Why did Jesus say that?: Sept 8, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 16                                       Mark 7:24-37                                                

As most of you know, the readings we have on Sundays rotate on a three year cycle. Every three years at about this time, we get this Gospel reading. There is another version of this story in The Gospel of Matthew, which means this story of the mother seeking healing for her daughter has popped up 12 times during  my ordained ministry.  There have been one or two times when I have preached a different text because I was weary of tackling this story, and then someone always asks me why I didn’t preach about Jesus calling a desperate mother a dog. I have realized if this text is read, it has to be preached upon because it is such an abrasive text. 

            I would like to tell you that in my many years of preaching this, I have been able to hone my message and come up with the perfect take on this complicated text. But I think it’s actually gotten harder.  Over the years I have read commentaries that provide an explanation that made just enough sense.  One was that Jesus was testing this woman. He wanted to see her fiery response and she passed that test with flying colors.  The other popular take is that this is a beautiful example of Jesus learning from a human. It displays his humility and vulnerability. I still like that explanation…but none of the explanations I have read adequately explain why Jesus insulted someone by using a slur.

We learn early on that Jesus was in Tyre, which was Gentile territory.  Jesus was a Jew and just the fact that he was there was unusual.  Yet we have come to expect that from Jesus— have we not?  We stress (especially in the Episcopal Church) that Jesus was someone who broke down the barriers that divided people.  He loved everyone and showed no partiality. 

If that is true, then why would he say, “Let the children be fed first, for it’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The children represented the Jewish people. Up until now, Jesus had spent most of his time with other Jews.  He was a devout Jew, as were his chosen disciples.  The Gentiles were the dogs. That’s what many Jews called them. Jesus was simply repeating what he heard so many other say.

He wasn’t saying that the Gentiles were completely undeserving.  He was saying that the Jews were the priority.  That’s not so bad, right? Well I guess it’s not so bad if you are a Gentile who is healthy and not asking for healing for your possessed daughter.  But this woman was desperate.  She had already broken some serious rules when she went into a stranger’s house and addressed a man who she didn’t know.  Forget the Gentile/Jew divide for a minute.  Women were not meant to speak to men who were not related to them, especially if they were alone.  She was taking a huge risk in approaching Jesus when he was alone in a house. So yes, being told in that moment that her sick daughter was not a priority because she was not the right ethnicity was more than just an insult or a slap in the face.  It was cruel. 

I don’t know the mind of Jesus and I am not going to try to explain that insult away.  Instead, let’s try to put it to the side for a moment and focus on what comes next.  This woman, who was already in an incredibly perilous position, argued with a rabbi and a miracle worker.  She used an interesting technique.  She didn’t tell him that it wasn’t fair and that he was biased. She didn’t try to prove that she or her daughter were worthy of his power.  She didn’t beg him for compassion or mercy, which is the route I would have taken. 

No, she pointed out that his power was so abundant, that even a small morsel would be enough for her and her daughter. She reminded him that that there was more than enough of his love and mercy to share.  Remember what happened in the previous chapter—Jesus fed a crowd of 5000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish and there were leftovers…12 baskets of leftovers.  When it comes to Jesus’ love—there is always more than enough. What is amazing is that this woman knew that.  She knew that better than most of us.

Jesus was planning to share his message and love with the Gentiles. That is why he was in Gentile territory.  In going to Tyre, he was off the beaten path. There was no good reason to be there, unless he was planning to expand his mission.  Only a few verses earlier he had told the Pharisees that there was no food that was clean or unclean, which was a huge point of contention between the Jews and Gentiles.  He had already begun laying the ground work.  What she did was accelerated his ministry to the Gentiles. He told her “not yet” and she responded, “we need you now.”  Some things can’t wait.[1]

The Gospel of Matthew tells a similar story, except in Matthew the woman is commended for her faith and then told her that her daughter was healed.  In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus says, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.”  In Mark, she is commended for her grit and her determination, but also her insight into who he was.  She saw what even his disciples could not always see, that his power and his love were limitless.  It did not have to be focused on a certain group, it could be shared with the world. 

I believe that is an important message for us today as well. We live with such a scarcity mindset, not just when we talk about money and resources, but when we talk about who God’s message can reach.  I do it as well. I think, well that person or group would not possibly be responsive to the Gospel message. I tell myself, “It’s not that I don’t want to share with those people, it’s that they would not be responsive. It would be a waste.”

When we put a limit on who we think our faith can reach, we impose that restraint on God. We limit the reach of God, when that reach should be and can be limitless.  It’s time that we stop restraining the reach of God.  It’s time for us to stop worrying about how others will judge us and instead focus on how we can share the abundance of what God has given us. Because there is always enough. God doesn’t limit us. We limit God.  It’s time to stop with the limits and open ourselves and others to the relentless and boundless love and mercy of God.   

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[1] A lot of these ideas came from Dr. Matt Skinner from a working preacher podcast.  You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiQqStpruhw

Keep Talking: March 12, 2023

Year A, Lent 3                                    John 4:5-42                                                                             

            Three strikes.  The woman in our Gospel reading for today had three strikes against her—three good reasons for Jesus to avoid her.  First, she was a woman.  Men and women who were not related didn’t interact, especially if they were alone. It would have been scandalous for a man, especially a rabbi to have an extended conversation with a woman he had just met.  Second, she was Samaritan.  The Jews and Samaritans didn’t get along—they hadn’t gotten along for centuries.   It was unusual for a Jew even to be in an area populated by Samaritans.  Third, she was not married and had 5 husbands in her past.  Some have described her as a harlot of even a prostitute, but let’s remember that women didn’t have the right to divorce their husbands at this time.  If she had 5 husbands, it was because they died or they divorced her, probably because she was barren.  Regardless of the reason she had gone through 5 husbands, she would still have been judged harshly by the people in her community. 

Any one of these reasons would have been a good enough reason for Jesus to avoid her. Instead, he engaged in a rather lengthy theological dialogue.  In all the Gospels, in all the recorded conversations that Jesus ever had with anyone, this was the longest.  Why? Was he just passing time until the disciples returned?  Of course not, if John felt this was important enough to include in the Gospel, then this conversation had a purpose.  It meant something—not just for the woman and Jesus, but for the people in the new Christian community, for whom the Gospel of John was written.

It starts with a simple request on the part of Jesus.  He’s sitting by a well in the heat of the day and he is thirsty.  So he asks the woman with the bucket if he could have some of her water. Seems like a perfectly natural and reasonable request.  She is shocked by this request because Jews and Samaritans didn’t share things and why in the world is this man sitting by a well without a bucket. (It’s not like there was a hose attached.)

And then, because this is the Gospel of John and John likes to use symbols as much as possible, Jesus starts talking to the woman about living water.  Now you might remember that just last week, in the chapter before this one, Jesus tried to have a similar conversation with a learned Pharisee named Nicodemus.  That conversation was much shorter because Nicodemus either didn’t understand or didn’t want to understand what Jesus was saying.  However this woman, who would not have had the education of Nicodemus or the confidence that would be required to converse with a man like Jesus— this woman engages with Jesus.  When Jesus starts talking about living water she asks how she can get this water instead of dismissing the idea.  When she thinks she understands what it means, she asks him for the water.  This is an extraordinarily brave dialogue for a woman with little social standing and probably considerable shame to have with a man like Jesus.

Then Jesus asks something rather peculiar, at least to my ears.  He asks her to get her husband and then come back.  Now, if I was in her situation, I think I would have just said, “Sure, I will do just that.” Then I would have just not come back.  I mean really, what does she owe this stranger? He doesn’t need to know anything about her personal life.  Either she wasn’t as ashamed as most women in this period would have been or she could tell Jesus was special and she wanted to continue the conversation.  She responds with a statement of her own, one that spoke to the difference between the Samaritans and the Jews. She points out that they worshipped at different places.  Some people think that she was just trying to change the subject, that he had gotten a little too personal and it was better to delve into theological differences instead of her marital history.

But I think that when Jesus reveals what he knew of her she could tell that he wasn’t just any man…not only because he knew something he had no reason to know, but because it doesn’t seem to bother him.  It doesn’t end the conversation.  He doesn’t judge her the way others might have.. because perhaps he sees her for what she is, not a cast off wife of 5 husbands, but a child of God who wants to know more about God.  She does the thing that Nicodemus (a supposed man of God) could not do.  She continues the conversation.  She allows herself to be known by this holy man she didn’t quite understand.  And in return, Jesus revealed himself as the God he is.

He speaks the word that eventually gets him killed.  “I am he.”  Literally translated, “I am.”  This is how God refers to Godself in the Old Testament.  When Moses asks God to tell him his name, God responds with, “I am.”  This became the name of God, the name that cannot be pronounced.  At this time, to say the name of God would be blasphemy.  Thus Jesus reveals to this woman the greatest and most dangerous truth of all.  He bears his own soul, which is what allows her to open herself to him and to start believing in him.

How do we know she now believes? Remember this is the Gospel of John and symbols matter.  She leaves the well, but also leaves her water jar. Most people only had one water jar.  It was the only way to collect water. Without it, she would die of thirst.  So either she was coming back or she understood more about this living water thing than most give her credit for.  Or maybe it was both.

She returned to the town, to the people who probably had all judged her for going through 5 husbands and told them, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”  She still isn’t sure.  You can tell by the way she asks the question.  She is expecting a negative response.  Yet she also knows that there is something there, something worth sharing. 

She is the first person in the Gospel of John to spread the news about Jesus.  She is the first evangelist. And guess what, many came to believe because of her message.  It wasn’t just her message.  Her message led them to Jesus and he ended up being the one who convinced them.  That’s how evangelism works. 

We introduce people to Jesus and Jesus does the rest of the work. Sometimes I think people assume that they have to be secure in their faith and be outstanding Christians before they can possibly pass on the good news of Jesus Christ.   Yet this woman, this very first evangelist, still had questions when she passed on the news.  She also had passion and excitement.  Maybe that is what we are missing more than assurance.  We have forgotten what it is to be excited about what Jesus has to tell us and teach us.  It’s possible we never had that excitement.

 I think it’s harder to get excited about your faith when you been in it most of your life. We also don’t have the benefit of a face to face conversation with Jesus. That doesn’t mean all hope is lost for those of us who can’t meet Jesus at a well. It just means that we have to try a little harder.  We have to keep having the conversations with God and also having the conversations with others about God.  This Samaritan woman came to know Jesus through questions and conversation.  It wasn’t a miracle or a revelation. 

Perhaps that is the exciting part—we don’t need to wait for miracles or revelations in our faith journey.  No, we just get in there and talk to God.  We talk to God, we worship God, we serve God’s people and we talk to God some more. It’s not always fun or exciting.  Sometimes it can even feel a little dull.  That’s ok.  They key is that you never stop talking to God, never stop asking the hard questions and never be afraid to show your true self to God.    The more of ourselves we can share with God, the more God will share with us. 

A Story of a Woman: August 21, 2022

Year C, Pentecost 11                    Luke 13:10-17  & Isaiah 58:9-14           

(This is told from the perspective of the woman in the Gospel of Luke.)                  

          My back was worse than usual today.  It’s always bad. I cannot remember a time when it did not hurt.  But this morning as I attempted to get up off the floor, I felt a stabbing pain, worse than usual.  I confess that I considered lying back down and not coming to the synagogue.  It’s not as if anyone would know if I wasn’t there.  But God would. And so I slowly stood and dressed myself.  It’s hard to get dressed when you are bent over like I am, but I am accustomed to it. It’s been many years like this.  I can’t remember how it happened.   I wasn’t born like this.  It happened slowly. The pain came first.  Then one day I realized I could no longer stand straight.  I could not see the sunrise or the sunset.   The sky was a memory to me.

            I remember the sky. I used to love to gaze at the stars at night and remember the promise that God made to Abraham.  And rainbows, I loved to see rainbows as they reminded me of the promise God made to Noah after the flood.  There are so many reminders of God goodness and mercy in the sky.  I miss seeing those reminders.  Now I see the dust as I walk through the village. I see small rodents and insects.  I see feet and the dirty hems of robes.   But sometimes I see beautiful things, like a stone with brilliant colors, or a cotton thistle with its spiky purple petals, a large puddle that reflects the clouds.  Sometimes, when God is especially good to me, I will see a baby crawling under me.  They look into my eyes and I try not to weep because it is the only time that someone looks into my eyes.  It is a lonely life, but I am never really alone. I know that deep down.  It’s just easy to forget sometimes.

            That is why I go to the synagogue week after week….so that I never forget that I am not alone.  Even if I cannot see reminders of God’s grandeur above me, I can still feel his presence.  I know that I make some people uncomfortable.  They assume that since I have this deformity, that I have sinned or my parents have sinned.  I have sinned, but no more than those who look down upon me, and there are many who do.  Didn’t the great prophet Isaiah tell God’s people to “satisfy the needs of the afflicted?”  I am afflicted, am I not?   I am not saying that all of the religious leaders are bad. Some are wonderful and caring and try to help as much as they can. But there are some who are more concerned about the rules.

            Recently I had heard about a man who was a leader, but also different.  He didn’t wear all the fancy robes.  He prayed at the temple, but he didn’t spend all of his time there.  He was even criticized for eating at the homes of sinners---prostitutes and tax collectors.   There were rumors that he had even healed people.  I knew I would never see more than his sandaled feet, but I hoped, I hoped that I would hear him sometime.  I can tell a lot about a person by their voice. I can tell a lot about a person if they merely bother to talk to me. 

            As I approach the synagogue, I hear a different voice.  It is a voice of someone with authority who is teaching the Holy Scriptures.   This is not unusual.  There are always learned men teaching at the synagogue.  But the way he talks, it’s different.  It is almost like he was talking to me.  Wait, he is talking to me.  I feel hands on my  back as they guide me to him.  I want to cry out in pain as it hurts as they steer me through the crowd, but I try not to.   Finally, I can sense someone leaning toward me, trying to get close to my face, trying to see me.  “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”

 Those words, they are beautiful, but they can only be words.   Then he puts his hands on my head and slowly lifts my face.  I want to resist as I am afraid of the pain, but as his hands touch me, the pain begins to recede.  It starts with my head, then my neck, shoulders, and then my back and the rest of my body. It happens slowly, gradually, but eventually, I am standing.  And I am looking into his eyes and he is smiling at me.  I see compassion and love in those eyes.

            As I realize the pain is really gone I raise my hands high and throw my head back so I can see the sky, the beautiful sky. I praise God. I am surprised to hear pieces of the prayers that I have come to know by heart in my years worshipping here.  At the time they felt like empty words.  But right now I feel them in a new way.  I am almost embarrassed, but I cannot stop laughing.  I am so distracted I almost miss the synagogue leader reprimanding the crowd, telling us all there are six other days to be cured.  I know I should be worried about his judgment, but I can’t be, because I have been healed.

            Through my laughter and prayers, I hear Jesus respond, “And ought not this daughter of Abraham who Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from bondage on the Sabbath day.”  He calls me a daughter of Abraham.  He recognizes me not by my disability, but by my faith.  He has not merely healed my body, he has set me free from bondage.  He has lifted the burden from my tired back.  Just as Isaiah told the people so many years ago, remove the yolk from the people and satisfy the needs of the afflicted.

            I am healed, but the Hebrew people still carry the yoke of the Roman Empire.  We are not free, not in that way.  Some say this Jesus will free us, but I wonder if that is what he is really here for. I wonder if he heals us, so we can help the others who are oppressed—the outcasts, the forgotten. I know that now that I have been healed, I will do my best to serve those who cannot help themselves.  I know that is what Jesus wants of me. That is how I can use my freedom.

 What is it that Jesus wants from you? How can you bring healing to this broken world and the people around you?  As Isaiah writes, how can we be “repairers of the breach?”

Stop Freaking Out: July 17, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost 6                                   Luke 10:38-42                                                    

         Ever since the story of Martha and Mary was first read, it has been interpreted and misinterpreted in about 100 different ways.  Often times Mary and Martha are pitted against one another. You are either Mary or Martha.  And if you are Martha, you better learn how to be more like Mary. Books like: Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, Having a Martha Home in a Mary Way, Made Like Martha: Good News for the Woman Who Gets Things Done---have oversimplified this story. (At least the titles have.) 

People have used this story to create archetypes for all women—you are either Mary or Martha. Mary is the devoted learner who sits at Jesus’ feet as a disciple would.  Martha is the worker bee who can’t be bothered to stop and listen because she has too much to do. At times, people seem to be trying to use this story to describe the right and wrong way to be a disciple.

          But really, it’s about different ways of being a disciple and the challenges that arise when all of the preoccupations of our life get in the way of being in relationship with God. There is little doubt that Martha was a wonderful disciple of Jesus.  Showing hospitality was incredibly important at that time.  One doesn’t have to look any further than the story we have from the Old Testament when Abraham drops everything to help three strangers wandering by his tent.  Anyone who has spent any time volunteering in the church knows that a lot of what needs to be done is the very stuff that Martha was doing. 

          Then why would Jesus be critical of Martha? I am not sure that is what is really happening here.  Notice that he’s not criticizing her for what she is doing, not even for what she is complaining about.  He said, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things….”  If you look at the Greek that this Gospel was originally written in, you might note that better translation would be: “Martha, Martha, you are completely freaking out.”   The Greek word that is translated to worried is describing someone absolutely panicked.

This was more than just dinner party stress.  It was stomach churning, headache producing---panic. I am sure there were a variety of things contributing to the panic.  But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we are at the point in the Gospel when Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem.  Just a few chapters before, Jesus had started talking about his imminent death.  Maybe Martha was thinking this might be the last time she would see him and here she is doing the dishes when what she desperately wanted to do was sit at his feet like her sister Mary.  But something was stopping her.

          When Jesus told her that Mary had chosen the better part and that was not to be taken away from her—he wasn’t minimalizing what Martha had accomplished.  He was simply reminding Martha that there was a better part to play at that moment.  There was something else she could be doing.  There was a way to step away from the anxiety and panic.  We don’t know how Martha responded, but I hope she sat down for a few minutes, to absorb God’s presence.  Because there he was, the very embodiment of peace, the balm for her weary soul.  All she had to do was stop for a minute and listen.

          If it was hard for Martha to find peace when she was in the presence of God in the flesh, it is no wonder that we have a hard time releasing ourselves from the burden of anxiety in times such as these.  I could start listing the many anxiety provoking things going on in our world, but I fear that would not be helpful.  We all know what is causing us anxiety because it seems to be constantly with us.  With the advent of smart phones, it’s impossible to step away even for a moment.  And it’s not just smart phone causing the problems. The pandemic has intensified all of life’s challenges. 

          In the last 2 years, the number of adults with anxiety disorders has increased by 26%. The number of children with an anxiety disorder has doubled over the course of the pandemic.  The number of people with mental health issues was increasing before the pandemic.  The pandemic simply accelerated the mental health crisis in our country. The rates of depression have also increased exponentially, but that is a conversation for another time.  The point is that we are in anxious times. 

          Many people wonder why Martha went to Jesus to complain about her sister rather than going directly to her sister to ask for help.  I think it was because she knew that that the help she needed was not the help Mary could provide.  She needed (like we all need) Jesus’ help.  She needed healing for her mind---a peace that passes all understanding.

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing…” The word for distracted also means to be pulled in many different directions.  Even when we were in part of the pandemic when we were all locked down and limited in what we could do and where we could go, our minds were still being pulled in different directions.  When that happens, our lives become so fragmented, we can barely remember what the big picture is.  For Martha, the big picture was right in front of her---God incarnate.  For us, the big picture—God’s purpose for our lives is a little more elusive. We may hear God calling our name, but it’s a lot easier to ignore.

This is a hard sermon for me to preach because I struggle with anxiety.  I find that the distractions of life can consume me at times. I wonder. I wonder if we could find a way to be distracted by God. If our distractions have started to consume us, what if we found small ways to let God break through and distract us from our own fears and anxieties?

My view from traffic

 That will look different for each one of us. What I know is that God’s peace is here, in this place.  I felt it the first time I walked in. I feel it when the light passes through the windows in a new and glorious way. God’s peace is out there in our cemetery where the names of those who have passed on to the next life surround us.  God’s peace is looking out over the water (even when on the HRBT) when the sun hits the water in a way that makes you forget you are sitting in traffic. 

God’s peace is everywhere, if we look for it. Take some time to consider what thing or person or place distracts you enough to experience some peace and then make some space in your life for opportunities to search for God presence.  When you have found that presence (that peace that passes all understanding)--- bask in it.  Even for a moment.  Because that moment, that moment leads to other moments and those moments are the ones that will save you.

Approaching God: Matthew 28:1-10

Easter, Year A                                                                 
April 16, 2017

            One of my favorite hymns is “Were you there.”  If you do not know the hymn, it is about the crucifixion.  It repeats the phrase “were you there” adding various parts, like were you there when they nailed him to the cross….were you there when they pierced him in the side?  Singing it this week, I started to think about what makes it such a powerful hymn…why it gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. 

I still remember the first time I heard it.  It was my senior year of high school. My friend’s church was doing a passion play.  One of my friends was playing Jesus and he was one of the last people you would expect to play Jesus, but he did an amazing job and then there was the song. It was sung from the balcony by one voice. It sounded almost haunting.  I can remember it that vividly.  This year, one part struck me more poignantly than the others. After we ask, were you there, we sing, “Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble…”  That was when I got goosebumps this year.  I thought of those words again when I considered the Gospel reading for today.

            Each Gospel has a slightly different interpretation of the resurrection story.  Mark’s is very simple.  It ends too quickly, as if Mark’s pen just ran out of ink.  Both Luke and John contain more detail about the tomb itself and Jesus’s interaction with the women or apostles.  There is a little more drama.  There is a lot more information of Jesus’ actual appearance and interactions with the women and the disciples. It’s almost like there is an epilogue to the resurrection in Luke and John. 

Matthew’s story appears almost start by comparison, except for a few unique details.  Since it is relatively stark and brief, these unique details seem extremely important, especially when contemplating a sermon on Matthew.  One of the biggest differences between Matthew’s story and the others is the earthquakes.  The first earthquake happens right after Jesus dies.  It’s not a huge earthquake. Matthew says, “The earth shook and rocks split.”  Apparently it got the attention of a few people, but not most. 

The second earthquake happened as Mary Magdalene and the other Mary approached the tomb.  They did not go in. They did not knock on the tomb door.  They just approached it and the earth began to shake.  Here the Gospel writer says, “There was a great earthquake.”  This one was more significant than the last.  As the earth quaked, an angel descended from heaven and his appearance was like lightning. The angel immediately rolled back the stone. 

            What seems odd to me about this whole thing is the timing of the second earthquake.  The first earthquake happened right after Jesus died. That makes sense.  That was a big moment—a life changing moment.  The earth should have shook. The second earthquake happened as the women approached the tomb.  The angel tells them that Jesus is not there.  He has been raised.  He is already risen.   My question is, why didn’t the earth quake then?  It should have quaked as Jesus left the tomb...or perhaps the moment when he took that first breath.  There should have been quaking, a bright light, angels singing.  Yet it seems as though the actual resurrection went unnoticed.  The event that rocked the earth was not the resurrection itself, but the women approaching the tomb. 

            There is one thing that has always struck me as odd about each resurrection story in all of the Gospels.  There is never a description of the actual resurrection, or Jesus’ departure from the tomb. The logical explanation would be that the authors of the Gospels could not write about that since no one had witnessed it.  Yet it is surprising that no one used creative license to fill in the gaps.  Jesus could have told the story later. It seems like a story people would have wanted to hear. Another explanation is that the Gospel writers felt like some things could not be explained.  The moment was so sacred that it could not possibly be described by words. That seems plausible to me.

            The hymn, Were you there is asking not if we were actually there at the crucifixion…but if we can imagine ourselves there.  Can we put ourselves in that moment, at the foot of the cross?  If we can, would be tremble?  Presumably we would all have different reactions, but I think trembling would be a fairly reasonable reaction. I is important to consider the moment of Jesus death…that moment when the earth shook.  It’s almost like the earth, the ground felt the weight of the moment and so it trembled. 

Therefore it makes sense that it would happen again at the resurrection.  This time it was not grief that caused the earth to tremble, it was the moment when heaven and earth touched.   They touched ever so briefly, but there was a moment that transcended time and space, the moment when two women opened their hearts and minds to the possibility that Jesus was alive.  In that brief moment, everything changed for these women and ultimately for humanity as a whole.  Their world was shaken.  It was rearranged in a way that seemed almost unrecognizable.  The crazy thing is that they had not even seen Jesus yet.  All they had done was approached the tomb…because in approaching the tomb, they took a chance so that when the tomb opened up, their hearts and minds did as well.  They saw a world transformed.

            The reason it is important to imagine ourselves at the foot of the cross is because we need to feel the depth of that grief.  When we do, we will know the hope of the resurrection that much more powerfully.  If we tremble when we consider the death of Jesus, then we should be shaken in body, mind and spirit by the hope of the resurrection.  I know that is a not an easy thing…not an easy leap to make.  You might think, well if I was there in Jesus’ time, that would be different. I could have believed if I was there.  Yet the only reason that we know about the resurrection is because a few women were willing to approach the tomb.   They had to approach it. 

Sometimes we think that if we cannot wrap our heads and hearts around everything that the Bible and the church say about God and faith, then we have fallen short---it’s really not worth bothering at all.  That is not true. Remember, the earth did not quake when Jesus appeared.  It quaked when the women approached the tomb.  Before we can have a real relationship with Jesus…maybe even before we have any relationship at all, we have to be willing to approach God, to come face to face with our hopes and fears.  It is only then when we will find the strength to open our hearts and minds to the reality of the resurrection. It is only then when we can be shaken. 

The logical question is how can one approach God.  It’s not like he’s standing on the corner.  He’s not on social media.  It’s not easy.  But in the Episcopal Church, we have a way to start. Come to the altar.  Come to the heart of the church.  You don’t even have to take communion.  You might not be ready for that.  Just come, kneel, leave your doubts and fears in the pew. You can get back to them later.  It might not be an earth shaking moment.  I can pretty much guarantee there will not be an earthquake (although that would be awesome if we could have just a little one at a pivotal point in the service).  You have already taken a huge step.  You are in church.  Take the next. Approach the tomb.  Approach the altar.  If you can take that first step, you will always find the living God.  

August 24, 2014: Exodus 1:8-2:10

What it Means to Have Power

Year A Pentecost 11  

 

            It would be easy to read this story from Exodus and say that it is a story about Moses.  After all, it is the first time we see Moses’ names and he’s clearly the star.  We know what happens after Moses grows up.  He ends up leading the Hebrew people out of Egypt.  But this story is not about Moses.  Then it must be about Pharaoh.  He’s an important guy, clearly very powerful. It’s not about Pharaoh either.  If it was about Pharaoh, we would probably have a name for him.  We don’t.  This story is not about the powerful.  It is about the powerless, at least the people who were perceived to be powerless.

            It is full of irony and intrigue.  It starts with a new Pharaoh who did not know Joseph, which means he did not know the story of Joseph.  He did not know how this Israelite had actually saved Egypt from a devastating famine, which brought more Israelites to Egypt.  This Pharaoh was probably only alive because of the actions of an Israelite who lived long ago.  He was at a disadvantage because of his self-inflicted ignorance.  He also seemed a bit paranoid, or possibly just horribly insecure.  He was worried that if the Israelites continued to increase in number, they would join the enemies of Egypt and overthrow them.  So he oppressed them, because as we know that is always an effective way to keep people in line.  He also hoped that by working them so much, they would not procreate as much…they would not have the time and energy.  Alas, this plan did not work.  The more they were oppressed, the more numerous they got. 

The Pharaoh called on two Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah.  Midwives were usually women who were barren.  Barren women were pretty much the lowest social status you could be in this time since a woman’s main reason for being was procreation.  The Pharaoh asked these women to kill all the male babies.  The girls did not concern him. The midwives feared God more than they feared Pharaoh. 

A lot of people are uncomfortable with the idea of fear of God.  The word translated to fear is a tricky one.  There is no direct translation, no English word that really works.  A translation that might be more understandable is honor. They honored God more than they honored Pharaoh.  They knew that the Pharaoh’s power was temporary and God’s was eternal. They did not tell him that they refused.  They just didn’t obey. When Pharaoh realized all these baby boys were still being born, he brought them back in and questioned them.  Their response is pretty hysterical.  They essentially said, “The Hebrew women are just popping them out so fast, the baby is delivered before we even get there.”  Apparently he bought that.

The Pharaoh then called on the Egyptian people to throw every male baby in the Nile so that they would drown.  One woman hid her child and put him in a basket in the Nile River.  When we hear basket, we think of a flimsy wicker thing.   This was no ordinary basket.   The Hebrew word translated to basket is the very same word that is translated to ark in the story of Noah and the Ark.  Clearly, the mother of Moses had put some time and effort into this little ark.  She wanted this child to be carried to safety, much like God wanted that ark to carry the people and animals to safety. 

As luck would have it, the daughter of the Pharaoh just happened to be bathing by the river and she saw this little ark passing by.  Of course, we know it had nothing to do with luck.  God wanted her to be there. She knew that this was a Hebrew child, a child that her father had ordered to death.  But compassion moved her when she saw him and heard his cries.  I am sure she knew about her father’s policy, but seeing the effects of this horrific policy must been more than she could bear. So she pulled him out of the river.  She knew that the ark while sturdy, could not last forever without her intervention.  So the daughter of the Pharaoh disobeyed her own father and saved the one man that would end up delivering an entire nation. 

It is fascinating to me that while the Pharaoh was so intent on killing all the males, it was the females, the ones who were already alive, who would be the means of his undoing.  He feared that the Israelites would become so numerous that they would create an army.  They didn’t need an army.  They needed a couple of women who were considered completely powerless who would risk their own safety to save a child and to honor God.   The Pharaoh’s daughter was probably not a worshipper of the one true God, but maybe she was.  Jewish rabbis have surmised that she was at the river to cleanse herself of idolatry because she had discovered the one true God.  There is absolutely no evidence to prove this, but it’s an interesting idea.  What we know is that she was moved by compassion, a compassion that moved her to sacrifice her own interests for that of another. That is love in its truest sense.  That is God.

There is another theory that the rabbis have for this story.  They wrote that it was not the maid of the Pharaoh’s daughter who pulled the baby out of the water. It was actually her own arm. However, her arm extended to double or triple its length as she went to reach for this child allowing her to pull him out of the river.  We hear the phrase divine intervention all the time.  But God has always been fond of using human intervention for his divine purposes.  Sure, he could have destroyed Pharaoh in some fantastic way and then carried the people of Israel in a cloud to the Promised Land.  That is not how God operates.  God likes humans to intervene.

God especially loves to use those people who would be considered powerless by most.  Those Hebrew midwives had nothing but their courage and their faith in God.  Moses’ mother had nothing but courage, love and faith. The daughter of the Pharaoh probably had more power than most women in that time, but it was still not very much.  The power that each woman had was her willingness to risk her life for another.  That is a power that God honors.  That is the power that Jesus wielded centuries later to save all humanity.

There are so many times in life when people do not act because they feel powerless.  They are powerless to change themselves or their lives or the world around them.  God proves again and again that power does not come with wealth, prestige or connections but in an openness to the will of God, to the possibility of something more. We think that we can only reach as far as our arm will extend.  Yet when we reach our arm out in love, God will always stretch us in ways that we never expected.  We will find that we are more powerful than we ever imagined.