Women's Holy Disobedience: August 23

Year A, Pentecost 13                        Exodus 1:8-2:10                                  

“Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph.”  Some of you will remember that Joseph was young boy who was sold by his cruel brothers into slavery. He ended up in Egypt and interpreted the Pharoh’s dreams so accurately and advantageously, the Pharoh ended up giving him a great deal of power and authority.  Joseph later forgave his brothers, and his whole family settled in Egypt.  Joseph’s father was named Israel and the descendants of his family were who this new king was referring to as the Israelite people.  It’s the first time this group of people is recognized as Israelites.

Notice, the new king is not named.  Apparently the author of Exodus didn’t think his name was important.  Many have hypothesized on who this king was, but the author of Exodus didn’t name him.  What we know is that not only did he not know Joseph, he didn’t care about the story of Joseph, which is part of the reason that instead of working with the people known as Israelites, he decided to oppress them. He was threatened by a community he didn’t understand.  We see that far too often.

As a result he decided that instead of working with them, he would simply oppress them more and more until they lost their will to live.  However, that didn’t work.  The more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread.  Since oppressing the people he feared was not effective, this nameless Pharaoh came up with an even more evil plan.  He asked the midwives of the Hebrew women to kill all the male babies.  The men were more of a threat because they could join Egypt’s enemies and fight.

            It would seem that the Pharaoh should have feared the women more as they were the ones who thwarted his plan. It was the midwives who saved the day--two women named Shiphrah and Puah.  Those might not be names most of you recognize but their names are obviously important. They are named, even when the most powerful man isn’t. 

They defied the Pharaoh. Why? Because they feared God.   We don’t talk a lot about fear of God. It meant something different in this context then how we perceive it now.  It wasn’t necessarily about being afraid of what God might do.  It was about awe, reverence and respect.  We all connect with God in different ways.  When I pray, I think of Jesus, the more human and vulnerable aspect of God. But God is more than that. The God of the Old Testament had some vulnerable moments, but was mostly associated with awe, majesty and power. 

The midwives had a deep reverence for the God who created the heavens and the earth, the creator God. Because they respected this God of creation, they refused to help a corrupt king destroy God’s greatest act of creation—humans.   So when Pharoh called them before him, they simply explained that the Hebrew women just gave birth too quickly. By the time the midwife was called, it was too late.  The baby was already born and whisked away. The hilarious part of this explanation is the Pharoh obviously felt like he couldn’t argue with these women.  I mean…what did he know about childbirth? 

Later, church fathers like Augustine and Gregory the Great debated whether these women were lying.  If they were lying, then they were sinning and they were wrong to do so.   These church fathers went as far as to say that while these women were rewarded by God in this life, they would not be rewarded in the next life. About 1000 years later, Martin Luther (the man who had the courage to take on church corruption) wrote that these midwives were the model for living under the pressure of persecution because they disobeyed unjust orders.  Their lies were justified because they were meant to aid rather than injure.  Martin Luther (the great church reformer) understood more than most the courage it took to defy unjust rulers and why sometimes, it was necessary.

It wasn’t just the midwives that defied the unjust ruler’s orders.  There was also Moses’s mother.  She was rather crafty in how she defied the orders.  After the Pharoh was thwarted by the midwives, he told everyone to throw every Hebrew boy into the river. Moses’ mother carefully placed him in the river in a waterproof basket…in a place where he would likely be found.  

Another woman, the Pharaoh’s own daughter, chose compassion over cruelty when she found the baby boy in the basket.  She knew this was one of the babies who her father demanded be killed.  She defied him and drew him out of the river and raised him as her own.  At some point the Pharoh must have realized that this baby was one that he commanded be killed, but it would appear that even he could not tell his own daughter to kill a baby. It’s so much harder to oppress and kill when we don’t know the people who we are oppressing. 

What is interesting is that we hear no more of the Pharoh’s plan to kill the Hebrew boys.  For all we know, he gave up the plan because of the courage of the midwives, the sacrifice of a mother and the compassion of a daughter.  They all defied power in a different way and it changed history.  This is not to say that the Pharaoh was defeated in that moment.  He wasn’t. He continued to enslave the Hebrew people.  But he didn’t’ succeed in killing a whole generation of Hebrew boys.  Moses lived and went on to defy Pharaoh in a public and dramatic way.  He freed the Hebrew people. That would only be decades later.  As we know, change takes time.  Civil disobedience can be a very effective tool, but it’s not always the most efficient tool.

What we see from this reading is that practice of civil disobedience has Biblical precedence that goes back thousands of years, long before Jesus was killed by the Roman government, long before the Civil Rights movement.  There are political leaders today who eagerly quote Romans 13 which says, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed...”  Current political leaders like to use this line to show that loyalty to the government is our Christian duty. 

The thing we have to remember is that Paul was writing to a community in Rome…people living in one of the most powerful empires of all time.  He was mindful of what could happen when a faith community appeared to oppose the government itself and he discouraged that kind of wholesale opposition.  Yet we can see from our reading in Romans today, which is the chapter right before Paul encourages people to be subject to the governing authorities, he tells people, “not to be conformed to this world.”  That is the tricky position we are in as Christians.  We have to exist in this world and be responsible citizens, but we also can’t be conformed to the world. That means that like the midwives and the Pharaoh’s daughter we must try to discern not just what we think is best, but discern the will of a loving and compassionate God.

You might note that in this entire reading from Exodus, the only time that God directly intervenes is to reward the midwives who refused to follow Pharaoh’s orders.  That would appear to be very limited involvement.  Sometimes we are tempted to look around and observe whatever injustice might be currently plaguing our nation or world and wonder, where is God in this? When is God going to step in and fix this mess? In those moments, we would be wise to remember, that God works through us, the people of God.  God will inspire us, support us, maybe even reward us, but it’s up to us to do the work that requires compassion, love and sometimes a degree of disobedience.

Faint Heart: August 9

 Year A, Pentecost 11                            Matthew 14:22-33                                 

          You of little faith.  I have always struggled with that phrase when I see it in the Gospel of Matthew.   Matthew uses some variation of that phrase five times.  The other three Gospels (in total) use it once.  What annoys me about the use of this phrase, is that it’s often in the context of a few verses that I really love.  Then Jesus just ruins the moment by reminding the disciples (and us) of how little faith we have. 

The interesting thing about the use of this phrase is that it’s always used with the apostles. It’s never the Pharisees or the scribes—those who Jesus tends to be a little critical of. It’s the apostles with whom Jesus uses this phrase.  These are the men that Jesus chose to be closest to him and then carry on his message after he Jesus ascended to heaven.  Two of the times, this phrase was directed at Peter…the man he would refer to as the rock on which he would build his church.  Jesus called Peter the rock in chapter 16, only 10 verses after he had referred to the apostles as having little faith for the 5^th time. It just doesn’t make sense to me.  The context is all wrong.

          Here is what I am wondering, what if “a little faith” is enough? What if Jesus isn’t castigating his chosen apostles for not having enough faith, instead he’s saying, “you’ve got a little, and that might just be enough.” There a book called “The Message.” It’s not a translation of the Bible as much as it’s an interpretation that is supposed to help us hear the words a little differently. Sometimes I read this version, because the work was done by a scholar and pastor, using the original Hebrew and Greek texts, but it’s more accessible.  Anyhow, instead of Jesus saying, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Jesus says, “Faint heart, what got into you?” That makes more sense to me.  Because it was never about Peter’s ability to believe.  It was never about the amount of faith he had.  It was about where the faith was placed—with whom his faith was placed.

          When the apostles saw Jesus walking across that choppy water, they were confused and afraid, which is understandable.  He said, “Take heart, it is I, do not be afraid.”  The more literal translation here is, “Take heart, I am…”  The phrase “I am” is the name of God.  In that moment, he was not just saying, “It’s me Jesus.”  He was saying, “I am the one true God.”  The use of the phrase “I am” is especially important in the Gospels, because it connects Jesus to the God of the Hebrew Scriptures.  It’s the way that God identified Godself to Moses in the Book of Exodus.  In saying that, Jesus was revealing who he really was.

Peter knew in that moment that not only did it mean that Jesus could walk on water, but his command alone would give him (a mere mortal) the ability to walk on water.  Peter didn’t suddenly have this crazy belief that he too could walk on water.  He was so convicted of the power of Jesus which meant that Jesus’ command would enable him to walk on water.  That is what gave him the courage to get out of that boat.  It wasn’t faith in his own ability, it was faith in Jesus.

Can you imagine the courage that would have required just to step out of a boat in the middle of a storm? The apostles were already terrified because the boat was being battered by waves in the dark.  Peter left the relative safety of the boat to walk through the very water that was the source of the fear.  It would be like driving on the Schuykill at rush hour at night and then deciding to get out and walk through the traffic.  Peter was able to get out of the boat because he had put his trust in Jesus. 

When he started to sink, it wasn’t that he stopped believing in Jesus.  It’s not that he suddenly became plagued by doubt.  It was just that he wasn’t sure if he could keep going.  You see, if he had stopped believing, he would not have called out of Jesus to save him.  He knew that he wasn’t in control, but neither was the storm.  It was Jesus who was in control and it was Jesus who saved him.  “Faint heart, what got into you?”  Who knows what the answer to that question is.  It could have been the waves.  Maybe he suddenly felt the water and it was cold.  Maybe he thought, ok, I am walking on water, now what?

          Have you ever been there?  You are feeling pretty good, like maybe you have just figured this “how to be a grown up thing” and then something happens.  It could be major, it could be just a feeling, a build up of anxiety or worry. Then you think, now what? Where do I go from here?”  Sometimes those moments pass.  Occasionally those moments turn into much longer periods and can be paralyzing.  In those moments, Jesus asks us: Faint heart, what got into you?

          If you have heard enough of my sermons, I hope you will know that I am not the kind of preacher who tries to make Jesus’ words more palatable.  I am always talking about how hard it is to be a Christian. We have to put effort into our relationship with God, just like we have to put effort into any relationship that matters.  There were times that the apostles let Jesus down. There were times he reprimanded him, but it wasn’t in these moments of fear and panic.  It wasn’t when they were putting their faith in him and taking risks.  Those were the moments that Jesus reached out and said, “Do not be afraid…”  A few weeks ago I talked about how the Apostle Paul talks about weakness.  In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, he quotes God as saying, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Jesus encourages us to acknowledge our weakness because it gives us an opportunity to depend more heavily on God.

          There are so many times in life when we forget that God is in charge, when we think we can just put our head down and power through whatever we are facing.  Sometimes it’s when we feel we are at our strongest when we become faint hearted and we forget the one who saves us every single time.  But the good news is that no matter how far you might sink, no matter how bad the storm gets, all you have to do is call out to Jesus.  “Lord, save me.”  Jesus won’t reprimand you. He will pull you up and then ask you, “Faint heart, what got into you?” Again, that’s not a reprimand, it’s an opportunity to remind that you aren’t in control and maybe this is a time to consider where you are in relation to God. As long as you have that connection to God, it doesn’t matter how meager your faith may be…it’s always enough. God’s grace is always sufficient.

God is in the Struggle: August 2, 2026

 Year A, Pentecost 8                            Genesis 32:22-31                                                  

          I once read (and have no way of proving this) that this story from Genesis is one of the most frequently preached stories in all of Genesis.    That is just one book of the Bible, so perhaps that is not very impressive to you.  But Genesis is full of awesome stories.  You have the creation of the world, Adam and Eve, Noah and the Ark, the Tower of Babel, Abraham and Sarah, Joseph and the coat of many colors (they even made that into a musical)… So what is it about this text that attracts so many preachers and commentators?   I cannot speak for every preacher in the world, but there is something mysterious and wild in the text.  We all love a good mystery and this story has a couple mysterious elements.

          The first mystery is who Jacob is wrestling.  It’s so mysterious that most of us do not even realize that it is a mystery.  Most Bibles provide handy subtitles which make it very clear that this is an angel or God, or both.   What we sometimes forget is that subtitles were not in the original text.  Some translator just added them so we could find things more easily.  The text really just says that it is a man.  Many infer that it was God or an angel because Jacob commented at the end, “For I have seen God face to face and yet my life is preserved.”  Because of that, it seems like a safe assumption that Jacob was wrestling God.  However, some struggle with the idea of Jacob wrestling God because it sounds… ridiculous.  Why would God wrestle someone?  And if God did, I don’t think the other person would last very long.  This is God…all powerful God.  What human could possibly contend with that? 

          That brings us to the next mystery: who won?  Some conclude that Jacob won because the mysterious wrestler asked Jacob to let him go and Jacob was in a position to demand a blessing.  If this is true, then it would be really hard to believe that the wrestler was God.  It’s one thing to think that God might wrestle a human, but to lose to a human…that’s just too much.  However, others contend that the stranger won because Jacob walked away with a limp.  Also, the wrestler named Jacob, and naming someone often implies having power over that person.

          Here’s my theory on both mysteries.  Jacob was wrestling God and there was no winner or loser.  That was not what this match was about.   This match was about a couple of things.  We learn something of the character of God.  Our God is a God willing to get down in the dirt with us, to struggle with us in very real and concrete ways.  God is even willing to let us be a part of that struggle.  Sure God could have pinned Jacob in less than a second, but that would not have taught Jacob very much about himself or his relationship with God.

          Let’s consider the context for a moment.  So far in the story of Jacob, he has been a bit of a twerp.  He cheated his brother and lied to his father.  Instead of facing either of them, he ran away.  When he ran, God provided for him, and Jacob agreed to follow the one true God as long as God continued to provide for Jacob.  It was a provisional acceptance.  Jacob found two wives and did pretty well for himself.  He became quite prosperous.  He decided it was finally time to return home, but realized that he would encounter his brother, who was out for blood when he last saw him.  Right before our story for today, Jacob had sent people ahead of him to try to bribe his brother so that his brother might spare him.  It would be a stretch to say that things had been easy for Jacob, but he seemed to consistently come out ahead without  having to sacrifice much.   His relationship with God was one of give and take.  God gave and he took. 

          The wrestling match changed that.  God was no longer at a distance.  God was there trying to wrestle him to the ground.   There was no easy way out.  Even so, Jacob remained true to his nature and demanded a blessing.  God would not give him the blessing until Jacob provided him with not only his name, but his truth.  The name Jacob literally means heel.  When he came out of the womb, he was grasping the heel of his brother Esau.  When Jacob revealed his name to his opponent, he was telling more than his name, he was telling his past which was rather shameful.  God would not allow Jacob to be defined by his past.  This match meant that the sins of the past would no longer define Jacob because God would not just provide a blessing, God provided a new identity.  The name God gave Jacob was Israel, which means, “You have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.”  One commentator summarized that as “scrapper with God.” [1] That sounds a lot better than heel!

          The last sentence of our reading for today is: “The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel limping because of his hip.”  The limp was a result of God dislocating his hip during the all night wrestling match.  It was a small price to pay for a new identity and a more profound understanding of God, but it was still a price.

 I think it’s easy to forget that being a Christian is not an easy path.  It is not the path of least resistance.  We all know that life comes full of struggles.  Those struggles can leave us with physical and emotional scars. Some of those scars are related to our religion.  There are people who have been have been hurt by Churches, church leaders, or even well meaning Christians who are misguided.  That’s an important topic, but not what I am talking about here. 

What I am talking about today are the times when our faith/our belief system means that we have to do the hard thing, or make a sacrifice that other people might not be making.  It might mean we stand up to someone who has said things that are disrespectful or cruel, and we pay a price.  It might mean that we sacrifice some comfort that has insulated us from the pain of our world.   Even coming to church on a Sunday morning is a small sacrifice of your time. Sometimes those hard things we do or experience leave us wounded or extraordinarily weary.  We can resent those wounds or fatigue, or we can consider the way that Jacob’s wrestling match with God left him with a limp, but also renewed commitment to his God and his family. 

We worship a transcendent and all powerful God.  But we also worship a God who was born to a young, poor and unmarried woman and was crucified on a cross with criminals.  We worship a God…we are loved by a God who is willing to get down in the dirt and the grime with us and stay with us, until the struggle is over.  While the struggle is never over in this life, God never leaves us alone in the struggle.

---

[1] Bruggemann p. 427

Strength in Weakness: July 26

 Year A, Pentecost 9                                         Romans 8:26-39                                                                 

I went to a Presbyterian seminary in my early 20s.  I was Roman Catholic at the time and had never once been asked to pray extemporaneously…that means without any preparation. I had been active in a church and college ministry, but that was not something that Catholics did. Presbyterians are much more accustomed to writing their own prayers and often leading prayer without writing it out in advance.  Every week, the women on the 3^rd floor of my dorm would get together for prayer and conversation.  People were called on for opening and closing prayers.  I told them that I wasn’t comfortable with that and asked that they not call on me.  After a few months they said, “Well, can’t you just lead a Catholic prayer that you know?”  We did the Hail Mary, which also felt weird.  I became good at just avoiding it in general.

When I was studying at the Episcopal Seminary I was rarely called on to lead prayer that wasn’t in the prayer book…which meant I didn’t get any practice coming up with my own prayers. At my first clergy conference, the bishop had this fun habit of inviting the newest clergy to lead the prayer before a meal. He asked me and I politely declined…in front of everyone.  There is nothing more terrifying than leading a prayer in front of a bunch of clergy, especially when you are brand new and the youngest one there.  A few years later, one of my colleagues said, “Telling the bishop you wouldn’t pray was one of the craziest things I had ever seen. I didn’t think you would make it to the next clergy conference.”  But here I am, 20 years later.  And you know what…it still makes me nervous when someone asks me to pray out loud….and I am a priest.

          For that reason and at least a few more, I have always loved these words from Paul. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”  Paul was obviously a gifted writer and speaker. If he wasn’t, we wouldn’t still be reading him today.  Yet it would seem, that even he had his moments when he didn’t feel like he could pray.  Maybe it was the times he was imprisoned...or ship wrecked, or beaten.  Those are all possibilities.  Or perhaps, it was those time when he felt that he had to prove himself over and over again, because he wasn’t one of the original apostles. He often felt the need to defend himself as he was one of the few leaders of this very new church who had never even met Jesus when he was still alive. 

It’s impossible to know when it was hardest for him.  I have had times in my life when it was hard, even impossible to pray.  Sometimes when it felt like it should have been hard, the prayer came with ease.  Even as I wrote this sermon, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why sometimes prayer felt impossible, and other times, it flowed like a mighty river, just gushing forth. I share all this because I know a lot of people who perceive that their struggle to pray makes them less of a Christian.  However, I believe that the struggle is what brings us closer to God.  I think the other thing that can bring us closer to God is our ability to acknowledge our weakness and thus our dependence on God.

          Some version of the word “weak” is used 42 times in the New Testament.  32 of those times are in Paul’s letters.  In the Old Testament, weak is only used with negative associations or when talking about the need to help and protect the weak.  What I have always appreciated about Paul is his willingness to acknowledge his own weakness…not as a failure, not even as something that needs to be fixed, but an opportunity to strengthen one’s relationship with God. 

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul talked about a thorn in his flesh…something he begged God to take away from him.  There are a lot of theories about what this thorn might have been, but we really can’t know for sure.  What we know is that it was a thorn that remained his whole life. It was something that he never overcame, never rid himself of.  While God didn’t remove the thorn, God did respond to the prayer. God said “’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” That led Paul to conclude, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

          I am not proud of my refusal to pray out load at my first clergy conference.  My refusal didn’t come from a place of humility or awareness of my weakness.  It came from a place of fear and anxiety…a need that people not judge me on something that I didn’t have time to prepare.  Ironically, about 15 years after that refusal to pray publicly, a friend of mine and I decided to write a book of prayers about our experiences being gravely ill.  Both of us realized that when we were sick and afraid, we couldn’t pray, which was confusing for us because we were both clergy.  You would think if anyone could have figured it out, we could have. 

But it was almost like our training got in the way.  We had forgotten the words of Paul were not just words to preach about, they were words to experience.   We called the book Irreverent Prayers, not because the prayers were actually irreverent, but because the groaning and sighing that we experienced as prayer just didn’t feel reverent or holy.  It felt desperate.  It also felt real, and I think that’s all God really cares about, that our prayers are real and mean something.

          If you are struggling with prayer, then that means you haven’t given up.  If you feel like you can’t find the right words, then that’s when you get to groan or sigh or cry.  If your prayers contain swear words, just don’t say those prayers out loud in a large group. Don’t try to censor yourself before God.  Don’t feel shame for what you want to say or are afraid to say.

Paul wrote, “God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit…” God has already searched our hearts.  God already knows all of us, and God loves us not despite our weakness, but because of our weakness.  Our weaknesses gives God something to work with.

In the Gospels, it was always the proud and the confident that Jesus argued with and was critical of.  It was never the weak and the vulnerable. Jesus never reprimanded someone for genuine questions. The only questions he didn’t like were the ones that were trying to trap or trick him. If you are feeling weak, or afraid, or hopeless—that’s ok.  It’s hard to feel those things, but it doesn’t mean you are not holy or beloved by God.  You were created for holiness and goodness.  Don’t let fear or weakness be a reason to give up. Instead, let it be a reason to invite God into your life in the most authentic way possible.

Weeping and grinding teeth: July 19

Year A, Pentecost 8                                        Matthew 13:24-30,36-43                                         

There are some weeks when you can almost feel the biblical texts.  This week, trying to see through the smoke to the pinkish sun, I felt those words of Paul in his letter to the Romans.  I could feel creation groaning.  When I heard about a 2^nd person killed by Ice officers in one week, I felt my spirit groaning.  There are times when the words of the Bible just cry out to be felt with sighs too deep for words. 

I considered preaching on that text from Romans, but this parable from Matthew is one that is so often misunderstood and manipulated, I didn’t think I could NOT preach on it.  But I still want to name the groaning of our creation.  God hears our wordless groans.  God is begging us not to forget the need to care for the world that God created—once the smoke clears.  It will clear, but the devastation that is being wrecked on our world has not stopped.  We need to  make sure we don’t forget the smoke.

            So why…why is the parable we heard today important? Any time a reading ends with weeping and gnashing of teeth, I feel like it needs to be discussed. I don’t even like reading it out loud.  However, not only is it in our reading for this week, we hear it again next week. 

Our Gospel readings skip around a bit the next two weeks. If you look at the verses listed for our reading for today, you will see that 5 verses are skipped.  Those verses are another parable that will be read next week.   The second set of verses for today is the explanation of the parable.  There are about 40 parables in Matthew, Mark and Luke.  But only a few include explanations. A lot of Biblical scholars believe that Jesus didn’t provide the explanations. Instead, they were added by whoever wrote the Gospel…usually because they felt that was what the people needed to hear at that moment.   The Gospel of Matthew was written about 40-50 years after Jesus died, so the explanation was most likely for the people living in that time, when the church was just being formed. 

            Thus it’s helpful to look at the parable by itself.  Much like last week, we have a story that was meant for farmers, or people who knew enough about farming to make sense of it.  Apparently it was not unusual at this time for people to sabotage one another’s crops by planting bad seeds in the midst of the good seeds. There are a lot of theories about what these seeds were and how bad they really were, but I am not sure that really matters and it’s pretty hot in here. 

When the plants started to grow, those farming the land realized there were weeds in the midst of the good wheat.  Those workers (referred to as slaves in the text) offered to pull up the weeds. The master (the land owner) told them not to.  He told them to let them all grow together and when it’s time to reap the harvest, everything (the good and the bad) will be pulled up and then sorted.  The weeds will be burned. 

            There are two different ways to interpret this parable.  The traditional interpretation relies heavily on the explanation (that was mostly likely added later). That interpretation is that the wheat represents the good people and the weeds are the bad people. The bad people will be punished at the end of the world and the good people will shine like the sun.  That’s an oversimplification, but again, it’s very hot in here.  The other interpretation is that each one of us has good seeds and bad seeds within us.

That interpretation reminded me of an old Cherokee legend—where a man tells his grandson that we all have two wolves within us fighting an epic battle. One is evil – full of rage, jealousy, arrogance, greed...The other is good – filled with love, joy, peace, courage, humility, and faith.  The grandson asked, “Which wolf wins?” His grandfather replied, “The one you feed.”

We all have goodness and evil warring within us.  As Christians, we believe that the good will always win…but it does require some effort on our part.  We can’t let the rage, the jealousy, and the hate dominate our hearts and minds, because then we are just feeding that, allowing that seed to grow and choke out that which is good within us—that which is the good that God planted within us.

            I prefer the interpretation that we have both have these seeds within us and we need to tend our own garden by praying and serving God and God’s people. But even if you are going with the interpretation that it’s about good people and bad people, there is still a ray of hope for those of us who don’t like it when people threaten us with weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Those farming the land asked their master to let them pull the weeds out before everything had finished growing.  The landowner told them not to.  In essence he said, “you can leave the judgment to me.” 

I think this parable isn’t as much about God’s judgment as it is about Jesus not wanting humans to think that we should be the judges of who is evil and who is good.  The landowner in this story knew that it’s not always easy to tell the difference between the good crop and the bad weeds.  Maybe something that looks like a weed might not have grown to its full potential.  That is why the landowner wanted to give the plants time. Our God believes that we can be better.

            The other thing I like about the landowner in this parable is that he doesn’t seem worried that the bad weeds will choke the good crop.  The landowner has faith that the wheat will survive. God knows (as the source of all that is good) that goodness is greater than wickedness—that goodness will always prevail.  That doesn’t mean we can all just sit back and watch as the world appears to burn before us.  But it does mean that instead of pointing fingers and assigning blame to anyone who isn’t us, it means that we should seek out the good, in ourselves and others.  We can even foster the good in others. Sometimes that means holding others accountable.  Sometimes it just means naming the goodness you see in others.  Can you imagine how that could change our world if we started every interaction by naming the goodness of the other?

            We don’t know what is going to happen at the end of the world, and frankly, it’s never helped anyone who has spent too much time focusing on that.  Maybe there will be some weeping and gnashing of teeth.  You know what the Greek word that is translated to gnashing can also mean…grinding? Do you know how many people are already grinding their teeth?  And weeping, I think there has been a lot of that going on.  We are already suffering…so I am not going to worry about the weeping and grinding of teeth.  Because I’ve been there.  We have all been there.  Instead, I’m going to focus on all those good seeds.  As Paul says, “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.”   The glory that is already there—all around us. The smoke will clear and the glory of God will be revealed.

Jesus wasn't sensible: July 12

 

 Year A, Pentecost 5                                          Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23                                                                      

Growing up, my father liked to extol the virtues of two foods—potatoes and peanut butter. He told us a story of a man who lived on a jar of peanut butter for 30 days when lost at sea…so we ate a lot of peanut butter. When he was trying to get my older brothers to eat their potatoes (before a 2^nd helping of steak), he talked about the Irish who survived on nothing but potatoes.  Consequently, when I took a pilgrimage to Ireland about 10 years ago, I found myself intrigued by the stories our guide told about the potato famine that led to mass starvation in Ireland in the mid 19^th century.

Our guide, who was also a farmer, explained that during the potato famine, they had to make the most of the land and they needed as much as possible.  They couldn’t just rely on the good soil; they had to dig the rock out of the terrain that was considered bad soil...so it could become good soil.  He said it required a tremendous amount of work to remove all that rock. It was fascinating to hear the stories while seeing the land that they transformed. 

The people Jesus was talking to were farmers or people who knew farmers.  In this time and this area, everyone knew where their food came from and generally how it happened.  It is likely that the people he was talking to were not well off and were unaccustomed to having more than they needed. Unlike today, they did not have food stored in their pantry or their freezer.   If there was a bad crop or a drought, they would very likely go hungry. 

Because of that scarcity, I suspect that this parable of the sower seemed a little ridiculous to them even though the imagery was familiar.  What kind of farmer wastes ¾ of his seeds?  If you only have so many seeds, why throw some on hardened paths, rocky ground, and ground covered with thorns? According to this parable, there was good soil available. Why not stick with that?  Instead of spreading it all over, put all of the seeds in the good soil. That would be the sensible approach. 

As much as it pains me to admit this, Jesus was rarely about the sensible approach.  Let’s face it, the virgin birth—not sensible, the crucifixion—not sensible, the resurrection—not sensible.  This does not make these things any less real, they were just extraordinary.  Yet this is a parable.  Parables are supposed to make sense.  When Jesus spoke in parables, he told a story that people would have been able to identify with and then used that story to teach a lesson about God.  However, just because it was a simple story, did not necessarily mean it was a simple lesson. 

In fact, often, the lessons were counterintuitive.  If this was a sensible and realistic story, the sower would have carefully spread the seeds where he knew there was good soil.  That means all of the seeds would have had growth potential.  As a result, there would have been an even greater harvest and the seeds would not have been wasted.  And this parable is about results, right?

Perhaps not.  You might note that when Jesus explains the parable he refers to it as the parable of the sower, not the parable of the ground or the parable of the crop.  It’s about the sower; the person who is tossing seeds around with wild abandon.  Jesus explains that the seeds are the word of the kingdom or the word of God.  He never says who the sower is, but if the seeds are the word of God, it would be safe to assume that the sower is Jesus.  It could also be whoever spreads the word of God, which means it could be any one of us.

One of the things I cannot help but wonder about is the amount of seeds.  I mean this sower could not have had an unlimited number of seeds.  At what point did he run out?  If we told this story today, it would be all about how careful we are with what we have.  We might talk about the importance of good stewardship of resources.  In other words, how are we using our limited resources as effectively as possible? Instead of talking about the countless supply of seeds, we might talk about how we could get the most out of every seed.  We would discuss each seed and its chance of success. Then in our modern day version of the story, the careful and practical farmer would develop a machine that would distribute each seed in fertile ground.

But this sower isn’t a farmer and the seed is not something that will run out.  This seed is the word of God. The word of God isn’t just the Biblical text; it’s also the experience of God.  It’s God’s love and grace.  And those things don’t come in packages of 100.  They are countless.  Because of that, Jesus is not worried about wasting because there will always be enough.  

But it’s tempting to be strategic in our faith.  We might talk to some people about faith, but only the people we think will be receptive.  We might invite a couple people to church, but only the people who might say yes.  We take the safe road because we fear rejection and we fear failure.  We also wonder if we are capable of being the fertile ground? How can we share with others when we don’t understand everything as well as we should?

Even Jesus realized that he would only reach a portion of the people he was speaking to.  When he taught this parable, the crowd was so large he had to move out to a boat to address them.  Yet in the end, the crowd that sat at the foot of the cross was one or two people.  The crowd that condemned him to death was countless.  He preached to them even when he knew they would not stay with him to the end.  Even his disciples would abandon him in some shape or form.  Yet he kept giving abundantly.

A lot of people read this parable and say the point is that it’s all about God and how God provides.  We can’t change the soil on our own.  We can only pray that God will change it.  Therefore it is not about how we can become better listeners or disciples.  It’s about a God who is so relentless with the love that God gives even to those who might have trouble receiving it.  I agree with that, to an extent.  This text is about God’s abundant love. 

But I also believe it’s about the soil and how that soil can change.  As followers of Christ, we can change.  Some days we are the hardened path.  Some days we are the rocky ground.  Some days we are the good soil.  We might go back and forth. At times, we might even convince ourselves that we are too far gone, we can’t possibly receive God’s word.  That is when it’s important to remember that this is the parable of the sower.   The sower has already thrown the seed everywhere.  God’s loves has been spread to every crevice of this world.  You might feel like you are rocky ground, but God still shared God’s love.  God didn’t wait for you to be in a good place. The sower knows that every type of soil has potential. 

No matter what kind of soil your soul might be feeling like right now, God has already shared God’s love with you.  God is like those Irish farmers, doing that hard work of digging rocks out of the soil that was once considered totally useless.  Not one of you is too far gone to receive God’s love…not just to receive it, but to help others with their own receptivity to God’s love and compassion.  Because if you have been the hardened path, you know how to talk to other people who are experiencing hardened hearts and thorny spirits.  You are not going to say, “Hey, it’s actually really easy and straightforward.”  You might even say, I know what that’s like, and I am still trying to figure it out.  Let’s figure it out together.

What makes us revolutionary: June 28

Year A, Independence Day Readings                                                  Matthew 5:43-48                              

                The readings you heard today are the assigned readings for Independence Day.  As many of you know, we are celebrating Independence Day two consecutive Sundays as we were not sure what the surrounding streets would be like on July 5^th.  On the first page of our service leaflet is an excerpt from our vestry minutes on July 4^th 1776.  The vestry is the leadership body of the church and they work with the clergy.  This vestry realized that their prayers for the King of England and his family might not be very popular in Philadelphia in 1776. On the one hand, crossing out the names of the King and the royal family was an act of courage as it fundamentally changed who we were as a church.  We were the Church of England. It was also an act of self-preservation.  If they had continued to pray for the King of England when we were at war with England, there is a good chance they would have had to shut down the church and the clergy would have been forced to return to England.

            Yet what is interesting to me is how our Gospel for today pairs with this action, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven…”  I wonder if the rector at the time, Jacob Duche, thought about these words of Jesus.  We know that he was ambivalent about the war and especially the decision to declare independence. He acknowledged that England had not treated the colonies fairly, but he hoped this revolution would give us a place from  which to negotiate a better relationship, not create a new nation 

He undoubtedly knew this Gospel reading and knew Jesus asked his followers to pray for those who persecute them.  However, given the extraordinary tension that our new nation was experiencing, quoting these words of Jesus might not have been well received.  People would have said, well we are not supposed to pray for this enemy…this is not the enemy Jesus was talking about. 

In my last church, the tradition was to pray for the president, governor and the mayor by name every Sunday.  After Trump was elected, I had one person who was leading the prayers refuse to pray for him. I had to say, I understand you have a passionate dislike for this president, but Jesus did cover this very thing when he told us to not only pray for our enemies but to love to them.  You want to guess how they handled that perfectly reasonable and scripturally accurate argument? Not great. She said, “I can’t do it.”  I understood and didn’t try to convince her, but she took a break from leading the prayers because it would have set a bad precedent to have people only pray for the leader they voted for.

            That’s the thing about Jesus’ words…I bet not one of you shuddered when you heard them today. But when we have to put them into practice…it gets a lot harder.  One argument I have made in the past about praying for people who we disapprove of is, “Look, I get that this is hard, but you can at least pray that God changes their heart.”  But just this week, I was reading a commentary that said that praying for your enemy to change isn’t what Jesus was talking about. Now you might be thinking, how do we know that’s not what Jesus was talking about? Let’s look at the context… “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven…”  

Jesus doesn’t tell us to love our enemies because that is his grand plan for changing the world or even changing the people of the world.  He tells us to do that so that we can be children of God.  In Jewish thought, referring to someone as a child of another is to show that person shares the quality or nature of the person they are a child of.  To be a child of God is to share the qualities of God. Jesus was saying that to be a child of God, be like God, we have to love the person as God would love the person.

            That sounds like a tall order. How can we possibly see our enemies as God sees them?  One way is to acknowledge that we share something with them…we share a common humanity.  We were all children once who desperately wanted to be loved and to love without condition or qualifier. When we were children, we didn’t care what race a person was.  We didn’t care who they voted for. It wasn’t until Joshua was 5 when his friends looked confused when they saw his parents were not his own race.  Before that, they didn’t even notice.  I remember Joshua’s best friend being shocked at the realization that he was adopted.   At some point, we learn to focus on the differences and not what we have in common. We need to remember how we saw the world as children and how the world saw us. 

The other way we love our enemies is by reminding ourselves of the way that God loves us.  Even in our worst and darkest moment, God is looking at us (maybe with a slightly concerned expression) saying, “That kid is mine.”   In loving our enemies, it helps to acknowledge our own sinfulness. Now usually the place I go to (in my own mind,  not a sermon) after I have acknowledged my own sinfulness is then jumping to, “But I am still not as bad as that person …” That is where we need to stop ourselves. That is where we need to realize that we are doing the one thing we can’t stand…we are judging someone else. 

            Loving and praying for our enemy doesn’t mean we can’t hold them accountable for their actions.  We can and we should.  We should do our best to shine the light on injustice, cruelty and greed.   Yet we can find ways to do that while acknowledging our own complicity, our own failures. That is why I think the confession is such an important part of our worship.  It’s a reminder that we have all fallen short in some way but we are just one prayer away from forgiveness. 

The end of the confession reads, “For the sake of your son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways…” Walk in your ways…that is how we come closer to the character and nature of God. That is what confession of our own sin gives us…an opportunity to be a little more like Jesus.  That also allows us to love ourselves without those self deprecating comments that always seem to hover around us, lest we love ourselves too much.

If we can look at ourselves with honesty and understand that God loves every part of us (even the parts that it pains us to see)…then we can come a little closer to a place where we are loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us. Remember, prayer isn’t about changing God’s mind, or another person’s mind, it’s about changing ourselves…coming closer to God.  If we pray for someone, we can’t help but be a little more open and understanding.

            We are all familiar with the idea of empathy.  Some people have said that empathy is a bad thing because it makes people ignore the teachings of their faith or their values. Others have responded to that accusation with horror.  But even those who are most passionate about empathy don’t often extend it to those who they consider cruel or corrupt.  They assume it is there only for those who are vulnerable and suffering.  But imagine if there were just small factions of divided groups who tried to listen to the other side, really empathize with them...that could change the conversation. It might even change the way we govern.

            Whenever someone references Christ Church’s revolutionary spirit, I always want to ask them, “What do you mean by that.” I think they mean Christ Church was brave and bold, willing to throw off the tyranny of the British.  But during the revolution, we were just trying to keep our doors open, trying to keep people who were on opposite sides still worshipping together. Maybe that is what made us truly revolutionary, an ability to stand in the midst of violence and chaos and remain open to the idea that people of different sides of an actual war can still worship together. They might not have been praying for the leader of the actual enemy, but I hope they were still praying for one another, still acknowledging that they were all children of God.  Maybe that is what actually makes us revolutionary, an openness (and perhaps even a love) for the other.

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