Heart to Heart Talks, Part 2: In the Light of Day

John 4:5-42

So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus spoke to her,

JESUS: “Give me a drink.”

WOMAN: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

JESUS: “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

WOMAN: “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?”

JESUS: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

WOMAN: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

JESUS: “Go, call your husband, and come back.”

WOMAN: “I have no husband.”

JESUS: “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!”

WOMAN: “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.”

JESUS: “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.”

WOMAN: “I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.”

JESUS: “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?” Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city.

WOMAN: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”

They left the city and were on their way to him. Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, “Rabbi, eat something.”

JESUS: “I have food to eat that you do not know about.”

So the disciples said to one another, “Surely no one has brought him something to eat?”

JESUS: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony,

WOMAN:  “He told me everything I have ever done.”

So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”

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If we are wondering why Jesus is in this particular place, it is worth considering where he has been and where he is going.

He has been traveling in Judea. He has been in Jerusalem for the Passover celebration first, and after he has been traveling throughout the Judean countryside with his disciples. But then he decided to return to Galilee – for which he had to go through Samaria. Verse 4 tells us, “But he had to go through Samaria.”

We know from our reading of the scriptures that the Jews and the Samaritans did not get along well. We know from the well-loved parable of the Good Samaritan, that the Jews who were listening to Jesus tell this story, did not, under any circumstances, consider the Samaritans to be “good.” The notion of regarding a Samaritan as a neighbor was abhorrent.

We know these things. But you might not know that the Jews and the Samaritans were really estranged brothers and sisters. The Samaritans were descended from the tribes of Israel that had been conquered and scattered by the Assyrian invaders, centuries earlier. Israel calls them the lost tribes. I don’t know, though, if the Samaritans considered themselves lost.

In any case, over time hatred had grown between these two ethnic groups, which is very sad. As each hardened their own sense of identity, they grew to despise the others. So much, in fact, that I have read that Jews would walk miles out of their way to avoid going through Samaria. Just as some of us might go out of our way to avoid what we consider to be a “bad” neighborhood.

But Jesus did not. John says to us, “He had to go through Samaria,” and I suppose he did, because there was a conversation in Samaria he needed to have.

If he had told anyone that this was what he would be doing, I wonder what kind of reactions he would have received. I am sure his disciples tried to discourage him from going this way, they could have bypassed Samaria as other Jews did. I am sure they would have been concerned about his decision to wait alone at this Samaritan well while they went in search of provisions. But, then again, maybe they thought there was little risk for him. Because going to the well for water was women’s work. How could a woman, even a Samaritan woman, harm him?

In fact, it is unlikely that anyone will be at the well while he is there. It is high noon in the desert. Most women would go in the early morning and the evening, when the heat of the sun is not bearing down on them. You would be unusually brave or foolish to venture out at midday.

But, against the odds, a woman approaches the well to draw water.

Many have suggested that this particular woman is there at noon because of who she is. She is a divorcee – a five-time divorcee, apparently. This would mean that she has been discarded by five husbands. Five different men have married her and then, for whatever reasons they had, announced, “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you.” It had to have been her husbands who made this decision, because it was not possible for a woman to divorce a man. And it was that simple for a man to divorce a woman.

One would think that she carried this as a burden of shame. That she would have been notorious in her village. One might assume that she managed her days so that she could avoid the other women of the village because she was ashamed to be around them. Because she knew they talked about her, looked down upon her, maybe distrusted her. One might assume that she was a woman full of shame and bitterness at the hand life had dealt her, and lived life as an outcast.

That all makes sense. But the funny thing is she doesn’t act like a disgraced woman. She doesn’t shuffle around, bent over, head low in shame. She behaves as a woman in possession of herself, a woman who is at home in her skin. 

She doesn’t appear to be afraid of Jesus. She recognizes him immediately as a Jew. And she knows all the prohibitions that would warn her against interacting with this man. Even so, she asks him a pointed question: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

How is it that you, a man, are speaking to me, a strange woman?

How is it that you, a Jew, are speaking to me, a Samaritan?

How is it that you, a religiously observant son of Israel, are speaking to me, one who is considered by your people to be unclean?

What are you doing here in Samaria? What are you doing at my well?

Just asking. Maybe it’s rude, but she’s just wondering.

Jesus doesn’t get the slightest bit off-balance, however, by her blunt question. He doesn’t miss a step. It is almost like he was waiting for it. It is almost as if he were waiting for her – this 5-time married and divorced Samaritan woman.

So he says: Let’s talk about the water that I could give to you. The living water.

And they’re off. And you know what? Rather than scoff at this woman for all her presumed sins, I marvel at her.

She is a worthy conversation partner for Jesus. She doesn’t ever back down. She responds to every strange thing he says – at first not understanding him, but staying with him nonetheless. Perhaps one of the best things that can be said about her is this: She is not afraid of what she doesn’t understand, but is willing and able to continue the conversation through the ambiguity.

One can’t help but compare this conversation with the last one he had – with the Pharisee Nicodemus back in chapter 3. Nicodemus sought Jesus out because he sensed that there was something Jesus had that he, Nicodemus needed. But he struggled to comprehend, he simply couldn’t make the leap with Jesus toward a new understanding of things. He walked away, still in the dark, discouraged.

The Samaritan woman, in contrast, did not come looking for Jesus. She had no idea he would be there at the well. But finding him there she was fully present with him. In the bright light of day, they speak and listen to each other in truth. She has questions: Why do you ask me for water? How would you possibly get this water you are referring to? How can I get this living water that will forever satisfy my thirst? Wait –

Why do you mention my husband? What is that to you?

How do you know me, Jesus? How do you know me?

Jesus has never met this woman before, but he does know her. And she allows herself to be known by him.

When you have a conversation, there are two sides to it. That is what a conversation is, after all. Each one shares with the other.

Jesus comes offering something to us, and we can receive it only if we offer something of ourselves to him. Probably something we don’t really want to look at or dwell on. Most of us would rather, somehow, gloss over the less savory parts of our lives. But then Jesus will come along and say, “Let’s talk about that.”

So I ask you once again: Do you want to have a conversation with Jesus? A real heart to heart? Then open your heart to him. He has already given his heart to you.

Photo: By Carl Heinrich Bloch - http://masterpieceart.net/carl-heinrich-bloch/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18138698

Heart to Heart Talks, Part 1: Not Today, Satan

Matthew 4:1-11

Many years ago Kim and I introduced an exciting new game to our young children. We called it the quiet game. It’s simple: when we say “go,” everybody has to be quiet and the first one to break the silence loses. The kids never won that game.

Maybe you have played this game with your own children? Because sometimes a parent wants some peace and quiet. But I learned later that it isn’t just kids who seem to have a burning need for chatter. One day I had a study date with my grownup daughter. We invited her grandmother along with us. We explained to her we were going to a coffee shop to work, and if she had a book to read, maybe she would like to join us. She said she’d love to.

It sort of didn’t work out very well. We sat together in a booth with our coffee and pastries, Willa and I with our laptops, Claire with her book. But Claire couldn’t seem to go five minutes without conversation. Again and again she broke the silence. And every time she realized once again that we were trying to work, she would say, “Now don’t mind me, I’m fine with my book.”

The thing was, Claire lived alone. And she could sit in silence with her book by herself anytime. But when she was with other people, this was a time for talking. And being able to talk with other people was a treasure for her.

Try spending an extended period of time alone and you will know. Human beings are made to be social – even the most introverted among us are social beings. Being with others, communicating with others, feeds our hearts, our minds, our souls.

It is quite possible you think that being asked to sit here quietly and listen to me talk is an awfully big thing to ask. We are learning from our Big Read, Why Nobody Wants to Go to Church Anymore, that it really does feel like an unreasonable expectation for many people. More than a lecture, or sermon, people want a conversation. More than being talked to, we want to be talking with other people.

The truth is, conversation is wholesome. And when spiritual people share conversation with one another, there is a way in which Jesus is present in the conversation too. To me, a huge part of ministry is participating in conversations with other people about things that really matter. When we have heart to heart talks with one another about things that really matter, Jesus is always present in these conversations.

During this season of lent, we will focus on conversations with Jesus that we read about in the gospel. The conversations with Jesus that are recorded in the scriptures contain many of the questions that we, too, wonder about. And they contain many of the answers that we need too.

So it might seem surprising that we begin a series about conversations with this text, where Jesus goes off into the wilderness alone. Immediately after he is baptized by John in the Jordan, he wanders off to be alone in the wilderness. His “wilderness experience.”

A wilderness experience in the scriptures usually involves an actual wilderness. Like the Israelites leaving the bonds of slavery in Egypt and walking into the wilderness where they stayed for the next 40 years, preparing to take the promised land. Like the young David, before he was king, retreating into the wilderness to await his time. Like the prophet Elijah fleeing to the wilderness when things become overheated in Israel.

But for you and me, a wilderness experience might just mean that we are sort of spiritually lost. To be in the wilderness might just mean that you are lacking purpose or direction in your life, that you are not clear about how and where God is calling you.

But whether it is an actual physical wilderness or a metaphorical wilderness, one thing is the same: it’s lonely. A wilderness journey is something you do alone.

Jesus, we are told, went out into the real wilderness, alone, and stayed there for 40 days and 40 nights, fasting. Jesus went without food for 40 long days and nights. Which is hard – obviously.

But something that may not be immediately obvious is this: he also went without companionship. He went without conversation or laughter, without shared smiles or human touch. He fasted from food for his body and from the kind of food that feeds our spirits – fellowship.

After 40 days and nights, the scripture says, he was famished. And then the tempter comes to him. Call it the devil, or Satan.  

But whatever you call it, there is no denying that evil is real. Evil exists and tempts us in all kinds of ways, because it rarely ever presents itself as evil. Evil does not tempt us with horns and pitchforks and fire. Evil has many effective disguises, and it is clear that evil, the devil, or Satan, was using a disguise out in the wilderness with Jesus. It was a disguise of empathy.

A tricky disguise. A good disguise.

Satan came to tempt Jesus – beginning with the temptation to feed himself. And I think the temptation here was not only to turn stones into bread, but to turn the devil into a friend. Who else was there?

Who else was there for him in his time of need? Who else understood what he was going through, the ways he had suffered?

The devil used a disguise of empathy.

Think about it. Have you ever, in trying times, felt the pull of self-pity? No one understands me – no one. Then comes the devil, saying “It’s so true. No one knows how you’ve suffered. They don’t even care. But I care, my friend.

“Here – have a piece of chocolate.”

Just kidding about the chocolate. But, you know what I mean? Doesn’t the old pity party lure you into trouble sometimes? What better excuse is there to indulge in harmful behavior than the old cliché, “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me.

“I guess I’ll go eat worms.”

But the good news is, we don’t need to go there. Listen to the conversation between Jesus and the devil. And we will see, as we see again and again in these dialogues, that there is much for us to learn.

During his wilderness sojourn, Jesus has let go of everything in the world but held fast to his connection with God. He has wandered away the world so that he could become intensely focused on his bond with God. And when the devil says, “Poor you, Jesus! Here – fix yourself something to eat,” Jesus knows this is not the voice of a caring friend.

Watch how he answers. Jesus doesn’t engage with the devil’s agenda. He doesn’t get sucked into a discussion about whether and how he could turn stones into bread. He responds with the word of God. End of that conversation.

But, of course, the devil is not without resources of his own. He replies with some scripture, himself. Maybe it is possible to lure Jesus in with some tempting verses from scripture. God’s angels will protect you, it is written. But Jesus, again, will not engage with the devil’s agenda, he will not be tempted. Nope, he replies. We don’t test the Lord.

A third time the devil tries – this time he almost seems to abandon disguise with a naked offer of raw power. And one last time Jesus turns to the devil and says, “Not today, Satan. Not today.

“Get away, Satan. I am not yours today. There will come a time when you have me. A time when I will submit myself to you and the torments of hell. Believe me, I know it will happen, but it’s not happening today. So be gone.”

I think it was clear who was really in control.

Thanks be to God, we will not need to face such a time ourselves. But the devil, or whatever you like to call it, is still there – hanging around, wearing all kinds of disguises, luring us in.

Next time you find yourself thinking something like, “nobody gets me!” Next time you are feeling so alone and uncared for and misunderstood, think about who you are having a conversation with. If it’s all about how persecuted you are, it will not be Jesus you’re talking to.

Do you want to have a conversation with Jesus? A real heart to heart? Then tell him everything – how lonely you feel. How misunderstood, how uncared for you feel. He will not encourage you to wallow in self-pity. He will not lead you into your most destructive behavior patterns. He will remind you that you are not alone. That you are loved. That you have a true friend forever, in him.

Jesus Preaches, Part 4: Perfect Love

Matthew 5:38-48        

Have you ever asked Google how to be perfect? This is how you know that you are not the only person in the world who has ever wondered the things you are wondering, you ask Google. Because there are answers out there, my friends. Google has answers.

If you google “How can I be perfect?” this is what you will find: There are lists of 25 ways to be a better person. There are lists of 52 simple ways to be your best every week.

There is an article that says being perfect, or as close to perfect as possible, can be broken down into three basic areas: taking care of the outside – that is how you appear to others; taking care of the inside – how you feel both physically and mentally; and finally, carrying it all out, things like learning new skills, setting goals, treating people with kindness. So, there is that.

And, right below all of this, there is a link you can follow to find out how to stop worrying about being perfect all the time.

Last week we began this series of statements that follow the format “You have heard…but I say to you…” As you began to read through them, you might have felt a rising sense of panic about what Jesus is saying. “You have heard that it was said you shall not murder…but I say to you if you are angry with a brother or a sister you will be liable to judgment” Now, steering clear of murdering someone is something I think I can manage. But never being angry at anyone? How is that even possible? And each one of these statements seems to get harder than the one before.

As we finish this series of statements today it reaches its apex of impossibility with verse 48: Just. Be. Perfect.

So, maybe you are someone who hears this and says, “Be perfect? Check. Okay, what else?” If this is you, congratulations. But stick around. I think you need this sermon as much as the rest of us.

If that isn’t you, then maybe you are someone who reacts to this first by thinking, “Be perfect? Yes! How?” But then there is another part of you, the more reflective part of you, the part of you that is usually lagging behind the part that says, “Yes, how.” This part of you begins to say things in your head like –

You know that’s not really possible, right?

You remember how you tried that before and it only led to problems?

Can I steer your attention to this nice link down here about how to stop worrying about being perfect all the time?

The real problem with a statement like this – be perfect – is that so many of us, and Christians, in particular, do expend a good deal of effort trying to be perfect by trying to hide our imperfections.

We want so much to be good enough to be here. Because we get the seriously mistaken notion in our heads that we actually have to be good enough to be here. We somehow get the idea that church has a high standard of admission.

It is a way we hurt ourselves, but unfortunately, we also end up hurting others. Because in our heads we are frequently judging – ourselves and by extension, and perhaps without even meaning to, judging others.

Many of us who are taking part in the Big Congregational Read had some discussion last week about this very thing. The authors of our book, Why Nobody Wants to Go to Church Anymore, took a video camera out on the street and started asking random people why they don’t go to church. Among the most frequent responses they heard was something along these lines: “Church people are so judgmental. Why would I subject myself to that?”

We wondered if that includes us, and if so, what are we doing that comes across as judgmental? As we thought this through together, we began talking about things like how uncomfortable it was for you the first time you came to church without a necktie. Because you have known your whole life that, in church, men wear neckties. It’s a rule.

It turns out that there are many of these kinds of things – unwritten rules that we have learned by osmosis and that we end up communicating to others, whether or not we intend to do so.

But you know what’s really funny about all of this? So many of the things we obsess about and so many of the unwritten rules are meaningless things. All too many of them are unimportant but manageable things. All too often we highlight the things that don’t really make us any better but might make us feel like we are … better.

A few years ago, I read VD Vance’s memoir, Hillbilly Elegy. And one small section that stuck with me was his description of what it was like to go to his father’s and stepmother’s church with them. Never having been to church before, he saw it as a newcomer. He said one thing he noticed was the primary concern in this church seemed to be criticizing other Christians – those who weren’t Christian enough. Vance said he heard a lot more about the “war on Christmas,” for example, than he did about any particular character trait that a Christian should aspire to have.  He came to realize that morality was defined by drawing the lines far away from the things that would likely be a part of their personal experience.  Morality was defined as not participating in this or that thing, which these church members wouldn’t be likely to participate in anyway.  He said, “church required so little of me.  It was easy to be a Christian.”

Easy. As easy as it is to refrain from murdering somebody – which is easy, most of the time. Under normal circumstances. Right?

One thing we know by now, after four weeks in Matthew 5, is this: Jesus did not mark out a path that would be called easy. We know that the way is not easy, but what exactly is it? How should we understand the way of Jesus?

Is the point of Christianity to just pile on the requirements until it hurts? To just keep raising the bar until you can’t get over it?

Because if that’s the way it is, then I’d be very tempted to go join the church JD Vance and his daddy went to, where you can just keep raising the bar on other people. 

Where you can worry over the speck in someone else’s eye and comfortably ignore the log in your own.

When Jesus says to his listeners “You have heard that it was said … but I say to you” it might look like he was taking the bar and jacking it up a few hundred feet. But I think he was up to something else. I think he was asking us to consider just how absurd it really is to think you’ll grow in holiness by following a checklist of rules.

To think you’ll become perfect by following 52 simple steps.

Wouldn’t it be saner to see the law as a tool God has given us to use for our benefit, in whatever ways benefit us and our world? Something to be useful to us as we strive to become more like Christ. As we strive to grow into the image of God. Wouldn’t it be great to shift our focus away from sin and onto what is truly good?

You have heard that it was said, “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you: What’s with this whole retribution thing? Is it making you a better person? Is it making the world a better place?

You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you: and who, do you think, is your neighbor? Maybe some of your neighbors disagree with you. Maybe some of them vote differently from you. Maybe some of them even seem to be fighting against your best interests.

Love your enemies. For if you love only those who love you – even the Democrats do that. If you care only for those who care for you – even the Republicans do that.

Tell me: is it making you a better person? Is it making the world a better place?

Love your enemies, Jesus said. Pray for those who persecute you. They are also children of your heavenly father.

Be perfect as God is perfect. For God gives us the way.

And if this should sound like a deal-breaker to you, know this: Everything in scripture acknowledges what we know to be true – that perfection is really not an option for us. We know too well our own shortcomings, even if we try to hide them from ourselves and others. But we are assured that in every way we are lacking, God’s grace can make us whole.

Jesus marked out for us a new way, a new life, and invites us to see just what and who we are in this new life. God has made you salt of the earth, able to change the flavor of things wherever you are just by being who you are. God has made you light to the world, light that can shine out the image of Christ for anyone with eyes to see.

Seek to be like God as you see God’s light in Jesus. As one who has been formed in God’s own image, now make that your definition of perfection. To live into the qualities that define God is to live into perfection. And among these qualities, first and foremost, is love.

You don’t have to try to be perfect in every way. Only try to be perfect in love.

Jesus marked out a new path for us – not just an extension of the old path, not just a slightly higher road parallel to the one the world is on. It’s a new path, one that will free us to live in the joy of the kingdom of God. Discovering that path is our journey.

Jesus Preaches, Part 3: Rules & Relationships

Matthew 5:21-37        

The farther we get into Jesus’ sermon on the mount, I begin to imagine how the scene around him might have been changing, reacting to the things he was saying. Remember he was amidst a large crowd of people who had been following him. And he went up to the top of the mount, a little distance away from the crowd, to teach his band of disciples. But assume, also, that the crowds below could hear what he was saying. 

He begins his sermon with some jarring statements – the strange blessings – lifting up all the qualities that the world tends to find embarrassing, or even shameful. So maybe the people in the crowd raised their eyebrows in surprise, but they would continue to listen. 

Then he starts calling them salt and light, whatever that means. And he says they must exceed the Pharisees and Scribes in their righteousness if they want to have a prayer of being welcomed into the kingdom of heaven. And, well, that’s intimidating.

Now he starts with the “You have heard … but I say” sayings, where he shows them just how serious he was when he said not one jot or tittle would be taken from the law until all was accomplished.

I think by now some folks are drifting away. This is not what they want to hear; it’s gone beyond puzzling to just plain offensive. I imagine some are thinking that life is hard enough without having to hear some preacher telling you that you may as well hang it up. That you’ve lost already. 

It must have seemed disappointing, to put it mildly. They believed they had found something new, something hopeful in this man, Jesus; something different. But now he just seems to be tightening the screws. 

Saying things like, “You have heard that it was said, “you must not commit murder.” But I say to you, it’s way harder than that. You must not even think bad thoughts about another person. You must not be angry.

You have heard that it was said, “you must not commit adultery.” But I say to you, if you even let a scintilla of the thought of it enter your mind, you are guilty. 

It looks like he took an already hard system and made it harder. But at the same time, when you look at it in the context of the whole gospel, that doesn’t seem like something Jesus would do. He is forever criticizing the Pharisees for their zeal about the law, and the hard burden they put on the people. And Jesus even seems to flaunt his law-breaking in their face.  Surely Jesus would not lay an even heavier burden on them. 

So once again, it seems we need to take a deeper look into his words. When Jesus speaks of the law, he means something different than what most people did. And perhaps different than what we, as his followers, think of it.

There are basically three ways that Christians tend to relate to the law of God. The first way is to just dismiss it. Which some Christians do. It’s called Marcionism, one of the greatest heresies of the church, named after the 2^nd century teacher Marcion.

Marcion became a Christian, but soon his strange beliefs became apparent and he was excommunicated. Marcion simply refused to believe that the God of the Old Testament had anything to do with Jesus Christ. So he threw away the Old Testament – and large parts of the New Testament, as well, because they challenged his view of a happy, happy Jesus. A soft-focus Jesus, who gives us inspiring, morally-uplifting messages.

Marcion was excommunicated from the church, but he still had a large following. It was a very popular heresy – and still is. And Marcion’s heresy lives on, it’s easy to see. 

The second way Christians might relate to the law is to say that, for us, the law is a reminder of how futile it is to try to attain righteousness on our own. This is where Martin Luther started from in his own spiritual awakening.  He had tried so hard to be a man blameless before the law, as Paul described himself to be.  But the harder Luther tried the more he realized that he was incapable of it.  He was a sinner by nature, as we all are.  The only way he could achieve righteousness is through Jesus Christ, who was tempted as we are tempted yet remained without sin.  For Luther, the law is to remind us just how far we fall short of righteousness, how much we need God’s grace.  In that way, it is of critical importance.

We sometimes call that the Second Use of the Law.  But there is another way of regarding the law, which Presbyterians embrace: that the law is not obsolete.  The law is not just something to scare us or make us feel bad about ourselves.  This Third Use of the Law is to hold it before us as an ideal.  We will never achieve perfection in the eyes of God’s law, but we should never stop striving toward it. Because God’s grace enables us to grow.

And that is where these words from Jesus’ sermon become meaningful to us. The law is not some dusty relic of a time gone by. But neither is it just some big scary stick that makes us want to run away from it into the arms of our loving savior. Rather than the stick, God’s law is the carrot that draws us in as we begin to see how it is useful to us.

And it is useful to us when it begins to show us a better way than so much of what the world offers us. Particularly as we see the contrast in how we may relate to other people.

Let me tell you about a man named Louis Howe. He was a political advisor to Franklin Roosevelt. Howe worked for Roosevelt from his early days in the New York State Senate, up through his presidency. Howe was devoted to Roosevelt until his death.

Apparently, Howe had a tendency to be harsh – rude and even cruel to some people. He played political hardball. And it is said that on one occasion when Howe was very harsh with someone at a White House social event, Eleanor Roosevelt took him aside and asked him why he did that. He answered that it was because this man had once been unsupportive of President Roosevelt. Eleanor said, “My goodness, I had forgotten all about that” Howe said, “I didn’t. I never forget.”

Howe, it seems, was the kind of man who kept an enemies list in his head. I’m sure he wasn’t the first man in politics to do that, and we know he wasn’t the last. It’s all too easy to turn your opponents into your enemies. And from there it’s a small step to turn enemies into objects of contempt.

And it’s easy to justify all of it. As long as you haven’t murdered somebody you are on the right side of the law. And I realize there are those who seem to believe they are exempt from the law. But that’s another sermon for another day.

As long as you haven’t stolen from them, you’re on the right side of the law.

We can defend some really awful behavior by saying that it doesn’t break the law, because it doesn’t cross the boundary between legal and illegal. But Jesus was trying to draw our attention away from that boundary line and toward the heart-center, where he resides, where God resides. 

So instead of only trying to clear that low bar we might shift our focus to what is truly good. 

Rather than making it all about rules, Jesus makes it all about how we treat one another. It’s about the quality of love in all our relationships.

Jesus didn’t come to abolish the law. But he did intend for us to understand the law in a whole new way:

For the whole of the law can be summed up in these two commandments – love the Lord your God with all your heart and your soul and your mind and your strength. And love your neighbor as yourself. And if love is the essence of the law then we know these things:

That it is right to seek reconciliation rather than retribution.

That we should speak the truth always, in love.

And to never, ever lose sight of the essential humanity of anyone. 

Remember that God’s love and forgiveness is showered on everyone – even those we think don’t deserve it. God loves us all.

Let each one of us strive to do likewise.

Photo: Willa and Nicaraguan children reading a book

Jesus Preaches, Part 2: Salt and Light

Matthew 5:13-20        

There is an old English folktale that I have always loved, The Three Sillies. A young man is courting a farmer’s daughter and is invited to their house for dinner. During the meal, the daughter is sent down to the cellar to fetch the beer for supper. As she is drawing the beer she notices a mallet stuck in one of the beams overhead. And she thinks, “Suppose one day he and I get married and we have a son, and our son comes down to the cellar to get the beer and the mallet falls on his head and kills him!” and she is so overcome with grief she can’t move.

Soon her mother comes down to look for her. “What is the matter with you?” she asks. The girl points to the mallet and tells her mother this imagined scenario – and the mother collapses in tears next to the daughter. The father comes down and the scene is repeated.

Finally, the young man wanders down wondering what is keeping everyone. When they tell him what they’re crying over, he pulls the mallet out of the beam. He tells them he’s not sure he wants to marry into such a silly family. He will have to think about it. So he goes wandering through the countryside looking to see if there are bigger fools out there than this family.

Soon he encounters a woman who was trying to get her cow to climb a ladder up to her roof because there was some nice grass growing up there for the cow to eat. He suggested she cut the grass and bring it down to her cow, but the woman thought her method would be easier.

That night, he stopped at an inn where he shared a room with another man. He woke up in the morning to find this man trying to run and leap into his trousers. Apparently, this was the ritual he went through every morning. The young man watched several unsuccessful attempts and then demonstrated for him the method he used for putting on his trousers. The other man was quite appreciative.

Later in his journey, he encountered a group of folks around a pond with rakes and pitchforks. They were trying to pull the moon out of the pond. The young man pointed out to them that the moon was actually up in the sky, but they scoffed and called him a fool, they said that was only a reflection up there. In fact, they got so angry at this young man for contradicting them, they turned their pitchforks on him and he had to hightail it out of there.

Moral of the story, I guess, is that there is no shortage of fools in the world. Sometimes their foolishness will hurt no one but themselves. Occasionally they will listen to reason. And other times, they can become a menace to others – especially anyone who tries to shine the light of truth.

Another story that you probably know is the one about the emperor who was taken in by a couple of swindlers who convinced him that they could make him some clothes that would be exceptionally beautiful to everyone who could see them. But for anyone who was too incompetent, they would be invisible. And so, consequently, everyone who was shown the outfit pretended they could see it, and maybe even convinced themselves they could see it, lest they appear to be incompetent.

When the emperor paraded through the streets to show off his new outfit, everyone praised his fine clothing because they didn’t want any trouble. Only one small boy spoke the truth: the emperor has no clothes on. Which shocked and silenced everyone, because it was the truth. But deciding that it was better to continue the charade, the emperor walked on with his head high, his noblemen behind him, holding his invisible train.

There are many stories like this for children, I suppose because it’s important to teach children the lessons of honesty and integrity. It’s important to teach our children that going along with the crowd is not always the best policy. But maybe they are important lessons for adults too.

In any case, it seems to be a message we hear from Jesus in this sermon on the mount. When he calls his disciples salt of the earth, light to the world, he is anointing them to this rare and sometimes lonely position.

I have often pondered what it means to be called salt. I have listened to and read the wisdom of others on this passage. Salt gives things flavor, so disciples of Jesus give flavor to life. Salt is a preservative, so disciples of Jesus keep and preserve the good news. These are both true but there is something more – an insight that I come to through the practice of baking bread.

I have baked bread for years; it is something I love to do. Bread is beautiful, and it is symbolic of life. Our daily bread is our sustenance. I have learned a few things from my efforts in bread-making, and one is this: there are few ingredients, but every ingredient is essential, no matter how small.

Everyone knows you need yeast to make bread – without just a tiny teaspoon of this stuff, the dough will not rise – not one bit. You will have a brick and nobody will want to eat it. But you may not know, unless you try it, that without salt bread is utterly tasteless.

You might think it wouldn’t make much difference, because most recipes only call for a pinch or so. It looks trivial. But it makes all the difference you can imagine. A little pinch of salt gives flavor to the whole loaf. A little pinch of salt helps to strengthen the gluten. And without that little pinch, nobody will want to eat it.

It only takes a little bit of salt to make a big difference.

And you could say that light is similar. It’s not hard for us to understand Jesus’ meaning when he calls us the light of the world. Light is a much more common image and even permeates our common language. We speak of being enlightened. Of shedding some light on a confusing situation or bringing light into darkness. And we always know what it means.

The same thing that is true of salt is also true of light. It only takes a little bit to make a big difference. One headlamp in a dark cave can make the difference between knowing where you are and being smothered in darkness.

You are the salt of the earth, the light of the world, Jesus tells his disciples. If one of you stands up and claims that identity you can change the world around you.

You don’t have to wait and watch and see what everyone else is doing. You don’t have to follow suit. You don’t have to use popular opinion as your justification for your decisions and actions. You don’t have to adjust your responses in accordance with what someone else tells you is smart or good. In fact, if you do these things, disciples of Jesus, you have wasted your salt. You have hidden your light under a bushel basket. You have forsaken your calling.

For in your baptism you have been called to this life, you have been anointed as Christ’s own. You have been given a new identity, as salt and light.

I remember the pastor of the church I attended in graduate school – we called him PJ. Every Sunday we celebrated the sacrament of communion standing in a circle. But before we were given the bread of life and the cup of salvation, PJ would approach us, one at a time, and offer us a pinch of salt on our tongues, saying the words, “Remember your baptism.”

Remember your baptism. Remember you are the salt of the earth. And even if you feel like you are alone in this, you are enough. Even if you feel like you are only a small pinch, hardly significant, you are enough. Don’t forsake your saltiness.

Remember you are the light of the world. No matter how small your light, one single light can alter the atmosphere.

You are enough to dissuade one fool from his foolishness. You are enough to bring out the truth for all to see.

Now, the world may not be persuaded to follow. The world may choose to ignore the light and persist in their pretense that the emperor has some very fine clothes on, all evidence to the contrary, simply because their pride insists that they do.

The kingdoms of this world may even try to punish you for being different. But remember, beloved: yours is the kingdom of heaven.

To be salt of the earth, light of the world – a rare and sometimes lonely position. But I am reminded of another story, this one from the Old Testament book of Kings. The prophet Elijah has been called by God to stand up to King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, to stand against all the prophets of Baal, to stand for God and righteousness.

But at a point it becomes too much for Elijah and he collapses, lamenting at how alone he is. God says to him, “Elijah, you are not alone. Do you think I would leave you alone? Elijah, I have thousands more in the world like you.”

You might not know just how many pinches of salt and glimmers of light God has in the world, just like you, until you stand up.

Photo: By Olga Ernst - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=76234030

Jesus Preaches, Part 1: The Blessed

In the practice of Zen Buddhism, there is something called beginner’s mind. It doesn’t mean someone who is just beginning the practice, though. For practitioners of Buddhism, the challenge is to keep that beginner’s mind constantly. It is about keeping an open mind, letting go of preconceptions, practicing the curiosity of a child. Beginner’s mind is a way of life. To have a beginner’s mind is to let go of what you already know so you might learn something new.

Years ago, I spent some time with a Chinese student at the university where I worked. She wanted to practice her English. She wanted to learn about the Christian faith. She came to me knowing nothing about Christianity. She and I agreed to meet up and read the Bible together. It turned out to be an enlightening experience for me.

We began with the gospel, because it seemed to me like the best place to begin for a beginner. We sat at a table and read aloud to each other – stories that were very familiar to me and very strange to her. More than once she stopped, scrunched up her face, and said, “Huh. Why did he say that?” or “Why did he do that?” More than once, she caught me off-balance. She made me see just how strange Jesus was.

You might sometimes think that I say some strange things, or wrong things, or even dangerous things. But know this: I’ve got nothing on Jesus. He was pretty strange. Many people thought he was dead wrong. And make no mistake, he was dangerous.

Over the next few weeks I will be focusing on the Sermon on the Mount, where we have the opportunity to get as close as possible to the authentic Jesus. Biblical scholars believe that these passages are the closest thing we have to his original teachings. This is the historical Jesus.

Matthew places this sermon very early in Jesus’ ministry. So far, he has been baptized by John, gone out into the wilderness to wrestle with his demons for 40 days, then returned to Galilee, where he began to call his disciples. Then he went about performing all kinds of healings and very quickly had a following.

As Matthew says, he saw the crowds who were following him now and he went up the mountain – perhaps to put some breathing space between himself and the people. He sat down. Maybe then he gestured to his disciples, or just looked at them expectantly – not the large crowd, but the smaller group of individuals he had called to follow him on a journey that would take them to new places. They came to him. Then he began to speak to them.

We might imagine ourselves in the place of those beginning disciples as we listen to his words:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (Matthew 5:3-12)

We know that even his disciples had difficulty understanding his meaning, as they gathered around listening to him speak. He contradicted everything that their culture, their religion, taught. He challenged the order by which everything worked.

All societies have a pecking order. In some cultures, it is more pronounced than others. In the ancient middle east it was quite clear. Everyone knew where they stood. Everyone knew what was expected of them. Everyone’s job was to do the right things and be able to stay in their niche, to not lose what you had.

But at the bottom of the pecking order were those who had nothing more to lose. These were the untouchables, the invisibles. These men and women had nothing and no opportunities. They were unemployed and unemployable. The expendable.

These were the souls who had to live by their wits – maybe they stole, maybe they begged. They did whatever they needed to do to survive.

They were, in the Greek, the ptochoi, which we translate here as the poor in spirit. As in,

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are these untouchable, unwanted, forgotten human beings. The homeless, the invisible, the expendable ones who live their lives in a state of utter humility – of pure, raw vulnerability.

To call them blessed, to understand this, takes the mind of a beginner.

Someone – I don’t remember who – recommended a book to me months ago. I added it to my list of books I should read someday. And recently I picked up a bargain bin copy of it and started reading. It’s called True Places. I wish I could remember who recommended it so I can thank them. It has shed some valuable light for me on the beatitudes.

It’s a story about an upper-middle class wife and mother who has a chance encounter with a girl named Iris who has been raised in the wilderness. Some years ago her father disappeared. Later, her mother had an accident and died, so Iris, now 16, has been surviving alone in the woods for three years.

When this woman, Suzanne, finds her she is very, very sick. So Suzanne picks her up and carries her into her SUV and drives her to the hospital, where she leaves her in their care. But Suzanne doesn’t just walk away from her. She returns again and again to visit her, to be a familiar face, a comforting presence.

And as Iris heals, the hospital staff is faced with the problem of figuring out where she will go next. Suzanne and her husband decide to take her home, to foster her until a family member can be found. But here is where the story gets complicated. The transition to their home turns out to be anything but easy.

Bringing Iris into their big luxurious home is a shock to her. She is confused by everything. She reacts badly to many things the family takes for granted. But it is not only shocking to Iris, it is upsetting to the family as well.

Suzanne finds that she is infected by Iris’s reactions – her beginner’s mind, you might say. Suzanne begins to see her life from a different perspective – from an outsider’s perspective.

I think that is what Jesus wants from us: to begin to see our lives, the world we live in, from a different perspective.

Jesus wants us, who have everything, to take the perspective of those who have nothing.

Why? Not to pity them. Not to feel guilty. Not for any reason except this: we can’t know what we could have as long as our vision is clouded by all we do have. And when I speak of all that we have I am referring not only to material possessions, but also all the other things we covet and strive for, like respect, admiration, independence.

These are the things our culture tells us are valuable. We go chasing after the things our culture says will make us complete. But they don’t make us complete. And so we find that we need more and more of what doesn’t work. When you are reaching for what doesn’t fill you, there is no enough. There never will be enough.

In the story, True Places, this family, like so many, lives by the guiding principle “we’re not quite there yet.” They need more money, a bigger house, more popularity, more success, more expensive stuff. The daughter affectionately talks about her dad’s work as “shaking the money tree.” The dad lusts after a bigger house, more powerful friends, greater success, a higher spot on the totem pole. In this home there is a whole lot of everything but there is no real contentment, no peace, no joy. There is no enough.

When Iris comes to live with them, her presence is disturbing because it threatens to lift the veil from their eyes and force them to see. Without doing anything, she disrupts their foundation.

Which is what Jesus did – and does.

And what do we do when Jesus threatens to disrupt our foundation?  We might reinterpret his words in a more comfortable way. Or we might consign them to the dustbins of history – another time, another world, doesn’t apply to us anymore. But instead of softening his edges or shelving his words, we would benefit from listening to what he said, and looking at what he did: Approach the untouchables, speak to the invisibles, break bread with the expendables.

And ask ourselves, like the Chinese student did, “Why did he do that?”

Why did he do that? To help us break free.

May our minds and hearts be opened to see things from the perspective of one of these poor ones. Then to truly see what Jesus is offering us.

Photo: http://buddhabe.tumblr.com/post/33709505123/beginners-mind-in-the-beginners-mind-there-are