The Idolatry of Covetousness

The Idolatry of Covetousness

Luke 12:13-21

            Four years of teaching about the religions of the world taught me a lot.  I hope my students learned half as much.  A teacher is never sure what, or how much his/her students learn.  We can test them as much as we want; but tests never tell us what they learn, only what we make them remember to pass the test.  Students are accurate judges of what they have learned.  The same can be said for teachers and what they learn through teaching, although neither group may be able to fully comprehend what they have learned until years later.

            After the obligatory opening chapter (an introduction which tells students why they should study the religions of the world), the textbook looks at indigenous religions of North America and Africa.    Despite the geographical difference there are many similarities. 

            One of the most interesting similarities is the use of story theology.  Lessons in right and wrong are embedded in what we would refer to as myths—stories that teach a young person how to behave so as to be accepted by his/her society and be acceptable to that society’s deities.

            The use of story theology can also be found in the ancient cultures of the Middle East. The well-known stories in Hebrew Scripture are theological stories, designed to teach people how to be accepted by their society and be acceptable to their society’s deities.  We do not call these stories myths, but accept them as absolute truth—which they probably are not.

            When Jesus told parables he was continuing the story theology tradition.  He was not inventing a new way of teaching.  He followed in the footsteps of all those teachers from many cultures who had told stories—parables—for ages before him.

            In today’s reading we find a man asking Jesus to give up his role as teacher and be a judge.  The man wants Jesus to secure an inheritance for him that his brother seems to be withholding.  Jesus refuses to be led into the trap of deciding which brother has the best claim to the inheritance.  Instead, he warns the man and the other listeners to beware the temptation of covetousness.  Then he tells them a parable. 

            A rich man’s fields produce a bumper crop, so large that his barns will not hold all the produce.  He tears down his barns and builds new ones, big enough to hold all his crops.  Having accomplished this, the man sits back in his recliner to enjoy his bounty, only to have God say, “Fool!  This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Whose indeed? 

            Was the man’s soul required of him because of his greed, or was that nature taking its course?  Since it’s only a story, we are not told.  Was his death God’s judgment for his foolishness?  This is only a story; we’ll never know.  Could the man have avoided death by saying, “Once my [current] barns are full I will give the surplus to those who are in need?”  Since it’s not important to the story, we’re not told.

            What we do know is that covetousness over the success of his crops led to idolatry.  The man held his possessions in higher esteem than he held his neighbors’ needs.  He was not personally responsible for his good fortune.  Nothing he did caused the bumper crop.  God had given the increase through ideal growing conditions.  He owed God thanks by enriching those around him whose need was greater than his.  He failed in that duty.

            The point of the story is that all we have comes from God, and God’s law says we owe God thanks for our success.  How do we show our thanks?  By sharing our bounty with those whose fields are less productive than ours.  Then, if our souls are required of us, we will know we leave behind a world that is better for us having lived in it.

God's Plans

God’s Plans

Genesis 50:15-21

            The trouble began when Jacob gave Joseph a coat, a garment more beautiful than anything his older brothers owned.  As M. Thomas Norwood, Jr. says, Joseph is strutting around in a garment too classy to work in while his brothers are working up a sweat in “jeans and dirty T-shirts.”

            Everything goes downhill from there.  Joseph has a couple of dreams that make it look as if his brothers and parents will bow to him.  This does not make for a happy family.  When an opportunity presents itself, the brothers sell Joseph to a passing caravan, which in turn sells him to a high official in the Egyptian court.  Joseph winds up in jail for refusing to have an affair with his owner’s wife, but is rescued to become Number Two in Pharaoh’s government.

            Eventually, Joseph’s dreams come true.  His brothers, fearful that he might harm them for their ill-treatment, fall on their faces before him, trying to save their necks.  Joseph utters the words which sum up his entire life: “As for you, you meant evil against me, bur God meant it for good…”  Joseph has forgiven them, but lets them know their fate is ultimately in God’s hands.  As for Joseph: “I will provide for you and your [families].”

            There was a time, many years ago, when I was in a work situation that turned out badly.  Admittedly, like Joseph, some of it was my fault:  I assumed I knew more than I did, and put myself in an untenable situation.  My supervisor decided the school would be better off without me, and let me go. 

The next few years were difficult, but eventually I wound up with a better job in a much better educational setting.  I always hoped I might run into my old supervisor and share with him Joseph’s words to his brothers.  The opportunity never presented itself—probably for the best.  Sometimes I’m not smart enough to keep my mouth shut.  I hope I’m learning to do a better job of that.

You may have been in a similar situation.  You know how difficult life can be when everything seems to be going against you.  You are sure everyone from God on down has only your worst interests in mind.  There is no light at the end of this tunnel, only unending darkness.

At some point, the light appears, and you can see better times ahead.  Often the final result is the best situation you have ever been in.  When you look back you may, like Joseph, see God’s hand at work even in the darkest times. 

Something like this happened to me.  Many things I learned during the lean years helped make me a better administrator when that career finally opened up for me.  I saw what bad leaders did, and their affect on the people who worked for them, and was able to avoid many of those pitfalls.

God had something like this in mind when he said to Jeremiah (29:10-11), “For I know the plans I have for you, … plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” 

Jeremiah was despondent.  His nation was in exile.  Those who remained in Judea turned their backs on him.  They hadn’t listened to his warning, and now they ignored his teaching.  But God had everything under control.  God knew how this was going to work out:  for Jeremiah’s (and Judea’s) welfare and not for evil.

Paul said much the same thing in Romans 8:28. “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.” 

Amen!

Two Questions

Two Questions

Luke 10:25-37

Luke’s story of the Good Samaritan raises two questions: 

Am I my neighbor’s keeper?  Who is my neighbor?  

Both questions are answered explicitly, the first in the conversation between Jesus and the lawyer.  The second, raised by the lawyer in an attempt to clarify the law, is answered by Jesus’ parable.  Even though the answers are obvious, they invite examination.

            When I was teaching college classes I often used the expression, “That’s a teacher question!”  I meant that the question had an obvious answer (usually “yes,” or “no”), but an answer that led to a host of other questions with not so simple answers.  I see “Am I my neighbor’s keeper?” as a teacher question.  The lawyer gives the correct answer: “Yes.”

            The lawyer asks Jesus a rabbinical question:  What shall I do to inherit eternal life?  Luke says the question was asked to put Jesus to the test.   Does Luke mean he was trying to trap Jesus?  This happens frequently.  Scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees try to catch Jesus making a statement for which they can condemn him as a heretic or dissuade people from following him. 

            It is also possible that the lawyer was trying to engage Jesus in the kind of debate any expert on Judaic law would expect.  One expert would pose a question; the other would answer, and the debate would begin.  I’m willing to give the lawyer the benefit of the doubt, especially since other evangelists present this story in a less confrontational way.

            Jesus answers in rabbinic fashion; he asks a question in return: “What does the law say?”  The lawyer’s answer is interesting.  Instead of quoting one or more of the Ten Commandments (the heart of Torah law), he quotes Deuteronomy 6:5 (“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind”), and adds, “and your neighbor as yourself.  His answer is the heart of the Ten Commandments, and of Jesus’ message and ministry.

            Clearly, if we love our neighbors as we love ourselves we must be our neighbors’ keeper.  If I treat myself to a new item of clothing, I should make sure my neighbor is well-dressed.  If I enjoy a good meal at a fine restaurant, I should make sure my neighbor is well-fed.  Sound familiar?  You’ll find similar thoughts in Matthew 25:31-46.

            The lawyer doesn’t want to end the discussion so he asks, “Who is my neighbor?”  Good question.  Logical question.  Jesus answers with the parable of the Good Samaritan.  This is also in keeping with rabbinic teaching.  Western preachers make a point then use stories to illustrate that point and bring it home to their congregations.  Middle Eastern preachers/teachers tell stories (parables) then demonstrate how the principle flows from the story.  The two styles are exactly opposite.  I wonder sometimes if my preaching would be more effective if, like Jesus, I used the Middle Eastern approach.

            At the end of the parable Jesus asks, “Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?”  The lawyer knows the answer: “The one who showed him mercy.”

            Jesus’ point is clear:  anyone in need is my neighbor.  Race doesn’t matter.  Gender doesn’t matter.  Religion doesn’t matter.  Political beliefs don’t matter.  Sexual orientation doesn’t matter.  What matters is need.  Jesus demonstrated this throughout his ministry, addressing people’s needs wherever and whenever he found them.

Jesus says to us, as he said to the lawyer, “You go and do likewise.”

Who Is Mary Madalene?

Who Is Mary Magdalene?

John 20:11-18

            For the past two thousand years Mary Magdalene has been a center of conroversy.  Accused of living a less-than-honorable lifestyle, suspected of being married to the earthly Jesus, and perhaps eased out of a leadership position in the early church, she has risen above all that to be recognized as a role model for Christian discipleship.

            We know little about Mary from Scripture. 

Luke tells us (8:2) that she was one of the women who traveled with Jesus throughout Galilee after he rid her of seven demons.

Matthew (27:56) and Mark (15:40) place her with other women at the crucifixion.  She also followed the funeral procession to Gethsemane (Matthew 27:61; Mark 15:47)

All four evangelists tell us that Mary went to the tomb the first Easter morning.  She is the only one mentioned by all four.  John (20:1-10) mentions only Mary Magdalene.

How could so much controversy come from so little written evidence?

Let’s deal first with the most damning charge against her:  that she was a prostitute.  Pope Gregory the Great (540-604) decided that Mary Magdalene was also Mary of Bethany (sister of Lazarus and Martha), who figures in John’s version of the story about Jesus’ anointing.  Luke’s version (7:36-50) says the woman who anointed Jesus was a sinner.  Prostitution was the most common way for a woman to be labeled a sinner in the first century.  By combining Luke’s version with John’s, and Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany, Gregory decided that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute who repented, anointed Jesus, and became a follower.  He used Luke’s story about Mary’s seven devils to bolster his decision.

I read somewhere that Gregory was seeking a female success story from Jesus’ ministry and decided this was it.  In addition to making assumptions that are unwarranted he overlooked one important piece of evidence that negates his conclusion.  Mary Magdalene was from Magdala, in Galilee—that’s where she got her name.  Bethany is in Judea, near Jerusalem.  It’s difficult to believe the same woman would have been identified with two such widely separated locations.

The speculation that Jesus and Mary were married is based primarily on the fact that most Jewish men were married.  There is no proof anywhere in the gospels that Jesus and Mary were a couple.  The story goes farther.  It claims that at the time of the crucifixion Mary was pregnant.  After the ascension she was taken to southern France by Joseph of Arimathea, where she gave birth to a child (some say female, some male) who became the founder of the Merovingian line of kings.  It’s an interesting story, but more legend than fact.

The other line of speculation at least has the ring of possibility.  It states that Jesus chose Mary to be the leader of the movement after his resurrection.  After the ascension the men, led by Peter, decided they did not want a woman to be in charge, so they squeezed her out.  In opposition, we have the written record of Jesus telling Peter, “on this rock I will build my church,” and Peter’s take-charge sermon in Acts 2.  It is possible, however, that once Mary Magdalene had been pushed aside, the written record could have been adjusted in Peter’s favor.

Where does all this leave us?  Of course, everyone is free to believe what he or she wants, but none of these stories are based on fact.  They are interesting, and since we know so little about Mary, the field is open to all kinds of speculation.  Perhaps the safest route is to accept Mary for what we know her to be, a faithful follower and disciple of Jesus Christ, and the first person of either gender to announce the good news of the resurrection.

Jesus Himself Drew Near

Jesus Himself Drew Near

Luke 24:13-35

            I’ve written on this story before, but it is so rich that I return to it often and always find something new.

            Some years ago Arch Wiggins and George Marshall wrote a song for church choir titled Jesus Himself Drew Near.  It began:

I set out a pilgrim sad at heart, to walk a lonely road;

Doubt had marred my simple trusting, doubt a future ill forbode.

And as I pondered o’er my grief, my shattered hope and unbelief,

A stranger to my soul’s relief drew near and walked with me

Jesus himself drew near, Jesus himself drew near;

When alone on the road, oppressed by my load,

Jesus himself drew near and walked with me.

                The song is based on the story of the Emmaus walk, but with one difference.  It comes from a theological base which emphasizes an individual relationship with Jesus Christ.  While that is necessary—each of us must have our own spiritual journey—Luke tells a story about two disciples traveling the road together.  We are told that one of them is named Cleopas.  We do not know the name of the other disciple.  There is speculation that this disciple could be Cleopas’ wife.  There are many good reasons why this could be true.

            We know from Luke’s gospel that many women followed Jesus, some of them all the way from Galilee to Jerusalem.  John (19:25) lists Mary the wife of Clopas as one of the women at the crucifixion.  It would have been more likely that a husband and wife would have been living together than that two men would have been sharing a house.  We can speculate all we want, of course, but we’ll never know for sure this side of the grave.

            Let’s assume that this was a married couple, Cleopas and Mary, traveling home to Emmaus on the evening of the resurrection.  They had been with the other disciples since the triumphal entry, had shared the joy of that occasion, the thrill of hearing their Master teach in the temple, the horror of Thursday and Friday, the depression of Saturday, and the uncertain joy of Sunday.  Now, emotionally exhausted, they want nothing more than to be at home, where they can be in familiar surroundings.

            As they walk they discuss the events, not only of the past week, but of their time with Jesus.  They want to believe he is alive, but it doesn’t make sense.  People don’t die and come back to life.  Oh, yes, there are the stories of Elijah and Elisha raising people from the dead; but that was long ago.  Jesus raised Lazarus and the young man from Nain, but that was Jesus.  Who was there to raise him?

            Then a stranger approaches them.  He hears their conversation and joins in.  Once he begins speaking he doesn’t stop, but cites familiar Scripture passages that show them how everything that happened was part of the prophecy which had long been part of their tradition.  They understand now what happened to Jesus, why it had to happen, and that Jesus was indeed alive.

            Arriving at their destination they invite him to share the evening meal with them.  As an honored guest he is given the privilege of breaking the bread.  And they know him.  And he vanishes.

            “Didn’t our hearts burn within us,” they say, remembering how they felt as this now-familiar figure spoke to them.  They heard God’s truth, and their inner beings responded, reaching out to the words that changed their lives.

            Jesus himself drew near to them, shared words of hope with them, broke bread with them; and now they couldn’t wait to share the good news.  Jesus Christ is alive!

Jesus Weeps Over Jerusalem

Jesus Weeps Over Jerusalem

Luke 18:28-44

The Triumphal Entry.  Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the eve of Passover.  This is not accidental timing.  This is a calculated event, designed to create the maximum attention for his arrival. 

For some time he has been preparing his disciples for the events that will occur when they reach the Holy City.  They do not yet understand—or perhaps they do not want to understand.  What Jesus is telling them is so horrific they cannot accept it.  Jesus must be wrong.  He can’t possibly believe that he’s going to be arrested, tried, tortured and executed.  They’ve missed the part about rising in three days, perhaps because that’s the most difficult part to understand.

Jesus has timed his arrival to occur when the city is at fever pitch.  Passover, the most joyous festival of the Jewish year, begins in a few days.  Pilgrims from all over world are making their way to the city.  For years they have been saying to friends and relatives, “Next year in Jerusalem,” and now it’s coming true.  Crowds are everywhere, extending out to the Mount of Olives, the place where tradition says the Messiah will appear.  “Perhaps this will be the year,” they say to each other.  “We don’t want to miss it.”

The Jewish religious and political leaders are also keyed up.  They don’t want any trouble during the feast.  If there is trouble, and they can’t handle it, they might lose their positions, along with the prestige and income those positions bring.

The Romans are also tense.  While they are trained administrators and soldiers, once trouble starts there’s no telling what may happen.  They can handle trouble alright, but, like a musician or actor before a performance, they’re full of nervous energy.

Into this scene rides Jesus, on a donkey, a symbol of peace, coming down the Mount of Olives, surrounded by his disciples.  They desperately want Jesus to take control of the city, to throw the Roman oppressors out, to demote the religious leaders, and promote Jesus’ followers to positions of leadership.  They know this is the time it will happen.  They can feel it, almost taste it.

Crowds gather, attracted by the shouting, adoring disciples.  Coats are thrown in front of Jesus so the donkey’s feet will not touch the ground.  Others in the crowd cut branches off trees and add them to the coats.  Perhaps this is the year.  Perhaps this is the promised Messiah.  He doesn’t look like much, but who knows.  Can’t always judge a book by its cover.  His followers are enthusiastic.  They must know something the crowds can’t see.

Jesus sits calmly, almost detached from the noise and action around him.  His face is peaceful, relaxed.  He alone knows what awaits him.  He alone knows how the week will end. 

The Pharisees join the crowd to evaluate the situation, to figure out what’s happening.  They sense this might be the trouble they want to avoid.  They tell Jesus to stop this nonsense, to control his followers.  Jesus answers, “I tell you, if these are silent, the very stones would cry out.”

Nothing can stop the chain of events that is unfolding.  Event after event will unfold until all is completed.  The next few days will find Jesus in the temple, further infuriating the leaders until they have no choice but to remove him.

“And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it.”

Jesus’ suffering will be a matter of hours.  Jerusalem’s will go on for years.  Jesus has wanted to gather the nation to him, but it will not happen.  The die is cast.

Leaving Our Comfort Zone

Leaving Our Comfort Zone

Acts 9:1-19

            When my wife was a high school guidance counselor, she put a sign on her office door that read,” There will be a $5 charge for whining.”  She says there was one student who walked in frequently with a five-dollar bill in his hand.  He needed to whine, and he was willing to pay the price.  (Just to be clear:  she didn’t charge him, and she did listen.)

            Poor Sallie (Charlie Brown’s little sister).  She’s the classic whiner.  Sallie whines about a lot of things.  In one Peanuts comic strip she whines about going on a school field trip.  “Oh, I hate field trips…” she says.  “I always get sick on the bus.  Why do we have to go on field trips?”  Then she says, “Why can’t we just stay in school and mind our own business?  Why should we bother the outside world?”  Why indeed?

            We’re a lot like Sallie, aren’t we?  We like to stay in our comfort zone, among the people we know and like; surrounded by familiar objects; going to familiar places.  Sure, we like occasional variety, as long as it’s not too much, or too different, or too chance-taking.  After all, if we try that new restaurant across town, the one with the weird name, and we don’t like the food, we’re out a bunch of money and we’ve wasted an evening.  Who wants to do that?

            That sounds like Saul.  He came to Jerusalem to be with people who believed as he did, who thought and spoke like he did, who read the same books in the same way he did.  He was going to be a Pharisee and be just like all the other Pharisees.  Then he did something different.

            Trying to be the best Pharisee he could, the best defender of the Torah, he asked permission to go to the city of Damascus to arrest anyone who was a follower of the recently-executed Jesus Christ.  He’d show those other Pharisees he was no slouch! 

Things didn’t work out the way he’d planned.  On the road to Damascus he encountered Jesus, the one whose followers he was going to arrest.  His life was changed.  Jesus called him to be the apostle to the Gentiles.  For a Jew, you can’t find anyone more different than a Gentile.  Jews weren’t even supposed to be near Gentiles, let alone talk to them; let alone carry on full-blown conversations with them; let alone try to convert them to a religion he was just beginning to understand.

And yet this is what God called him to do.  And what a job he did! With a new name (Paul), a new religious outlook, and a new ministry, he, along with a handful of other missionaries spread the gospel throughout much of the pagan world.  Instead of refusing God’s call and staying in his comfort zone, he launched out into the deep, and in doing so helped change Christianity from a small, little-known Jewish sect with little influence to the world’s largest religion.

In the same way and for much the same reasons, God calls us to leave our comfort zones and launch out into the deep.  It may be the deep of an unfamiliar culture, or a new occupation, or a new city.  It may be a new way of looking at the gospel, or at people, or at the world.  But whatever it is, it’s God’s call, and we must answer.

“The tragedy in the lives of most of us is that we go through life walking down a high-walled lane with people of our own kind, the same economic situation, the same national background and education and religious outlook.  And beyond those walls, all humanity lies, unknown and unseen, and untouched by our restricted and impoverished lives.”

Florence Luscomb, the author of these words, understood how small our lives can be in our comfort zone.  God calls us to a larger zone.  It may not be comfortable—at least at first, but if we allow God to guide us, as Paul did, we will find great reward, and eventually, the comfort of knowing we’ve done what God asked.