Healing Hostility

Healing Hostility

Matthew 18:21-35[1]

It seems that everywhere you look these days you can find hostility. Some of it is very open, even “in your face.” Some of it is more subtle but no less real. It’s not hard to find someone who’s angry about something. And the sad truth is that the hostility is within us as well. All of us have people in our world who “push our buttons.” Sometimes we “go off” in the privacy of our homes, talking to the TV. Or listening to the radio in the car. I think that’s a truth we’d rather not have to face: that we may be part of the problem, not part of the solution. When hostility seems so prevalent, what can one person do?

I’ve seen one man stop a whole line of tanks simply by standing in their way. I’ve seen public officials kneeling in front of angry protesters in a move that seemed to diffuse the tension instantly, at least for the moment. Perhaps the ancient wisdom that “a gentle answer deflects anger” (Prov 15:1, NLT) still holds true. Sometimes, at least. There are times when it seems like hostility and the violence it breeds is like a flood that nothing can stop. But there are times when simple, honest, friendliness can win over even the most stubborn enemy.

In order to be able to take that kind of friendly approach even toward those who are openly hostile to us, we have to find a way to heal the hostility in our own hearts first. I think that’s where our Gospel lesson for today comes in. Jesus teaches Peter to go beyond forgiveness that only goes so far. Rather, Jesus says to practice unlimited forgiveness.[2] That’s quite a tall order for most of us. There are some people who have done us wrong in such a hurtful way that we simply find it impossible to let go our hard feelings. And yet, Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook—he makes it clear that those of us who look to God for unlimited forgiveness must put it into practice in our lives as well.

And to reinforce the point, Jesus tells a parable. A king demands of his servant the settlement of an unimaginable fortune—10,000 “talents,” which would have been several billion dollars in our world. When the servant begs for more time to pay, the king relents and forgives the entire debt. That’s hard for me to fathom! Who forgives that kind of debt? And yet, as the story goes on, the first servant goes out and demands settlement of a much smaller debt: about $10,000. When the second debtor begs for more time, using the exact same words he used, he refuses to even grant him more time to pay. When the King hears about it, he brings the first servant back in and states the obvious: “Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” (Matt. 18:33). And the point of the story is that we who have known God’s unlimited forgiveness are to extend that to others “from the heart” (Matt. 18:35).

Unfortunately, Jesus doesn’t teach us how to do this. It’s much easier said than done, I find. I’ve learned that I have to get to the place where I can truly understand and even empathize with someone who I feel has done me wrong in order to offer them this kind of unconditional forgiveness. That doesn’t always come easily. In fact, sometimes I have to have an experience where I wind up being in their shoes myself to be able to reach that level of awareness and empathy. Sometimes it has taken me years. Sometimes, it has taken me decades.

There’s a film called The Interpreter that I think illustrates the choice we face. The film is about an interpreter at the United Nations named Sylvia. She tells the story of a rite of forgiveness in Africa called the “Drowning Man Trial.” When someone is murdered, after a year of mourning, the killer is tied up and thrown into a river to drown. The family of the victim then have to choose—if they let the killer drown, they will have justice, but they will spend the rest of their lives grieving. If they save the killer from drowning, their act of saving a life can heal their own grief. I wonder what I would do if faced with that choice!

Whether there is or ever was such a thing as a “drowning man trial,” I think it serves at least like a parable for us: do we forgive as we have been forgiven, and in so doing find healing for ourselves? Or do we nurse our hurt feelings, our hostility, and our anger, and so find ourselves trapped in bitterness? I think most of us would agree that it’s better to come to the place where we can acknowledge that we share a common humanity with those who have done us harm. When we forgive them, we not only take a step towards healing the hostility we may feel. More than that, by changing our own hearts, we put a little more kindness, a little more friendliness, a little more understanding out into the world. And I do believe that the more we do that, the more we can heal the hostility that plagues us all.

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[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 9/13/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman NE.

[2] Cf. M. Eugene Boring, “The Gospel According to Matthew,” New Interpreters Bible 8: 380, where he observes, “Whoever counts has not forgiven at all, but is only biding his or her time (1 Cor 13:5). The kind of forgiveness called for is beyond all calculation.” 

Little Ones

Little Ones

Matthew 18:1-20[1]

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a soft spot in my heart for children. And as my (now grown) children will attest, my grandchildren have me wrapped around their little fingers. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for them. And that’s generally true of my attitude toward children. I learned when my own children were young that it’s important to say “Yes” to them as often as possible, so that when you say “No” they understand two things. First, that you mean it. And second, that it’s not a rejection of them. That basic approach has carried over to the way I tend to respond to children in general.

I’d say that most of us tend to have a soft spot for children. What’s interesting to me is that this is a relatively recent development in the history of the world. Children were viewed as mouths to feed, as a burden unless they were able to contribute to the work of the household. That view goes back to time immemorial, and there may be some of you who remember that was still true when you were a child. For most of history, children have been among the least and the last and the left out, not the center of attention and affection that we have made them.

I think it’s crucial to understand that if we’re to make sense of our Gospel reading for today. Children were among the least valued people in the world of Jesus. They were also among some of the most vulnerable people in that day, because they had no rights. So when Jesus’ disciples come to him and ask him about who is the “greatest” in the Kingdom of God, his answer is that they are thinking about it all wrong. Instead of trying to be “greatest”, he says that becoming a part of
God’s kingdom means seeking to become “least,” like children were in that day.

I find it instructive that in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus proceeds to speak to his disciples about how they treat the “little ones who believe in me.” Now, given the introduction to this chapter, we might be forgiven if we assume he’s still talking about children. I don’t think that’s the case here. I think he’s talking about all those who were the “least” in his day: the outcasts, the “unclean,” the poor, the foreign residents—in short, all those who were last and left out in Jewish society.

Jesus speaks rather pointedly about how those who follow him are to relate to the “little ones.” He warns them against causing the “little ones” to stumble. I think the idea here is that the worst thing a follower of the kingdom can do is to treat the least and the last and the left out in such a way as to make them feel that God does not think of them as his beloved children. In fact, Jesus uses some uncharacteristically harsh language to warn his disciples that they should do everything possible to avoid causing harm to these “little ones.”

We see the positive side of this in the analogy of the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to go out and find the one who is lost. Rather than shunning the least and the last and the left out, Jesus teaches his disciples to make it their mission in life to seek them out and to bring them back to the place where they can experience God’s love. In fact, Jesus says that this is God’s will: that “none of these little ones should perish.”

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that central idea gets lost in the shuffle of questions about whether Jesus is threatening that his disciples might wind up in hell. Or questions about how we’re supposed to go to fellow believers and be reconciled with them. Or what it means that Jesus says if they will not be reconciled, we’re to treat them like “gentiles and tax collectors.” I think most of that is an exercise in missing the point. The point of this passage is that the quality of our discipleship is measured by the way we treat the “little ones” in our world.

I think that the truth of the matter is that there are all kinds of people in our world who are the “little ones” Jesus spoke of. If you take a good look, you’ll find that there is a lot of pain and suffering. Some people are treated as “least” because of their appearance. Some people are treated as “last” because their life experience doesn’t fit our ideas of what’s “normal.” Some people are “left out” because their position in society prevents them from accessing the luxuries that we consider to be necessities. I could get more specific, but then you might think I’ve stopped preaching and “gone to meddling.”

In fact, I think I would have to say that a Scripture passage like this is positively intended to “meddle” with us. It’s so easy for us to stay comfortable in our own “circles” and not really pay much attention to those who are “outside” or “other.” I think Jesus makes it clear in this passage that if we want to follow him, we simply cannot do that. We must open our eyes and our hearts to those around us who are the least and the last and the left out. If it’s God’s will that not one of them should “perish,” then it seems to me that constitutes a clear call to all of us to embrace all the “little ones” in our world.

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[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 9/6/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Human Things

Human Things

Matthew 16:21-28[1]

Our lives are filled with distractions. I’d say we have more distractions now than ever before, but I also think there have always been activities to occupy ourselves. We fill our lives with distractions primarily because we feel, in the depths of our soul, that we are alone in this world. We may have all the family, friends, and support we could ever want, but we inhabit a space that feels very much like it has a sole occupant: ourselves. Most of us are deeply uncomfortable with that sense of solitude. It feels empty to us; it feels lonely. So we fill up our lives with activities to distract ourselves from that emptiness.

But the truth of our lives is that we are never alone. The promise of Scripture is that God is “God-who-is-with-us.” And the God who is with us is also at the heart of his very being faithful. That means that God will never “fail us or forsake us.”[2] God will always be the “God-who-is-with-us.” And because God is also the “God-who-is-for-us,” we can trust that God loves us, and his love for us never fails. When we truly grasp these truths in the depth of our souls, we can know that we are never really alone. That frees us from the need to fill our lives with “human things” that distract us.[3]

Our Gospel lesson for today speaks to this. Jesus announced to his disciples that his commitment to God’s kingdom meant that he would have to go to Jerusalem to die. And then he proceeded to tell them that if they wanted to be his disciples, they must deny themselves, take up their own crosses, and follow him. Furthermore, he taught them that the only way to truly live is to give themselves away for the sake of others. It’s no wonder that Peter “rebuked” Jesus by saying literally, “May God have mercy on you, Lord!” (Matt 16:22). The idea is that God in his mercy would spare Jesus (and them all) from this fate. That’s why it’s normally translated something like “Heaven forbid, Lord!”

But Jesus knew his path and where it was leading him. And so he rebuked the rebuke, so to speak. He told Peter, “you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things” (Matt. 16:23). What those “human things” were we don’t know for sure, but we can probably guess. Many Jewish people in that day expected the Messiah to overthrow the Romans and ascend to the throne of David. The idea of a Messiah who would sacrifice his life and die simply made no sense to them. And as James and John illustrate, it’s likely that the disciples had their hopes set on the “perks” that would come their way when Jesus took his “rightful place” (in their minds).

Now, of course there’s nothing wrong with setting your sights on doing great things. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with seeking to serve the Kingdom of God. But the problem comes in when we get our “selves” involved. Our desires to achieve are related to filling the void we feel our own hearts. We strive to stay busy in order to validate ourselves in the eyes of others and in our own eyes. And the more intently we focus on our “selves” the tighter that space that we inhabit becomes. Finally, we are trapped by the fear of losing what we have convinced ourselves we absolutely must have in order to be “okay” with ourselves. We are trapped by “human things.”

But as Jesus warned his disciples, when we try to “save” our lives in this way we only wind up losing them! When we get trapped in the prison of our own self-interest, our own needs, and our own fears, it becomes a place that robs us of life itself. All the ways in which we try to fill the void we fear only close the trap around us more tightly. The harder we try to cling to these “human things,” the more we confine ourselves to that trap that robs us of life. We only truly discover the life that God gives us when we finally and fully understand that God is with us always, and that God loves us fully forever. When we understand that the fundamental truth of our very existence is that we are deeply loved by God, then we can let go all the things we cling to so tightly and open ourselves to God’s presence. Then we can see all the “human things” we use to fill our lives for the empty pursuits that they are, and instead find the true meaning of our lives in the love of God which never lets us go!

In some respects, this is only a matter of truly finding our way out of our own distractions and learning to love God with all that we are. When that deep, deep love of God becomes for us the truth that sets us free, we find that the door to the trap is opened, and we can live our lives and love those around us and serve God and others with hearts full of joy. We find our lives when we lose them for Christ’s sake. We find our lives when we find them filled with God’s love. We learn to truly live when we let go the “human things” that haunt us and entrap us.

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[1] © 2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 8/30/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Deuteronomy 31:6, 8; Joshua 1:5; Hebrews 13:5.

[3] Cf. Henri Nouwen, The Only Necessary Thing, 43-47, 67.

God's Work

God’s Work

Matthew 16:13-20[1]

Some of you know that I serve on the Board of Directors of the Omaha Presbyterian Seminary Foundation. Our mission is “to seek, develop and support excellence in Christian leadership through the PCUSA.” With that in mind, we sponsor programs to help pastors and churches thrive in the 13-state region that includes much of the Midwest and some of the mountain states. For example, when Christy Dempsey was our pastoral intern a couple of years ago, the Seminary Foundation paid for most of her salary. Another way we work is by providing scholarships to seminary students to help offset the high cost of their education. Every year at this time I have anywhere from 40 to 60 applications from students at PCUSA seminaries.

One thing I’ve noticed is the many different “answers” the applicants have for what the church needs to thrive in the 21st Century. Some of the answers are amusing in their youthful idealism. Others are really quite thoughtful. I find it ironical, however, that I’ve hardly ever read that the church needs to return to their dedication to faith, because ultimately whether the church thrives or not depends on God’s work among us. The music, technology, education, and community outreach are all important. But I think the fundamental answer is to be found elsewhere.

I believe that our Gospel lesson for today points us in the right direction. Unfortunately, many are drawn into the centuries-long debate between the Catholic and Protestant branches of the church about the “true” church. I think that misses the point. Regardless of whether you define the “rock” upon which the church is built as Peter himself, or Peter’s confession of faith, or something else altogether, it seems more important to me that Jesus said “I will build my church” (Matt. 16:18). The bottom line here is that Jesus is the one who builds the church, not me, or you, or anybody else.

That reminds me of something St. Paul said about his ministry. The church at Corinth had become divided by their loyalties to different teachers. But Paul says that all those teachers were just workers in God’s field. One plants, another waters, and another one reaps the harvest. But whether or not there is a harvest at all depends on God as the one who “gives the growth” (1 Cor. 3:7). We can discuss policies and programs all day long until we’re blue in the face (something Presbyterians seem to be “good” at), but unless we look to God to give the growth, I would say we’re just spinning our wheels.

So how do we promote the vitality of this congregation by looking to Jesus to build his church? I think this introduces the second important dimension to what it takes to help churches thrive in our day and time. At its core, this kind of work is spiritual work. It’s not organizational, it’s not programmatic, it’s not marketing. It’s spiritual work. It’s true that those things are important. But at the end of the day, building the church requires that we do everything we do in the recognition that God is the one who gives the growth. That means that it is crucial for us to pay attention to our spiritual lives. In order to truly promote God’s work in this world, we have to align our hearts and minds and lives with God’s ways.

I think that’s something of what St. Paul was talking about when he urged the church at Rome to “present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom. 12:1). He called them to be “transformed” in their minds and hearts so that their lives might reflect “the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2). This is at heart a spiritual endeavor, one that we can undertake only by spiritual means. We Presbyterians have traditionally called them the “Great Ends of the Church.” But it’s simply a matter of making worship, service, and witness the core of our lives rather than something we do from time to time. Whenever the church engages in that spiritual work, we experience God’s work of transforming and renewing our life together.

In one sense, this spiritual work is not the calling of just one person, or even a few. It is the work of the whole body. Building up the church in our day and time is something that takes all gifts that God has given each and every one of us. It takes all of us giving the best we can give to be the body of Christ, to be a community defined by faith, hope, love, and witness. God builds the church in partnership with us.

In another sense, building the church isn’t something we do at all, it’s God’s work. When our lives are centered on the faith, hope, and love that define what it means to live in a relationship with God, we will grow. Perhaps not numerically, but we will grow. At the end of the day, however, we will grow because Jesus is building his church. We will grow because God has given the growth.  We will grow as the result of God doing his work in and through each and every one of us.

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