Peace, Power, and Jesus

Watch this teaching this video link or view below.

If you read the blog or listened to Pete’s teaching last week, you’ll know we’re talking about peace for Advent. But, as Pete shared, the concept of peace in both Hebrew and Christian scriptures isn’t always what we think it is. It’s not just the absence of conflict or some sort of inner tranquility, although those are both great. It’s what Jewish communities called shalom: a holistic thriving, where all of creation has the ability to flourish through deep connection to the divine. This is a really big idea, and deserves some unpacking. So, I want to dive a little deeper into shalom, specifically looking at how it happens. What is powerful enough to move us toward that sort of big, beautiful vision for our world? 

When I think of power, I often think of large, imposing figures who can make decisions that affect tons of people, or who can impose their will on others through force or manipulation. It’s a distant sort of power, one that’s removed from my everyday life, like a president or a king. Whether we mean to or not, this understanding of power often shapes our understanding of God’s power. If a king is the most powerful figure we can think of, God must be like a super king, right? And that understanding of God works for awhile. It makes us feel safe, like someone else is in control…until it doesn’t. 

Sometimes something so horrible happens, that believing in a superking sort of God just doesn’t make sense anymore. It seems like shalom is something that God either doesn’t want, or can’t do. Many times, we just jump ship from the whole God thing at this point, which is totally understandable. But I don’t think we have to. I think if we really look at Jesus, we’ll see that the problem wasn’t God’s power, but our understanding of it. Jesus totally flips the script on our definition of power, and how God is powerful. So, let’s look at Jesus and see what is really powerful enough to bring about the shalom we seek. 

To do this, I’m going to look at three different parts of Jesus’ life, and ask three sort of absurd questions that Jesus and his followers seem to be implying. Here’s the first one:

What’s more powerful: a baby or a king?

To see and answer this question, let’s start at the beginning of Jesus’ life, which is appropriate since it’s Christmas. Check out Luke 2:26-33.

26 When Elizabeth was six months pregnant, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a city in Galilee, 27 to a virgin who was engaged to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David’s house. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 When the angel came to her, he said, “Rejoice, favored one! The Lord is with you!” 29 She was confused by these words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. God is honoring you. 31 Look! You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great and he will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of David his father. 33 He will rule over Jacob’s house forever, and there will be no end to his kingdom.” (CEB)

Lovely stuff, right? It’s the sort of thing we put on Christmas cards and love to hear Linus quote in a Charlie Brown Christmas. In all the warm fuzzies of Christmas, we miss how controversial this passage is. It’s less about a peaceful nativity scene and more about a really dangerous message to those in power. 

What we have to understand is that much of the New Testament is written with the backdrop of Roman imperial power, and this passage is no different. What Luke is doing when he tells this story is setting up an alternative power to Caesar, who ruled much like our superking image of God: from a distance, with an iron fist, trying to control people. To see this, we have to understand how a first century listener would have heard these stories.

When Luke talks about Mary being visited by a divine messenger and having a child from God, this would have sounded familiar to any one in the Roman empire. Legend had it that Caesar Augustus’ mother, Atia, was visited by the god Apollo, and out of that visit, Caesar Augustus was born. So when Jesus’ birth narrative includes these details, it’s making a competing claim to power. As if that weren’t enough, Luke’s passage calls Jesus “Son of the Most High” and in other places “savior” and “lord”. Again, this wasn’t the first time these titles had been used. Many Caesars throughout Roman history claimed these titles. They were thought to be part divine, part human, and brought salvation and peace through a standing army and an iron fist. But Luke is calling BS. He’s saying that’s not actually what’s powerful. True power is seen in a Jewish baby, born in a barn, to an unwed mom and welcomed to the world by a bunch of disgusting shepherds, who were seen as some of the grossest people in society. If this is the case, then we have to look at more of Jesus to understand how he defines power and moves toward shalom.

What’s more powerful: a father or a king?

Jesus doesn’t ask this question in one particular spot, but rather over and over again in all four of the accounts of his life. He does it by changing the primary metaphor we use to talk about God, which has big implications for God's power and how that power brings shalom. 

Before we look at the metaphor Jesus uses, it’s important to note that almost everything we, and the writers of scripture, say about God, we say through metaphor or image. In some ways, God is deeply knowable, but in other ways, we’ll never have an image or statement that fully encompasses God. So, we get glimpses of God through metaphor and figurative language. Scripture uses tons of different metaphors for God. New ones are picked up along the way, and others are left behind. Here is where Jesus comes in.

In the Old Testament, the primary metaphor for God was king. It’s used 43 times directly, plus dozens of other allusions to it. While God was viewed as a good king, the metaphor also encompassed some problematic views of power that we discussed earlier – distance, heavy-handedness, being prone to anger. When Jesus comes on the scene though, he totally drops the metaphor of God as king. He never uses it. (He will talk about God’s kingdom, but that word can be translated several different ways that don’t have to involve God as king.) 
Instead, Jesus most frequently refers to God as father – 165 times in the four gospels! The Old Testament, on the other hand, only refers to God as father about fifteen times, and usually it’s referring to God as father over a few specific people or communities. So Jesus must really be trying to drive home a different understanding of God. 

You might be thinking to yourself, “I don’t like that metaphor any better.” I hear you. We all have flawed fathers, which skew our understanding of God as father. We might think of fathers much like we think of kings – heavy handed, manipulating, angry. We’ve also talked about God as a man for way too much of Christian history, and have done some incredibly sexist things because of it. But I don’t think Jesus’ metaphor switch is meant to imply either of those things. Here’s why:

In Greek, in which most of the New Testament is written, the word Jesus uses is pretty straight forward – pater , which just means “father.” But Jesus likely didn’t speak Greek. He spoke Aramaic. In Aramaic, the word for father is abba. This is a much more tender, familial term, that implies a consistent, loving, non-coercive presence in one’s life. So Jesus’ metaphor switch has much more to do with how God is powerful  and present than what gender God is. 

The implication of Jesus’ understanding of God is that God is not a distant, occasionally intervening king who rules through force- the kind that leads us to abandon God when tragedy strikes. Rather, God is a loving, non-coercive presence in the world, always seeking to nurture us toward shalom. That is a much different understanding of power! Theologian Andrew Sung Park says it better than I can: 

True power is not the will to control others. True power is the strength to help others to become what they can be.

Jesus’ shift in understanding God can be alarming. It can feel like things are less in control. But it is also empowering. It implies that the way God moves toward shalom is through us. Our actions, lives, words and relationships matter. They are key in seeing the wholeness God longs for in creation become reality. 

Jesus lives out this understanding of God through his entire life. He models the always present loving nature of God for us, trying to show us the way to shalom. He even takes it to its darkest and hardest place to live out – death. For Rome, the cross was the ultimate sign of heavy-handed power. It showed that if you stepped out of line or challenged Rome, you were going to die a slow, shameful death in front of all of your friends and family. But resurrection challenges that definition of power. It says that on the other side of suffering under corrupt rulers, new life can take place. Jesus’ way of love is truly what is powerful.

Of course, there are a lot of moments where Jesus’ definition of power and path to shalom seem far from reality, which is where our last question comes in. 

What’s more powerful: a lamb or a king?

Revelation 5:1-7, 13 (CEB)
Then I saw a scroll in the right hand of the one seated on the throne. It had writing on the front and the back, and it was sealed with seven seals. 2 I saw a powerful angel, who proclaimed in a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or look inside it. 4 So I began to weep and weep, because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look inside it. 5 Then one of the elders said to me, “Don’t weep. Look! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has emerged victorious so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” 6 Then, in between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders, I saw a Lamb, standing as if it had been slain. It had seven horns and seven eyes, which are God’s seven spirits, sent out into the whole earth. 7 He came forward and took the scroll from the right hand of the one seated on the throne.

Really straight forward and clear passage, right? 

Revelation can be weird, which can lead us to do weird things with it…like make movies about it starring Nicholas Cage. But once we understand the context and language of it, Revelation makes some really incredible statements about power.

Here are the basics of Revelation. It was likely written to seven churches in modern day Turkey. These small communities were probably meeting in homes, trying to live in the way of love Jesus taught. But, because they were saying things like, “Jesus is lord” and “Jesus is savior”, Rome, and its loyal followers, began to feel threatened and persecuted them. While they hadn’t experienced physical violence yet, the heavy hand of Rome was making it harder and harder for them to make money, stay connected socially and be a part of their families who weren’t following Jesus. 

Revelation was written to these communities suffering under Rome’s power to lift their heads up and remind them what was truly powerful. It’s written in veiled language so that if someone outside of their community got their hands on it, they wouldn’t be able to read it clearly. 
Now, back to our passage and question. 

Scholars think the scrolls referred to in Revelation 5 represent the way in which the story of creation will play out – in shalom. But, since they’re sealed, it appears that shalom won’t occur. No one is powerful enough to open them, so the violent power of Rome must win out. This leads John to weep, because it seems like corruption and violence have the final word. Perhaps you’ve felt that way lately.

Then, out of nowhere, a lion comes in and opens the scrolls. Apparently, there is a force strong enough to move us toward shalom! Then something weird happens. That force, which at first was a mighty lion, then becomes a slaughtered lamb (presumably Jesus) next to a throne, holding the scrolls. How absurd! The one thing that is strong enough to move us toward wholeness and peace is the very appearance of weakness and sacrificial love. 

This is a declaration of power, specifically what is powerful. Rome, or any chest thumping, muscle flexing, loud mouthed, violent expression of power is NOT truly powerful. The humble, consistent, loving, all-encompassing way that Jesus modeled is true power. 

But the scene doesn’t stop there. At first, just a few people notice this sacrificial power, and they begin to praise it. Then, more notice and join in. Then, finally, John says he sees this:

13 And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea—I heard everything everywhere say,
“Blessing, honor, glory, and power belong
to the one seated on the throne
    and to the Lamb
        forever and always.”

Eventually, Jesus’ understanding of power wins, and encompasses all of creation in the shalom we so desperately need. It’s the one thing strong enough to bring together everything, everywhere. 
Of course, John’s vision takes a few minutes to move from a few people embracing this way of love to all of creation being joined together. In our reality though, it’s a much slower moving story. There are moments when it appears that this vision is so far from real life, when shalom is elusive. But hear the good news of this passage: no matter how corrupt, marginalizing and heavy handed those in power are, the way of Jesus will, in time, win out. Not in a way that says “I told you so”, but in a way that envelops us all in the shalom God desires. 

Prince of Peace with a Sword?

Come back soon to watch the video of this teaching here.

Synopsis: The underlying understanding of biblical peace (shalom) is not simply a superficial absence of conflict or war, but a deeper wholeness, harmony, and health.  This is the means and end of what God is up to.  In fact, it is the definition of the salvation God has offered and provided and delivered from the very beginning of creation, through all of what happened in and through Jesus, up until now, and will be forevermore.  To find this peace is to find God, Life, Source, etc.  This peace, however, is radically different than the peace most often pursued or accepted individually and in the broader world today.  The contrast between the peace of God/Christ and what we generally pursue is so great, in fact, that the pursuit of it feels like the opposite.  The question for us is, which peace will we pursue?  Which peace will we trust as true peace?

If we could wave a magic wand and immediately bring peace over wherever we waved it, where would you want to wave the wand?  Syria?  Afghanistan and Iraq?  Nigeria?  US Race Relations?  Gender inequality?  LGBTQ?  Religions of the world?  Cancer battlers?  Domestic violence sufferers?  Extreme poverty?  Human trafficking?  It’s a long list, isn’t it?

It’s been a long list for a very long time.  It was a long list at the time of Jesus’ birth, too, and lots of people wanted God to wave a magic wand and pacify all the things on the list.  They thought God would anoint someone to usher in the wand waving, so to speak.  The Messiah (anointed one) would purge Israel of the Roman Empire so that the Jewish people could have their homeland back to rule as their own.  This would mean peace for the people.  Why wouldn’t everybody want that to happen?

Joseph lived in the hillbilly region of ancient Israel.  He was a country boy, and barely made a living as a carpenter.  When you think of Joe, don’t think Jonathon Scott of HGTV’s Property Brothers’ fame, transforming lackluster homes into showpieces on the dime of their clients.  Think day laborer hanging out in the parking lot across the street from Home Depot, hoping to pick up a job that day.  He lived at a time in Jewish history centuries after they called their land their own.  They held out hope for that day to eventually come, but with the Roman Empire occupying their land, it would take a miracle.  Joseph worked hard, probably practiced his faith like most people, and was planning on eventually getting married, having kids, the whole package.  He was already engaged, and was probably trying to get his home built so that they could finally get married.  Then this happened:

This is how Jesus the Messiah was born. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. But before the marriage took place, while she was still a virgin, she became pregnant through the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph, her fiancé, was a good man and did not want to disgrace her publicly, so he decided to break the engagement quietly.
     As he considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream. “Joseph, son of David,” the angel said, “do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. For the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit. And she will have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
     All of this occurred to fulfill the Lord’s message through his prophet:
          “Look! The virgin will conceive a child!
          She will give birth to a son,
          and they will call him Immanuel,
          which means ‘God is with us.’”
     When Joseph woke up, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded and took Mary as his wife. But he did not have sexual relations with her until her son was born. And Joseph named him Jesus. – Matthew 1:18-25 (NLT)

The prophecy cited is interesting.  It comes from a time when the Jewish nation was divided, literally.  Israel was to the north and Judah was to the south.  This prophecy came to the King of Judah, who reigned in the south.  He was terrified that Israel and Syria were going to join forces and wipe out his little country.  The prophet Isaiah got a message from God that it wouldn’t happen, and to prove it, God would give this sign: “Look! The [young woman] will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God is with us’). By the time this child is old enough to choose what is right and reject what is wrong, he will be eating yogurt and honey. For before the child is that old, the lands of the two kings you fear so much will both be deserted” (Isaiah 7:14-16).  God was saying that a magic wand of sorts was going to be waved.  The Jewish people of Judah could expect peace, not war, regarding their enemies to the north (which included their former countrymen, Israel).

What Matthew is doing here is drawing a parallel for his readers: this is how God showed that God was with God’s people back then.  God is going to act in a similar manner again in the birth of Jesus.  Things are about to look up.  Hope is on its way.

The next verse(s) after this near-prophecy from Isaiah are usually not noted in Christmas cards, in Handel’s Messiah, and generally not in our collective memory: “Then the Lord will bring things on you, your nation, and your family unlike anything since Israel broke away from Judah. He will bring the king of Assyria upon you!”  In other words, the initial peace will be followed by sheer terror.  The peace will be short lived. The wand waving would only work for a moment.  There were deeper issues that a quick fix wand wave couldn’t address.

Isaiah doesn’t end there, however.  In the distant future, God would finally bring lasting peace:

For a child is born to us,
     a son is given to us.
The government will rest on his shoulders.
     And he will be called:
          Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
               Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His government and its peace
     will never end.
He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David
     for all eternity.
The passionate commitment of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies
     will make this happen! – Isaiah 9:6-7 (NLT)

In Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, a host of angels appear to some shepherds that very night and proclaim with their song: “Glory to God in highest heaven, and peace on earth to all with whom God is pleased” (Luke 2:14).  The Gospel writers are telling us that with Jesus, God is with us, and part of that good news is that there will be peace.  Peace because the reign of God will be reestablished, which means Rome will be pushed out of their homeland.  Could this be the magic wand wave everyone had been hoping for?

What do you think of when you hear that peace is coming with Jesus?  What does peace mean to you?  Maybe for you it means that the longest war in our nation’s history will come to an end.  Or that the civil war in Syria will end.  Or that terrorism will end.  Or, closer to home, that racial conflict in the United States will go away.  Or political battles between Democrats and Republicans will come to an end and congress willactually make progress.  Or even closer to home, that your abusive partner will stop abusing you physically, and/or sexually, and/or verbally, and/or emotionally, and/or spiritually.

Maybe you’re a realist, and don’t hold out hope for any of the above conflicts to be pacified, so you think inwardly.  Inner peace is what it’s all about.  No matter what’s happening in the world around you, God’s good news is that you can weather it because you are calm on the inside.

What a surprise, then, when Jesus grows up to make this announcement:

“Don’t imagine that I came to bring peace to the earth! I came not to bring peace, but a sword.
     ‘I have come to set a man against his father,
          a daughter against her mother,
      and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.
           Your enemies will be right in your own household!’ (Micah 7:6)
“If you love your father or mother more than you love me, you are not worthy of being mine; or if you love your son or daughter more than me, you are not worthy of being mine. If you refuse to take up your cross and follow me, you are not worthy of being mine. If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give up your life for me, you will find it.” – Matthew 10:34-39 (NLT)

At the very end of the Bible, in the strange apocalyptic book called Revelation, we get this scene of Jesus:

Then I saw heaven opened, and a white horse was standing there. Its rider was named Faithful and True, for he judges fairly and wages a righteous war. His eyes were like flames of fire, and on his head were many crowns. A name was written on him that no one understood except himself. He wore a robe dipped in blood, and his title was the Word of God. The armies of heaven, dressed in the finest of pure white linen, followed him on white horses. From his mouth came a sharp sword to strike down the nations. – Revelation 19:11-15a (NLT)

So much for peace…

What are we supposed to make of this?  What happened to our warm-fuzzy-snuggly-buddy-Jesus?  Where’d the love go?  How did we lose the magic wand and end up with a sword?

The problem isn’t with Jesus.  At the center of the conflict is our understanding of peace itself.

We very often jump to a definition of peace that simply has us looking for the absence of war or conflict.  Perhaps that’s not completely reflective of what Jesus was after, however.  Jesus was Jewish, which meant that his understanding of peace was likely tied to his faith heritage.  The most commonly used term for peace in Hebrew is shalom.  Shalom isn’t simply a reference to the absence of war and conflict, but literally means to be whole, complete, to be well.  This state of wellness, completeness, and wholeness is reflected in Eden, where God pronounced everything good, and male and female human beings created in God’s image as very good.  That early picture showcases what shalom looks like.  Total harmony in creation.  Not just lack of conflict.  Not just inner peace.  Every broken place restored.  Every dark hatred exposed by light.  Every prejudice under every rock found out and addressed.  Every wound healed.  We’re talking about a deep peace not a shallow quick fix.

Of course, as the Jewish story goes, Adam and Eve made mistakes – as we do – that damaged shalom.  Their story has been repeated in history from the earliest times until now.  We still find ourselves damaging shalom.  Jesus was a restorer of that deep peace with his life.  Sometimes, however, shallow peace is preferred.  When shallow peace is preferred, shalom is a threat, a sword that will destroy.  And it does.  And it will.

Shalom isn’t content with a cease-fire.  Shalom seeks reconciliation, which is much harder and deeper.  Shalom isn’t satisfied with laws on the books calling for equal rights for all in the United States; shalom actually pursues lived-out equality for all.  That means prejudice is challenged.  Racism is called out.  Sexism isn’t tolerated.  When people are marginalized, minimized, and mistreated, shalom comes with a sword – words of peace that pierce pride and bigotry.  Shalom isn’t satisfied with an abuser who stops for a day when genuine redemption is in order.  The abuser obviously is living out of brokenness and needs redemption.  All who have been abused need redeeming.  Systems that allow abusive behavior need healing, to be made well, restored to a way that allows for wholeness.  The prophet Zechariah voiced it this way:

But this is what you must do: Tell the truth to each other. Render verdicts in your courts that are just and that lead to peace. Don’t scheme against each other. Stop your love of telling lies that you swear are the truth. I hate all these things, says the Lord.” – Zechariah 8:16-17 (NLT)

If you’re keeping track, you’re probably realizing that shalom destroys our pursuit of inner peace, too, not because inner peace is bad.  Inner peace is good and is available to all under any and every circumstance.  But inner peace can easily be construed as an activity in isolation.  In our highly individualistic culture, we do not need help becoming more isolated unto ourselves.  Shalom brings a sword to poke and prod us out of the comfort of our personal spirituality to stand for justice where it isn’t.  Shalom cannot exist where true justice fails to be present. Justice only happens when people get off their duffs and see that justice is lifted up and carried out.

Jesus came to bring a sword, because true shalom brings truth and justice with it in the bargain.  His sword was not one of military prowess, and the blood stains (Revelation passage) were likely from his own wounds that he took on for others.  There is an oft-quoted statement Jesus made: you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.  As a stand-alone statement, it’s good and accurate.  But the context of that statement was that he was talking about his own death that would come at the hands of aggressors who didn’t want to hear the truth he brought.  The truth to which he referred was that we need redeeming, and we need a redeemer to do it.  We have a tendency to damage shalom sometimes nearly irreversibly – we can’t help ourselves, apparently – and we don’t like having a mirror held to our faces to see reality.  Being honest about reality is the first step toward real peace.  Seeing reality can be terrifying, however.  We sometimes would prefer to kills shalom and settle for the bandaid peace instead.

But shalom is not ours to kill, and in fact, cannot be killed because it is the heartbeat of God, where love resides and thrives.  Shalom is eternal and eternally present, ready to be realized should we choose to pursue it.  But it is a choice.  The sword refers to that choice.  Not a weapon of bloodshed, but a tool to help us determine who we are and who we want to be, what kind of peace we hope for and what we’re willing to do to manifest it.

Have you settled for peace that is not peace?  Have you settled for the absence of conflict even though the problem simmers beneath the surface in relationships at home, work, or with friends?  This is peace that is not peace.  Have you settled for comfortable inner peace while people near and far are being treated unjustly?  This is peace that is not peace.  The sword of Jesus – his word – calls it like it is, forcing us to answer the questions: who are we, who are we choosing to be, and what are we going to do about genuine shalom in our lives and world?

Over the next few weeks leading up to Christmas, we will be exploring what it means to be people of peace.  Christmas came with a sword for Joseph and Mary, and they chose to step into genuine peace as they brought the embodiment of the Prince of Peace into the world.  Maybe we will begin to experience genuine peace instead of its counterfeit.  Perhaps we will find ourselves helping others find peace as we get off our duff to make sure peace really is available to all people everywhere as the chorus sang.  Maybe it’s this kind of pursuit of peace that finds the favor and power and love of God that enables it to happen in the first place.  Maybe it’s not a magic wand we need after all.  Maybe it’s a sword to cut to the quick so we can heal what needs to be healed, mend what’s really broken, make whole what is shattered.

Thanksgiving Dinner

Watch the video of this teaching here.

The parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) is one of the best stories Jesus ever weaved.  Jesus crafted stories like this one because they got people thinking and talking, which meant they likely grew.  Behold the masterpiece:

“A man had two sons. The younger son told his father, ‘I want my share of your estate now before you die.’ So his father agreed to divide his wealth between his sons.
     “A few days later this younger son packed all his belongings and moved to a distant land, and there he wasted all his money in wild living. About the time his money ran out, a great famine swept over the land, and he began to starve. He persuaded a local farmer to hire him, and the man sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. The young man became so hungry that even the pods he was feeding the pigs looked good to him. But no one gave him anything.
     “When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, ‘At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! I will go home to my father and say, “Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.”’
     “So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.’
     “But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began.
     “Meanwhile, the older son was in the fields working. When he returned home, he heard music and dancing in the house, and he asked one of the servants what was going on. ‘Your brother is back,’ he was told, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf. We are celebrating because of his safe return.’
     “The older brother was angry and wouldn’t go in. His father came out and begged him, but he replied, ‘All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!’
     “His father said to him, ‘Look, dear son, you have always stayed by me, and everything I have is yours. We had to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!’”

What is your first take-home from this story – what’s the point?  Are there any particular parts of the story that jump out at you?  Why might that be? 

Some notes that might help you appreciate the depths of the parable…

·       According to Jewish custom at that time, the younger son would get only half as much as the older son in the story.

·       Asking for his inheritance in advance was tantamount to telling his dad he wished he were dead, or “#@%& off!”  It was probably the most offensive thing imaginable, and Jesus’ audience would have certainly gasped.

·       If Jesus’ audience didn’t gasp at the son’s request, they surely would have at the response of the father.  Nobody in the crowd would have expected the father to give the son a dime.  More likely, they would have expected him to kick the brat out of the house.  What the father did was unheard of.

·       Everybody’s opinion of the son would have gotten even lower upon hearing what a louse he was with the money.  As their opinion of him sunk, their sympathy for the father soared: what a painful, embarrassing slap in the face.  Way to make your daddy proud…

·       The son’s fate could not have been worse - or more deserved.  Losing everything, he was serving pigs – an unclean animal in Jewish law.  The fact that he wasn’t even eating as well as them highlights the depths of his despair. 

·       Apparently, none of the locals were impressed with him, either, since none of them offered him assistance.  Perhaps they were a disgusted with him as his hometown crowd.

·       The son’s waking up to his reality was the first step toward healing.  He recognized that his choices were against the flow of God, and that he had hurt his father, too.  Humiliated, he lost any hope of retaining his title.  He was truly humbled, and finally humble.

·       The fact that his father recognized him from a distance indicates that his love never faded – we can imagine him looking to the horizon throughout the day, hoping to see his son again.

·       The evidence that he was filled with love and compassion is that he ran.  In Jesus’ culture, elderly, stately men didn’t run.  To do so would have been another cause for gasp – how embarrassing!  But like a dog who hasn’t seen it’s master for a while (or sometimes five minutes), the father can’t hold his excitement.  His love was bigger than his disappointment and grieving.

·       The father didn’t give the son a chance to ask for a job – he was too busy reinstating him as “son.”  The ring he slid on his finger was likely his signet ring, with which he conducted business.  This was a full-on gesture of power returned, including access to his checking account.  The younger son could, if he wanted, help himself to his father’s treasure all over again.

·       The celebration was one for the record books.  This was truly a thanksgiving banquet, and the community was invited.  However prodigiously the son blew his money, the father was ever more prodigious in doling out cash for the party.  Everybody was going to eat well that night.  Everybody who wanted to celebrate, that is.

·       The older brother got the news with no embellishment.  Instead of rejoicing, however, he was angry, refusing to go in, which, in and of itself, was an act of great disrespect to his father.

·       The father begged him to come in.  Again, shockingly out of character for a man of his stature. 

·       The forthcoming vitriolic verbal assault on his father is shocking as well.  The older brother had been carrying bitterness and hatred since the brother left.  He didn’t view staying home as a great benefit, but may have thought his younger sibling got away with something glorious (which he therefore missed out on).  We also get a glimpse on how he perceived his relationship with his father, and his opinion of his father – a stingy slave master.  His words were as deeply cutting as his younger brother’s.

·       The father’s response, yet again, is shocking.  Jesus’ audience would have expected a father to put such an insolent son in his place – perhaps kicking him to the curb.  Instead, the father treats him gently, with loving words – “dear son” – and reminds his son that he has his whole estate at his disposal.  He tries to wake him out of his stupor, celebrating the fact that his son who had been dead to him was back among the living, something the older brother cannot appreciate due to his prideful hatred.

·       We can only presume that the father went back inside to rejoin the celebration.  We are left to speculate as to whether or not the older brother decided to have his own lame pity party or get in on the better one inside.

We’re all younger sons of God.  It takes us a long time to admit where we have messed up, and longer to realize the source of our decision and the wake of wreckage our decisions have created.  That’s how pride works.  We think primarily about our perspective, our needs and wants, with much less thought about how our wishes impact those around us.  We fail to recognize that we are connected to the whole.  We are not isolated solo acts performing our way through life on the world’s stage.  We are members of a chorus singing together.  When we are full of ourselves, however, we truly stand out: off key, out of rhythm, wrong words, maybe even the wrong song!  Everybody sees and hears except us.  When we finally wake up, we realize our mistakes ultimately did more than hurt ourselves – they hurt the created order.  That’s why it was an offense against heaven.  To recognize that indicates that the son truly understood the depths of what was happening.  This is the start of true repentance.  Here are some popular ways we live out our younger brotherness:

·       When a porn user realizes he has perpetuated trafficking with his clicks, has added to the voice that objectifies women, has hurt his personal capacity to love others, and has encouraged more of the same, he is on the right track.  When he thinks it’s no big deal but should probably stop, he’s nowhere hear repentance.  It offends heaven because the people on the screen or page are also created in the image of God, and yet they’re being exploited for our pleasure from a distance – it is abuse.  Of course, we’re sinning against the objects of our lust, too, by consigning them to such a role.

·       Or a person struggling with substance addiction can’t see beyond their nose, thinking that it’s under control, they can stop any time, and only affects themselves, they’re nowhere near recovery.  The first step is to admit that we have a problem.  Those closest to the addict are fully aware of the problem, of course, and have scar tissue to prove it.  This is a sin against heaven because we are blaspheming the breath of God with our lives with every shot and messing with the whole story because we can’t do our part.  And, of course, we hurt lots of people along the way.

·       Or a person who has bought the lie that they are self-made, and that every luxury they enjoy is because of their hard work.  Everybody could be as successful if they worked as hard, therefore if others don’t have it, they just haven’t worked hard enough for it.  This leads to self-indulgent behavior and stinginess toward those in need.  They fail to realize that they did not choose all the variables into which they were born, while others – most – in the world are born into circumstances that make it nearly impossible to succeed.  Their arrogance offends heaven because it neglects the needs of others who really do need help.  And it is a sin against the poor and hungry around the world who suffer while we gorge.

How are you like the younger brother?  Have you come to your senses yet or are you still living in the pig pen?

We are all older brothers now and then.  Whereas the younger brother was prodigious with his reckless lifestyle, the older brother was equally prodigious when it came to brooding.  This is tougher to recognize, of course, but certainly exists today.  His was a failure to recognize what he had all along, living on assumptions about his fathers’ character that were untrue and undoubtedly damaging to their relationship.  His hatred toward his brother even while he surely noticed his father’s longing for his return likely consumed him.  He wished his brother stayed dead, and was perhaps frustrated that his father didn’t share his frustration.  The awful reality is that the older brother missed out on life the whole time his younger brother was gone, and was still missing out – all due to his pride.  Here are some examples of how we play out this role…

·       Family dynamics are messy.  Hint: we all come from dysfunctional families.  We may see the dysfunction clearly and/or read things into our experience that make us angry.  Perhaps we feel there has been favoritism.  Or maybe we’re sick and tired of our birth-order reality playing out year after year after year – when will I ever not be the baby brother;)?  Or maybe we’re stuck in arguments that have lasted a lifetime and we can’t stand it anymore.  Our resentment grows and grows, a wound we nurse along for decades.  We don’t realize that we are offending heaven at that point.  We are not being who we are created to be, we are stinking up the air space wherever we go, and we are contagious.  Not at all what we were created for.  And, of course, we are offending others with our thinly-veiled disdain.

·       Perhaps we feel maligned by someone, and it feels unjust.  We didn’t get the promotion.  We didn’t get the bonus.  We didn’t get the recognition we thought we deserved.  We weren’t loved the way we wanted to be loved.  We got sick while others stayed well.  We stayed stuck while others thrived.  We see the inequities in life and feel cheated.  Life isn’t fair.  We get grumpy and bitter.  We stink up the elevator, offending everyone in the process.  We hurt ourselves and others and the purposes of heaven, too.

·       Maybe we feel angry at large swaths of people.  Democrats.  Republicans.  Muslims.  Undocumented immigrants.  African Americans.  Police.  The 1%.  Wall Street.  Washington.  White people.  Evangelicals.  LGBTQ community.  NRA.  And that’s just me!  Just kidding…    We hear reports (rarely good ones) that reinforce our poor opinions and our anger grows.  We can’t stand them.  We loathe them.  They are the problem.  They are the reason we are not happy.  They become less than human over time as our hatred clouds our vision and hardens our hearts.  We become the older brother – sometimes we’re taught, sometimes it’s caught.  But we kind of wish they were dead.  We offend heaven because we are equally created in the image of God and therefore have intrinsic value.  Our hatred severely limits our capacity to thrive as we are created to do.  And, of course, we offend the object of our hatred and those who like them. 

How are you like the older brother?  Have you come to your senses yet, or are you still brooding in the cold while the party grows inside?

The father in the story is, of course, the hero, and certainly represents God.  The shocking truth about God according to Jesus in this parable is that at every turn, when we expect the father to by like us, he isn’t.  When the father is horribly disrespected, when the ingrate returns home, when the older son can’t get over himself – our gut reaction is probably not as graceful as Dad’s.  Instead of removing him from the will, the father gives freedom enough to allow the younger son to walk away (even though it must have killed him).  Instead of making the returning son beg for forgiveness, he lavishes grace and restoration before he can ask for it.  Then he blows a ton of cash on a party!  Instead of getting bent out of shape at his older son’s obstinate behavior, he begs him to join the party.  Instead of returning verbal blows after his older son’s assault, he gently tries to help him see reality in all of its beauty.  Here are some examples of how the father still does this today…

The father doesn’t curse us.  We walk away from God (circle one) weekly/daily/hourly/already gone.  God gives us the freedom to take everything we have been created to be and do what we want with it.  Sure, God’s love compels God to direct us and encourage us in the direction of Shalom, but it’s our choice in the end.

·       When we make poor choices that hurt the cosmos, ourselves, and others, God still loves us, looking for us on the horizon.

·       When we come to our senses and come home to all that God is and offers, we are met with a rush of the Spirit to restore us in every way, fully, so that we might thrive.  All of the resources of God are at our disposal in that signet ring.  We are not second-class citizens in God’s eyes.  We are resurrected kids with a new look and new license.

·       When we miss the party because of our hatred, God comes alongside us with love and grace, hoping to woo us back into the community of life.  God longs for us to be part of the warmth of the family and friends – not left out in the cold.  The invitation to come home is ever-present and unending.  We will always be encouraged and welcomed into the grace-filled celebration, no matter what we say, or how ugly our attitude – the invitation to resurrection persists for older brothers just as much as it was for the younger.

How have you responded to this God of grace?

As people who strive to follow in the footsteps of Jesus (who was striving to walk aligned with God), how are you reflecting the father character in this story?  Who are the younger brothers in your life who need you to be graceful as they wake up to the reality of their life choices?  Who are the older brothers in your life who need to be gracefully and lovingly and gently encouraged to wake up to their choices?  How can you provide the celebration of grace for all to enjoy?

You get to do this awesome stuff.  So do it.

The God Who Yearns and Waits for Us – Walter Brueggemann

We are strange conundrums of faithfulness and fickleness.

We cleave to you in all the ways that we are able.

We count on you and intend our lives to be lived for you,

  and then we find ourselves among your people

     who are always seeking elsewhere and otherwise.

So we give thanks that you are God

Who yearns and waits for us,

And that our connection to you is always from your side,

And that it is because of your goodness

     That neither life nor death

          Nor angels nor principalities

               Nor heights nor depths

                    Nor anything in creation

                         Can separate us from you.

We give you thanks for your faithfulness,

     So much more durable than ours.  Amen.

Jesus and Islam(s)

 Read this book: God is not One, by Stephen Prothero, Boston University Professor of Religion.

Bonus: To warm you up on the reality of living as a Muslim in the United States, watch this video.

Now let’s get to it…

What do you hear people thinking and talking about when the subject of Islam or Muslims come up?

ISIS? Muhammed? Middle East? Terrorism? Beheadings? Mosques? Medina? Mecca? Jihad? Suicide Bombers? Peace? Law? Quran? Prayer? Poetry?

What countries of the world do you think have the highest population of Muslims?

Here’s what I hope to do with this teaching: lay out the facts about Islam and its adherents, and talk about what it means to follow Jesus in a world of people following a variety of religious traditions. You need to know my bias going forward. First, I like to know as much as possible about a subject or issue before I make conclusions. I am generally leery of sources that appear to be one sided based on the rhetoric used. When I view sources that are strewn with overly negative, hateful rhetoric, I get distracted and don’t really want to read what they have to say. What I try to do is take their obvious bias into consideration as I consider their perspective. Second, as a rule, I see religions themselves as largely human constructions created to help us get our arms around the Divine. The religions exist, in part, because they have been (more or less) effective at helping people do just that. In my opinion, a danger exists when we assume one particular religion is so divinely infused that it is beyond critical evaluation, and the human influence is discounted. Finally, my study and experience leads me to believe that the core character trait of God is love, and the primary objective of God’s Spirit is ongoing, ever-increasing shalom (or salaam, in this case).

Islam 101. The word Islam means “submission” or “surrender”. Muslims – submitters/surrenderers – physically illustrate this in their daily prayers, where they prostrate themselves in prayer. A Masjid, which translates into “Mosque”, is literally “a place for prostration.” Five times a day, 365 days a year, for over a millennium, Muslims have stopped what they were doing in order to pray. Typically, the call to prayer comes in Arabic, the holy language in which the Quran was given to Muhammad. Most of the world’s Muslims live in Asia. Indonesia has more Muslims than any other country – three times the number than Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, and Iraq combined! India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh round out the top four. Of the top ten countries with the largest Muslim populations, only two are in the Middle East: Egypt and Iran. Three more are African: Nigeria, Algeria, and Morocco. Turkey is the remaining top ten country, which straddles Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. It is estimated that 20% of the slaves brought into the United States were Muslim, but the religion gained visibility through the Nation of Islam, which recruited Malcom X and Muhammad Ali. Most Muslims in the United States are mainstream Sunnis. During prayer you will hear repeatedly Allahu Akbar: God is great. Unlike Christianity, which tries to solve the sin problem, Islam is trying to solve the self-sufficiency problem. The five pillars of Islam seek to do just that. These five pillars include Shahadah (Profession of Faith), Salat (Prayer), Zakat (Charity), Sawm (Fasting), and Hajj (Pilgrimage). Ramadan is a holiday which commemorates the coming of revelation to Muhammad. Jihad literally translates as “struggle,” referring most often to spiritual struggle against pride and self-sufficiency, and the physical struggle against the house of war. For Muslims, Allah (the God) is one. They do not believe in the Trinity or in an incarnation like Jesus. Muhammad was sort of like Jesus and Paul put together – he communicated the beliefs and also gave instructions on how to carry out the beliefs. Muslims revere him as a religious teacher, a social reformer, a moral guide, a political thinker, a military genius, and administrative colossus, a faithful friend, a wonderful companion, a devoted husband, a loving father – all in one. When I read this, it made me think of King David. He was the most loved king of Israel, certainly revered, but also had skeletons in his closet. Yet, even though Muhammad is revered, he is not viewed as God. Jesus and Muhammad do not play the same role in their respective faiths. Muhammad was not considered divine – only the Quran is. So, with that in mind, think of it this way: Jesus is to the Quran as Muhammad is to the Bible. Muhammad received revelations from 610-632 CE, and founded the Muslim community in 622 as they fled Mecca, landing in Medina. This emigration is known as the hijra, and marks the beginning of the Islamic calendar. In 632, upon Muhammad’s death, Islam split into two main branches, Sunni and Shia. Sunnis value tradition and the community in shaping understanding of the Quran and Hadith (writings about what it means to live as a Muslim). Shia are a much smaller group, and are looking for their caliph to lead them. Sufis are Muslim mystics, and are on the side of love and reconciliation. There is much more to say, but this gives a general overview of the faith.

Backgammon or Baseball? One very helpful metaphor that may be helpful in sorting this out is a sports analogy. Choosing from basketball, football, baseball, and hockey, which sport scores the most runs? The answer, of course, is baseball. The term doesn’t even fit the other sports. Similarly, different religions are playing different “games”, even though they are all “sports”. They score differently, and have different rules of play. You cannot really call one better than another, either, because they cannot really be compared. I found that to be very insightful and helpful. To try and deem one religion “better” is in some ways an exercise in futility. In this sense, we can call them all religions, but let’s stop trying to make them say the same thing, because they aren’t. Islam is a system of faith and government, more like Judaism than Christianity (which is more focused on salvation from sin). The question turns to getting along more than getting them to agree.

Jesus and Islams. Now you know why I “pluralized” the Muslim’s faith to “Islams”. The understood beliefs, practices, tone, hope, and agenda of Islam depends on which part of the world you are in and the voice of interpretation being listened to. The exact same thing could be said of Christianity today, which reminds us to be aware and appreciative of the complexity of religion in general, and Islam specifically. For people who follow Jesus, we have a responsibility to learn and understand his ways and match our hands, feet, head and heart to his. To fully grasp what Jesus believed and lived we need to ask a couple of questions: What shaped Jesus’ worldview related to other religious traditions? How did he actually respond to people of other religious traditions – what did he say, how did he treat them, and what did he teach? How did the leaders of early Jesus followers move forward in a time that was so hostile toward them?

The Jewish tradition, like all other religious traditions, is multifaceted. At the time when Jesus lived and breathed there was not just one way to think and live “Jewishly”, but several. Like Islam, the Jewish faith practiced was largely influenced by the same factors: zip code, school of thought, and time in history. There is not one, singular voice or tradition that shaped Jesus or his contemporaries. This is why the stories of Jesus include really ugly accounts of Jesus mixing it up with religious leaders. And I mean ugly! The most colorful account can be found in the Bible’s book of Matthew Chapter 23, which reads like it could have been lifted right out of today’s campaign trail. Remember that he was not speaking as a Christian against Jews. He was speaking as a Jew to Jewish leaders. Think Democrats and Republicans and Libertarians and Independents and Green Party people in the same room talking politics. That’s what we have here. The major theological voices at that time came from the Sadducees (who were small but held the power in Jerusalem), the Pharisees (who were the largest group mostly comprised of people outside of the big cities), the Zealots (who were on the fringe, ready to violently revolt if necessary), and the Essenes (who were separatists who thought they practiced the pure faith). Sadducees were more likely to be gracious toward other traditions because they were interested in keeping peace with Rome. Pharisees and Zealots were likely less gracious because they were living with the harsh reality of being in Roman-occupied Israel – they were the regular, everyday folks who were barely making it already, only to have Rome demand more from them. The Zealots were on the terrorist watch lists at the time, and were looking for the right window to overthrow Rome. They no doubt were involved in the retaking of Jerusalem in 65 AD or so, and watch everything fall apart as Rome starved them out, tortured their family members who were released right outside the gate, and eventually wiped them and the entire city out in 70 AD. The Essenes were the Amish, so to speak – they wanted to be left in their own space to practice what they deemed was the pure faith. Those are the voices that shaped Jesus. The strongest voices would have been from the Pharisee, Zealot, and separatist camps. Note: even though the Matthew texts indicate Jesus was attacking Pharisees, the more likely target was Sadducees. By the end of the first century, however, very few people knew much about the Sadducees because they got wiped out along with the Temple in Jerusalem. Jesus, however, was well aware of them, their lust for luxury and power, and their arrogance. Jesus was influenced by all of these voices in one way or another, and to different degrees. Growing up in Galilee, the Pharisees and Zealots would have had particular influence.

Jesus gave us plenty of material for us to use to help discern his approach to other religious traditions. Here are a few that I think are noteworthy:

The Woman at the Well (John 4). She was a Samaritan – they were as Dodgers to Giants fans – utterly incapable of anything good. Jesus opened the conversation, treated her with tremendous dignity as respect.
Crazy Cemetery Dude (Luke 8:26ff). In this scene, Jesus has some fun teaching some pigs to swim(!), and shows healing grace to a very troubled man.
“For us isn’t against us” (Mark 9:38). In this brief exchange, Jesus makes an interesting statement that those who are essentially with him in their pursuits of healing are, well, with him. Not enemies.
Crumbs from the table (Mt. 15:21-28). In this bazaar scene, Jesus seems to be a jerk – and might be – but in the end grants the Gentile’s wish.
In my opinion, while Jesus was clearly Jewish and promoted Judaism, when it came to other religious traditions – even those that were clear enemies – Jesus treated other people with dignity and grace.

What about Jesus’ followers? They also gave us plenty to work with. Recall that they were barely recognized as a Jewish sect – they were not a major player for 300 years. The underdog. They were trying to make their case to Jewish adherents while at the same time discerning the essence of their faith as they found themselves in increasingly non-Jewish territory. Their capacity to be open and graceful to people of other faiths is amazing and inspiring. Philip gracefully engaged the Ethiopian Eunuch. Peter ended up baptizing Cornelius’ household. Paul converted to following Jesus after a season of pursuing his disciples. Later, in part because of what they were seeing develop right before their eyes, out of all of the Jewish laws prescribed, only two were deemed critical to follow. The followers of Jesus didn’t pretend to think they were the same as the others. Hardly! But they did know that their only hope of (1) survival was dependent on being respectful of the traditions all around them, and (2) their only hope of dialogue about faith depended on showing grace and openness to conversation. It is important to remember, again, that the Bible’s last chapter was written toward the end of the first Century – 200+ years before Christianity would become a global player from riding on the coattails of the Roman Empire.

How do we proceed today? First, let’s talk about ways that I think will not work, and will make things worse. Extreme Fundamentalists of every religion are certain that they are right and on the side of God. Their approach will always be combative, and may even lead to a holy war based on their narrow interpretation of their particular scriptures. This is certainly the case in Islam and Christianity. Because Islam does not separate church and state like the US, Christian Fundamentalists can easily justify – in extreme, anyway – the use of military against those countries without losing much sleep. This is why, after 9/11, some extremely conservative Christian preachers unapologetically encouraged nuking some choice Middle Eastern countries. It is why some conservative Christians cheer when the idea of carpet-bombing ISIS and other terrorist groups is recommended by political hopefuls. Violence begets violence. Such an approach will only lead to more terrorism, and closer to home. I cannot imagine the Jesus we try to follow ever being so callous, so heartless, as to promote that kind of aggression.

Secondly, I think that minimizing differences between religions – even as an attempt to build bridges of peace – is actually offensive to faithful followers accidentally. I used to espouse this view. It seemed like the noble way to simply encourage people that all religions are just different expressions about the same God, sort of like the Elephant analogy where blind men are feeling different parts of the same animal, but calling them all by very different names. Or that they are all attempts to get up the same mountain. The problem is that each may be climbing a mountain, but not necessarily the same mountain. The vista is going to be quite different depending on which peak is ascended. Religions do not say the same things about God or how to live in faith. The various religions have their practices to accomplish the distinctive goals of each religion. To gloss over too much fails to appreciate those differences, which will (absolutely) become a source of conflict eventually.

In my view, religions themselves are attempts to make sense of the world and how to live. They each have their take on reality, on God, and on ethics. So, while I cannot believe that they say the same things about God in their respective theologies, I do believe that their goal of making sense of the world and the divine is shared. Mystics from every tradition who seek the divine presence here and now do say with one accord that this entity we call God is experienced as loving. That’s hopeful. Respecting other traditions is what resonates with me. When I learn more about other traditions as well as my own, I show respect to people of other faith traditions. To not learn and assume they are after the same thing I am sets us against each other: which religion is better? Islam is playing Cricket, however, while we’re playing baseball. They sort of look the same, but they are simply different. Chicago-based Interfaith Youth Core run by Eboo Patel discourage the youth from trying to resolve their difference faith traditions. Instead, the youth are directed toward serving others. Because the focus is on service, the students get along fine. I wonder if there might be a model there for the world to try and follow…

As for Fundamentalists who only see their way as THE WAY, they must be held in check when their beliefs turn violent. ISIS and terrorism in general has been condemned by mainstream Muslims. And Muslims are the primary ones trying to defeat Muslim terrorist groups. Holding the ethical line while trying to attack ignorance is probably our only hope to manage it. Fundamentalism will not go away, ever, and therefore must simply be managed. Personally, I believe a reason why religious Fundamentalism is so attractive is simply because it allows people to feel empowered and blessed by the Divine and allows them to in one way or another hold power over others. All with God’s blessing. It is rooted in a self-absorbed worldview and upon a weak sense of self. Collectively, then, nations around the world need to come together in service to hold terrorism at bay and keep fundamentalism in check when it victimizes others. That means the military will be involved. On our soil, I think we need to protect people and groups of people who are in harm’s way while denouncing hate in whatever form it comes, even if that speech is coming from our next president. It’s not about being politically correct. It’s about speaking about others in ways that promote mutual respect. That’s just my opinion. But I think this way reflects Jesus’ Way more than hate speak.

I am reminded once again of David’s Psalm 19, which indicates his awareness of the majesty of God and his subsequent smallness. In light of all he could not possibly know, he responded with humility in his concluding prayer:

May the words of our mouths

and the meditations of our hearts

be acceptable in thy sight O Lord, our rock, and our redeemer.

Amen.

Following Thanksgiving to Its End

Art Matheny offers this teaching based on the following passage:

Luke 17:11-19 (ESV)

On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”

S.O.A.P. Treatment…

Scripture. What part of this passage jumps out at you? Why?

Observation. What noteworthy things do you see in this account?

Application. What do you think your take-home lesson is, here?

Prayer. How do you want to pray in response to all of the above?

Judgment Day: Death, Dying, and Decisions

Synopsis. The concept of Judgment Day developed over time in response to a wide range of historical, cultural, and theological developments which served to shape our faith ancestors’ view of hope (or despair) for the future. Jesus and the New Testament writers were part of that development. So, now, are we. In light of all we know, what do you believe about the eschaton?

Today I will probably encourage you. And frustrate you. Maybe disappoint you. Perhaps even make you want to get me fired. You know, just another Sunday for me… I do have an opinion about the eschaton which I’ll gladly share. But my hope is that through this teaching, with perhaps new awareness and new information at your disposal, you will land on your own view of what’s to come, and enjoy the peace and hope that can come from it.

First, some questions for you to answer:

What do you think Judgment Day refers to?
What/who influenced your perspective on Judgment Day?
Why do you want or not want a Judgment Day?
What role does the Bible play in your thinking about this issue?
What role does the person of Jesus play in your thinking?
Our casual reference to the Judgment Day is part of a larger study of the word eschaton, which speaks of the last things. It refers to a time in the future when the course of history will be changed to such an extent that one can speak of an entirely new state of reality. Eschatology is the study of the eschaton (Yale Anchor Dictionary of the Bible). What we are doing today is addressing eschatology. Fancy words for your next game of Scrabble/Words with Friends… Apocalypse, a word that is sometimes used synonymously with eschaton, is different. I’ll get to that eventually (a cliffhanger already!).

One of the most important pieces of information for you to grasp is that the thoughts and writings about the eschaton changed over time. Those changes are reflected in the Bible. This means there is not one unified way of thinking about the last days, even though theological traditions define themselves by positions on this and other issues. But hear me clearly: there is a range of thought reflected in the scriptures themselves about what is to come. There is no single definitive answer to the question, what will happen on Judgment Day? Thought is required, and that’s a good thing.

Yesterday, Today, and THAT Day. If you lived as an Israelite – a Hebrew by faith and perhaps also lineage – prior to the development of the monarchy (Saul, David, Solomon, etc.), your idea of the eschaton was maybe a generation or two away, with a fairly specific window of time. If you were a pre-king Jew, your thoughts about Judgment Day had mostly to do with geography. You were told as a kid that God was with you and your people – even as far away as Egypt! The Day of the Lord would be when you and your people got the land promised to Abraham at the very beginning:

Then the Lord took Abram outside and said to him, “Look up into the sky and count the stars if you can. That’s how many descendants you will have!”
And Abram believed the Lord, and the Lord counted him as righteous because of his faith.
Then the Lord told him, “I am the Lord who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land as your possession.” – Genesis 15:5-7 (NLT) c. 1750 BCE
The hopes of the earliest people in our faith tradition were that they would get and hold onto their own land. Moving around a lot can be interesting and exciting, but there is a welcome stability that comes with planting roots.

Several hundred years later, against the instruction of God, Israel got themselves a King – Saul. Turned out to be a real dud. Though he was tall, dark, and handsome, he was also not wise, and did not tend to some serious internal issues that motivated a lot of his behavior. His successor, David, was Israel’s forever favorite, but his reign was marked with lots of failure on personal and national fronts. Solomon, David’s son, was the wisest who ever lived, yet his lifestyle didn’t show it. The Kingdom was large and prosperous, but the foundation was weak. Four centuries into a monarchial system that was rife with corruption, Israel was clobbered, never to rule itself again (until the 20th century). The prophets of the day warned the royalty and the general population that if they didn’t clean up their act, Judgment Day was sure to come:

18 What sorrow awaits you who say, “If only the day of the Lord were here!” You have no idea what you are wishing for. That day will bring darkness, not light. 19 In that day you will be like a man who runs from a lion— only to meet a bear. Escaping from the bear, he leans his hand against a wall in his house— and he’s bitten by a snake. 20 Yes, the day of the Lord will be dark and hopeless, without a ray of joy or hope. – Amos 5:18-20 (NLT)
Judgment Day was not a day to look forward to, but to fear. Nice, huh? But not effective. Israel lost their country, were scattered, abused, enslaved.

Once again, their view of Judgment Day changed from the Monarchial vantage point. It was not about getting the Promised Land, either – a trademark of a Patriarchal view. And it was not about getting their butts kicked. Now it was about being restored, which reflected their Covenantal sensibilities. Jeremiah, a prophet who lived through the fall of Israel, offered these words of hope about that coming day:

5 “For the time is coming,” says the Lord, “when I will raise up a righteous descendant from King David’s line. He will be a King who rules with wisdom. He will do what is just and right throughout the land. 6 And this will be his name: ‘The Lord Is Our Righteousness.’ In that day Judah will be saved, and Israel will live in safety. – Jeremiah 23:5-6 (NLT)
The “Day” was hopeful – something to look forward to. The great prophet, Isaiah, also had similar tones. Interestingly, scholars believe that what we call the book of Isaiah actually was composed of different voices over time, and reflects the Monarchial Judgment day as well as the Covenantal and even shows the development into apocalyptic thinking. Here is a covenantal example:

This is a vision that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem: 2 In the last days, the mountain of the Lord’s house will be the highest of all— the most important place on earth. It will be raised above the other hills, and people from all over the world will stream there to worship. 3 People from many nations will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of Jacob’s God. There he will teach us his ways, and we will walk in his paths.” For the Lord’s teaching will go out from Zion; his word will go out from Jerusalem. 4 The Lord will mediate between nations and will settle international disputes. They will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will no longer fight against nation, nor train for war anymore. – Isaiah 2:1-4 (NLT)
So far, each of these modes of thinking are rooted in Israel’s experience, and have an actual day in mind in the future. Also, the future was still bound to earthy history. There was no thinking at this point about the eschaton reaching beyond the grave. What might we expect from a people who, for hundreds of years, try to hold onto hope for the peaceful restoration of Israel, only to see generations come and go. Over time, the people began to wonder if God might exact judgment at a much later time, through supernatural means. Apocalypticism was born, mythologizing the earlier modes of thinking about the eschaton:

Constitutive in the judgment will be a resurrection of the dead (51; 61:1–5), after which the righteous and chosen will dwell on a newly created earth, from which the sinners have been permanently expelled to the darkness and torture of Sheol (38; 45; 50; 58; 54; 63). Although fulfillment of prophecy cannot be an explicit category in this pseudonymous text, the language of Third Isaiah is evident; and the heavenly Chosen and Anointed One is seen as the referent of biblical descriptions (understood as prophecies) of the Davidic king and the Servant of the Lord. Just as important, this author is a bearer and transformer of the traditions generated in the names of Enoch and Daniel. – Yale Anchor Dictionary of the Bible
This line of thinking did not exist in the early history of Israel. But it did reflect much of the thinking of the Ancient Near East (ANE). In other words, once again, the thinking about Judgment Day was shaped by the experience and time of the Israelites. This was the case all the way up to the time of Jesus.

After 600+ years of being occupied, all New Testament writers and characters reflected a first century apocalyptic mindset whereby a supernatural event would upend life as they knew it. The new reality would be clearly different than the status quo. Rome defeated. Religious leadership held to account. This was prevalent in the culture of Jesus’ day – something that was not fully appreciated until the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered between 1946-1956, revealing what Jewish people were thinking in Jesus’ time. Apocalyptic fever ran hot in Jesus’ day and through the first century, which is reflected in many New Testament letters and remembered sayings of Jesus.

In one of Jesus’ parables talking about the coming day (Matthew 25:31-46), Jesus made the point that it’s not what you say that you believe that results in acceptance by God. Rather, what you have done with what you believe reveals what you truly believe. Fruit provides the evidence of your faith. Not doctrinal adherence (which is what the religious leaders of his day demanded). Paul echoed this sentiment, in part, when he talked about how what we do with our lives portrays what we’re truly made of (1 Corinthians 3:10-15).

The early church developed a tradition of worship whereby they began living as if the future Kingdom was fully present – realized eschatology. They didn’t choose to wait for the Kingdom of God to come and do its thing, because the Kingdom of God was already present, doing its thing:

In Christian worship the anticipated goal of final, eschatological deliverance was drawn into the sphere of present experience and celebrated as if it had been fully and finally achieved. In the phenomenology of this worship, past and future collapse into an eternal present; and the spatial distinction between heaven and earth is momentarily obliterated. In the light of this kind of cultic experience, there can be no hard and fast dichotomy between the presence of Jesus in the midst of the worshipping community and the “distant” presence of Jesus at the right hand of God. – Yale Anchor Dictionary of the Bible
The early Christian community believed in the Kingdom God now and to come. They could live in the “now” of the Kingdom even while working through the muck of life.

Even though this teaching offers only a brief overview of the development of eschatological thinking, I hope I’ve made the point that the idea developed over time in response to a multitude of influences. There was not uniform thinking about eschatology – where and when you lived in Israel impacted your thoughts about the eschaton: “In all likelihood, the eschatological perception of reality was experienced by those who were not necessarily in charge of either Israel’s political or religious institutions… It is important to emphasize the fact that neither Jewish nor Christian eschatology can in any way be considered a unified or consistent system of beliefs and symbols about the saving events of the future. (Ibid.)” To be blunt: the thinking about Judgment Day – even for Jesus – was rooted in the time in which they lived. The question, then, that we must ask is, would they think the same way, given all of the world history that has passed since? I seriously doubt it – especially regarding timing. The precedent is that belief is shaped by experience. How then do we think about the eschaton or apocalypse? Or do we? Or should we?

I think there are some things we shouldn’t do. First, in light of all we’ve covered, I think it would be really foolish to build a view of the end of time on a foundation 2,000 years old, which was built on shifting sand for nearly 2,000 years before that. Taking all we’ve known since into consideration is a time-honored tradition practiced by rabbis for centuries, was practiced by Jesus and Paul and the whole gang of disciples (which is why they got into so much trouble), and has continued to be part of the Christian tradition since on a wide range of issues. We stretch. The faith lives and breathes. That’s what keeps it alive. That’s a very good thing. The opposite would be to live in a time capsule from the first century, which is absolutely impossible.

A second thing I think we should avoid is binary thinking. We human beings love our binary thinking that keeps everything and everyone neatly separated into categories we can control. The remembered sayings of Jesus even reflect binary thinking: the eschatological parables are about separating sheep from goats! Yet simultaneously we see Jesus being incredibly inclusive in his lifestyle and with the grace of God. Jesus’ life was built on the Micah 6:8 mandate to live justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. He went to the cross because he believed and lived it so much. When he speaks in binary terms, I think there is a different tone and meaning than when we try to do the same. So, as tempting and cathartic as it may be to consign certain people groups and politicians to hell, it is absolutely off point, out of line, and will not in any way result in more grace breaking into the world. Just the opposite, I think.

I take great comfort from Paul’s image of the refiner’s fire. There’s a lot of good stuff there. Building my life with precious stones sounds a lot like Micah 6:8 to me. We get to do that! Isn’t that awesome? It’s possible! It’s encouraged! It’s empowered. At the same time I am deeply encouraged by the fact that the chaff in my life will someday burn off. Some of the chaff I know about and do nothing about. Some of the chaff stays with me even though I work hard to get rid of it. Some of the chaff I don’t even recognize because I don’t have eyes to see it. One day, however, I will be free of it! I don’t really care if it’s the day I die or if I stay in some sort of sleep mode until some final day comes – the point is that the chaff will be gone, leaving behind what I hope will be beautiful stones I’ve tried to incorporate into my life and the rest of the world. That’s hopeful to me. It’s like justice and mercy are two sides of the same coin. It’s like grace is inherently just. I don’t need to condemn, then. But I can grace, knowing justice comes along with it.

At the end of the last book of the Bible (Revelation, Chapter 22), there is a picture of the Holy City shining bright with beautiful precious stones. Precious stones! Sounds familiar! In the middle of the city is the river of life, with fruit trees on the banks producing fruit every month for all to enjoy. An invitation is given for any and all who are thirsty to come and drink. A feast of water that sustains and animates life, sourced from the very depths of God. Can you imagine it? This beauty calls us forward, not to cower in fear of future retribution (so we better say the right secret password to get us in), but to confidently approach that throne with all aspects of our lives for the duration of our lives so that all lives might experience the fullness of life.

May it be so for you. May it be so for me. May all hear of it so that it may be so for all people everywhere.

Rahab: Shame Undone

Jenny Matheny brings this uplifting teaching to CrossWalk, reminding us that God is with us on our journey even when we can’t see it, that God loves us unconditionally (so we can let go of any and all shame that is so self-destructive), and that our faithfulness makes a greater difference than we can possibly imagine.  Go Rahab!

Church: Communities of Safety and Movement

Let me start with an introduction, because if you’re reading this, you’re probably expecting Pete. My name is Sam Altis. About two months ago, my wife, Kaylan, and I loaded up all of our belongings and moved from Indianapolis to Napa, where she’s finishing her doctorate in clinical psychology by working at Napa State Hospital. While in Indy, I co-pastored a quirky, eclectic church called Trinity. Crosswalk quickly resonated with us in a lot of ways, so it didn’t take long for us to land here. 
It also didn’t take long for Pete to hand over the mic on a Sunday morning, which, you should know, is a rare quality in a pastor. When asked what he wanted me to talk about, he wrote me a blank check, “Talk about whatever you want.” Normally that kind of freedom would lead me to pick something that might ruffle a few feathers.  From what I can tell though, Pete has done everything he can to ruffle your feathers, and you’re unruffle-able.  That’s also far too rare. Way to go. 
So instead, let’s talk about something we presumably all have in common: church. First, you should know that I never liked church growing up. So much so that I developed a Sunday ritual to avoid it. Here’s how it went. My dad was always the one to take my brother and me to church. My dad also loved to sleep in. So, each Sunday, I’d do everything in my power to make sure he slept as long as possible, in hopes that we’d be so late, we’d just skip church. Most of the time that consisted of lying motionless in bed, trying to remain absolutely silent so my dad wouldn’t wake up. If that failed, I’d go into stall mode: the 30 minute shower, the lost shoe, or, if times were really desperate, the feigned stomach ache. 
It’s not that the people at church were awful. They were actually really nice. It was more about how church made me feel. Normally, I left feeling crappier than when I came in. Hearing about how sinful you are for an hour will do that. I also never felt like I could be myself. If I wanted to talk about music or movies, it seemed like I had to talk about Third Day and Kirk Cameron movies. No offense to either of them. They just weren’t my thing. At the heart of it, church felt too small. Too narrow. Like it wasn’t actually leading me to a God worth believing in. 
Fortunately, my church experience has been redeemed. It has a lot to do with a story that I want to tell you about. It’s a weird story, but a powerful one. It’s found in Acts 8, right as the church was beginning. It goes like this. 
Some sort of heavenly being told Philip, a church leader, to go out into the desert. When he got there, he found an Ethiopian eunuch riding in a chariot, reading from the book of Isaiah. Philip ran up to him, asked him about the text, which led to a much longer conversation about Jesus. After awhile, they came across some water. The Ethiopian looked at Philip and asked, “What can keep me from being baptized?” Next thing you know, Philip is in the water, dunking this guy. As soon as he’s baptized the Ethiopian, Philip is zapped away, Star Trek style, to another location. Story over. 
Weird, huh? And what does this have to do with church? Once we unpack it, quite a lot actually. When we see the story from the perspective of the two characters, we see the values church is meant to embody. Let’s start with the Ethiopian.
Safety and Inclusion.
The Ethiopian eunuch is a complex character. We aren’t told his name, but we can know a lot about him just by a few details. First, he was probably pretty rich and powerful. The text says he was in charge of the treasury for the queen of Ethiopia. That probably paid well and came along with some status. The fact the he was riding in a chariot and reading a scroll give away his wealth too. That would’ve been the equivalent of a Rolex and Bentley. 
At the same time, he was almost certainly a social outcast. In the ancient Roman world, society was divided by gender, and your gender gave you certain roles. They might not have been fair, but it provided a clear system. If, however, you didn’t fit neatly into one gender category, you were seen as less than human. That’s how eunuch’s were seen. Not female. Not male. Something gross. In many ways, they were the ancient equivalent to transgender individuals, and they suffered many of the same stigmas. Their families abandoned them. “Decent” people wouldn’t talk to them. They often lived isolated, lonely lives. 
Religiously, Jewish and Christian communities didn’t have a place for them. At that point, the church was abiding by pretty strict Old Testament standards for inclusion. You had to be circumcised, follow the law, obey ritual cleanliness rules. Unfortunately for eunuchs, Deuteronomy 23:1 made it pretty clear that they could never meet those standards: “No man whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off can belong to the Lord’s assembly.” (You never had to memorize that verse in Sunday school, did you?)The Ethiopian was unclean. Forever. 
He wasn’t allowed in Roman communities. Jewish and Christian communities had no place for him. So, when he asks Philip, “What can prevent me from being baptized?” that question is dripping with context. Baptism is a means of inclusion. It says you’re a part of a spiritual family. And up until now, the eunuch was prevented from inclusion by every other family. 
In response to the question, Philip gives my favorite answer in all of scripture. Silence. He says nothing, because nothing can prevent this man from being welcomed into the church. He just gets down, dunks him, and is zapped away. The whole story is about radical, unheard of inclusion. 
Side note: the church eventually became so uncomfortable with Philip’s silence that it added in another verse a couple hundred years later. You might see it in some translations, but it’s not in the oldest copies of the story. It didn’t take us long to be uncomfortable with God’s radical inclusion. 
Inclusion and safety are meant to be at the heart of what it means to be the church. Any genuine encounter with God should lead us to greater openness to others, not a more closed off community. This is hard, even unnatural for us. Psychologically, there’s a phenomenon called splitting. It’s when we divide the world into good and bad, and put something or someone entirely into one category because it’s easier for us to deal with. It allows us to exclude and dehumanize. Churches have been doing this well for years, yet when we do, it shows that we’ve not truly connected with the divine. If we had, we would see the divine image in each of those around us and open ourselves to them. 
Movement and Progress. 
There’s another perspective from which to look at this story: the church’s. Like I said above, at this point, the church had no formal means of including the Ethiopian because he didn’t meet Old Testament purity standards. The text says he just came from Jerusalem to worship. What it doesn’t say, but any Jewish reader would have known, is that he was almost certainly turned away when he tried to go in the temple. Since he was unclean, he was unfit for the presence of God. But our story shows us something different. It shows us that the church had actually missed God. God was out in the desert, welcoming the Ethiopian into the family. 
Fast forward seven chapters to Acts 15. Church leaders hold a council and make the revolutionary decision that inclusion in the church shouldn’t be based on Old Testament cleanliness rules. The revolution was late though. God had already done that in our story, the church just missed it. They were late to the party. God was moving, and the church was trailing behind. This is what it means to be the church: to try to keep up with the movement of God around us. 
This movement is a theme in Luke and Acts. Luke and Acts were meant to be read together, so they contain similar themes. About halfway through Luke, Jesus is said to “set his eyes on Jerusalem.” For the rest of Luke’s gospel, Jesus gets, to put it honestly, kind of mean. It’s like he’s hyper-focused on getting to Jerusalem, and the closer he gets, the more intense things get. 
Jerusalem is where everyone thought God dwelled. Specifically, they thought God dwelled in the temple. More specifically, they thought God dwelled in the inner most room of the temple: the holy of holies. So Jesus is laser focused on getting to where everyone thinks God dwells. But when he gets to Jerusalem, he’s crucified, seemingly ending his journey. Something strange happens at the time of his death. The curtain that separated the holy of holies rips. I was always taught that meant we can now, through Jesus, come into God’s presence. But if you look at the narrative of Luke and Acts, it’s actually the reverse of that. Jesus unleashes God’s presence into the world, and everything is turned upside down. 
As Acts unfolds, you can literally track the movement of God’s presence geographically. As it moves, more and more people are welcomed into God’s family, like our friend the Ethiopian eunuch, even if the church isn’t ready for them. All of a sudden, the church’s job isn’t to monitor who has access to God. It’s to try to keep up with the movement of God. 
That movement didn’t stop two thousand years ago. We’re still struggling to keep up. It’s easy for us to settle into an understanding of church that says we need to get back. Back to the early church. Back to the way we used to be. Back to the fundamentals. But while we’re looking back, God is moving forward, constantly surprising us. 
This doesn’t mean we ignore the past. On the contrary, we have to know where we’ve come from to know where we’re going. Looking back allows us to see more clearly the way forward. But forward is always our primary posture, because it’s where God is moving. 
What is God moving towards? Scripture talks about is in a lot of different ways. Reconciliation. Shalom. Love. Life. Healing. They’re all the different aspects of the same reality: wholeness. A way of living where everything and everyone belongs. And for some strange reason, God invites us into that journey, to help bring about that wholeness. 
That, I believe, is the primary purpose of church. To keep up with God on the journey toward wholeness. It’s not a simple or painless journey. It requires creativity, risk, and love. It’s by no means the easiest way of being a church, but I’ll tell you this, it’s more than enough to get me out of bed on a Sunday morning.