Showing posts with label Poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poverty. Show all posts

Saturday, February 08, 2020

Deep Darkness


Deep Darkness
Isaiah 9:1-7; Matthew 4:12-23[1]
Most of us who have any experience with life know that hardship comes to us all. We all have our share of suffering. It may appear that some are spared that common lot of humanity, but the reality is that everyone carries some kind of burden. But there is one kind of suffering many of us have never known: systemic injustice. That’s what people experience when they don’t have opportunities, or they aren’t treated fairly, or their rights as human beings are denied them. And it happens not because of anything they have done wrong, but simply because of who they are: their gender, their race, their ethnic background, their faith. I think it may be difficult, if not impossible, for many of us even to imagine what that’s like. I know it is for me.
But make no mistake about it: there is oppression all around us. Working people who simply don’t make enough money live in their cars with their families, or in worse conditions out of sight of most of us. Young women are abducted and made into slaves by human traffickers. Students whose whole lives are ahead of them become convinced that they have nothing to live for, in part because of the constant pressure. And people who don’t happen to be of European descent are judged to be suspicious and even dangerous by those of us who are, simply because of the color of their skin or the country of their origin, not based on the quality of their character. We live in a land of deep darkness!
The prophet Isaiah spoke of Judea as a “land of deep darkness.” His people faced threats all around them—most immediately from the northern kingdom of Israel and their allies in Syria. But more significantly at home their leaders—kings and priests and prophets alike—ignored God’s justice and ruled the people based on their own self-interest. And the end result was that the people lived under the yoke of oppression. They lived in a world where might made right. The wealthy and powerful were the ones who called the shots. On a whim they could have anyone thrown into prison without any kind of fair trial. Rather than looking forward to their “day in court,” the most likely outcome was that would simply be forgotten, left to rot and die. They lived in a land of deep darkness.
But Isaiah did not face this darkness with the resignation of despair. He saw a light on the horizon. He knew that God is above all faithful to his people. He also believed that God had promised to send one who would lift the burden of oppression and the yoke of bondage from his people, just as God had once before done for the Jewish people enslaved in Egypt. Unfortunately, in our day we have missed the point of this promise. Like many Christians before us, we cannot read this passage without thinking of Christmas, and the birth of Jesus. Now I will be among the first to agree that Isaiah’s beautiful poetry is a fitting description of Jesus and his ministry. But speaking 700 years before Jesus was born, it’s unlikely that Isaiah was thinking in the first place about Jesus. He had in mind someone who would deliver the Jewish people from the oppression they suffered in his day. He was looking for light that would help those living in darkness at that time.
While we may not be able to know whom Isaiah had in mind when he first spoke these words, we can certainly know what he had in mind. The “light” that Isaiah saw shining in his land of deep darkness was the coming true peace and true justice to his people. They would be delivered from their oppressors and set free from their chains. And the end result would be that they could live and thrive and rejoice like people gathering an abundant harvest. They would live without the fear of violence or the fear of injustice or the fear of the heartless cruelty that could at any moment strip them of all they held dear. They would be free. And the hope of that freedom was a light shining for them in the midst of the deep darkness they had endured.
Again, I have to say that many of us cannot even begin to imagine living in this situation. And yet, right now, right here in this community, there are people who live in that kind of darkness. As hard as it is to admit it, a part of the story of the founding of our society is about violence and systematic injustice that persists to this day. [2] Many believed they had a God-given right to take the land from the nations who were here before us. They justified that blatant injustice with an ideology that they were “savages.” And that ideology was applied to Africans who were enslaved against their will. And to people of other ethnic backgrounds who came to this land seeking freedom. And in our time we see it in the way we can still assume that those who are different from us are suspicious and possibly dangerous. Whether we see it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, we still live in a land of deep darkness
What does our faith offer us in the face of such overwhelming suffering? The light of hope. We have the hope that one day God’s name will be hallowed on earth as it is in heaven and God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven and God’s “fair, merciful, and loving” purpose will be done on earth as it is in heaven! And that means a day when all cruelty is undone and all violence is banished and all injustice is removed. In the face of the darkness that can be very deep indeed for many in our world today, we have the hope that “the zeal of the Lord of hosts” will continue to bring light into our world, until there is no more darkness. But in order for us to experience God’s freedom and light, we have to first acknowledge the darkness that still affects those whose voices we have long ignored.


[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/26/2020 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.
[2] Among other sources, these thoughts are in part based on an interview of Brian Stevenson by Terry Gross on “Fresh Air,” January 20, 2020.

Monday, September 30, 2019

Finding Lazarus


Finding Lazarus
Luke 16:19-31[1]
  There are many ways in this life for us to forfeit our humanity. We are so complex and vulnerable, and life can threaten us where we least expect it. I would have to say that our comfortable lifestyle encourages a complacency that can lead us to forfeit our humanity. It’s one of the most dangerous temptations of having all the “stuff” we have: it can leave us blind to the people in need and deaf to God’s call to help them. Being able to see a person living in poverty and hunger as a fellow human being is an important part of our humanity. So is being able to hear God’s call to put compassion and mercy into practice
  I think that’s why Jesus told this parable: to shock all who have become blind to the needy and deaf to the call to compassion. In fact, I would say that Jesus told this parable to address the fact that the religious leaders of his day were “lovers of money” (Luke 16:14). Their love affair with their own wealth blinded them to the real needs of the people around them. Not only did they love their money, they also “justified” themselves for it (cf. Lk. 16:15). They considered their wealth to be a sign of God’s favor. Unfortunately, the combination of their love of money and their self-justification robbed them of the ability to show compassion to fellow human beings.
  I believe this is the point of Jesus’ parable about a rich man and Lazarus. For those of us who have enough it can be so easy to ignore those who are in need. And when we do so, we lose a part of our humanity. What we have to understand about the rich man is that he is not only rich, he’s very rich. He wears clothing that only kings could afford. He eats all he wants of the finest and richest foods. And what is obvious from the parable is that Lazarus is not only poor, he’s completely destitute. He is so hungry he just wants the scraps from the rich man’s table. And he’s so weak that he can’t even fend off the starving dogs that gather around him!
  In the story, their situations are radically reversed. Both men die, and fate of the rich man, who was very likely a “pillar” of the community and a leader of the local synagogue, is shocking in the extreme. Instead of being rewarded in the afterlife, he finds himself in torment. On the other hand, Lazarus, who would have been despised as a “sinner” getting what he deserved, winds up in paradise, in the “bosom of Abraham.” I’m not sure we could imagine a more radical reversal of fortunes. It is a dramatic illustration of the first becoming last and the last becoming first.
  It seems to me, however, that one of the main points of this parable is the fact that this man who had incredible wealth ignored Lazarus, who suffered terribly right at the very gate to his household. I find myself wondering how many times the rich man ignored Lazarus. It’s hard to say. Did the rich man ever find himself in a position of actually stepping over Lazarus? I would say that’s very likely. Did the rich man ever once actually looked Lazarus in the eyes? I doubt it. The rich man had become so complacent with his wealth and his comfortable life that he could no longer even see Lazarus. And in the process, he lost a very important part of his own humanity: the capacity to show compassion to others. 
  After the dramatic reversal of the two men’s fortunes, the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers, to warn them not to make the same mistake he had made. Abraham’s reply is simple and to the point: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them” (Lk. 16:29). The Scriptures have all the warning they need to learn what it means to put God’s mercy into practice toward others. But the rich man’s response is equally simple and blunt, “No, father Abraham” (Lk. 16:30). The rich man knew that they wouldn’t pay any more attention to Moses and the prophets than he had. And I think this is another of Jesus’ lessons in this parable. This man would have been respected by his community. And yet, in reality, his great wealth made him deaf to the clear and repeated call of the Scriptures to share what we have generously—especially with those who are poor, or hurting, or vulnerable, or in any kind of need.
  We still have Moses and the prophets, but I’m not sure we do any better job hearing them than the rich man or his brothers. We also have Jesus and the apostles, but I think it’s easy for us to ignore them as well. So what do we have, or perhaps better, whom do we have who can teach us to share what we have generously? We have Lazarus. In fact, we have many Lazaruses all around us. But the question we face is whether our humanity is still intact enough that they can help us. In the parable from our Gospel lesson, in spite of the fact that the rich man begged for Abraham to “send Lazarus” to help him, Abraham explained that he could not help. We might say that the rich man already had his chance to learn from Lazarus, and he ignored the lesson. But we still have a chance to learn from the Lazaruses of our world. 
  So how can the poor, the hurting, and those who have been cast out in our world teach us how to share ourselves generously?  They are our prophets and apostles because they teach us that the life that is truly worth living always has been and always will be characterized by compassion and generosity. Although Lazarus could not help the rich man who ignored his plight, I think perhaps he might help us. I think he can point us to the Lazaruses all around us, poor and oppressed and outcast people who represent opportunities for us to share our mercy and compassion. When we take the time to notice them and do something to help them, we have the chance to be converted to a life of sharing with those in need. When we “find Lazarus” in the least and the lost and the left out among us, we have the chance to recovery our own humanity.


[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 9/29/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Finding Joy

Finding Joy
Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11[1]
I think one of the worst feelings in the world may be the feeling of being powerless. At least for those of us who are used to thinking that we have the freedom to choose how we live our lives. But, the longer we live, I think the more we realize that those notions are, to some extent, illusions. Life seems to bring to us what it chooses, and we can either fight against it or we can learn to accept it. Now, don’t get me wrong: there are some things in life that we should never accept. But I think the more experience we gain, the more we learn the wisdom of letting go our ideas about how much we control our own lives. In many areas of our lives--the choices others make that affect us, the doors that open and those that close, and even in some cases the ability to provide for ourselves and our families--we seem to be more powerless than we’d like to admit. It’s hard to find joy in life when it seems like we are powerless against the forces that control our lives.[2]
The people addressed by the beautiful and inspiring words of the prophet today were very much like that. They were powerless over their lives in many ways. After mourning in exile, they had returned to a home that was devastated, and their mourning continued. Whatever hopes they had of a new life when they returned from Babylon were quickly dashed. The fact that the prophet can say he was chosen by God to bring “good news to the oppressed,” or better “to the poor” (Isa. 61:1) echoes indications elsewhere in biblical statements from this time period that after they returned home to Judea they struggled just to survive. That included having the safety of shelter and the ability to raise crops to feed themselves. As is the case with many in our world today, they were shackled to poverty in circumstances that prevented them from ever escaping. Like their hearts, for many of them their faith was broken. They felt hopeless and powerless over their poverty, and saw no way out.
Part of the “good news” this prophet delivered to the people might seem strange to us, even offensive. The idea that “the year of the Lord’s favor” would involve setting the captives free and releasing the prisoners might seem more like a nightmare scenario. And yet, we must understand that prison isn’t always a place where justice is carried out. In fact, in the ancient Near Eastern world, prison was primarily a means of control.[3] When a new king ascended to the throne, one way to make sure his former rivals wouldn’t cause any trouble was to put them in prison. Captives from military campaigns became prisoners of war and their lives were reduced to little better than that of slaves. And prison was also the preferred method of forcing those who had incurred too much debt to pay up. True criminals were typically executed swiftly, so it’s more likely than not that the majority of those who were kept in prison hadn’t committed anything we would consider a crime.[4] And the vast majority of prisoners didn’t have much in the way of life expectancy. The food was intended to keep them alive—barely. They endured such unsanitary conditions that we might not even consider it “living.” And the fact that there were no laws to force the authorities to bring cases to a speedy trial meant they had no idea when or if they would be released. They might very well die there. It was the ultimate hopeless situation; it was the ultimate experience of powerlessness.
And yet, the prophet had the courage and the vision to declare boldly to all who found themselves hopeless and powerless that God was going to relieve their suffering, comfort them in their sorrow, and see to it that the justice and righteousness of God’s kingdom prevailed instead of the injustice and oppression that define so many human “kingdoms.”[5] It is quite clear in Scripture that God is on the side of the poor, the oppressed, those unjustly deprived of their freedom, and in fact, all who suffer due to the heartless ways the powerful treat their fellow human beings.[6] In fact, the prophet speaks in the name of the Lord here and says, “For I the LORD love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing” (Isa. 61:8). And that means that God will not always stand by while his beloved children suffer and mourn in sorrow. God promises to set things right for them and for all who suffer; he promises to “cause righteousness ... to spring up” (61:11). The purpose of this is so that we can find the joy in living that God intended for us all to have--so that we can rejoice with the “oil of gladness” instead of fainting under the burden of continual mourning.
  Though we might not want to hear it, there are many ways in which our world lacks the justice and “rightness” that makes it possible for many to find the joy of living for which God created us. Whenever that is the case, whenever the "powers that be" wield their power to perpetrate “robbery and wrongdoing,” no matter how they “spin” it, God’s promise is to relieve the suffering of those who are unjustly oppressed. God’s justice cuts through all the heartless ways we have of rationalizing injustice. And the good news is that one day, God will finally set all things right so that no one has to suffer. One day God will make it possible for all people to escape the shackles that oppress them and to find joy in living, the joy that God wants for us all to find.[7]





[1] ©2014 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 12/14/2014 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.
[2] There is a kind of “powerlessness” that is healthy: it is the attitude expressed in the “Serenity Prayer” authored by Reinhold Niebuhr: “God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things which should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.” Cf. Fred R. Shapiro, "Who Wrote the Serenity Prayer?", The Chronicle Review (April 28, 2014);  accessed at http://chronicle.com/article/Who-Wrote-the-Serenity-Prayer-/146159/ .
[3] On the role of prisons and their conditions in the ancient world, see B. M. Rapske, “Prison, Prisoner,” Dictionary of New Testament Background, 828-29; Karel Van Der Toorn, “Prison,” The Anchor Bible Dictionary V:468-69; and M. Greenburg, “Prison,” Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible III:891-92.
[4] Cf. Gretchen Wolff Pritchard, “Good News” The Christian Century (Dec 1, 1993): 1203, where she says, “Prisoners, in the Bible, are not criminals or convicts, since incarceration was not the penalty for civilian criminal acts. Rather, they are prisoners of war, captives, hostages—victims of militarism or government oppression.”
[5] Although many translate the text of Isaiah 61:2 “to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God,” which seems to promise deliverance and vengeance, Claus Westermann, Isaiah 40-66, 367, points out that “vengeance” in Isa. 61:2 refers to restoration. Cf. The Inclusive Translation, which renders it as the “day of vindication.” See also Isaiah 10:20–27; Jeremiah 30:1–9; Micah 5:7–15; Zechariah 8:1–8; 12:1–13:6; 14:1–21
[6] Cf. Terence E. Fretheim, “The Prophets and Social Justice: A Conservative Agenda,” in Word & World 28 (Spring 2008): 163, “God's concern about matters of social justice was believed to be so strong and so pervasive that it was built into the very heart of the covenantal promises. And God was and will be faithful to such promises.”
[7] Cf. Donald E. Gowan, “Isaiah 61:1-3, 8-11,” Interpretation 35 (Oct 1981):407, where he interprets the promises of this text both in light of the Year of Jubilee and the Day of Yahweh in the prophets, and says that the message is that “God is about to transform sorrow into rejoicing.”  In a similar vein, Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 113, points to the combination of hope for the Year of Jubilee and it’s fulfillment in the messianic reign, saying, “The coming kingdom of God is hence understood as the time of liberation and as the opportunity for true human fellowship.” Cf. similarly, Jürgen Moltmann, God in Creation, 290; Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life, 53.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Attachments

Attachments
Mk. 10:17-31;  Amos 5:11-15[1]
In 1990, I had the opportunity to participate in a mission trip to Western Romania.  I was living near Stuttgart, Germany and studying at a local university on a Fulbright Grant.  Just a few months before, the Berlin wall had come down, and with it, most of the “iron curtain” that kept Eastern Europe under Soviet domination and isolated from the rest of the world.   Just a few weeks before our trip, the Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu had been overthrown by a grass-roots revolution.  In the aftermath, as it became apparent how desperate the Romanian people were, humanitarian aid poured in from all over Western Europe.  So the church I attended decided to send several of us with a trailer full of food to distribute to families in the churches of Western Romania.
I learned a lot of lessons on that trip.  One of them was how easy it is for a Westerner to spend the equivalent of a month’s professional wage in Eastern European terms on a souvenir for his wife!  I think I should have thought that one through a little more carefully!  But more importantly, I learned that the church in Eastern Europe, contrary to all expectations, was actually thriving under their various authoritarian governments.  The deprivations they had to endure seemed to make their faith deeper, stronger, and more central to their daily lives.  By contrast, the churches in Western Europe languished.  Though there were some free churches that were holding their own, huge cathedrals all over Europe sat mostly empty week after week.  One mission leader suggested that the deprivations of life in Eastern Europe seemed to make their faith thrive, while the prosperity of the West seemed to choke the very life out of faith.[2]
The Scriptures and the Christian tradition have been consistent from the start: there is something about wealth that has a way of taking over your heart and life. [3]  It is unavoidable.  Jesus said it this way: “you cannot serve God and wealth” (Matt. 6:24).  He wasn’t the first to say it.  Prophets like Amos repeatedly warned against the dangers of wealth.  In the Gospels Jesus echoed that warning again and again. For example, In the parable of the Sower he said that the seed in the thorny ground didn’t bear fruit because “the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things come in and choke the word, and it yields nothing” (Mk 4:19).  The challenge is clear—one can either embrace wealth or one can embrace faith.[4]
The man in our Gospel lesson for today faced that challenge.  I think we should take seriously his claim that he had kept the commandments since his youth.  Jesus doesn’t dispute it, and he doesn’t even dispute that a life of obedience to God’s is the way to eternal life.  Nevertheless, I think there was a serious disconnect between Jesus’ definition of “obedience” and this man’s definition.  His view may have been more in line with the theology found in the book of Deuteronomy, which encouraged the idea that those who are godly are blessed with wealth, and those who are not blessed with wealth must not be godly. [5]  Jesus challenged this simplistic equation by calling the man to sell all his possessions, which in his mind represented God’s blessings for his obedience, and give the money to the poor, who deserved their poverty due to a lack of obedience. But it was more than he could accept.  He simply could not do it.  Jesus called him to a higher level of obedience, and instead of rising to the challenge, he walked away grieving.[6]
It’s incredibly easy to justify our love of wealth.  What once was a luxury only the few could afford has now become a “necessity” that everybody has to have. Think about it—what is the “normal” size TV now?  I would say it’s 42 inches, but when I bought my 42 inch TV a few years back, it was a “luxury.”  Now the “luxury” models are 52 to 70 inches! We live in a society where the accumulation of wealth is not only encouraged, it is positively necessary if one wants to avoid being destitute in retirement!  So how can we possibly hear Jesus’ challenge to choose either faith or wealth?[7]   I’m not sure many of us ever do. We get incredibly attached to our stuff.  We’re proud of our possessions.  It’s next to impossible to let our favorite things go.  And in all of this, we can be positively blind to what our wealth does to us—and what it does to the way we treat those we view as “beneath” us.[8]
So how do we avoid making the mistake the man in our Gospel lesson made?  First and foremost, we must recognize that “doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God” means caring about poverty and the suffering it spawns in our world.  Throughout the Scriptures, from Genesis to Revelation, the heart and soul of what God wants from us is to practice mercy, compassion, and generosity to others.[9]  I think we must also recognize that the prophet’s call to “establish justice in the gate” (Amos 5:15) means working to eradicate poverty in our world.  Not as a token pretense, but really and truly working to eradicate poverty.  And I think we must recognize our own attachment to the wealth we cherish.  They say that admitting the problem is the first step to recovery!  When we can admit our attachment to our wealth, then we can remember that the saints and heroes of our faith have consistently taught us that the only way to free ourselves from our wealth is to give as much of it away as we possibly can!


[1] © 2012 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/14/12 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.
[2] A similar phenomenon has been observed in the comparison between Latin
America and North America.  In fact, some speak of a “reverse mission” on the part of the poor in Latin America to convert their wealthy brothers and sister s in the North!  Cf. Henri Nouwen, Here and Now, 58-59; and Jon Sobrino, Where is God?, 7 et passim.
[3] R. Schnackenburg, Jesus in the Gospels, 194-95.   See also Richard Foster, Freedom of Simplicity, 40-43; and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 196.  See further, John Sheila Galligan, “The Tension between Poverty and Possessions in the Gospel of Luke,” Spirituality Today  37 (Spring 1985): 4-12.  She warns against “the seductive lure of the power, pleasure, and security that are the by-products of being wealthy.” Cf. also Joel Green, Theology of the Gospel of Luke, 148: “Wealth becomes a master if it is not mastered.”
[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.2.548: “Jesus’ call to discipleship challenges and indeed cuts right across the self-evident attachment to that which we possess.”
[5] Cf. A. Y. Collins and H. W. Attridge, Mark, 483.
[6] Cf. Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27-16:20, 100, 103.
[7] Cf. Lamar Williamson, Jr., Mark, 188: “After we have done our best to make this text say something less upsetting to our system of values, Jesus looks intently at us and continues quietly to affirm that life is to be had not by accumulating things, but by disencumbering ourselves.”
[8]J. Moltmann, “Political Theology” Theology Today, 21.: “Only the poor really know the oppression of wealth’s exclusiveness. Only the hated know the misery which hate causes. The rich, the oppressor, the hater are always a bit oblivious to the misery they cause, even if they are well-intentioned.”  See also J. Moltmann, The Crucified God, 330; Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 268-69; Moltmann, Church in the Power, 175; Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship, 194; Foster, Freedom of Simplicity, 177-78; Küng, On Being a Christian, 597.
[9] See Isa. 1:17; Mic. 6:8; Jas. 1:26–27.  Time and again Israel was commanded to care for the poor and destitute (cf. Exod. 22:22; 23:11; Lev. 25:25; Deut. 14:29; 15:7; 24:12, 17; 26:12) because this emulates God’s care for the poor (cf. Deut. 10:18–19; cf. 1 Sam. 2:8; Ps. 10:14; 12:5; 35:10; 140:12; Eccl. 5:8; Isa. 11:4; 25:4; Jer. 20:13; Lk. 16:22).