Mary or Martha

Mary or Martha

Luke 10:38-41

            This is one of the great stories from the gospels.  Preachers love it because they can force a choice, making people listen harder to the sermon than perhaps they might usually do, because they will be asked to place themselves into one of two camps.  But is that the only possible reading of the story?

            You remember:  Jesus is visiting with his friends Mary and Martha, two apparently unwed sisters, who live (also apparently) with their brother Lazarus—the one Jesus raises from the dead just before he heads for Jerusalem and his execution.  Martha is busy cooking dinner, neatening up the house, serving appetizers—all the things we would expect a good hostess to be doing to make her guest welcome and comfortable.  We can imagine her with a calm but set expression on her face as she moves from one task to another, busily making her way from kitchen to living room to the well outside—calm on the surface, but steaming on the inside. 

            You see, while she’s running around the house, her sister isn’t lifting a finger to help.  Instead, she’s sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening with rapt attention to every word he’s saying, learning from the rabbi—this great teacher who speaks with more knowledge and authority than anyone she’s ever met.  In addition, Jesus is actually paying attention to her, a woman!  No man has ever given her the least notice before, let alone spent valuable time with her. 

            Martha is not happy about this state of affairs.  She is making a real show of being busy, hurrying from one task to another, and completing each one with a finality that says, “There!  Look at what I’ve done.  Aren’t I a good worker, a good hostess, a worthy person?”

            Finally she can stand it no longer.  “Jesus!” she says, “Haven’t you noticed how I’m working my fingers to the bone to make everything perfect?  And look at Mary!  She’s doing nothing at all to help.  Tell her to get up and do her share!”  We know Jesus’ answer—probably have it memorized. 

            “Martha, Martha.  I always feel at home when I’m with you two.  You don’t have to go to all this trouble for me.  I appreciate all you do, but not if it comes at the expense of your good nature.  A good hostess is the one who makes her guests feel relaxed, and your hustle and bustle won’t let me feel that way.  Mary has chosen a better path to making me welcome.”

            Well!  That’s certainly not what Martha expected to hear!  I wonder what she did next.  Did she apologize for her unloving feelings?  Did she join her sister at the Master’s feet?  Did the evening end happily?  We’ll never know this side of heaven, will we?

            It’s at this point that the preacher calls for a decision.  “Who are you?  Are you overly busy, overworked Martha, or are you quiet and attentive Mary?  Do you choose to be the hostess with the mostest, or to learn from the greatest teacher in all history?”

            But is a choice really necessary?  Aren’t we all a little of both?  We spend time with Jesus in prayer and Bible reading.  We try to live our lives the way Jesus lived his.  But sometimes we get so busy with everyday life that we forget our spiritual life.  Sometimes we need an attitude adjustment because we have chosen the good instead of the best.

            In a gift shop recently I read this prayer on a wall hanging.  It’s worth remembering.

            “Help me, Lord, as I work today with my Martha hands, to maintain my Mary heart.”

            Amen!

Science and Theology

Science and Theology

Genesis 1:1-2:3

            You might call me a fence-sitter—but I’m not, really.  I just find it impossible to choose between science and God.  Let me explain.

            However carefully I read the first chapter of Genesis, I still can’t see why people argue over creation.  One camp says that the world and everything in it evolved slowly over millions of years.  The other camp says that can’t be right.  God created the world in seven (sorry, six) days, and that’s that.  In 144 hours the universe went from nothing to what we have today.  Science has to be wrong.

            Both camps see me and those who believe like me as enemies.  Nobody likes us because we find the truth somewhere in the middle.  Yes, the universe began with a big bang, and expanded outward from there—is still expanding if I’m correct.  Yes, it took millions of years for life to develop on this planet, and it evolved from simple forms into more complex forms.  Yes, life on earth is still evolving and will continue to do so.  Science is correct.  Evolution happened and is happening.  Every bit of scientific proof we have points inarguably in that direction.

            But how did it start?  What caused the Big Bang?  Was it an accident?  Did this huge release of energy—all the energy in creation—just happen to happen?  As far as I’m concerned, people who believe in an accidental beginning have more faith than I’ll ever have, even though (I believe) that faith is misplaced.

This is where, for me, God comes in.  Science tells us that the amount of energy and mass in the universe is a constant.  Energy is constantly being transformed into mass, and mass into energy, but the total of the two is always the same.  I once proposed that perhaps that total of mass and energy might be a partial definition of God.  While this is probably naïve from both a theological and scientific point of view, it may be a starting point for a discussion between the two camps—if that is possible.

Another piece of naiveté (perhaps) is accepting 2 Peter 3:8 at face value:  “But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.”  But why not accept it at face value?  We believe God stands outside time, that God sees all time in a panorama; that what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen are, in one sense, all the same to God. 

Doesn’t that mean that God measures time differently from us?  We talk about events happening “in God’s time,” speaking of it in terms of human patience.  God takes the long view, we say, while our lives are limited to only a few short years.  Why couldn’t each “day” in Genesis 1 have taken several hundred, or several thousand, or several millions of years?  How can we measure time as God sees it?

            If that could be true, then why couldn’t God have chosen evolution as the means of creation?  The sequence of the creation story in Genesis 1 is roughly the same as what scientists tell us happened in the evolutionary process.  Why couldn’t God have chosen this method to bring creation into being?  What would have prevented God from doing that?

            You can understand why both camps see my way of thinking as the enemy.  I (and others like me) am not willing to choose sides in this debate.  Christians say that God is omniscient—all knowing.  Isn’t science (descended from the same root word) knowledge?  If God is omniscient, then science is a part of God—perhaps God revealing God’s self to humankind. 

            Who are we to say what God can and cannot do?

When Our Disadvantages Become Advantages

When Our Disadvantages Become Advantages

Luke 19:1-9

            Poor Zacchaeus!  He was short—so short that he was at a real disadvantage in a crowd.  Of course, Zacchaeus wasn’t really poor—not poor at all.  He was a tax collector for the Romans—and a Jew.  The Romans loved to get hold of citizens in conquered territories and have them do the dirty work.  This way they didn’t have to enforce the tax code and other noxious parts of their law.  The turncoats did it for them.  The Roman officials didn’t particularly like those they corrupted.  They used them.

            The Jews didn’t like these people either.  They hated Zacchaeus and his kind.  They saw them for what they were:  countrymen who made a profit at their fellow citizens’ expense.  This would have been particularly troubling for Zacchaeus.  In a crowd, someone could give him an elbow, or step on his toe, or find other ways to get back at him for all he had taken from them.  Remember, tax collectors could take more from people than they had to give to the Roman officials in taxes.  That’s how they made their living, and how they earned the hatred of those who had to pay whatever was demanded of them.

            Then one day, Jesus came to Jericho, Zacchaeus’ home town.  Huge crowds turned out to get a look at the prophet they had heard so much about.  Their excitement was heightened by the possibility that Jesus might work some miracles while he was in town.  They had heard of his healing powers.  Perhaps they had heard the story of his changing water to wine.  This was going to be a banner day for the city, and no one wanted to miss it.

            But Zacchaeus was missing it.  He couldn’t see over the heads of those in front of him.  Quite likely he was taking his usual bumps and bruises from those who tried to get even with him—perhaps even more so, since the crowds would have been larger than usual.  What could he do?  No one would give him a break.  When he tried to work his way to the front he faced an impenetrable wall of people who wanted to cause him as much distress as possible.

            Then he had an idea.  Running ahead along the route Jesus would be taking, he found a sycamore tree that was climbable.  Quickly he scampered up the tree until he had a bird’s eye view of the action.  There was Jesus, and Zacchaeus could see him clearly—and Jesus stopped, and looked up, and looking straight at Zacchaeus perched as high in that tree as he could get, he said, “Zacchaeus, get down here.  I’m going to be your guest today.”

            We know the rest of the story, how Jesus’ presence in that house transformed Zacchaeus from a miserable little collaborator to a follower of the Lord. What a thrill it must have been for him when Jesus said, “Today salvation has come to this house!”

            I remember attending a conference on educating the handicapped where a very wise speaker told us that everyone is handicapped in some way.  Zacchaeus’ handicap was his height—or lack of it—but he found a way to turn that disadvantage into an advantage.  He went from being invisible in the crowd to being visible in that tree because he was determined to see Jesus, and it resulted in his salvation.

            We all have disadvantages.  Each of us has strengths, but also weaknesses, areas in which we do not have the ability to succeed.  We can dwell on our disadvantages, and tell ourselves that they make it impossible to do God’s work.  We can get lost in the crowd, suffering the bumps and bruises that others give us, or we can rise above our disadvantages, perhaps turning them into advantages, as Zacchaeus did.  By rising above the crowd, Zacchaeus found what he needed:  salvation from God and respectability among his fellow citizens. 

            God is waiting to turn our disadvantages into advantages if we’ll only allow it.

The Other Side of the Lake

The Other Side of the Lake

Luke 8:22-25

            My New Testament professor in seminary warned us against “harmonizing the gospels”—that is, trying to blend them together into one continuous story.  Instead, she told us, the gospels were four different versions of the same event, Jesus’ time on earth.  We must view them as separate accounts, with each chronicler telling the story of Jesus’ life from a different viewpoint, in the same way that witnesses at a trial tell the same story from their differing points of view.  This would account for the discrepancies between the gospels.  In fact, I, like many of you, would be more suspicious of the gospel accounts if they were uniform—exactly the same.  We would suspect collusion—that the disciples got together and decided on the “official” account.  This would be especially true of the events of the resurrection and Jesus’ appearances afterwards.

            We read in the gospels the stories of Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee.  Some of these accounts mention Jesus walking on the water.  All of them describe Jesus calming a storm.  It isn’t these events that catch my attention today—at least, not exactly.

            One side of the Galilee was Jewish territory.  The other side was Gentile land.  When Jesus and his followers “crossed the lake” they were going from their home turf to foreign soil.  This would have been a daunting experience for Jews.  Remember, they were to have no contact with the impure Gentiles.  They couldn’t eat with them; they couldn’t talk to them; they certainly weren’t supposed to be in their territory.  Yet when Jesus said, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake,” they went—if not willingly, at least with no hesitation.

            We know what they found there:  a man so possessed by demons that he could no longer live in civilized society.  His countrymen had tried to contain him.  Perhaps they felt that if they could subdue him they might effect a cure, but that didn’t happen.  He burst any bonds they tried to place on him, including chains.  He’d been given up as hopeless, left to his own devices.  Perhaps the people thought he’d eventually destroy himself or die of starvation, and they wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

            We know the rest of the story, how Jesus drove out the man’s demons and scared the wits out of the local inhabitants so that they practically threw him out of town.  Jesus and his followers had to cross to the other side of the lake one more time.

            How many times in our lives are we called to cross to the other side of the lake?  We find ourselves in comfortable country.  Everything is going well for us.  We’re living peacefully among family and friends—likeminded people who support us and make us feel at home.  But Jesus comes to us and says, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.”  We know the journey won’t be easy—and oftentimes we’re right.  Just getting to the other side of the lake involves danger—at the very least insecurity, because we’re leaving behind all that’s familiar, all that’s comfortable.  Yet when Jesus calls we know how we must respond.  We go.  In spite of the possible dangers, and the upset to our well-loved lives, when Jesus calls us, we go, because that’s where God wants us to be.

Where is the other side of the lake?  Perhaps we’ll find it at work.  Perhaps it will be in a new church congregation.  Perhaps it will be a new city, or with a new set of friends, or in a new living arrangement.   Wherever it is, we must go.  Never mind the storms we may pass through to get there.   Never mind the challenges we face when we arrive.  The other side of the lake is where we are called to live our lives.  How can we do any less for the God who has done so much for us?

The Peaceable Kingdom

The Peaceable Kingdom

Isaiah 65:25

            Recently I received two letters from a gun advocacy group.  Actually, except for the first paragraph, it was the same letter twice.  I have no idea how I got on their mailing list since I have never owned a gun, never expressed an interest in owning a gun, and can visualize no future in which I might want to own a gun.

            Let me make one thing perfectly clear:  I am not anti-gun.  I believe with all my heart that responsible people should be able to own guns for legitimate purposes. On the other hand, I am also committed to the idea of keeping guns out of the hands of those who use them to murder innocent victims.

            Columbine should have been enough.

            Sandy Hook should have been enough.

            But they weren’t.  There are still individuals and groups who believe that any law which restricts gun ownership in any way will lead to having all guns confiscated—something which is absolutely impossible.  Unfortunately, these individuals and groups have enough political power to block the passage of rational laws designed to keep guns out of the hands of individuals who are a danger to themselves and others—laws favored by the majority of Americans.

            I would like to share my answer to the letters I received.  I had hoped my response might have opened a dialog with the advocacy group.  It didn’t happen.  Please feel free to respond.  Only when we can debate this issue in rational and meaningful ways can we hope to find a solution that will allow gun owners to pursue their constitutional right to own guns while protecting innocent people from being victims of gun abuse.

Dear Sir:

I read your letter—or should I say letters—with amusement.  I found it interesting that, apart from the first two paragraphs, the letters were identical.  I would have expected more originality from someone in your position.  I am also amused because I am not a gun owner, nor a supporter of gun rights the way you interpret them.  I have no idea how or from whom you got my name.

I do agree with you that responsible adults should have the right to own guns.  This right is not under attack as you so vehemently insist.  The Constitution undeniably gives you and others the right to own guns, and no one is trying to grab yours.  It is proof of the level of your paranoia that you feel your gun ownership is under attack.

I know that part of your standard argument is, “Guns don’t kill people; people kill people”—and, of course, that is correct.  I would hope, however, that you would admit guns kill people more effectively than most other weapons.  Otherwise we’d be arming our soldiers with swords and spears.

That efficiency lies at the heart of the major problem with gun ownership in this country.  Easy access to guns means easy access to killing.  Too many dangerous people find it too easy to get their hands on guns. A recent article in our local paper documented this fact.  Since Sandy Hook there has been an acute increase in gun incidents and deaths in our nation’s schools.  The article identifies this increase as part of a larger problem.  There are 86 deaths from bullets in this country on an average day.  These include suicides, which are more prevalent in homes where guns are present.  I’m sure you will tell me that none of the current or proposed gun laws would have prevented these deaths—and you may be correct. I expect you might also feel that a certain amount of collateral damage is acceptable as long as your rights are protected.

If you had any sense of history, and if you had any compassion for the people whose lives have been affected by gun violence, you would find a way for your organization to work with those who are trying to find sensible solutions to the problems caused by guns.  You would realize that you and your co-enthusiasts are part of the problem.  Instead, in the face of overwhelming evidence that something must be done, you continue to parrot the same old tired lines.  You should be ashamed of yourself for maintaining an adversarial position rather than working with those trying to find a reasonable answer.

At some point you will likely tell me that if it’s criminal to own a gun, only criminals will have guns—and that statement is correct as far as it goes.  It is impossible, however, that the simple act of owning a gun will ever be criminal in this country despite your assertions to the contrary.  (I would be glad to reason this out for you, and am surprised you haven’t reasoned it out for yourself.)  More important is the corollary:  If everyone is free to carry a gun with no restrictions, then criminals can do so.  The streets of Memphis provide an example.  Since Tennessee has adopted an open-carry law, Memphis has become a much more dangerous place to live.  Gun violence has increased many fold in the past few months.

I am sorry that you, your organization, and other gun rights groups cannot see how damaging your stand is to your own cause.  The reaction to your adamant insistence on your position has already begun.  Recently, in New York City, 1,000 people marched to call attention to gun violence, and to urge that a solution be found.  Lest you dismiss this number as inconsequential, I assure you it is only a start.  The time is coming when the rational citizens of this country will realize they possess the untapped power of the majority.  When that happens, the result will be much more draconian than if you had had the foresight to be part of the solution rather than such a great part of the problem.

Sincerely,

Kenneth L. Sipley

First, Do No Harm

First, Do No Harm

Romans 13:8-10

            Anyone who has read enough medical novels, seen enough doctor movies or TV shows, or has anything to do with the medical profession will recognize the title.  It’s a misquotation from the Hippocratic Oath, the vow taken by doctors and other medical personnel as they begin their careers.  The actual quote is, “never do harm to anyone.” 

“First, do no harm” is a good place for medical personnel to start.  If they can avoid making a situation worse, they can begin to work on the healing process.  If their treatment causes more damage than has already been done by disease, illness, or trauma, then that situation must be reversed before the original problem can be addressed.

“First, do no harm” is good advice for all of us.  If our interactions with others cause damage to those relationships, we have reclamation work to do before we can build something positive.

Paul understood this.  Although he may not have heard of the Hippocratic Oath (and was certainly not a doctor), Paul knew how easy it can be to harm relationships.  Remember his letter to the church at Philippi:  “I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord.  Yes, I ask you also, true companion, help these women…”  Paul was concerned enough about the rift to encourage them to make peace, and to ask that others help resolve the conflict.

It may seem strange to hear Paul speak fervently about love.  We expect discourses on love from John.  His first letter is full of entreaties for believers to love each other.  Paul usually holds forth on other subjects, but here he focuses on love, and he does so by returning to the commandments—at least some of them.  Exodus 20:1-16 gives us all ten, but Paul is only concerned here with the last six.  The first four deal with humankind’s relationship with God.  The last six deal with humankind’s relationship with each other.  We know Jesus said the two great commandments were to love God and love neighbor.  The first four commandments are about how we show our love for God.  The rest are about how we show our love for people.

Paul says that the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.  Then, after quoting the human-to human commandments to support his point, he uses the same language Jesus used to sum up:  “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  Like Jesus, Paul recognized the need for healthy self-love—not the narcissistic love that causes us (again to quote Paul) to “think more highly of ourselves than we ought,” but a realization of our value as God’s creatures, the same value in which we should hold all God’s creation.  When we learn to love all our neighbors in this way we will begin to live—and love—like Jesus.

We’re used to hearing Paul speak against the law, but here he speaks for it.  Is this a contradiction?  By no means!  The law Paul so frequently criticizes is the formal structure imposed by the Pharisees.  Here Paul cuts to the heart of the law—love!  Remember:  “The one who loves another has fulfilled the law.”

The last verse of this passage brings us back to the misquote in the title: “First, do no harm.”  Paul says, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love fulfills the law.”  When we avoid doing harm to our neighbors we are on the path of fulfillment.  As we interact with others, whatever else we do we must be sure we don’t damage our relationships.  This gives us a starting point to build positive ties to our neighbors.

And who is our neighbor? 

Who isn’t our neighbor?

A Prisoner Set Free

A Prisoner Set Free

Ephesians 4:1-7

            We are acutely aware that our system of justice is far from perfect.  We read of prisoners who have been set free when new evidence has come to light.  Today that evidence often has to do with DNA samples that prove the convicted person could not possibly have committed the crime.  There are college classes designed to analyze this kind of forensic evidence.  Some of these classes are responsible for proving the innocence of people who were wrongly convicted of serious crimes.  We rejoice when someone is proven innocent and released, convinced that even though justice was delayed, in the end it was not denied.

            Paul begins the fourth chapter of his epistle to Ephesians by identifying himself as “a prisoner for the Lord.”  He doesn’t claim to be innocent, and isn’t trying to fight the charges against him—nor is anyone else taking up his case to try to prove he isn’t guilty.  He’s a prisoner and that’s that! 

            Of course, we know why Paul was a prisoner.  Elsewhere in his letters he calls himself “a prisoner of the gospel”—and that is a true statement on two levels.  He considers himself a slave for Christ; he has given himself willingly into that servitude.  He is Christ’s servant just as Christ was—and is—the servant of the world.  Remember how Jesus said, “If any would be great among you, that person must be a servant; and in order to be first, you must be everyone’s slave.”  Paul took that to heart.

            Paul was also a prisoner for the gospel, imprisoned because he had become a Christian and had fulfilled his calling as an apostle to the Gentiles.  As he preached and taught the gospel in cities throughout the Roman Empire he made many enemies.  His preaching eventually cost him his freedom, and finally, his life.

            Even in prison Paul continued to preach and teach.  Several of his letters were written during his imprisonment in Rome.  In the sense of being able to communicate, Paul was never a prisoner.  Today people are imprisoned to shut them up.  That certainly wasn’t the case in the first century.  Paul met regularly with visitors, and obviously had writing materials made available to him.

            Within himself, Paul was always free (remember Paul and Silas in Philippi?).  Imprisoning his body had no effect on his soul.  We can be sure that, even if he had not been able to write, or meet with his fellow Christians, Paul would not have felt like a prisoner.  He would have missed the fellowship with other believers, and he would have been sorry he could not communicate with the churches he held so dear, but his soul would have been free.

            Listen to what he says to the church at Ephesus.  He tells them to “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love.”  This doesn’t sound like a man embittered over being in jail.  We know that, in spite of his fiery nature, Paul conducted himself as a model prisoner, exhibiting the same humility, gentleness, patience and love he urged on the Ephesians.

            Paul also establishes the unity that believers find in Christ.  Listen to the “one-ness” he describes:  one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all.  Here is where Paul finds his real freedom.  Despite his physical imprisonment, he remains one with the Ephesians—indeed, with Christians everywhere—in hope, in faith, and, most importantly, in unity with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

            So—is Paul a prisoner or not?  Despite the restrictions on his movement, his acceptance of Jesus as Lord of his life and his reliance on the power of the Holy Spirit sets him free.