Charades

“Charades”

Isaiah 1:10-20[1]

For many of us, “Charades” refers to a parlor game that we used to play back in the day. You had to get your “team” to guess a word or phrase based solely on your efforts to act out the idea. It was harmless and fun; at times it could be hilarious. But that rather innocent use of the word “charade” is very different from its true meaning. To put on a charade is to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s a matter of “play-acting” or “faking it” in order to disguise your true identity and intentions. A charade is oftentimes meant to deceive someone. It is a matter of dishonesty at worst, and at the least it is a matter of hypocrisy. The parlor game really has little to do with the charades we play in life.

And, make no mistake about it, we all play charades in life. None of us is as upstanding, as good, or as honest as we’d like to think we are. And we’re certainly not as good as we’d like others to think we are. As much as we’d like to believe we are “what you see is what you get” kind of people, there are parts of our true identity that we conceal from others. As fallen and flawed people, whether we want to admit it or not, we’ve all either done things we shouldn’t have, or we’ve not done things we should have. This applies as much to our practice of faith as it does to any other area of our lives. Perhaps even more so, especially when we come to church.

This is the gist of the message the prophet Isaiah had for the people of Judah. In fact, I would say this was the gist of the message all the prophets delivered to the Jewish people. The people had pledged to be true to God, to love and serve him above all else, and to follow his ways. Those ways were embodied above all in the Torah, the teaching of God. That teaching could be summarized in two great commands: to love God with everything you are and to love others genuinely. But the Jewish people failed to actually fulfill their commitment to live out the faith that they professed.

Like Isaiah, the prophets essentially “called” the people out for the charade that their practice of faith had become. We tend to think of a “prophet” as someone who predicts the future, especially warning of gloom and doom. But the reality was that the prophets were preachers. And their message was the same: the people had pledged to follow God’s ways, they had promised to love God and love others, but their lives betrayed the fact that they really had no intention of making good on that promise. Instead, they thought they could somehow fool God by engaging in worship that was hollow and superficial—simply “going through the motions,” or putting on a charade.

That is the message of our lesson for today: the people of Judah thought they could show up to “worship” God and then they could go out and live their lives however they pleased. But Isaiah says in the name of the Lord that this is nothing more than a “trampling” of his courts (Isa. 1:12)! Thinking they could simply show up for a few religious ceremonies and call it good was something that was “futile,” an “abomination,” and “evil” in God’s eyes (Isa. 1:13). All of those words in the Hebrew Bible are also associated with the worship of false gods. In a way, Isaiah was saying to the people that they came to the temple under the pretense of worshiping God, but the way they lived their lives betrayed the fact that it was not God they were worshiping, but rather the idols of their own making!

We might wonder what it was that made their worship so offensive in God’s sight. I think our lesson makes it clear that the “evil” that they were perpetrating was a failure to follow God’s standards of justice. Rather than caring for the most vulnerable in their society, they were only concerned about getting what they wanted out of life. And they didn’t care whom they trampled in the process. And they didn’t care that it was a direct violation of God’s Torah, God’s commands. Throughout the Bible, caring for the immigrants, the disabled, the widows, and the orphans in society was the benchmark for God’s justice.^[2]

Because the people failed to practice even the most basic aspects of God’s justice, the prophets like Isaiah warned them that they would suffer the consequences. This was not simply an arbitrary punishment. When any society ignores justice, they are headed for collapse. But Jesus went further than that. He said that how we treat the most vulnerable people in our world is the basis upon which we all will be judged! He said it this way: “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (Matt. 25:35-36). And to make sure we don’t miss the point, he added, “just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me” (Matt. 25:45).

Throughout the Bible, the gift of God’s love and grace and mercy to us calls forth a response: that we love God with all our hearts and that we love others sincerely. But the simple truth is that it is always easier to “honor God with our lips, while our hearts are far from him,” as Isaiah could say elsewhere (Isa. 29:13). The kind of worship that God seeks from us involves devoting our whole hearts to God. And one of the ways we do that is by putting God’s justice into practice in how we treat the most vulnerable people in our world. Anything less amounts to a “charade.” And the only way to change that is to “cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isa. 1:16-17). That won’t happen overnight, and it won’t happen without making an effort to learn to align our hearts with God’s will so deeply that practicing God’s ways becomes like second nature to us. That’s what it takes to live authentically instead of putting on a “charade.”

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[1] © Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 8/11/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] See Exodus 22:21; 23:9; Leviticus 19:10, 33; 23:22; 24:22; Numbers 15:29; Deuteronomy 1:16; 24:17, 19, 21; 27:19; Jeremiah 7:6; 22:3; Ezekiel 22:7, 29; Zechariah 7:10; Malachi 3:5; James 1:27.

Truly Rich

“Truly Rich”

Luke 12:13-21[1]

I think it’s fair to say that we as a people are obsessed with our possessions. We continually occupy ourselves with getting more—a better computer, a nicer TV, a newer phone, just to mention a few of the “hotter” items on the market. Experts recognize that this consumption of consumer goods is the engine that drives our economy. And this isn’t just about “the one who finishes with the most toys wins.” It’s ingrained into much of our decision-making. In a society where we seek to secure our future by our own efforts, we are constantly calculating ways of ensuring that our account balances are heading upward. And for us, that just makes good sense. It’s hard not to think that our lives consist in “the abundance of possessions.”

Part of this is simply a matter of living in a market economy. But there are many aspects of the way we live in this economy that betray the power of wealth over us. For example, many of us play the lottery. We see it as essentially “free money.” But we fail to recognize the bigger picture: “jackpots” are filled with money from people who buy lottery tickets. And many of them cannot afford to be spending their money that way. So those who “win” get rich at the expense of others. The fact that we rarely stop to consider this bigger picture betrays the way our wealth can influence us to neglect the welfare of others.

In part, that’s one of the reasons that Jesus criticized the rich farmer in our parable from Luke’s Gospel for today. Again, we might think his actions were prudent. Who wouldn’t store up a bumper crop in order to wait to sell for a better price in a lean year? We would see that as simply “good business sense.” But Jesus rather bluntly calls it “greed.” In our world, planning for the future is essential, because we are all aware that there will come a day when we can no longer provide for ourselves. But seeking to secure our own future this way implies that we believe our lives consist in “the abundance of possessions.”

That’s what the farmer in this parable believed. He says to himself, “Self, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Luke 12:19). This might sound like a good thing. Who among us doesn’t want to be able to retire comfortably?^[2] Who among us doesn’t worry at least a little about having “ample goods” to provide for our needs? Like the farmer in the parable, it would seem that many of us believe we can secure our own future through our wealth. And so we occupy ourselves, as he did, with storing up “ample goods” so that we can “relax, eat, drink, and be merry.”

In the parable, there is a background that plays a role here, but it may not be obvious. As in many of Jesus’ parables, the excessive wealth of some meant that others had to do without basic necessities. And one of the flaws in this farmer’s thinking is that he’s thinking all about himself, not about anybody else.^[3] Although he has a bumper crop, he’s obviously wealthy enough that he doesn’t even have to sell his crop to cover his expenses. More than that, given his extensive landholdings, hoarding his crop will very likely adversely affect the food supply of the many others who are his neighbors. But he’s obviously not even thinking about the welfare of these “neighbors.”

The real problem with this outlook on life is that it neglects the dangers of wealth that Jesus so often warns against. Seeking an “abundance of possessions” has a way of turning into hoarding everything we can get our hands on. Finding our security in our wealth can lead us to ignore the source of our true security. It can motivate us to “store up treasures for ourselves” but to ignore what it means to be “rich toward God.” In other settings, Jesus explains that true riches are those that cannot wear out or disappear. Being truly rich comes from knowing God’s unconditional love for us, and sharing that love with those around us.

Although some of us may disagree, in the Bible our faith affects our attitude towards our possessions. When we encounter God’s love in Jesus Christ, it’s supposed to change the way we live our lives. And Jesus makes it abundantly clear throughout the Gospels that this extends to what we do with our possessions. As he pointed out so clearly, we cannot “serve God and wealth” (Luke 16:13). I think at least a part of what he was trying to say to us is that our wealth has a way of mastering us if we’re not wise in the way we use it. That’s why St. Paul warns us that we must “put to death … greed (which is idolatry)” (Col. 3:5). Wealth has a way of going from a simple means of exchange to a golden calf that we serve in place of God.

I think most of us would hear Jesus’ warning, “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed” (Luke 12:15) and think that applies to someone else, someone who is “really” rich. But in reality, it addresses us all with a choice as to which master we will serve. Choosing to serve “the abundance of our possessions” will rob us of the opportunity to be “truly rich.” When we become so consumed by our wealth that we ignore others, we are living in direct contradiction to the will of God. Being “truly rich” comes only as we find our lives in the new life that God offers us all.  It is a life of learning that becoming content with God’s love turns whatever we have into everything we could ever need. It is a life of loving God in return and therefore serving those around us in love—especially by sharing what we have with them.  Jesus calls this “being rich toward God” (Lk 12:21), or truly rich.

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[1] ©2019 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 8/4/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters Bible IX: 257: “the rich man’s vision of the future sounds uncomfortably like one that most of us have for our retirement years. Are we really planning prudently? What gives our life meaning now, and what will give it meaning then?”

[3] Cf. Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke, 490-91.

Truth Springs Up

“Truth Springs Up”

Psalm 85[1]

  When we observe the prevailing views expressed by the people of our nation, it’s hard not to join the lament from Isaiah that “Justice is driven away, and right cannot come near. Truth stumbles in the public square, and honesty finds no place there” (Isa. 59:14, TEV). If you’re tempted to read this as an endorsement of one segment or party of our society over another, don’t. In my view, the disintegration of the norms of civility, justice, and truth runs across the board. It’s hard to even listen to the news because this failure of justice, rightness, truth, and honesty is so pervasive. We’re confronted with it almost everywhere we turn. It can be deeply discouraging.

  But this sermon is not about despair. It’s about the hope that the Scriptures hold out to us: that God is a God of mercy, mercy that extends to all, regardless of whether they are rich or poor; white, black, brown, or golden; tall or short; thin or overweight; nearsighted and losing one’s hair, or young and fit. God’s mercy does not discriminate based on gender, age, disability, or political affiliation. Our great hope is not that somehow we will finally have a leader who will set us back on the right path, but rather that God in his mercy will set things right. It might not happen quickly, or even in our lifetimes; but the promise is that ultimately God’s truth will prevail, and right all the wrongs.

  That is the message of our lesson from the Psalms for today. At the outset, it might seem a bit confusing. The Psalmist praises the “God of our salvation” for “restoring their fortunes.” But then he goes on to ask God to “restore us again,” to let go his anger, and to “revive” his people. It would seem that the Psalm comes out of a situation in which the people have experienced God’s salvation, but it has not fully transformed their lives the way they may have expected that. There’s a sense of discouragement in the questions, “Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger to all generations?” (Ps. 85:5). There is a longing for God’s truth to prevail.

  It’s hard to know for sure the exact setting of many of the Psalms, but it would seem that Psalm 85 describes the situation of the people of Israel immediately following their years of exile in Babylon. After decades of anticipation, their release from exile failed to live up to their hopes. The temple lay in ruins. The city of Jerusalem had no walls to protect them. Instead of returning to a “land flowing with milk and honey,” they returned to a land that had been devastated by war and left a wasteland. They were weak, poor, and disorganized. That their commitment to God was failing can be seen from the prophets of that day. Their lives were harder than ever, and it seemed that God’s truth was nowhere to be found.

  And yet, in the midst of that discouragement, the Psalmist held out to his people the hope that God would speak “peace” to them, and that his salvation would be fulfilled. However, that salvation may have been different from what they were looking for. They were looking for God to “restore their fortunes” by allowing them to prosper again. Instead, the salvation promised by the Psalmist was that “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other. Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky” (Ps. 85:10-11). The promise was that justice and rightness would be restored, that truth and honesty would once again prevail.

  This sounds very different from what most of us envision as “salvation.” It is concrete; it concerns what happens in this world, not the next. In this text, “salvation” is what happens when God’s “unfailing love,” when God’s faithfulness, when God’s righteousness, and God’s peace define the way his people live. Each of these words is loaded with meaning, but I think you get the idea: salvation happens when God’s will is done “on earth as it is in heaven.” It is a way of life that is spelled out quite specifically in the Psalms. God’s salvation means that the hungry are fed, the prisoners are set free, those who are bowed down are lifted up, the “strangers” or resident immigrants have someone to watch over them, and the widows and orphans are supported. God’s truth prevails when the last and the least and the left out are able to thrive along with everyone else.

  Unfortunately, we still live in a situation like that of those Israelites returning from exile. We have experienced a taste of what salvation means through our faith in Jesus Christ, but we live in a world where God’s justice, peace, and freedom are not fully realized. We experience God’s salvation in the midst of the brokenness of our world and the injustices perpetrated continually against those who live on the margins of society. It can be discouraging to us to see this as well, but the promise of the Scriptures is that God will one day right all the wrongs.

  The hard truth is that our society has never been as just or as upright or as civil as we’d like to believe. Beneath the veneer of morality, there’s always been a dark side to our culture. The church in our culture has always had to deal with the specific ways in which our nation has failed to practice God’s will. At the same time, we in the church have failed to stand with those who are in need and against those who selfishly seek their own interests. Our hope in this situation is not that we will pull ourselves up from this morass. Rather, it is that God will come to right all the wrongs, to establish the justice that enables all people to thrive, and to bring the peace that makes us all whole together. And yet, if this truly is our hope, then it will define the way we live our lives today. As we look forward to the day when God’s Kingdom prevails and God’s truth springs up and restores us all, let us renew our commitment to put into practice God’s justice, peace, and freedom.

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[1] © Alan Brehm 2019. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 7/28/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Outcasts

Outcasts

Luke 10:25-37[1]

Growing up, I always felt a bit like a “misfit.” It seemed that I was different from everybody else, and I struggled with where I fit in. In fact, I carried that feeling with me into adulthood. I simply tried to do what was right, I tried to do my best, I tried to be as straightforward and transparent as possible. But it always seemed like I was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Of course, I realize that many of us feel that way about ourselves. We see others as “with it” or “all together” or “on track,” while we think we fall short. Sometimes we may have even felt that way in our families. Those challenges can lead us to think of ourselves as “outcasts.”

Of course, the reality is that the world is full of people who are truly outcast. While not all societies have actual “caste” systems that rigidly regulate relationships, I would say most of us have a functional equivalent. If you don’t come from the right family, or if you didn’t go to the right school, or if you don’t have a certain amount of education, or if you don’t make a high enough salary, you are outside the group. If you doubt that we have this in our culture, look at the entry requirements for some country clubs around the nation. While we’d like to think that skin color no longer serves as one of those criteria, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find people who exclude others on that basis as well. Our world is full of outcasts.

I’m not sure many of us have ever drawn the connection between outcasts and the Parable of the Good Samaritan. For us the parable has become so commonplace that travelers even have a club named “The Good Sam Club,” whose members pledge to stop and help someone who is broken down on the side of the road. This would have made no sense to Jesus’ audience. In his day, there was no such thing as a “good” Samaritan in the eyes of the Jewish people.  Samaritans were the “unclean Samaritans,” the “unwelcome Samaritans,” or the “hated Samaritans.”^[2] A Samaritan was the definitive outcast to the Jewish people of Jesus’ day.

That’s what would have made this parable so shocking to the people Jesus originally told it. He was turning their world upside down. The Priest and the Levite, who would have been honored religious leaders, come off not looking so well. And the Samaritan, who would have been despised in the eyes of Jesus’ audience, turns out to be the “hero.” More than that, he turns out to be the one who shows them how to truly fulfill the command to “love your neighbor as yourself”: by showing mercy!

It’s hard for us to imagine how shocking this parable must have been when Jesus told it. His Jewish contemporaries would have expected him to tell a parable about a particularly righteous Jewish person who showed mercy toward a Samaritan. That person would have been viewed as exceptionally compassionate, but the story would have left intact the Jewish people’s sense of ethnic and religious superiority over the Samaritans. And it would also have allowed us to walk away from the story with all of our prejudices intact, comfortable in the assumption that we’re loving the “right” people.

But the parable of the Good Samaritan exposes a flaw that most of us carry in our hearts. Although the scribe knows the Scriptures well enough to give the right answer to his own question, it’s one thing to know what is right and another thing altogether to do it! His question “who is my neighbor?” betrays his desire to restrict the range of “love” to those whom he judged to be “worthy” of that love. Unfortunately, we all fall short in this regard: we are quick to love those who are “like us,” but we all have our own version of who is an outcast, so different from us that we don’t believe the command to love applies to them.

We might be able to hear this parable with our assumptions and prejudices intact if it had taught us that we should love our neighbors, including the “despised” outcasts like the Samaritans. But Jesus turns the tables on us as well. The parable of the Good Samaritan doesn’t teach us to go out and help the outcasts! The outcast in Jesus’ parable is not the one in need of help. The outcast is the one who truly practices the command to “love your neighbor as yourself”! At the conclusion, Jesus tells this Scribe something he probably found hard to swallow: to go and do as the outcast Samaritan has done!

The irony is that many of the people we relegate to the category of “outcast” for whatever reason often have a better grasp of what it means to love their neighbors than we do. Often they are generous, compassionate, kind, and go out of their way to help someone in need. And they do it simply because that’s what’s in their hearts. Many who go to what we consider “Third World” countries come back with stories of how the people there enacted the love of their neighbors in a way that affected them powerfully. In fact, some theologians call it the “reverse mission”: when we who come from wealthy, “Christian” nations go to serve those we consider to be “in need,” they challenge us with the way in which they live out love, and mercy, and kindness. I think that in order to love another, any other, as a neighbor, we have to first be able to see ourselves in them, and see them in us. I think that’s the kind of change of heart that Jesus was seeking with this parable. We love our neighbors when we’re willing to see in every person the face of a neighbor, when we embrace in them the Christ who said “I was an outcast.”

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[1] ©Alan Brehm 2019. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 7/14/2019 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Fred Craddock, Luke, 151: “This man who delayed his own journey, expended great energy, risked danger to himself, spent two days’ wages with the assurance of more, and promised to follow up on this activity was ceremonially unclean, socially an outcast, and religiously a heretic.”