the foundation for our faith, and rightly so. But we also rely on the tradition of interpreting the Bible that has been handed down to us by the Church. And our own spiritual experiences serve to reinforce our personal faith convictions. I think that, at the end of the day, what all of this means is that it’s more honest to say “I believe” with much of our faith rather than “I know.” It’s not a matter of uncertainty, but humility, and I believe there is wisdom in that.

You may be wondering what all of this has to do with the Scripture readings for today. In John’s Gospel, those who met Jesus expressed their faith that he was the “lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world,” the “Messiah … about whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote,” and the “Son of God.” We might wonder what basis they had for making those claims. I would say it was based on their first-hand experience of Jesus, which they understood in light of the Bible, as they interpreted it through the faith they had been taught. I think the same is true for us today. We can affirm our faith in Jesus based on our spiritual experiences, which we understand in light of the Bible, as we interpret it through what we have been taught by the Church.

That way of putting it may sound rather ordinary compared to the way other people talk about their faith. It lacks the appeal of a dramatic spiritual experience. It lacks the certainty of those who are supremely confident that their understanding of the Bible is undisputable. It lacks the assurance of those who are convinced that their church is the “true” one. But as it has long been observed, it takes at least three legs to make a sturdy stool. Affirming that our faith is based on our spiritual experiences, which we understand in light of the Bible, as we interpret it through what we have been taught by the Church provides us with a solid foundation for faith. It doesn’t give us absolute certainty. We can’t look down our noses at those who believe differently as if we “know” the truth and they don’t. What we can do is humbly affirm our faith as one that is confirmed not only by our own experience, but also by the Bible, and by the teaching of the church. At the end of the day, I think that’s a faith that can withstand the challenges of life. And after all, that’s what faith is about.

[2] Lord John Dahlberg-Acton, Letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton, April 5, 1887.

The Waking Dreamer