Luke 8: Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the realm of God. The twelve were with him, s well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for the disciples out of their own resources.
Luke 24: On the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, and when they went in, they did not find the body. They were perplexed about this, and suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’ Then they remembered his words; and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to the apostles an idle tale, and they did not believe the women. Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.
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In the first of the CS Lewis stories, “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”, Aslan the lion lies dead, and the two girls - Susan and Lucy Pevensie - are the only ones to be there with him as he dies. They stay, much longer than they should, and just as they are leaving, the stone table cracks in two - and when they turn around, Aslan is gone. We learn that the deepest of deep magic is love, the love of someone who will freely give up life if it will save the lives of friends. Of course, they can no longer find Aslan in that place. Yet when they find Aslan again, the world of Narnia is undergoing a recreation, and coming of new life, sweeping away the old.
The story throughout this weekend has made a point that the people who stayed with Jesus to the end were the women, and in every one of the stories, consistently, it’s Mary Magdalene who is there. It’s Mary Magdalene who stands near the cross with Jesus’ mother, and it’s Mary who is the one who goes to the tomb. In Matthew’s Gospel there are two women, in Mark’s there are three, in John there are four, and in Luke there are several. Of them all, Mary Magdalene is considered to be the first believer and the first disciple of Jesus, even before the men.
It is the women who remain with Jesus right to the end, and the women who are first at the grave. It is the two girls - Susan and Lucy - who remain with Aslan, and are there at the time of his resurrection.
I heard the comment this week that Luke’s Gospel was patronising and put women down. Yet I can’t help but think again of the opening passage of Luke - that he was writing down to the best of his ability the events as they had been told to him. I don’t think Luke patronises the women at all, I think the men get the brunt of it - the women come back with a story of an empty tomb, and the men dismiss it as an idle tale - although Peter still has to go have a look, and *then* the rest of the men accept it.
In one way or another, the Gospel writers have all focussed on the women, on Jesus’ willingness to treat women as people, as equals, not property as in Jewish law. So the very first recognition of resurrection is through a woman, the first words of new life are to a woman, Mary Magdalene. ...and in the end, Mary was able to turn the minds and hearts of all of them to the good, and bring them together as a group once more.
I have a question for the women of the congregation. Have you ever had the experience of going in to an automobile repair shop or dealership, and explained what was wrong with the car, and been completely patronised? And then go back in with your partner, and find the mechanics take it seriously right away?
I remember being very ill, shortly after Norio and I arrived in Michigan. I was excessively tired every day, hair loss, muscle and joint pain. I went to see a doctor, who said I was “just depressed” and needed something to “boost my mood”. Norio was so angry he came to the next appointment - and it was almost humorous how fast the doctor suddenly took it seriously, asked questions about my life, children, job, etc - and decided I was burned out and needed six months rest.
According to Luke’s telling, not only did Jesus have women disciples, he had travelling women disciples. You can imagine the headline in the Galilean Gazette— ‘Radical rabbi on the road again with women and men he is not related to—- Oyveh! News at Eleven’. Jewish men were not supposed to study with, fraternize with, or travel with women they were not somehow related to, and yet in Luke 8.1-3 we see Jesus on the road with a significant group of women, as well as the Twelve men. In fact we hear that they travelled with Jesus to that last fateful Passover festival in Jerusalem. When they got there, it was the women, not the Twelve who were last at the cross, first at the empty tomb, first to see the risen Jesus, and first to proclaim ‘he is risen’. Miryam of Migdal is at the forefront of this story. In a patriarchal culture, a man’s man’s world like first century Judaism, in which the witness of women was consider suspect, and not necessarily valid in court, you don’t make up a story like we find in Luke, about these women, if you are trying to start a world religion involving both men and women. The prominent role of women in the Easter story is a sure sign of its authenticity.
In this story today, the women - a good crowd of them, by the sound of it - all come back from the tomb having seen two messengers - angels - in dazzling white robes and hearing the message that Jesus is no longer there, but is risen. The women believe; the men dismiss it as an idle tale, until Peter goes to have a look, and then suddenly it’s a story worth re-telling. Their reaction is so contrary to the way Jesus treated women, that it sticks right out like a sore thumb. Would Jesus have dismissed them so quickly? Funny how even in the midst of such grief, old prejudices still have a role. It’s almost as if they learned nothing from Jesus.
Mary Magdalene was restored to wholeness of spirit by Jesus, Maryam, the woman from Migdal, or Magdala, was the first disciple and the one who remains by Jesus. Joanna, the wife of Herod Antipas’s steward, Chuza. Chuza would have been the chief financial officer of the tetrarchy, a very powerful position indeed. Mary, the mother of James and Joseph, is the third one mentioned by Luke, and Matthew tells us of the mother of the sons of Zebedee.
When the men fled on Good Friday, the woman witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion. Their desire to properly prepare Jesus body for burial on Easter morning made them the first to recognize that Jesus had risen.
The Gospels give us a glimpse into the nature of Jesus’ followers. Rather than being limited to twelve disciples (from the point of view of being pupils of a rabbi), Jesus’ entourage includes unsung heros whose contribution has been undervalued. The Easter accounts help to correct this picture, particularly with respect to the women who followed him.
I believe that this whole story is a confirmation of the text from Isaiah 65 - that a new heaven and a new earth are being created. The inclusion of women is a piece of the picture - a piece close to the nature of Jesus. The women are there when the new creation begins.
“Why are you here? Whom do you seek?” ask the angels. “For I am about to create a new thing’, says God in Isaiah “Look, do you not see it?” Here is the new creation at its beginning, a new way of being in which women are as equally valued as men, regardless of who they may be. Women who otherwise would have been discriminated against because of their lives or their histories. The old earth passes away, and a new one is created.
So when we come to this tomb, we are also coming straight to the risen Jesus who has yet another tough message for us. This is the coming of a new creation, a new realm, in which God and humans are co-creators. What is it that the risen Jesus is saying to you this morning? Could it be, don’t cling to the Jesus of the past, don’t cling to the church of the past? Could it be “Look, I am about to begin on this new thing. I warned you it was coming, didn’t I? Well, here we go.
The message of the two angels, and Jesus, is not about getting back to the good old days, but about going forward into a bright future. The future is as bright as the promises of God— and what the resurrection of Jesus promises is that this new thing has begun, and the love of God goes on. Jesus is risen - and in that act, all manner of things are possible for this church and for God’s world. In the rising of Jesus we are offered a chance to work at something new and completely unfamiliar - and it’s the women around Jesus who lead the way. Amen.
Sources:
1. Mary, Mary Extraordinary - an Easter Sermon, author anon.
2. Women at the Tomb, an Easter sermon from Rev. Fran Ota.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
The Political World of Jesus: Palms, Parades and Persecutions March 24, 2013 Palm Sunday, Humber United Church
The Book of Luke tells us that some leading priests and teachers of religious law were planning to get rid of Jesus, but didn’t have a good excuse. Jesus argued religious law and theology with them, but that in itself wasn’t enough.. If we take today’s story at face value, it looks as if Jesus predicts everything which will come. More likely, Luke leaves out the obvious; Jerusalem was always crowded at Passover, so no one left anything to chance. They made arrangements well in advance, especially if they wanted a room big enough to hold a lot of people and serve a meal.
I think in order to grasp Jesus’ death, we have to look at him as both a religious and a political figure. His actions and statements got him killed; he criticised Herod, he criticised the entire political structure, he criticised the collusion between the religious leaders and the Romans. I don’t think it was something he knew in advance, but there was a point in ministry when he did know what would happen if he continued doing what he was doing. He saw what had happened to John and his followers.
Jesus was born in the time of Herod the Great, who lived from 73/74 BC – 4 BC in Jericho, and was considered a madman who murdered anyone he considered a threat. He is known for building projects including expansion of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, and construction of the port at Caesarea Maritima. When he died, a very young Jesus and his parents returned to Nazareth, only to find violent insurrections brewing in Galilee. Jesus’ whole political world was in turmoil because of the insurrectionists and the Roman oppression.
Herod's son, Archelaus was made the ethnarch of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea from 4 BC to 6 AD, referred to as the tetrarchy of Judea. Archelaus was judged incompetent by the Roman Emperor Augustus, who then combined Samaria, Judea proper and Idumea into Iudaea province under the rule of a prefect - Pontius Pilate. Herod Antipas the other son, was petrarch of tiny Galilee from 4 BC–39 AD. - petrarch being about a fourth of a Monarch - not a huge honour.
Antipas wanting to ingratiate himself with the new emperor, decides to build a new city on the Sea of Galilee, call it Tiberias, and make it the capital instead of Sepphoris - and he was going to commercialise the whole fishing industry to fund the building of the city. For the Jews around the shores, it became a clear moral, ethical and religious issue..
The city of Magdala, located on the western shore, was a huge fishing port and a key piece of the local economy. Herod was taking livelihood away from his own people in order to have the Tiberias consider him good enough to be - if not a Monarch, at least a Tetrarch.
John and Jesus both came from a very small corner of Galilee, along the coast. The basis for their dissatisfaction is Herod Antipas, a Jew, selling out the livelihood of a whole people to further a personal agenda. Jewish theology was based in one thing - that the earth belonged to God, and everything in it “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof.” So if the earth belonged to God, did not also the water and everything in it belong to God. It wasn’t a commodity to be bought and sold, but a trust given by God. So the people around the Sea of Galilee found themselves not only oppressed and taxed by the Romans, but also oppressed and taxed by their own religious leaders, and their livelihoods threatened.
John preached an end-time of apocalyptic proportions - and by apocalyptic I don’t mean the end of the whole world in earthquakes and fire, but rather God coming to clean up the whole mess - sending a Messiah who would take control and use the power of God to eliminate the Romans and bring the world back to its right state. John’s plan was to march to the Jordan, in a sacramental re-enactment of the Exodus from Egypt, and he preached retributive justice, the retribution of God for the sins of the people. John’s God was one of violence.
The Jesus movement, on the other hand, was a non-violent peaceful resistance to oppression. Jesus learned a lot from watching John about how and when to say things. Where John preached an end-time of retribution, Jesus preached an end-time of collaboration in the creation of something new. The God of Jesus was a God of distributive justice, the people collaborating with God, to return the world to its right state.
In order to make this point of dsitributive justice, Jesus rubbed elbows with untouchables, healed on the Sabbath, freed people from the spiritual oppression of the leaders, and helped them to see injustices even at the hands of their own leaders. We have Jesus demonstrating how to throw the Roman oppressors of balance, by presenting the cheek of an equal to be slapped, or offering to carry the packs two miles instead of the legal one. He told them not to pay Roman taxes, but to give to God what belonged to God. Everything Jesus did had a reason, carefully thought out to bring into stark relief the actions of those who oppressed, to confront them with the injustice of their own actions..
Jerusalem was a huge city with several entrance gates. Passover was coming, the highest of the high Holy Days, the streets full of Jews from all over the known world. Passover was the celebration of their liberation from slavery in Egypt, and the rebuilding of the temple. Yet they celebrate that liberation under the rule of the Roman occupation. Hardly freedom.
On the west side of the city, Pontius Pilate would ride in with an entire Roman legion, blaring trumpets, powerful horses and armour, a massive display of Rome’s power, to intimidate any Jews who might try to stir up rebellion. It would be a display intended to “keep the peace.”.
Up from the Jordan Valley, in through the east gate, kind of the servants’ entrance, following the route the ancient Hebrews had taken from Egypt to the promised land, comes Jesus, just a country rabbi riding a donkey, and accompanied by group of followers who wave branches and spread rough cloaks along the path.
What a contrast to the Roman display of authority! And yet, as the shouts of Hosanna grow, more and more people come to see, and get caught up in the moment - perhaps a hope of freedom from the oppressive authorities. They cry out “Hosanna”, which in Hebrew means “Save us!!!” Think about it for a moment - if Jesus were able to overthrow the Romans, even the temple authorities would not have any power any longer, for he would be king, judge, ruler even over them....
As Jesus rides along, rumour spreads and people ask, “Who is this? ...he rides a donkey”. Jesus’ action is highly symbolic, reminding the people of Judah Maccabeus, the first martyr and king of the Jewish people. So they cut branches and spread them on the ground. Double confirmation of the identity of Jesus - a new king has arrived, a saviour who will liberate them.
The Jesus movement was one of non-violent resistance, and nothing frightens oppressors more than those who resist, but refuse to use their methods. The religious leaders had to get rid of Jesus, because he showed them the worst side of themselves. Pilate used the best way he could think of to prevent further unrest. Pilate recognises that Jesus is a non-violent revolutionary, not a real threat, so he falls into the trap of thinking that with Jesus gone the movement will end. Instead, he creates a martyr and a whole new movement - and the story goes on.
I think in order to grasp Jesus’ death, we have to look at him as both a religious and a political figure. His actions and statements got him killed; he criticised Herod, he criticised the entire political structure, he criticised the collusion between the religious leaders and the Romans. I don’t think it was something he knew in advance, but there was a point in ministry when he did know what would happen if he continued doing what he was doing. He saw what had happened to John and his followers.
Jesus was born in the time of Herod the Great, who lived from 73/74 BC – 4 BC in Jericho, and was considered a madman who murdered anyone he considered a threat. He is known for building projects including expansion of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, and construction of the port at Caesarea Maritima. When he died, a very young Jesus and his parents returned to Nazareth, only to find violent insurrections brewing in Galilee. Jesus’ whole political world was in turmoil because of the insurrectionists and the Roman oppression.
Herod's son, Archelaus was made the ethnarch of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea from 4 BC to 6 AD, referred to as the tetrarchy of Judea. Archelaus was judged incompetent by the Roman Emperor Augustus, who then combined Samaria, Judea proper and Idumea into Iudaea province under the rule of a prefect - Pontius Pilate. Herod Antipas the other son, was petrarch of tiny Galilee from 4 BC–39 AD. - petrarch being about a fourth of a Monarch - not a huge honour.
Antipas wanting to ingratiate himself with the new emperor, decides to build a new city on the Sea of Galilee, call it Tiberias, and make it the capital instead of Sepphoris - and he was going to commercialise the whole fishing industry to fund the building of the city. For the Jews around the shores, it became a clear moral, ethical and religious issue..
The city of Magdala, located on the western shore, was a huge fishing port and a key piece of the local economy. Herod was taking livelihood away from his own people in order to have the Tiberias consider him good enough to be - if not a Monarch, at least a Tetrarch.
John and Jesus both came from a very small corner of Galilee, along the coast. The basis for their dissatisfaction is Herod Antipas, a Jew, selling out the livelihood of a whole people to further a personal agenda. Jewish theology was based in one thing - that the earth belonged to God, and everything in it “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof.” So if the earth belonged to God, did not also the water and everything in it belong to God. It wasn’t a commodity to be bought and sold, but a trust given by God. So the people around the Sea of Galilee found themselves not only oppressed and taxed by the Romans, but also oppressed and taxed by their own religious leaders, and their livelihoods threatened.
John preached an end-time of apocalyptic proportions - and by apocalyptic I don’t mean the end of the whole world in earthquakes and fire, but rather God coming to clean up the whole mess - sending a Messiah who would take control and use the power of God to eliminate the Romans and bring the world back to its right state. John’s plan was to march to the Jordan, in a sacramental re-enactment of the Exodus from Egypt, and he preached retributive justice, the retribution of God for the sins of the people. John’s God was one of violence.
The Jesus movement, on the other hand, was a non-violent peaceful resistance to oppression. Jesus learned a lot from watching John about how and when to say things. Where John preached an end-time of retribution, Jesus preached an end-time of collaboration in the creation of something new. The God of Jesus was a God of distributive justice, the people collaborating with God, to return the world to its right state.
In order to make this point of dsitributive justice, Jesus rubbed elbows with untouchables, healed on the Sabbath, freed people from the spiritual oppression of the leaders, and helped them to see injustices even at the hands of their own leaders. We have Jesus demonstrating how to throw the Roman oppressors of balance, by presenting the cheek of an equal to be slapped, or offering to carry the packs two miles instead of the legal one. He told them not to pay Roman taxes, but to give to God what belonged to God. Everything Jesus did had a reason, carefully thought out to bring into stark relief the actions of those who oppressed, to confront them with the injustice of their own actions..
Jerusalem was a huge city with several entrance gates. Passover was coming, the highest of the high Holy Days, the streets full of Jews from all over the known world. Passover was the celebration of their liberation from slavery in Egypt, and the rebuilding of the temple. Yet they celebrate that liberation under the rule of the Roman occupation. Hardly freedom.
On the west side of the city, Pontius Pilate would ride in with an entire Roman legion, blaring trumpets, powerful horses and armour, a massive display of Rome’s power, to intimidate any Jews who might try to stir up rebellion. It would be a display intended to “keep the peace.”.
Up from the Jordan Valley, in through the east gate, kind of the servants’ entrance, following the route the ancient Hebrews had taken from Egypt to the promised land, comes Jesus, just a country rabbi riding a donkey, and accompanied by group of followers who wave branches and spread rough cloaks along the path.
What a contrast to the Roman display of authority! And yet, as the shouts of Hosanna grow, more and more people come to see, and get caught up in the moment - perhaps a hope of freedom from the oppressive authorities. They cry out “Hosanna”, which in Hebrew means “Save us!!!” Think about it for a moment - if Jesus were able to overthrow the Romans, even the temple authorities would not have any power any longer, for he would be king, judge, ruler even over them....
As Jesus rides along, rumour spreads and people ask, “Who is this? ...he rides a donkey”. Jesus’ action is highly symbolic, reminding the people of Judah Maccabeus, the first martyr and king of the Jewish people. So they cut branches and spread them on the ground. Double confirmation of the identity of Jesus - a new king has arrived, a saviour who will liberate them.
The Jesus movement was one of non-violent resistance, and nothing frightens oppressors more than those who resist, but refuse to use their methods. The religious leaders had to get rid of Jesus, because he showed them the worst side of themselves. Pilate used the best way he could think of to prevent further unrest. Pilate recognises that Jesus is a non-violent revolutionary, not a real threat, so he falls into the trap of thinking that with Jesus gone the movement will end. Instead, he creates a martyr and a whole new movement - and the story goes on.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Life of Jesus series: “A Prodigal Muchness” John 12:1-8 Fifth Sunday in Lent Humber United Church
Six days before Passover, Jesus entered Bethany where Lazarus, so recently raised from the dead, was living. Lazarus and his sisters invited Jesus to dinner at their home. Martha served. Lazarus was one of those sitting at the table with them. Mary came in with a jar of very expensive aromatic oils, anointed and massaged Jesus’ feet, and then wiped them with her hair. The fragrance of the oils filled the house. Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples, even then getting ready to betray him, said, “Why wasn’t this oil sold and the money given to the poor? It would have easily brought three hundred silver pieces.” He said this not because he cared two cents about the poor but because he was a thief. He was in charge of their common funds, but also embezzled them. Jesus said, “Let her alone. She’s anticipating and honoring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You don’t always have me.”
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The story from this week reminds me in a way of the 2010 movie “Alice in Wonderland”. Alice is now a young woman, almost an adult. She’s not happy with her options, but isn’t certain of herself, not sure of what she should do, or what she could do. So when she falls down the rabbit hole into Underland, she is older than when she first visited, and also a very different person: less bold, less confident - so much less herself that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter are sure that she’s The Wrong Alice. “You were so much more, muchier then”, the Hatter says, looking sad. “You’ve lost your muchness.”
In scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance, but a prodigal is also someone who gives lavishly, profusely, generously without restraint.
The major theme of this Gospel story is one of muchness, extravagance, close moments. At the same time, it is a story about the life of Jesus, and the people around him- and how he lived out the command to “love God with all your ‘muchness’.” It’s a story that surely brought gasps from the religious leaders, and those whose were afraid of his message of equality - as they saw their careful structure of power being assailed by a man who preached and lived equality.
Enemies had accumulated and trouble was brewing for Jesus. The religious authorities had been trailing him just waiting for a misstep. They saw him as an enemy."He mocks our time-honored rules," they must have said amongst themselves. "He knows the rules.”
Never talk to or be seen near a Samaritan woman. Don’t heal on the Sabbath, no matter how ill or distressed the person may be. Human beings are less important than the Sabbath rules. Never raise anyone from the dead.
But Jesus had a few real friends. Lazarus, Martha, and Mary were not among the twelve, but there were more than just the twelve - Luke tells us that there were women who travelled with Jesus and the twelve. Lazarus, Mary and Martha may not have been among them, but even so they were followers and friends. In a rare scene, the Gospel tells us Jesus spends a evening among friends, at the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha.
According to preacher and teacher Barbara Brown Taylor, something else left unsaid heightens this evening with friends. A trade-off had occurred - as long as Jesus stayed on the opposite side of the Jordan, his enemies in Jerusalem would leave him alone; but when he came back to help his friend Lazarus, it was the last straw. Jesus had signed his own death warrant. He had traded his life for the life of his friend.
So when Jesus comes to their home, he knows that his enemies are closing in. Yet, for the moment he has come home to relax with friends one final time.
What Mary does is absolutely taboo for a respectable woman, and for Jesus to allow. She loosens her hair, in a room full of men. Just as unorthodox, she pours this expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet. Then she touches him.
In the world of Jesus, the roles of men and women are supposed to be absolutely clear - breaking the rules can get you killed. Mary, Jesus’ mother, knew that. Mary the sister of Lazarus knows it. The fourth rule is that rabbis do not allow single women to touch their feet. Not even among the best of friends. Yet Mary takes the risk of using her hair to wipe the extraneous ointment from his feet.
Only prostitutes do such things. - and Judas pretends to be aghast at the waste of the expensive nard."Well, let me just say that I’ve never in all my life seen such a thing. What a complete misuse of that expensive nard. A whole family of day labourers could live on the price of rthat for a year. It’s just too much. Shame on you, Mary,"
Jesus’ response to Judas is as bizarre as Mary’s actions. Jesus is the friend of the poor; and yet he says something shocking - “Given the way human beings are, you’ll be caring for the poor until the end of time. Let her do as she wishes in these last few days of my time."
Jesus uses Mary’s action as a parable. Everyone there knows that had she poured the nard on his head, she would have been proclaiming him a king. Instead, she got on her knees and began to pour this expensive burial ointment on his feet. Jesus knew that the only man who got his feet anointed was a dead man - he has been given a clear picture of what is coming. So he says, "Leave her alone. Leave her alone." It was a worship of incredible expense, using an ointment purchased for the family’s own burial.
I wonder what costly worship looks like? I wonder if worship for us is sitting around with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary’s table in polite conversation, while a divine encounter is happening under our noses? Someone has said of current worship, "We no longer need ‘fasten your seatbelt’ signs in our pews because we no longer fly in our churches."
Author Annie Dillard yearns for an extraordinary worship that is both extravagant and costly, a worship that approaches Mary’s worship of muchness:
“Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we Christians so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may awake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.
There is nothing skimpy or frugal about Jesus. In him, God’s extravagant and costly love has been made flesh. In him, the excessiveness, the ‘me’od’, the muchness of God’s mercy is made manifest.
This bottle of costly worship will not be held back to be kept and admired. God calls us to open up, offer, use, pour out to the last drop worship that costs us something, a worship that enters into our world, filling it with life and fragrant hope, an extravagant worship of muchness, despite the critics around us. Mary got the message right, and Jesus recognised that her understanding transcended boundaries, just as he did. The others stood about as worship critics.
The good news is that, even on this road to Jerusalem, God is lavish and extravagant. God is there, waiting with the lavish gift, waiting for us to understand the moment and respond. May it be so. Amen.
____________________________
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2 Barbara Brown Taylor, Bread of Angels (Cambridge: Cowley Publications, 1997), page 58.
3. Annie Dillard, "Teaching A Stone To Talk" form Quotes for the Journey, Wisdom for the Way, Gordan S. Jackson, ed. (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2000), page 178.
4. Wholly Waste or Holy Waste? based on John 12:1-8 by Rev. Thomas Hall
*****************************************************************************
The story from this week reminds me in a way of the 2010 movie “Alice in Wonderland”. Alice is now a young woman, almost an adult. She’s not happy with her options, but isn’t certain of herself, not sure of what she should do, or what she could do. So when she falls down the rabbit hole into Underland, she is older than when she first visited, and also a very different person: less bold, less confident - so much less herself that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter are sure that she’s The Wrong Alice. “You were so much more, muchier then”, the Hatter says, looking sad. “You’ve lost your muchness.”
In scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance, but a prodigal is also someone who gives lavishly, profusely, generously without restraint.
The major theme of this Gospel story is one of muchness, extravagance, close moments. At the same time, it is a story about the life of Jesus, and the people around him- and how he lived out the command to “love God with all your ‘muchness’.” It’s a story that surely brought gasps from the religious leaders, and those whose were afraid of his message of equality - as they saw their careful structure of power being assailed by a man who preached and lived equality.
Enemies had accumulated and trouble was brewing for Jesus. The religious authorities had been trailing him just waiting for a misstep. They saw him as an enemy."He mocks our time-honored rules," they must have said amongst themselves. "He knows the rules.”
Never talk to or be seen near a Samaritan woman. Don’t heal on the Sabbath, no matter how ill or distressed the person may be. Human beings are less important than the Sabbath rules. Never raise anyone from the dead.
But Jesus had a few real friends. Lazarus, Martha, and Mary were not among the twelve, but there were more than just the twelve - Luke tells us that there were women who travelled with Jesus and the twelve. Lazarus, Mary and Martha may not have been among them, but even so they were followers and friends. In a rare scene, the Gospel tells us Jesus spends a evening among friends, at the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha.
According to preacher and teacher Barbara Brown Taylor, something else left unsaid heightens this evening with friends. A trade-off had occurred - as long as Jesus stayed on the opposite side of the Jordan, his enemies in Jerusalem would leave him alone; but when he came back to help his friend Lazarus, it was the last straw. Jesus had signed his own death warrant. He had traded his life for the life of his friend.
So when Jesus comes to their home, he knows that his enemies are closing in. Yet, for the moment he has come home to relax with friends one final time.
What Mary does is absolutely taboo for a respectable woman, and for Jesus to allow. She loosens her hair, in a room full of men. Just as unorthodox, she pours this expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet. Then she touches him.
In the world of Jesus, the roles of men and women are supposed to be absolutely clear - breaking the rules can get you killed. Mary, Jesus’ mother, knew that. Mary the sister of Lazarus knows it. The fourth rule is that rabbis do not allow single women to touch their feet. Not even among the best of friends. Yet Mary takes the risk of using her hair to wipe the extraneous ointment from his feet.
Only prostitutes do such things. - and Judas pretends to be aghast at the waste of the expensive nard."Well, let me just say that I’ve never in all my life seen such a thing. What a complete misuse of that expensive nard. A whole family of day labourers could live on the price of rthat for a year. It’s just too much. Shame on you, Mary,"
Jesus’ response to Judas is as bizarre as Mary’s actions. Jesus is the friend of the poor; and yet he says something shocking - “Given the way human beings are, you’ll be caring for the poor until the end of time. Let her do as she wishes in these last few days of my time."
Jesus uses Mary’s action as a parable. Everyone there knows that had she poured the nard on his head, she would have been proclaiming him a king. Instead, she got on her knees and began to pour this expensive burial ointment on his feet. Jesus knew that the only man who got his feet anointed was a dead man - he has been given a clear picture of what is coming. So he says, "Leave her alone. Leave her alone." It was a worship of incredible expense, using an ointment purchased for the family’s own burial.
I wonder what costly worship looks like? I wonder if worship for us is sitting around with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary’s table in polite conversation, while a divine encounter is happening under our noses? Someone has said of current worship, "We no longer need ‘fasten your seatbelt’ signs in our pews because we no longer fly in our churches."
Author Annie Dillard yearns for an extraordinary worship that is both extravagant and costly, a worship that approaches Mary’s worship of muchness:
“Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we Christians so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may awake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.
There is nothing skimpy or frugal about Jesus. In him, God’s extravagant and costly love has been made flesh. In him, the excessiveness, the ‘me’od’, the muchness of God’s mercy is made manifest.
This bottle of costly worship will not be held back to be kept and admired. God calls us to open up, offer, use, pour out to the last drop worship that costs us something, a worship that enters into our world, filling it with life and fragrant hope, an extravagant worship of muchness, despite the critics around us. Mary got the message right, and Jesus recognised that her understanding transcended boundaries, just as he did. The others stood about as worship critics.
The good news is that, even on this road to Jerusalem, God is lavish and extravagant. God is there, waiting with the lavish gift, waiting for us to understand the moment and respond. May it be so. Amen.
____________________________
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2 Barbara Brown Taylor, Bread of Angels (Cambridge: Cowley Publications, 1997), page 58.
3. Annie Dillard, "Teaching A Stone To Talk" form Quotes for the Journey, Wisdom for the Way, Gordan S. Jackson, ed. (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2000), page 178.
4. Wholly Waste or Holy Waste? based on John 12:1-8 by Rev. Thomas Hall
Saturday, March 9, 2013
The World of Jesus: Prodigals!!! A sermon based on Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 Humber United Church March 10, 2013 Fourth Sunday in Lent
By this time a lot of men and women of doubtful reputation were hanging around Jesus, listening intently. The Pharisees and religion scholars were not pleased, not at all pleased. They growled, “He takes in sinners and eats meals with them, treating them like old friends.” Their grumbling triggered this story.
“There was once a man who had two sons. The younger said to his father, ‘Father, I want right now what’s coming to me. So the father divided the property between them. It wasn’t long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, undisciplined and dissipated, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to hurt. He signed on with a citizen there who assigned him to his fields to slop the pigs. He was so hungry he would have eaten the corncobs in the pig slop, but no one would give him any.
“That brought him to his senses. He said, ‘All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. I’m going back to my father. I’ll say to him, Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.’ He got right up and went home to his father.
“When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’
“But the father wasn’t listening. He was calling to the servants, ‘Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! My son is here—given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!’ And they began to have a wonderful time.
“All this time his older son was out in the field. When the day’s work was done he came in. As he approached the house, he heard the music and dancing. Calling over one of the houseboys, he asked what was going on. He told him, ‘Your brother came home. Your father has ordered a feast - barbecued beef! - because he has him home safe and sound.’
“The older brother stalked off in an angry sulk and refused to join in. His father came out and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. The son said, ‘Look how many years I’ve stayed here serving you, never giving you one moment of grief, but have you ever thrown a party for me and my friends? Then this son of yours who has thrown away your money on whores shows up and you go all out with a feast!’
“His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he’s alive! He was lost, and he’s found!’”
“What? You want ME to go to a party for that moron? Look, Dad, I’ve really had it up to here, ya know? I’ve worked the farm year in and year out, done everything you asked without ONCE complaining. Meanwhile that little moron takes all the money he can get, runs off and blows the lot on women and drinking. He’s a totally irresponsible idiot. I told you this would happen, didn’t I? And now you want me to welcome him home, act like everything’s OK? It *isn’t* OK. But you and mom always did love him best....”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
“There was once a man who had two sons. The younger said to his father, ‘Father, I want right now what’s coming to me. So the father divided the property between them. It wasn’t long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, undisciplined and dissipated, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to hurt. He signed on with a citizen there who assigned him to his fields to slop the pigs. He was so hungry he would have eaten the corncobs in the pig slop, but no one would give him any.
“That brought him to his senses. He said, ‘All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. I’m going back to my father. I’ll say to him, Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.’ He got right up and went home to his father.
“When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’
“But the father wasn’t listening. He was calling to the servants, ‘Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! My son is here—given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!’ And they began to have a wonderful time.
“All this time his older son was out in the field. When the day’s work was done he came in. As he approached the house, he heard the music and dancing. Calling over one of the houseboys, he asked what was going on. He told him, ‘Your brother came home. Your father has ordered a feast - barbecued beef! - because he has him home safe and sound.’
“The older brother stalked off in an angry sulk and refused to join in. His father came out and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. The son said, ‘Look how many years I’ve stayed here serving you, never giving you one moment of grief, but have you ever thrown a party for me and my friends? Then this son of yours who has thrown away your money on whores shows up and you go all out with a feast!’
“His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he’s alive! He was lost, and he’s found!’”
“What? You want ME to go to a party for that moron? Look, Dad, I’ve really had it up to here, ya know? I’ve worked the farm year in and year out, done everything you asked without ONCE complaining. Meanwhile that little moron takes all the money he can get, runs off and blows the lot on women and drinking. He’s a totally irresponsible idiot. I told you this would happen, didn’t I? And now you want me to welcome him home, act like everything’s OK? It *isn’t* OK. But you and mom always did love him best....”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
Saturday, March 2, 2013
“The World of Jesus: A Fig Tree?” Lent 3 Year C Humber United Church Corner Brook, NL.Luke 13:1-9
About this time Jesus was told that Pilate had murdered some Galileans, as they were offering sacrifices at the Temple. “Do you think those Galileans were worse sinners than all the other people from Galilee?” Jesus asked. “Is that why they suffered? Not at all! And you will perish, too, unless you repent of your sins and turn to God. And what about the eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them? Were they the worst sinners in Jerusalem? No, and I tell you again that unless you repent, you will perish, too.” Then Jesus told this story: “A man planted a fig tree in his garden and came again and again to see if there was any fruit on it, but he was always disappointed. Finally, he said to his gardener, ‘I’ve waited three years, and there hasn’t been a single fig! Cut it down. It’s just taking up space in the garden.’ “The gardener answered, ‘Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.’”
*****************************************************************************
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US and parts of southern Japan, for example. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine sub-fossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - have been found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
Scripture commonly refers to Israel using the imagery of significant plants, and a metaphor that was used of Israel is the fig tree. The fig tree held great importance for the Jews in several ways. Figs were eaten commonly as a snack or a meal supplement, dried and saved for the winter, or baked into cakes. Even when the fruit was not yet ripe, the trees produced edible buds that common people consumed. The fig cakes were considered gifts of honor, often given to highly respected people. The figs themselves were used medicinally to cure skin problems such as boils. They gave excellent shade, and so were often places of meeting or rest. Sitting under a fig tree was a common metaphor for living in peace with God’s blessing, as in the story of Micah and his fig tree.
So it was a common metaphor for Israel, symbolising the health of the nation both spiritually and physically. The Scriptures provides a complete analogy of Israel and the fig tree, often in the Minor Prophets, such as Micah. So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common thing which everyone listening to him would be able to understand.
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. It was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture, the story of the impatient owner of the tree, who buys something, plants it and then leaves it for someone else to look after. Then there is the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
In our house in Toronto, I have two orchids which have sat proudly for years, putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids suddenly putting forth spikes and, miracle of miracles, bloomed. However, I as the owner have not been there for almost three years, and my husband doesn’t feed or water them often.
So, Jesus uses as his example one of the most common trees and common food sources for his culture, and something which, in the story of Micah, was a place for people to come, sit in the shade, and be fed. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
It is a tree which has been around longer than anything else; something which represents everything the children of Israel are to be, and yet it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Translate Jesus’ questions into today’s time...Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died when sarin was released in the Tokyo subways somehow worse than other people? Were those who died in the World Trade Centre worse than others? No!! They died because of acts of violence perpetrated on them. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is often random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is anything we do which puts us out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, take out what we’ve always believed and give it a good second look, and feed those roots. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden in our lives and bearing our fruit.
My colleague Anna Murdock, whose reflections always offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. They provided shade and green, and they provided fruit because he tended to them with loving care. He and his wife spent the fruitful seasons making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. But they didn’t sell their produce, they would go through the town, knocking on doors and giving away the fruits of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, online text discussion sponsored by Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
4. http://expositorswiki.wikispaces.com/Symbolism+of+the+Fig+Tree
*****************************************************************************
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US and parts of southern Japan, for example. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine sub-fossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - have been found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
Scripture commonly refers to Israel using the imagery of significant plants, and a metaphor that was used of Israel is the fig tree. The fig tree held great importance for the Jews in several ways. Figs were eaten commonly as a snack or a meal supplement, dried and saved for the winter, or baked into cakes. Even when the fruit was not yet ripe, the trees produced edible buds that common people consumed. The fig cakes were considered gifts of honor, often given to highly respected people. The figs themselves were used medicinally to cure skin problems such as boils. They gave excellent shade, and so were often places of meeting or rest. Sitting under a fig tree was a common metaphor for living in peace with God’s blessing, as in the story of Micah and his fig tree.
So it was a common metaphor for Israel, symbolising the health of the nation both spiritually and physically. The Scriptures provides a complete analogy of Israel and the fig tree, often in the Minor Prophets, such as Micah. So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common thing which everyone listening to him would be able to understand.
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. It was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture, the story of the impatient owner of the tree, who buys something, plants it and then leaves it for someone else to look after. Then there is the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
In our house in Toronto, I have two orchids which have sat proudly for years, putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids suddenly putting forth spikes and, miracle of miracles, bloomed. However, I as the owner have not been there for almost three years, and my husband doesn’t feed or water them often.
So, Jesus uses as his example one of the most common trees and common food sources for his culture, and something which, in the story of Micah, was a place for people to come, sit in the shade, and be fed. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
It is a tree which has been around longer than anything else; something which represents everything the children of Israel are to be, and yet it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Translate Jesus’ questions into today’s time...Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died when sarin was released in the Tokyo subways somehow worse than other people? Were those who died in the World Trade Centre worse than others? No!! They died because of acts of violence perpetrated on them. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is often random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is anything we do which puts us out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, take out what we’ve always believed and give it a good second look, and feed those roots. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden in our lives and bearing our fruit.
My colleague Anna Murdock, whose reflections always offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. They provided shade and green, and they provided fruit because he tended to them with loving care. He and his wife spent the fruitful seasons making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. But they didn’t sell their produce, they would go through the town, knocking on doors and giving away the fruits of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, online text discussion sponsored by Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
4. http://expositorswiki.wikispaces.com/Symbolism+of+the+Fig+Tree
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