About Me

My photo
Valencia, California
Studying scripture and preaching the Word to draw us into deeper understanding and more faithful discipleship.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Whose Will Was It Anyway?



Matthew 2:13-18
New International Version (NIV)
The Escape to Egypt
13 When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”
14 So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, 15 where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”[a]
16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. 17 Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
18 “A voice is heard in Ramah,
    weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
    and refusing to be comforted,
    because they are no more.”[
b]

This passage is an interesting one.  It’s a familiar story to us, one we hear often on the heels of Christmas.  In many ways, it’s a story we celebrate in that God intervened and Jesus was spared.  It’s a story that echoes the story of Israel in many ways.  We hear familiar themes from Israel’s story.  1) Israel being called out of Egypt. 2) A power hungry, angry leader, killing Jewish boys, and 3) prophesies fulfilled. 
                But we can also hear something different in this passage.  We can hear that God spoke to Joseph, or we can hear that God didn’t speak to the other parents, the ones whose sons were killed by Herod.  We can hear a lack of action on God’s part and wonder how God could be so cruel.  We can wonder how God could be so silent. And that challenges much of what we believe about God. It challenges God’s omnipotence. If God can do anything, why did God do nothing?  And it challenges God’s benevolence and inclusivity.  If God loves everyone, how could these be neglected?
                To sort through all that I think we have to look at some of the problems or issues that arise in the passage, or at least how we read the passage.  Yes, I did just say there are problems in the passage.  Don’t get me wrong. I love the Word of God. I trust the Word of God. I do my best to live by the Word of God.  I also know that we have to be attentive when we read it and look at who wrote it and who they expected to read it and how that influenced what was included and what was left out. 
                Let’s start with the simpler issues, at least in my mind.  The first thing that influences how this gospel was written is context.  The Gospel of Matthew is the account of Jesus’ life that was directed at the Jews to help them see Jesus as Messiah and as the fulfillment of God’s promises in the Old Testament.  As such it has Old Testament scriptures throughout the Gospel. In a way those references help tie the Jews into Jesus’ story and ministry.  It forms multiple places of connections where the Israelites can come to see themselves in Christ’s story of salvation and redemption.  In this particular section of Matthew, we find the resonances and reminders of Israel’s story in Egypt, one of persecution, grief, and ultimate freedom.  We also have 2 specific references from two different prophets.  The first scripture comes from the book of Hosea and it says, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”  Matthew makes it seem like, “that’s why Jesus had to flee to Egypt, so he could be called out of Egypt, just like the scripture/prophet said.”  But Hosea wasn’t foretelling an event.  Hosea was reminding Israel of what God had ALREADY done.  Hosea was retelling the story of the Exodus.  This wasn’t a story to provoke expectation, it was one to provoke thanksgiving and gratitude.  Sure, it resonates with Jesus’ story too, but Hosea didn’t write it to prove that Jesus was the son God called out of Egypt, instead, Matthew uses it to create a place of connection between Jesus and the Israelites.  He wants to show their story in him and his story in theirs. 
                The second scripture Matthew pulls from the Hebrew Bible for this passage comes from Jeremiah chapter 31 and says, “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”  When you hear these words in the context of this story of the massacre, what does it make you think? (That it was supposed to happen so there could be weeping and the scripture would be fulfilled) but the thing is, if we read the whole of Jeremiah 31, or at least more than just this verse, we get an entirely different picture of God.  Listen to these words from the prophet Jeremiah:

Jeremiah 31

New International Version (NIV)
31 “At that time,” declares the Lord, “I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they will be my people.”
This is what the Lord says:
“The people who survive the sword
    will find favor in the wilderness;
    I will come to give rest to Israel.”
The Lord appeared to us in the past,[a] saying:
“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
    I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
I will build you up again,
    and you, Virgin Israel, will be rebuilt.
Again you will take up your timbrels
    and go out to dance with the joyful.
Again you will plant vineyards
    on the hills of Samaria;
the farmers will plant them
    and enjoy their fruit.
There will be a day when watchmen cry out
    on the hills of Ephraim,
‘Come, let us go up to Zion,
    to the Lord our God.’”
This is what the Lord says:
“Sing with joy for Jacob;
    shout for the foremost of the nations.
Make your praises heard, and say,
    Lord, save your people,
    the remnant of Israel.’
See, I will bring them from the land of the north
    and gather them from the ends of the earth.
Among them will be the blind and the lame,
    expectant mothers and women in labor;
    a great throng will return.
They will come with weeping;
    they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
    on a level path where they will not stumble,
because I am Israel’s father,
    and Ephraim is my firstborn son.
10 “Hear the word of the Lord, you nations;
    proclaim it in distant coastlands:
‘He who scattered Israel will gather them
    and will watch over his flock like a shepherd.’
11 For the Lord will deliver Jacob
    and redeem them from the hand of those stronger than they.
12 They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
    they will rejoice in the bounty of the Lord
the grain, the new wine and the olive oil,
    the young of the flocks and herds.
They will be like a well-watered garden,
    and they will sorrow no more.
13 Then young women will dance and be glad,
    young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
    I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.
14 I will satisfy the priests with abundance,

    and my people will be filled with my bounty,”
declares the Lord.
15 This is what the Lord says:
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
    mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
    and refusing to be comforted,
    because they are no more.”
16 This is what the Lord says:
“Restrain your voice from weeping
    and your eyes from tears,
for your work will be rewarded,”
declares the Lord.
    “They will return from the land of the enemy.
17 So there is hope for your descendants,”
declares the Lord.
    “Your children will return to their own land.

Jeremiah’s words are meant to be a promise of hope from God. They are joyful. They are hopeful. They are filled with light and celebration.  The line that Matthew pulls for his gospel isn’t the heart of the prophet’s message, instead, the prophet is pointing out, to all you who mourn, stop, there’s no need, God is at work, God is doing great things.  There is hope for you, for your children, and your grandchildren to come.  There’s no need for mourning.  And we know that scripture, at least that part of it doesn’t seem to fit here either. All these parents had their sons murdered and God says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”  No, that’s not who God is.  I think in this passage, maybe, Matthew got a little over zealous.  He wants to show connections to the Hebrew Bible, but sometimes his scripture choices are a little narrow. He picks the ones that work for him, just the one liners, but isn’t addressing the whole of scripture.  That’s fair, we all do it, we’ve used a scripture or two to prove our point without worrying too much about how it fit with the larger message.  We won’t throw out the Gospel because of it, but we should read with caution. We should know that there’s this issue before we read this passage about Herod killing baby boys and think God was somehow satisfied by it or allowed it to happen so some other ancient scripture could be fulfilled. 
Now, I said earlier those are the simple problems.  The problems with context and eisegesis (using scripture to prove our point rather than reading scripture so it might tell us its message). But even without those issues, this passage gives us pause.  At the very least we think we have two additional, more major, issues. 
1)      God allowed Herod to do this. 
2)     God spoke to Joseph in the dream, but not to the other parents. 
Alright, so, one by one, let’s take a look.  First, “God allowed Herod to do this.”  How many of us think this is part of what took place?  God, in essence, gave permission by not stopping the events.  That means God allowed it. Right?  We have a similar theology (this deals with God’s omnipotence) when it comes to our own tragic circumstances, right?  Something awful happens and we think one of two things, 1) why did God do this to me?  Or 2) how could God allow this to happen?  This is our question. This is our struggle. But I think we need to be very careful about allowing this to be our theology.  Because to think that God controls EVERYTHING in a way that all that happens to us is inflicted by or actively allowed by God negates one very important factor: FREE WILL.  God may be all powerful, but God certainly does not use all that power.  God gave away a good chunk of God’s power when God gave us free will.  You and I have the power to choose. We can choose good and we can choose evil.  We can choose God’s path or we can choose another path.  God isn’t dictating those choices.  Think about it.  If you go out tonight and get drunk and go home with someone other than your spouse, did God choose that affair or did you?  And certainly, you could argue that God “allowed” it, but really only in as much as God allowed you the right to choose your own path. 
Herod chose his own path.  Herod chose greed, pride, power, and fear.  Herod chose to kill these boys, and his wife, and his brother, and his son.  Herod chose a lot of evil.  Not God.  Herod.  Herod chose to do those things.  If he had wanted God’s will to be done, then he would have had to seek out God’s will. He would have had to listen for God’s leading and been obedient to that instruction.  Herod wasn’t a godly man. He didn’t care what God wanted, he cared about his own power.  And it’s hard for God’s will to be done when people stand in the way.  Our choices of sinfulness negate God’s will all the time.  And then we fault God for the consequences, when we didn’t even ask God for guidance in the first place.  I don’t think Herod killing the boys is a problem with God, I think it’s a problem with Herod.  And we should think twice before assigning the blame to God. 
So now, we come to our final problem in this passage.  God spoke to Joseph but didn’t warn the other parents.  This issue is definitely harder to explain.  It doesn’t have a clean cut resolution.  Nevertheless, there is some perspective to be found.  First off, this is the story of Jesus’ life.  That means it has the events that are most relevant to him and his story, not necessarily the other relevant details.  Meaning, I doubt Matthew sought out the stories of the parents who lost their boys, it wasn’t their story he was trying to tell.  So we don’t fully know if someone heard God’s voice and fled or hid. Or if someone heard God’s voice and ignored it, or if someone never did hear God’s voice.  I think all of those things are possible, but that’s not the story being told.  So we won’t find those details in the gospel.  We only find Joseph’s story.  But even without those other voices, we can question and wonder a little.  Is it possible God spoke to other parents warning them of the impending danger?  Is it possible they too left, or found somewhere to hide?  We’re ok with that, right?  It still fits with a good and merciful God.  So then the second type of parent, the ones who heard God’s leading and ignored it.  Can we believe that might have happened?  Can we call to mind times in our own lives when we’ve heard God’s voice, or felt nudged to do something, only to have ignored it and realized later that was God speaking to us?  Then we can see how God tried, and free will, someone choice to listen and be obedient stood in the way.  And then we have the third scenario. The one where God was silent.  This is the one that could keep us up at night. This is the one that could provoke us to walk away from God if this is how God really is.  And it’s in those instances that it’s invaluable for us to take a look at who God is in the whole of scripture to see if we are seeing things as they are.  I mean, we believe God to be consistent and reliable, right?  So if God is consistent and reliable, then it stands to reason that God would be of the same or similar character throughout the scriptures.  Who do we know God to be?  Merciful? Compassionate? Caring?  I believe God is merciful, compassionate and caring. 

                                                                                                                                                 


Sunday, February 2, 2014

Jesus Did What?!



Scripture: Mark 7:24-30

Let’s just start by saying this was not one of Jesus’ better days.  This passage really is as bothersome as it seems to be. Jesus was rude to this woman.  He addressed her with a bias and prejudice we don’t experience from Jesus anywhere else in the scriptures.  For that alone, we either want to ignore this passage or explain it away somehow.  But today, we’re not doing either of those things.  We are starting a new sermon series based on the theme, “Our God Did What?!” We are going to take some of the scriptures that challenge our most central beliefs about God head on.  So, here we start with a passage that highlights the more human part of Christ.  Let’s walk through this passage and see what we find.
·         Jesus is heading to Tyre, which is northwest of Galilee (north, north west of Jerusalem if that’s where your mental map takes you). Tyre is known as a region of Gentiles, non-Jews—and probably would have been avoided by faithful Jews.  Jesus heads to Tyre, and at least initially is not trying to be with the people.  The scripture tells us, he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. 
·         He went into a house hoping he was undetected. I can imagine him tired, weary, people’d out, and ready for some “me” time.  (now, I’m not sure how you go into a stranger’s house in a strange land not expecting to be noticed, but I think we have to chalk that up to just one of those things)
·         BUT he WAS noticed. And this unnamed woman, desperate to find help for her daughter, sought him out, disrupted his “me-time” and pleaded her daughter’s case
·         I think there are a handful of things worthy of note about this woman
o   The scripture underscores that she is a Greek Syrophoenician, most likely meaning her ancestors, or maybe she herself, were from the southern parts of modern Syrian, and her religious and linguistic heritage was Greek. 
o   She bows at Jesus’ feet when she addresses him. This is an act of reverence, usually reserved for gods and kings.  This suggests she believed him to be more than just another magician or healer. Also of note, up to this point in the book of Mark, only powers and principalities (meaning spirits and demons) have recognized the Lordship of Christ, which doesn’t mean she was a demon, instead it makes her the first human to recognize him as such.
o   She begs Jesus to heal her daughter.  She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t suggest. She doesn’t request.  She BEGS him. 
o   This woman is humbled and convicted that her daughter needs healing and this man can do it. She begs him for help.
·         And then, in a way that is completely counter to what we expect from Christ, he says, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  Do what?!  That’ll make you do a double take.  Jesus, the one who teaches us to love and be compassionate and care equally for others has this ugly racial slur just fall right out of his mouth. 
·         To which the woman replies, “Lord, even the dogs under the table get the children’s crumbs.” 
Wow! That’s a stunning moment.  For those unfamiliar with Christ, they might be stunned by the moment he touched a leper or not running away when he knew he would be betrayed, or staying quiet in in the face of Pilate’s accusations.  To someone unfamiliar with Jesus’ life and works, these moments are stunning.  But to us, those who clamor for the love and acceptance of Jesus, this passage is shocking.  And it can become impossibly hard to wrap our minds around.
Fortunately, it ends with some kind of redemption. Jesus says, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.”  Thank goodness he wasn’t a total jerk.  I mean, he had us going for a moment there. At least he healed the girl, right?!   
This moment is stunning. This glimpse at the life of Jesus is shocking.  It’s no wonder Luke didn’t include it in his Gospel—you know the one about reaching out and helping all no matter what stands against you. If I were Luke, I would have left it out too.  This does not look good for Jesus.  But it’s here, in both Mark and Matthew. It was place there and left there for a reason and I don’t think it’s there to provoke us.  So what does it teach us?  What relevance does it have? How do we make sense of it? 
At the very least, it reminds us that Jesus was human.  Yes, we call him perfect, but we must not fully understand what that means, otherwise, based on this, he would be excluded.  If we hold to the claim that Jesus was perfect, then we have to understand that being perfect allows us to get angry, to get frustrated, to get worn down, and to be influenced by the culture that surrounds us.  To be perfect, as Christ is perfect, does not preclude these things.  Now, certainly, we are not promoting racism or prejudice.  To be clear and to be fair, Jesus didn’t create this idea, or promote it to others. But he did absorb it and somewhere in him, knowingly or not, he bought into it. 
Jesus’ challenge with racist notions should teach us something about our own. The reality is, we all hold racist beliefs.  Some we can name and some we can’t. Some have been subtly woven into our psyche by news broadcasts, literature, and media and others are overt and ugly and have been spoken freely by people we know and love.  Either way, the ideas are still racist.   That doesn’t make us bigots or full of hate. It makes us human, just as Jesus was human.  We are influenced by our culture and our culture is biased.  Please don’t be insulted. I’m not trying to offend anyone.  I’m trying to help us all take an honest inventory in light of this passage.  Some of our racist notions are innocuous, but just because they don’t hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t prejudiced.  Let me give you an example.  My senior year in seminary, my friend Shively and I went to the movies together.  And, so the scene is clear, Shively is African American and I’m white.  So, we went to the movie and got out late.  It was winter and cold. We got in her car to go home and I was still chilled, so I cranked the heat. She looked at me and asked what I was doing. I said, “I’m turning on the heat, I’m cold.” She replied, “You’re white! White people don’t get cold!” “What?! What do you mean white people don’t get cold?!”  She said, “If you go to their houses, it’s always cold inside. White people don’t get cold!”  So I replied, “Well, I’m white and I’m cold, so I’m turning on the heat!”   Shively’s belief wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t hateful.  It didn’t undermine me or diminish my personhood. But it was still prejudiced.  She had a set of beliefs about an entire race of people based on some limited experience of a few white families who kept their houses cold.  It was harmless, but it was still a bias that needed to be challenged, if only for the practice of challenging the “norms” we hold that are based on prejudice, injustice or discrimination. 
But then there are other beliefs, beliefs that are so laced with hate that we are ashamed or angered just to have them mentioned.  For the sake of being honest and transparent, let me share another example.  To be clear, I am not proud of this example.  It is shameful to me that I allowed such ugliness to corrode my thinking and I have worked hard to push back against it.  As background, I grew up in a small, rural town.  The main people group was whites, followed by Native Americans, and then Latinos.  The number of Asian, black, and “other” families could be counted on your fingers.  So, when I moved to UCLA to go to school, there was a bit of a culture shock.  I wasn’t raised to hate, but in classes that devoted themselves to unearthing prejudice and tearing down white privilege I learned a lot about the beliefs I held without even knowing it.  One such belief was that I was at risk of being attacked by a black man when I went to my car at night.  I didn’t think it or say it out loud. It wasn’t that kind of belief.  Instead, it was a subtle belief, one that made me walk with more caution, or hold my purse closer, or look over my shoulder if I passed a black man on the street, behaviors and rituals I did not do if the man was white.  Once I became aware of what I was doing, and the ways I reacted to men with dark skin that I didn’t react to men with light skin, I had to question my motives. I had to question why on earth I would react in such a way when I had never been hurt or assaulted by ANY man, let alone a black man.  And then I learned the statistics, I learned that I was no more likely to be attacked by a black man than a white man, statistically, the crime rates are comparable.  Do you know what’s different?  Black men are in the news more, and they are jailed more.  But they aren’t more guilty.  Statistically speaking, I was no more likely to be hurt by a black man than by a white man. And that meant 1 of two things either a) I had to be on guard as much for white men as I was for black men, or b) I had to relax around black men as I did around white men.  For me to fight the prejudice, I had to be cognizant of my actions and treat all men equally, one way or the other.  And I chose to live without fear.  I worked hard to relax regardless and only do what was appropriate and safe regardless of whether I was passing a man or a woman, a black man or a white man. 
Prejudice and racism prevent us from seeing people as people.  Prejudice allows us, encourages us even, to label groups of people based on limited information or experience of a few.  We label entire groups as dangerous, others as lazy, others as pretentious, and others as super smart.  But no behavior applies universally to a group. People are varied and different and unique. Each one is created and loved by God regardless of their skin color, or what city they grew up in, or what language they speak, or their immigration status, or their sexual orientation.  Each person is a person and must be understood as an individual.
I believe the Syrophoenician woman reminded Jesus of that.  She didn’t read him the riot act. She didn’t call him on the carpet. In some ways her “argument” was no argument at all. Listen to it again. Jesus says, “It is not fair to take what belongs to the children and throw it to the dogs.”  And she replies, “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs get the crumbs that fall on the floor.”  She didn’t argue for a place at the table. She didn’t try to convince him she was equal to the Jews. She didn’t fight.  All she said was, “even the dogs get the scraps.” 
Hardly a witty retort or a winning argument. She didn’t fight.  But she won. The power and truth of her message challenged the injustice of Jesus’ belief.  He was forced to take inventory. He was forced to see how unfair it was to help one and not the other.  He was forced to let go of a culturally informed bias for the sake of this woman and her daughter.  And he did something even more incredible—he healed the daughter from a distance.  No spit and mud.  No laying on of hands. No touching of his robes.  Instead of display of power, a miracle even greater than those done for “the children”, and all of it offered to an outsider, to one of “them.”  He righted the inequality of his bias by pulling her in and blessing her as an equal. 
Jesus was human.  He fought the worst of what we fight in our humanity: loneliness, rejection, betrayal, and prejudice. And he overcame. He didn’t allow narrowly informed prejudices to define his compassion and mercy.  And I believe we are called to do the same.  We can’t negate the presence of such bias—it’s inherent to cultures everywhere. But we can allow ourselves to be challenged by the truth, to see and value people in their individuality, and to not let those prejudices limit the compassion and mercy we offer those around us.

Let us pray.