No Longer Strangers

Ephesians 1:3-14

In 1871 two archeologists found a piece of engraved stone from the Jerusalem temple – the one King Herod built; the one that was destroyed in the year 70 AD. The Greek letters carved on it spelled out a stern warning: “No foreigner is to enter the barriers surrounding the sanctuary. He who is caught will have himself to blame for his death which will follow.”

This was one rule it appears they were strict about. No gentiles were permitted to enter the temple. But it was not the only rule. There were degrees of acceptability in the temple worship of the time. 

The outermost area of the temple was called the court of the gentiles, and it was a large, open, public area. Anyone could come into the outer court, and it was the place where pilgrims could exchange their currency and purchase animals for sacrifice. Within this courtyard there was a low barrier, called a soreg; a few steps past the soreg was a wall that separated the public area from the inner courts of the temple. Immediately beyond the wall was the court of the women, because this was as far as Jewish women were allowed to enter. Further within, there was an inner court, the place where the burned sacrifices were made. Jewish men were permitted to enter the inner court, as long as they didn’t have certain conditions that would make them disqualified. And finally, the innermost region, called the Holy of Holies, where only the purest ones could enter.

This notion of purity doesn’t have anything to do with whether you washed that morning with Ivory soap. It is a religious concept that is laid out in detail in the Old Testament books of Leviticus and Numbers. When you read these texts, you realize that there were many types of people who were restricted from participating in temple worship. Foreigners, of course; non-Jews, who were deemed intrinsically impure, were barred. Women; eunuchs; anyone with a skin disease; these were all restricted from entering beyond a certain point. But additionally, Jewish men who were imperfect in some way were prevented from entering the inner region. The scriptures speak of the blind and the lame, dwarves, and hunchbacks, all excluded. Anyone judged to have abnormalities or deformities, excluded. There were many ways a person could be shut out.

But this is not just a Jewish thing, of course. It is a fact of human nature.

The human mind likes order, and if we can’t find it in the world around us, we create it. We divide people up into categories, and then judge those categories. So, in the end, there are those who are like us and there are others. These others might be frightening to us. They might just be perplexing to us. But often they somehow seem wrong to us. 

In the first century, the church was small but growing fast, and the question of who should belong was still a matter of controversy. Among those who gathered to worship, there were differences in race and culture, differences that really could not be erased. Nonetheless, in the church, the scripture says, there is no longer the circumcised and the uncircumcised. There is one body in Christ.

It was a matter that had been settled, at least in theory, by the Jerusalem Council – we can read it in the book of Acts, chapter 15. Yet, it seemed that the ruling did not manage to erase prejudices, strong opinions that the old way was the best way, that these newcomers just didn’t belong. It was an issue that needed to be addressed in many of the New Testament epistles, such divisiveness was being stirred up in response to the work of the Spirit. 

Like it or not, the Holy Spirit was crossing over boundaries and drawing diverse groups together in Christ – but those people were, maybe, a little averse to being drawn together. They remained preoccupied with their differences, and the ways those differences made them uncomfortable with one another.

There were the poor Christians, some of them enslaved, and there were the wealthy Christians. They had dramatically different lifestyles, obviously. And the wealthy ones were sometimes unable to comprehend the unique challenges the poor ones faced every day.

We are still beset by these kinds of problems. It is hard for us to understand people who are different from us. For those who abide strictly by the law, it is hard to understand anyone who breaks the law. For those who are blessedly free of addiction, it can be hard to understand those who suffer under the weight of addiction. For those who have enough, or more than enough, it can be hard to understand those who don’t have enough and, to our minds, do a poor job of managing what little they have.

Put simply, it can be very hard for us to understand those whose path through life has been different from ours. And what we can’t understand, we judge. Still, while we continue to struggle with acceptance, the Holy Spirit goes on crossing boundaries, the work that Jesus began.

The radical thing that Jesus Christ did in his life was to draw the outcasts to himself. He healed those who had been thrown out of society, giving them a chance at reconciliation, an opportunity to be restored to wholeness. Jesus spoke to the gentiles and listened to them, giving them the respect others might reserve only for members of their own tribe.

The Apostle Paul continued this mission; he went out to the gentile communities. He listened to them and shared with them the good news of Christ Jesus. He told them this was good news for them, too. 

This letter to Ephesians speaks directly to the gentiles, saying you who were once far off, or aliens, have been brought near, by the blood of Jesus Christ. You who were once excluded: the gentiles, but also the women, the blind and lame and deformed, the sick, the imperfect. Now the walls and barriers have been removed, the gates are open. In Christ, all have been brought together.

For in him we find our peace. In him we are given a new identity. And in him we have a whole new way to frame our outlook on the world. 

For we once looked at the world as a framework of lines dividing peoples into groups, separating them from others. We found our identity by focusing on the lines and what they represented: differences in acceptability, differences in belongingness. The lines represented the ways we differed, and we defended the boundary lines because they defined who we were against who we were not: the pure on this side of the line; the impure on the other side. The lines defined us and them, friend and enemy.

But in Christ everything changed. And we no longer look to the boundary lines, but we look to the center, which is Christ. The holy of holies. He is our center, our purpose, what we are drawn to, where we find our peace. He is our peace. 

And so in Christ all come together. The circumcised and the uncircumcised. The slave and the free, the Jew and the gentile, the north and the south and the east and the west, all came together to find their peace in him. Turning our attention away from the lines that separated us and toward the center which now defines us.

We are a new creation in Christ; together, we form a dwelling place for God, with Christ as the cornerstone holding us together. Let me tell you: We need him as our cornerstone, every hour of the day and night, because we surely could not hold ourselves together on our own.

But together we are called to be, and called to live in unity, one body in Christ – a notion so radical it makes 21st century Americans shake their heads in disbelief. “You’re dreaming,” they might say. “Wake up. Get real. Leave that kumbaya stuff in church, you’re in the real world now.”

But, my friends, we have been adopted into God’s family, and that is not an identity we can take on and off at will. We carry this with us in every moment, every place; it unites us with all who are fellow members of this household, whoever and wherever they are. It is a blessing and also a calling, and it challenges us to live in a way that is different from what we encounter every day in the world.

It calls us to see one another differently, as brothers and sisters, all beloved by God, even while we struggle mightily to feel that way about one another. 

It calls us to cross those divisions. To leave behind the old ways of speaking about others. We are tempted to fall back, to use the language that we hear around us – language that comes out of division and aggravates that division. But as members of God’s household, we must leave that behind. We have no right to strip anyone of their God-given humanity.

We cannot call another human being vermin simply because we are on different sides of an issue. We cannot call someone a monster, even if their actions seem monstrous. These ones were created in God’s own image, just as we were. These ones we would call less than human, they are human, beloved by God, just as we are.

The words to the Ephesians are a precious gift, because they tell us we belong, we who were once outcasts, are beloved. And these words are also a calling for the whole church, to see ourselves united in Christ, to know ourselves empowered by the Spirit to carry Christ, who is our peace, with us into all the world.

And to show the world what Christ’s peace looks like, sounds like, feels like, tastes like.

The world says “hate,” but God says no. The world says we are hopelessly divided, but God says no. The world says, “build a wall.”

And God says no. No. I have a better way. And I call upon you to embody that better way.

May it be so.

Knowing Who We Are

Psalm 85:8-13

Ephesians 1:3-14

Just last week I was remembering a sermon I once heard that left me feeling both angry and sad. The preacher began in a lighthearted manner, real folksy, telling lots of stories about this and that. Nothing, really. He told some jokes at other people’s expense, making them look foolish, which I didn’t like. But I waited him out, to see if he had a point. And eventually, I guess you could say, he did.

Suddenly, his tone changed as if he flipped a switch. Now the folksy good humor was gone, and he was dead serious when he told the congregation that we had better get right with Jesus. “Because some of you,” he promised, “are going to hell.” 

If we wanted to be saved, he said, there was only one thing we could do, and we’d better do it. Or else. 

I don’t know exactly who he was talking to. Was there someone in the room who was known to have drifted away from the faith? Someone who he knew did not share his particular beliefs? Was it me? Maybe he could have walked around the room and tapped each of us on the shoulder, saying “saved” or “bound for hell” with each tap. 

As for himself, he knew where he was going. He was, most assuredly, heaven bound. But as for the rest of us, well, he had some real concerns and warned us not to make any assumptions about the fate of our immortal souls.

He wanted us to know, though, he was genuinely worried about our salvation and of course, he did want to see us all in heaven. If we could get it right. 

If we couldn’t? Well, wasn’t anything he could do about that. It’s in God’s hands.

So there you have it. God is a stingy and vengeful king. God is a bouncer at the door of the most exclusive club, allowing some through the entrance, while barring the door to others – those who haven’t managed to get right with him. 

The ones who are turned away might not even know how they missed the mark. Were they wearing the wrong clothes? Do they not have the right friends? 

All they know is that they fell short. They were somehow not good enough for God to love. 

Yes. That makes me sad. And angry.

Angry at the preacher, who abused the privilege he was given. And sad because this kind of theology hasn’t been killed off yet. It is a belief that has been shouted by countless preachers, to terrify their congregations – they confuse terror with what the Bible calls the fear of the Lord. It is an idea that has trained too many children to believe that they are bad at their core – period. It is a theology that has taught people to fear and resent God.

It is a theology of judgment, of arrogance, of callousness.

It is hard to see any grace at all in it. and that is a serious flaw.

As common as it is, I cannot believe that fear-mongering is what God wants us to be doing. Of course, if scaring people is what you want to do, you can use the Bible to do that. If making people feel shame about who they are is your goal, there is enough material you can misuse to do that. 

But I ask you this: what does it have to do with the God who created a world he called good, and who loves this world enough to die for our sake, and who promises us an eternal home with him? Honest to God, the through-line in the scriptures is the vision of love. God is love. And God’s grace will see us through. 

The Psalm we read today tells us so. It is a worship prayer, praising God almighty who has done and will do great things. In the first verses, which we did not read, the psalmist recounts all the gracious and merciful deeds of God: God has forgiven, God has restored, God has revived God’s people. 

And the psalmist asks: will you do this again, God? For we, your people who need forgiveness, who need to be revived – will you be faithful?

The answer is quick and sure. Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet. Righteousness and peace will kiss each other. Faithfulness will spring up from the ground and righteousness will look down from the sky. What glory the world will behold! God is so good, and we are so blessed.

And in case we need more convincing, we turn to the letter to Ephesians, where we read that God has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing, and that is good, isn’t it? 

We read that God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, to be holy and blameless before him in love. This is extraordinary. God chose us from before the foundation of the world. Not from the time we got it right, but from before the foundation of the world.

We continue, and read that God destined us for adoption as God’s children – God chose us – according to the good pleasure of God’s will, to the praise of God’s glorious grace, which God freely bestows on us.

We have redemption…forgiveness…lavished with grace – according to the purpose of God, who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will. 

Not according to our goodness. Not depending on our ability to get it right. But according to God’s purpose. End of story. Alleluia. Amen.

The point of this text really is to say that we who are, in a sense, latecomers to the party are welcome. We who are not children of Israel by birth are adopted into God’s family – and not just on a whim. Indeed, God has had this intention from before the foundation of the world. We are beloved. We always have been.

The beauty in this is not just in the relief of being included, the sense that we, somehow, dodged a bullet. The real beauty and potency is in imagining all that we are enabled to do with this amazing grace God bestows on us. How much love can we get flowing through the world because of this grace lavished upon us? 

Can we who are healed extend this healing to others? Can we who are forgiven extend this forgiveness to others? Can we who are blessed by the God of righteousness and peace become instruments of righteousness and peace?

In all these things we are empowered by the love of God. Thanks be to God. And this, I pray, is what we will teach our children.

Some years ago I served a church where we held an intergenerational Sunday school class in which we taught the lesson that God created us good. The Bible says so, by the way. And after class a man approached our Sunday school teacher to say how concerned he was that we were teaching bad theology. He said, “You can’t tell children they were created good. They have to learn that they are tainted by original sin; that’s the only way they can be saved.”

There is not a day when the world does not tell us that we are bad, wrong, not quite good enough. We all get that lesson. The deepest need of every human being is to know that we are loveable. To know that God loves us. 

This is the key. We all know the ways we fall short. But when we hear God call us holy and blameless we know that God is looking at us through a lens of pure love. And wrapping us up in that love and grace. 

You see, it is not about knowing how bad you are. It is not about figuring out what you need to do to fix it, get it right. Because it is not we who get right with God. It is all God. The key is to know you are loved by God. To know that you are blessed in so many ways with the gifts of God’s Spirit. 

This is all I want you to hear this week. Next week, there will be more to say about how we respond to this gift of love. But for today, only know this is who we are: Beloved by God. 

Called and Sent: Discipleship in the World Today, Part 6 - Seeking Success

Mark 6:1-13

I am making a trip to Chicago in a couple of weeks. It is a journey I try to make once a year, to see family members who are still there. I grew up in the Chicago area, so this is going home, in a way. Even though I have not lived there for 40 years.

It is home also because I will be back with my people, the ones who have known me forever. And I feel pretty sure, based on my experience, that it will be a week full of love and joyful moments, and also some failures.

Some amount of failure is baked into the cake when you go back home. I will have expectations of someone that won’t be met. I will hurt someone’s feelings, and someone will hurt my feelings. I will have a knee-jerk reaction to something someone says, because that’s the way it always goes. In spite of my best intentions to be more mature, more compassionate, and wiser, I will have moments of behaving the very same way I have since I was a child.

We tend to have expectations of everyone in our lives, but especially family. And what that means is that we don’t let them change. 

It even happened to Jesus when he went home. 

Astounding and powerful things came out of his mouth and they said, “What? Isn’t this Mary’s kid? You know his brothers and sisters – matter of fact, they still live here, don’t they? Yeah, they’re just like us.” The folks from back home were not impressed with Jesus. Actually, they were offended.

“How dare he go and be all different! Who does he think he is?”

It’s quite possible Jesus knew it would happen this way. He probably knew they would give him a hard time. Even though he was “amazed at their unbelief” he must have known there would be pushback. I wonder why he brought the disciples along to see this. Was there something here for them to learn?

Is this their final lesson before he sends them out in the field?

Which is what he does next, with a few short and simple instructions: take nothing with you; make yourself vulnerable. Stay in the same place – if someone has offered you hospitality, be a gracious guest. And if you should find rejection, shake the dust off your feet as you leave. 

He prepared them for failure, because failure will happen. Probably a lot. 

The gospel has been met with rejection in all times and all places. People doubted that Jesus could do anything about Jairus’ little girl. His family doubted him when they heard people saying he was out of his mind. And his disciples, even they doubted him again and again and again. 

What all this doubt amounts to is rejection. Rejection of any hope that Jesus will heal you, enlighten you, feed you, or bring you good news. It’s sad, but true. And because of this, I must tell you two things you won’t like: first, rejection is inevitable in the life of a Christian. Failure is inevitable. And second, we ought to get comfortable with it.

I don’t know if I can say this too strongly, because the church has a triumphalism problem. And that is not an attractive quality.

This is something that probably started way back in the 4th century, when the emperor Constantine decided to take this scrappy little movement and make it the official state religion. Which was great. We won. 

No one could feed us to the lions anymore, just for being a Christian, because now being a Christian was a good thing.

Being a Christian was the best thing, the right thing. Winning.

And we thought this is something we could get used to – winning – and so we did get used to it. and we came to expect it. We thought it was our right and kept on thinking that for centuries.

When everyone in America was Christian, we did a lot of winning, naturally. Winning with the laws, winning with the custom of saying “Merry Christmas” to everybody and getting a holiday from work on Good Friday and so much more. So much winning, you could get tired of winning, as someone once said.

So much winning, we almost stopped being Christian. 

Because being a disciple of Christ is simply not about winning. It is not about having success, in any conventional sense of the word. The way of Jesus Christ is the way of the cross. And the cross looks to all the world like nothing so much as failure.

It’s not an easy road Christ has put us on.

For the sake of the gospel, we wake up every day with the resolve to be a force for good in whatever way is given to us. We go out with the conviction of faith in the risen Lord. We read the scriptures and we offer our prayers and we hope and we hope and we hope for success. Still, we will frequently be met by failure.

We are sustained through hard days by memory deep in our bones: the kiss of God’s amazing grace, the buoyancy of God’s healing power, the resonance of Christ’s peace. We go on, putting one foot in front of the other because, even when the road is hard, we are never alone on it.

We began this series six weeks ago, with these men who are called disciples, beginning their journey of following Jesus. I said to you then that as we watch the disciples through Mark’s gospel, we see them fail repeatedly. In so many ways. And I also said we are very much like them.

I told you it is crucial that we remember who we are following, because it will make a huge difference in the way we choose to live. If we keep our eye on Jesus, we will let his life be the model for our lives. 

We know now that the way will be fraught with uncertainties and that we will sometimes be plagued by fear. We will be tempted to put our hope in men and women and institutions, which will fail us. But we also know that one of the most precious gifts Jesus has given us is this gift of one another, so that we will never be alone with our fears and disappointments, and we will always have companions who may carry the light when we cannot do it ourselves. 

So our series is bookended, in a way, with the calling in and the sending out of the disciples. But there is another set of bookends, as well. We celebrated the sacrament of communion that first Sunday and again today. This sacrament is a gift, a strength, that we should never overlook. As Christ invites us to his table, we remember with head and heart and body and soul that we belong to Christ; that we are one with him and with one another.

This is our superpower, if you will. 

Disciples of Jesus, we look ahead and we see hurdles and impending crises. In the church, in our nation, in the world. Through it all, let us steadfastly hold on to our identity as disciples of Jesus. Let us embrace the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which enable us to always work for the cause of righteousness and justice. We will grow weary in our failures. But we know that in the end God’s ever-expanding love will win and that is the win that matters.

Disciples of Jesus, with all our heart and mind and body and soul, let us be on the side of love.

 

Called and Sent: Discipleship in the World Today, Part 5 - While We Were Busy

Mark 5:21-43

Today is another one of those “sandwich” stories Mark is so fond of. This is a technique Mark used frequently – breaking up one story by inserting another story within it.

It’s a great literary trick. It can serve to increase the suspense in the story, leaving the reader hanging, biting their nails, wondering what will happen. In this case, we are holding our breath wondering if Jesus will get to Jairus’ house on time to save his daughter. This is very serious, we already know. Jairus fell on his knees before Jesus and begged him to come save his little daughter, who is at the point of death. This is a 911 moment. 

So Jesus went with him. The crowds are still ever-present, pressing in on him. Nonetheless, he makes his way through – no doubt, Jairus’ people and Jesus’ disciples are probably facilitating this, forming a barrier between Jesus and the crowds of people. But then Mark shifts our attention to a woman who was there, in the crowd. 

What on earth do we care about his woman, you might ask? Jesus is right now on an urgent mission to save a little girl’s life, but Mark is going to take a pause here to tell us about this woman.

She is hemorrhaging. So perhaps this is also urgent. But, no, she has been living with this hemorrhage for 12 years. She has repeatedly sought out medical care from many physicians, but to no avail. She has suffered with it for all these years, but now she sees a chance of being healed. If she can only touch the hem of Jesus’ clothes, she believes, she will be made well. And so she does. And so she is made well.

That could be the end of it except that it wasn’t. Jesus suddenly stopped walking and said, someone touched my clothes. And everyone in his entourage thought he was insane because obviously there were many people touching his clothes as he made his way through the dense crowd. Why was this important enough to stop? 

He looked around to find the one who touched him but didn’t need to look far. The woman stepped forward and identified herself. She explained her need and her desire, and he listened. Meanwhile, the entourage was surely getting antsy, impatiently waiting for this trivial conversation to be over so they could continue on their way to a very important healing. But Jesus listened to the woman, and then said to her, “Your faith has made you well.” 

Before he even begins walking again toward Jairus’ house, the group is met by some messengers who say, “it’s too late. The little girl has died.” Yet, Jesus insists on going. Jesus insists that hope is not lost. And it is not lost, because when he arrived at the house, he took the hand of the dead child and said, “Little girl, get up.”

It didn’t matter, in this case, that there was a slight delay in his arrival, because the power of the almighty God is in him.

Both of these stories tell us something about Jesus’ power to heal. Both of these stories make clear that his healing gifts are in an entirely different realm from what we normally expect. If he were a doctor, we would want him to rush to the child’s bedside, to arrive there before she died, while healing was still possible. If he were a doctor, we would have told the woman with the hemorrhage to make an appointment because he was quite busy at the moment.

But Jesus was not a doctor. He was, and is, a savior. The word that Mark uses here when he speaks of healing is sozo, a word that is usually translated as saved. This is the nature of Jesus’ healing – it will make us whole; it will save us. This is a very important part of the gospel news: Jesus offers us the healing power of God. 

And even though these two stories are about healing of physical ailments, the healing of Jesus may take many forms. It is often about something quite different from curing a disease. 

There is another aspect of this passage that sheds light on just how that healing can happen. It happens in the interruptions.

You know, every Sunday I ask you all to silence your cell phones before worship begins. It just seems like a courtesy to everyone who is worshiping. It’s the same way when you go to a concert or to a movie. You are always reminded to please silence your phones, so the experience we have come here for will not be interrupted by a ring tone. People get upset about things like that. People get upset about interruptions.

Yet, getting upset about such a thing is not necessary. It is actually a choice. 

I once heard a funny story about Queen Elizabeth, who probably did not have a cell phone. She was in a formal meeting, which was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a cell phone. There was a woman at the table who had neglected to silence her phone and much to her acute embarrassment, it started ringing. The conversation stopped. All eyes were suddenly on her. At that moment, the queen said to her, “You’d better answer that. It could be someone important.”

Who could be calling that is more important than the queen? Eight times out of ten, my cell phone calls are coming from robots. And the rest of the time they are likely to be about as substantive as, “Hey, what are you doing?” Or “what time do you think you’ll be home?”

But I love what the queen said. “It might be someone important.” Not that it might be some-thing important. She said someone.

And, not necessarily someone more important than me. Just, someone important.

I might be over analyzing her words, but this says something to me about how we approach life. Sometimes, interruptions are a message for busy people.

Busy people like Henri Nouwen.

Nouwen was a gifted priest and theologian, who spent many years teaching in prestigious universities – Notre Dame, Yale, Harvard. Then one day he interrupted his academic career and moved to a place called L’Arche Daybreak, a community for the intellectually and developmentally disabled. He gave up a life of importance for a life of serving those who are among the least of these brothers and sisters of Christ. He was seeking to follow Jesus, and this was the form his discipleship took. He remained there for the rest of his life.

So much of what we can learn about discipleship from Mark’s gospel is learned by watching and listening to Jesus. When we see how Jesus responds to interruptions, this is an opportunity for us to learn. 

And when we watch him here, we see that he does not prioritize one person’s need over another. He doesn’t get anxious about time, his workload, demanding people, or his deliverables. Whatever the moment is, Jesus is in the moment. Perhaps this is a lesson for us.

I don’t know about you, but I have much room for improvement on this matter. I have a tendency to get tunnel vision, becoming so focused on what is right in front of me, that I shut out everything that is around me. And I am not only talking about the important stuff. I can become so preoccupied with trivial things that I fail to hear or see the important things. But somehow, Jesus, in being completely present in the world, is able to hear and see and respond.

Everyone around him that day had the same priority: to get Jesus to Jairus’ house. Then a woman who needed healing reached out her hand and Jesus stopped to give her all his attention. Because this woman, too, is a beloved child of God. This woman, too, has a desperate need to be made well. This woman, too, is worthy of his time.

In his first years of teaching, Henri Nouwen was befriended by an older professor, one with many more years of experience than him. One day as they walked around campus, the older man said to him, “You know, my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work.”

And Nouwen wondered: What if our interruptions are in fact our opportunities? 

Consider this: There is no one with a more important to-do list than Jesus. But when he speaks to you, you would never imagine that he has anything more important to do than be with you.

Perhaps we can learn a thing about discipleship. If we would see Jesus' sensitivity toward desperately needy people as a call to be patient and kind, to offer them what healing we can. After all, if we can see these interruptions as our work, we have the possibility of becoming healed and whole ourselves.