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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 10th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 15(20), Luke 12:49-56

Theatrical Masks of Tragedy and Comedy. Roman Mosaic, 2nd Century

The lectionary skips a bit to give us Luke 12:49-56. Preachers who have taken a look are probably glad about that.

The omitted part was Jesus discussion of the need to be the kind of servant who keeps watch for the master’s return. This time he weighed in on the scale of punishments for various degrees of flagrant disregard of duty:

Option 1: light beating.
Option 2: severe beating.
Option 3: dismemberment.

It’s one of those texts that is really hard to adapt for the children’s message.

Luke 12:49-56

But we get to skip that. Instead we have Jesus’ slightly less grim musings about the distressing consequences of his presence and teaching on human social relationships.

Odd Prosody

Prior to discussing the content, let me say that if I knew a NT scholar who specialized in prosody I would love to hear their comments on verses 49-51.

To my ear its phrasing, rhythms, and sentence length sound very different from Jesus’ typical speech in the Synoptics. I’m only looking at the English on this and I’d love to know what experts say — but since I’m recovering from some very ill health, I don’t really want to go look it up.

Fire and Division

The actual content of this section is some of Jesus’ sternest stuff.

He tells us he didn’t come to make everything better — rather he came

to bring fire to the earth” (Luke 12:49 NRSV)

He tells us he didn’t come to bring peace:

No, I tell you, but rather division!” (12:51 NRSV)

Then he enumerates the specifics: families divided by generation and across the lines of marriage, as if they’d been hacked up with a cleaver.

And you know, it works that way, often enough.

Not always: You surely have heard of people where one member became a follower of Christ and, bit by bit, everyone else came along until they were a Happy Christian Family.

But you probably also have heard cases where it happens just as Jesus said. I met young people in India who came to faith in Christ and were completely cast out by their families. They were never able to return.

And many are the mellower cases where one follows Christ and it simply leads to deep difference, so that the peace of the family suffers. Should we say “Hooray! Jesus’ words are fulfilled!”?

Then we have the current scene where the conservative Evangelical members of the family are at odds with the progressive Protestant members — all convinced that they are the ones following Christ the right way.

It is sad. And Jesus is telling us that we shouldn’t be surprised.

Your Family Systems Therapist might say it is predictable. Assuming that your newfound discipleship goes to the bone, then your new way of living will upset the status quo. And every family will quietly exert extreme pressure to get you back in line.

Not peace. Division. Fire on the earth.

I have a group where we’ve been reading the stories of martyrdoms from the Early Church, and it’s always sobering, even appalling, to see the cost following Christ can bring. Their courage and joy are inspiring, and we are left wondering whether our own commitment to Christ would be so calm and clear if we were in their sandals.

Well, it’s hard to know. Maybe we should start by clarifying our commitments, and analyzing where faithfulness puts us at odds with the prevailing trends.

Certainly doing the kinds of things Jesus did would have some of this result. Welcoming the stranger and the outcast often doesn’t bring your friends closer.

The Charge of Hypocrisy

Verses 54-56 veer in a slightly different direction.

Jesus points out that ordinary folks are able, to some degree, to predict the weather.

But, he points out, his listeners are failing in some way to interpret their own present day.

Now I don’t think he’s pointing us to the book of Daniel or other OT apocalyptic bits, telling us to match the predicted signs to the present headlines.

I think he’s pointing out that each of us is stuck in our own heads, awash in our own quest for our own well-being, and we have a hard time seeing the world through God’s priorities.

He could point us to a raft of texts from the Law and the Prophets telling us to care for the poor, to treat exiles and strangers as beloved neighbors and so forth — and we’d still be calling out for walls to keep them out and building bigger barns to hold our stuff.

For their lack of perspective, their lack of inward truth, Jesus makes an odd accusation:

He calls them “hypocrites.”

That’s a word we usually use for those who spout one set of values and act the opposite way in private. We tend to assume it is an inwardly malicious stance, preserving the status of righteousness while seeking something more vile.

But the word itself, the Greek word Jesus used, comes from the stage — it’s a word for an actor wearing a mask. Someone who is in real life one person, but who on the stage pretends to be someone else. The purpose can be mere entertainment, or serious education — it need not be anything insidious.

I used to do a lot of acting — school plays and community theatre. I can tell you that acting, the wearing of a real or metaphorical mask, is a lot of fun. (That’s why they call it a “play.”)

To do it well, you have to try to actually feel what the character you are portraying is supposed to be feeling. In a sense you reduce the “mask” quality to give a good performance. But it is still a mask. You don’t actually become the hero or the villain or the clown you are playing on stage. In that sense it is still innocent “hypocrisy.”

There’s a lot to be learned about the Christian life from the process of acting.

But in this text Jesus is saying not to wear a mask. He wants us to become truly Christian, more and more truly a member of his Body, behaving truly from a core shaped by the priorities of Christ himself.

We are to be hypocrites no more.

And I suspect he’s saying that if we can draw close enough to be transformed in that way we will have a better perspective on the present age.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 10th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 15(20), Luke 12:49-56 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 9th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 14(19), Luke 12:32-40

St Francis, “St Benedict’s Cave,” Subiaco

Illness makes my thoughts on this week’s lectionary Gospel rather late. Next week may be a week off for my Monday Meditations. Not sure how the next few days will pan out — but I’ll be back.

Luke 12:32-40

This week’s Gospel has the appearance of answering a niggling question from last week. Maybe it does, but much of the answer was actually in the material the lectionary skipped — the lovely passage where we are called to consider the thoughtless glory of the lilies and not worry about our material lives so much.

But what we have is Luke 12:32-40. It is, in my opinion, three distinct teachings. The first comes separately, then the second and third are woven together.

1. Radical Generosity.

In 32-34 Jesus sort of wraps up the message of lovely trust he started on with the lilies.

But there’s a bit of a twist.

Do not be afraid, little flock…

fits right in.

…for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you…

seems just right. We’ve been worrying about our food, our clothing, having a home and all that. Now it sounds like he’s going to tell us that all those practical concerns are going to be covered.

But wait: what doe our Father plan to give us?

…the kingdom.

Yep. Once again your prayers got edited. You wanted a healthy life with your basic needs met. Instead you get the kingdom.

Do not be afraid, little flock,

for it is your Father’s good pleasure

to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32 NRSV)

Great. Pie in the sky when I die?

It is a strangely comforting and strangely disappointing promise.

Jesus, however, thinks it’s pretty awesome. Look at the response he expects from his listeners:

Sell your possessions, and give alms.

Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out,

an unfailing treasure in heaven,

where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.”

(Luke 12:33 NRSV)

If you want an image of someone really getting that message, go watch the late Franco Zeffirelli’s “Brother Sun, Sister Moon.” (You can stream it on Amazon.)  (I looked for a YouTube link for the relevant scene, but no luck.)

It is Zeffirelli’s incredibly gorgeous rendition of the true story of St. Francis and St. Clare.

Francis had been a soldier, then a POW, then an invalid, and in the process God got hold of him. Basically he took all the Gospel stuff seriously and decided he’d just do it.

So his father is a wealthy cloth merchant who wants his son to join the business. But instead, the converted and awakened Francis goes to the storage tower and starts hurling bolts of fancy cloth down to the people in the street.

“Throw it away!” he shouts to the crowd. “Throw it all away! It will never make you happy!” And he tells them about those lilies I keep mentioning.

His father of course is not amused. Dad hauls Francis through the streets to the authorities. Francis, full of joy, continues to tell the crowd that riches aren’t the way to happiness. As proof: “Look at my poor father!”

Anyway, it’s maybe my favorite movie of all time, filled with views of Italian countryside and the folk revival music of Donovan.

And more important, it is the only scene I can think of that portrays the fulness of Jesus’ message here:

It’s okay to hang loose about your possessions. In fact you can be generous. You can give them away to people who are in dire need.

And why? Because what God wants to give you is so much more. God is giving you the kingdom. The kingdom.

Understanding that in depth is a matter of further study.

There is the question of what it means to live in and receive the kingdom now.
There is the question of what it means to receive and live in the kingdom at the end of the age.

That I will leave to you or for another day.

But the point of the section is clear:

Receiving the kingdom is so amazingly wonderful that it should redefine our relationship to our stuff.

Emphasis on “should.” Like if we could only comprehend it. Like if we could only believe.

Personally I’ve made very little progress in this.

2. Keep Watch

The second message of this passage is wrapped around the third. It is, to me, a very familiar emphasis of Jesus’ core teaching on the End of the Age, or the Second Coming, or whatever term you favor.

It is not a call to sift allegorical symbols of apocalyptic prediction, comparing every line of Scripture with the headlines.

It is a call to keep watch. Be ready, “dressed for action.” He’s coming at an unexpected hour.

It should be familiar. He said it often enough.

It should be enough to keep Christians from straining their tiny theological muscles to find blood moons and marks of beasts that just happen to be happening in our particular century.

But it isn’t.

3. Radical Generosity (Reprise)

It is the third message which is so surprising, so beautiful, and harmonizes so delightfully with the first.

You, the slave, do all that watching.

Your master returns.

You open the door.

What does the master do?

…truly I tell you,

he will fasten his belt

and have them sit down to eat,

and he will come and serve them.

…

blessed are those slaves.” (Luke 12:37-38 NRSV)

Well that’s unexpected.

The slaves should rejoice to have the master home. They should sit him in his easy chair, pour him a tall cool one and make him dinner.

But no.

Jesus on his return is the same Jesus revealed in the flesh. The one who did not exploit his equality with God, who humbled himself and took the form of a servant, who wrapped a towel around his waist and washed their feet.

And of course all the other things he did were lowly service too — all his feeding of the hungry, all his teaching of the ignorant, all his welcoming of the foreigners and the outcasts.

What we see in Jesus is all a massive revelation of who God really is. And when Jesus, God in the flesh, comes back? He’ll be as generous and more.

He won’t lord it over us. He’ll take care of us in our hunger and our brokenness.

In fact, he’ll give us the kingdom.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 9th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 14(19), Luke 12:32-40 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 8th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 13(18), Luke 12:13-21

Christ the Judge — Fra Angelico

This Sunday’s lectionary Gospel (Luke 12:13-21) is mostly on one important theme: the question of where and how one should invest.

No, it isn’t going to give you clarity about what to tell Charles Schwab what to do with your savings. It might make you question the value of monetary investments — though that isn’t quite the point.

But what is the point?

Luke 12:13-21

The passage is in a familiar form: Jesus has a conversation with someone, and he ends up making a point which he illustrates with a parable. He did it in the previous chapter, in Luke 11:1-13, and he did it in the chapter before that, in Luke 10:25-37.

Here he talks with some siblings who are in conflict about their inheritance.
That leads to a statement about greed and acquisition not being the way to life.
And that leads to the parable of a rich guy who aimed to retire early but ended up dying instead.

Just Being Himself

The teaching content is so weighty that it is easy to miss the fascinating interaction at the start.

The conversation is on topic: Someone asks Jesus to talk sense into their brother about what their parents left them.

Maybe Mom and Dad left it all to the oldest brother, and this younger sister (Luke just says “someone”) wants Jesus to encourage the guy to think more equitably than Mom and Dad did.

Set up that way it seems like something Jesus should handle — urge a little justice, a little mercy for those not given a slice of the economic pie.

But Jesus doesn’t want that role.

He responds in a way that sounds pretty snippy.

Friend,

who set me to be a judge

or arbitrator over you?” (Luke 12:14 NRSV)

Ouch. At least he softened the blow by calling the person “friend.”

Jesus is playing against type here. We know he’s God in the flesh and we know God is merciful beyond all measure. We remember Jesus welcoming children and the marginalized. So we want him to be… nice.

Here Jesus is not nice. That just doesn’t seem to be his priority. He shuts his questioner down rather abruptly.

And we are left trying to figure out in what respect we should be imitating our Lord.

I don’t remember anyone who wore a “WWJD” bracelet back in the day saying we should be snippy in response to questions.

I think the thing to imitate is that Jesus knew exactly who he was. That led him to know exactly what he was called to do. It also led to complete clarity about what he was not called to do.

As the Son of God he had “set his face to go to Jerusalem.” He was here to redeem humanity, choosing the Cross for the sake of the Resurrection. That left no time to set up shop as an arbiter of domestic squabbles.

We don’t have quite so high a calling, but we would do well to follow our Lord in truly knowing and consistently being exactly who we are. If we only knew who we are, created in the image of God, redeemed by the very life of Christ God’s Son, beloved beyond measure — well that would have implications for the choices of our daily living.

Seeing the Motive

The thing we see in the actual substance of Jesus’ response is his consistent ability to look beneath the surface conversation and name the motive.

He comments on his interlocutor’s greed.

Maybe it wasn’t so hard to spot a motive of greed in a request for a share of the inheritance. But still, Jesus sees it, names it, and turns it into a teaching opportunity.

His actual criticism is of the goal of acquisition.

…for one’s life

does not consist

in the abundance of possessions.” (Luke 12:15 NRSV)

Jesus’ statement is that getting more and better stuff is not the way to life. That’s a pretty hard message to remember, at least for middle class Americans in the 21st century. We find ourselves perpetually striving materially.

Often we can only stay a paycheck ahead of financial crisis, and it just seems like the solution is a bit more material abundance.

Of course our current culture’s temptation is to solve that problem on credit, which leaves us with more possessions but an even tighter budget.

Jesus seems to call us to rethink that.

Within it, though, is a call to pay attention to a very important underlying question: What does real life consist of?

Discerning What Life Does Consist In

And to help us with the rethinking he gives us the parable. The very scary parable, actually.

There’s this guy. He’s doing well. His business (farming) is booming. He decides to save it all up, bank it and retire.

But then comes the unpleasant surprise: the guy dies. Just when he thought he could enjoy it all, it all gets left behind.

And he seems to have neglected to make a will.

He would have been so much better off if his energy had gone to — what?

Notice that the point of the teaching is a negation. That is, Jesus rules out acquisition as the thing real life consists in, the source of true thriving. But he doesn’t really tell us what WILL bring life.

The only hint is the concluding phrase: the people in trouble due to acquisition are not “rich toward God.”

So we are left, I think, needing to search the Scriptures for a better answer. It is there to be found. We need to look to Jesus himself, both to his living and to his teaching. And we need to look to the rest of the Bible — the teachings of the Law, the Prophets, and the Epistles. There is good stuff to ponder on the topic in the book of Proverbs.

One hint: It is probably going to have to do with your neighbor.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 8th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 13(18), Luke 12:13-21 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 7th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 12(17), Luke 11:1-13

Starting long ago I posted on every line of the Lord’s Prayer. In fact I’ve done it a couple of times, first in writing on the questions and answers of the Heidelberg Catechism, and again in my “Letters to a Young Pastor” series. The posts are still there and you can find them by clicking here or using the search form at the bottom of the page.

One of those posts still gets a lot of visits. I explored the confusing question of why some churches pray the Lord’s Prayer asking forgiveness for “trespasses” while others ask for “debts” to be forgiven, and still others ask forgiveness of “sins.”

You can check it out through this link — the answer is partly about the differences between Matthew’s version and Luke’s version of the prayer, and partly about translation.

If you are preaching this text, keep in mind that people in your pews are asking that question when you read this Gospel text.

Luke 11:1-13

Personally I think preaching through the Lord’s Prayer in a line by line sermon series is an excellent plan. Talking about the whole thing in one blog post would be way too long. I’ll talk instead about some of the very cool stuff that frames the prayer in Luke’s telling.

“He was praying…”

It is worth noting that the whole story starts with Jesus himself praying. Any Christians who think they can follow Jesus without having an active prayer life are fooling theirselves.

There are potential puzzles here: I suspect some would wonder why Jesus would pray if he himself is God. Is that God talking to himself?

Think first of the fact that God is a Trinity of Persons. Of course Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity, can and would talk to his Father, the First Person of the Trinity.

Think second of a larger-than-average definition of prayer. Many think of prayer as asking God to do things. That is part of prayer, but not the whole enchilada.

Prayer also includes listening — it is a conversation, not a monologue.
Prayer includes God asking us to do things — Jesus didn’t say “Not Thy will but Mine be done!”
And prayer includes wordless communion, dwelling in intimate closeness with God.

So of course Jesus prayed.

“Lord, teach us to pray…”

Then, when that most important work was done, Jesus came back to his friends. They had noticed Jesus’ priority on prayer. They wanted to learn from him.

And to convince him they used the argument that John the Baptist had done more to teach his own disciples to pray than Jesus had done for them. Which is kind of funny, at least to me.

“When you pray, say…”

Jesus complied with their request. He taught them what we call the Lord’s Prayer. The more familiar version is in Matthew, but you can’t miss the fact that this is the same prayer.

Notice that Jesus puts his instruction in the imperative. He orders them to say these words when they pray. That accounts for the fact that in traditional Christianity, for the last 2000 years, believers have recited this prayer in worship.

This includes, by the way, a good many Christians who would say they can’t abide using prayer books or other pre-written prayers. Many of us think the only legit prayer is something we think of off the tops of our heads.

Nothing against extemporaneous prayer, but Jesus did order us to say these words.

(Of course Martin Luther, who esteemed the Lord’s Prayer more highly than anyone else I know of, taught that we should use it not only for recitation but as an outline for our own extemporaneous praise, thanksgiving, confession, and requests. It makes sure that we bring up the right topics. If you want to learn more about that, read the chapter on Luther in my book Kneeling with Giants. Or get on the info list for my Fall class “Pray Like a Reformer.”)

“Suppose one of you has a friend…”

Then comes the funny little parable. Jesus lays out a scenario for the disciples:

Imagine yourself with surprise guests in the middle of the night. You’re living paycheck to paycheck, and the fridge is totally empty. You go down the street and start tossing pebbles at your friend’s window to wake him up. You ask for bread. He says go away, everyone is asleep.

But the punch line of the parable is when Jesus says if you keep at it, eventually the guy will come down and give you something, just to shut you up.

This gives some the idea that if God doesn’t answer you prayer the first time (because he likes you), then you should just keep bugging him. Finally God will give you what you ask for (just to shut you up).

No no no.

Really, that is not the point Jesus is making. You have to keep reading:

The next bit tells you God is UNLIKE the one who won’t give you anything unless you nag:

Ask,

and it will be given you;

search,

and you will find;

knock,

and the door will be opened for you. ” (Luke 11:9 NRSV)

And if you didn’t note the contrast, Jesus makes it even more emphatic:

For everyone who asks

receives,

and everyone who searches

finds,

and for everyone who knocks,

the door will be opened.” (Luke 11:10 NRSV)

This is a flat contradiction to the idea that you have to beg and grovel and grind God down.

It is such a contradiction to that message that it leads to the opposite problematic teaching: Some think that Jesus is saying God will always give you exactly what you want.

There is another Bible passage that contradicts that idea. It’s called “Genesis to Revelation.”

Also, there is universal human experience. Even for faithful Christians, life just isn’t like that.

And this passage isn’t really saying that either. I’ll get to that in a minute.

For now, though, Jesus further makes his point that effective prayer is not wearing out the patience of a stingy God. He ends by telling us how to interpret the passage.

He has them reason from what they know about life: Parents love their children, and that means giving them good things

Is there anyone among you who,

if your child asks for a fish,

will give a snake instead of a fish?” (Luke 11:11 NRSV)

Obviously, no. Unless you happen to be a wacko.

No, because being a parent prompts love and requires love. With the exception of the ill and the abusive, parents provide for their kids as best they can.

And God is a better parent than you or me.

That’s exactly Jesus’ reasoning.

If you then, who are evil,

know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more

will the heavenly Father

give the Holy Spirit

to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13 NRSV)

I suspect in the actual event, somebody tugged on Jesus’ tunic and said,

Hey, wait a minute, Jesus. Where do you get off calling us ‘evil’?

It wasn’t very polite, right?

I suspect Jesus winked when he said it. I can sort of see his eyes twinkling.

But it’s a matter of contrast. God is so truly, purely, overwhelmingly good, that by comparison the most virtuous of our actions shows up as evil.

Remember, Scripture proclaims that God is so good, so holy, that if we saw God face to face we would be struck dead. God, it says, is like a consuming fire, a refiner’s fire that melts us down like gold and burns off all the impurities.

Now if you get stuck on the fact that Jesus called us evil, you might miss one very crucial bit — the bit that explains how he is not saying God is going to answer every prayer the way we want.

It’s hidden in Jesus’ last phrase:

…how much more

will the heavenly Father

give the Holy Spirit

to those who ask him!

The thing is, we weren’t asking for the Holy Spirit. We wanted a job, or a spouse, or healing from a disease. But Jesus is saying, to everybody who asks, seeks, and knocks, God gives the Holy Spirit.

Which might seem kind of like a trick. We knew what we were asking for.

But God reserves the right to edit our prayers.

God gives, but not always exactly what we ask.
God makes sure we find, but not always exactly what we seek.
God opens doors when we knock, but the doors don’t always lead exactly where we wanted to go.

The good news is in the proportion: If God gives the Holy Spirit, that’s actually more than we asked for. We asked for something tiny. God gives us the third Person of the Trinity.

Jesus says God gives himself to us — whenever we pray, whatever we ask or seek or knock for.

So don’t think you have to wrestle God into submission when you pray for something. God is more generous than you are with your own children. He loves to provide for you.

But also don’t think you are going to get exactly what you ask for. God, like a good parent, edits our prayers.

It’s like with the Lord’s Prayer. We ask for cake and ice cream. He gives us our daily bread.

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This Fall I’ll be teaching my online class, “Pray Like a Reformer.” We’ll explore the teachings on prayer by two of the most influential leaders of the Protestant Reformation — Luther and Calvin. It’s a great way to refocus your prayer life… So if you want me to notify you when it opens for registration, click here to sign up on the waiting list. 

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 7th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 12(17), Luke 11:1-13 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 6th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 11(16), Luke 10:38-42

George Friedrich Stettner, Christ at the Home of Martha and Mary

The 6th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 11(16) is the third week in a quick journey through Luke chapter 10.

Luke 10:38-42

The lectionary Gospel is Luke 10:38-42, one of the stories where Jesus interacts with the people who seem to have been his closest friends outside of the twelve apostles. We see Jesus here with Martha and Mary, as we do in John 11 when Jesus raises their dead brother Lazarus, and in John 12, when a grateful Mary anoints Jesus feet and wipes them with her hair. We don’t see him with anybody else as often.

It is a much discussed story. Jesus comes to their house for dinner. Martha does all the work. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet with the boys. Martha complains. Jesus lets Mary stay.

There are matters of detail and historical significance to ponder here. I won’t say much, this busy July week, but I’ll note things that have been on my mind since I started swimming around in this text on Monday.

Martha the Matriarch

One fact that hasn’t really struck me before is that Martha is portrayed as the senior member of the family. It is Martha who invited Jesus to come to dinner, and Luke tells us that it was Martha’s home.

I’ve always pictured the three siblings has sharing a home, maybe after their parents died. I unconsciously pictured them as having an egalitarian relationship, sharing responsibility for the family’s tiny property.

If I’d thought harder I probably would have assumed that in a patriarchal society Lazarus would be the one in charge.

But no.

…a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.” (Luke 10:38 NRSV)

It isn’t just that Martha was more practically minded than the others, more dutiful, and therefore taking care of the meal preparations. Martha was in charge. If Martha was the matriarch, maybe she was used to giving the orders to Mary and Lazarus.

That role of being large and in charge shapes her interaction with Jesus. Luke notes that she “asked” Jesus a question. But even with Jesus she had the confidence of her role: the question was a grievance.

Lord, do you not care

that my sister has left me

to do all the work by myself?” (Luke 10:40 NRSV)

It seems pretty appalling to accuse Jesus of not caring. But really it seems she wants Jesus to uphold the social status quo.

Maybe we could paraphrase and rephrase the question:

Lord, I’m the oldest, and this house belongs to me.

You know that the younger should respect the older,

and guests should respect the host.

You care about people showing respect — don’t you?

You care about the right ordering of society — don’t you?

And then, though she called Jesus “Lord,” Martha the matriarch turned immediately to giving him an order:

Tell her then to help me.” (Luke 10:40 NRSV)

Though it is different from my analysis above, I find Jesus’ diagnosis fascinating:

Martha, Martha,

you are worried and

distracted by many things…” (Luke 10:42 NRSV)

Luke, in verse 40, echoes the verdict: Martha was

…distracted by her many tasks…” (Luke 10:41 NRSV)

Jesus is looking to the heart issue, I’d say. Martha the matriarch has come to feel responsible for all kinds of things. She gave the invitation, now she has to provide the feast, and probably do a dozen other things to keep her guests happy.

The fact that her focus has spread to these multiple things means she hasn’t stopped to think about the relative importance of her tasks.

Mary the Disciple

That’s not the case with younger sister Mary. Mary has taken on none of her big sister’s burdens. While that bugs Martha, it does mean that Mary has looked at the situation with relative objectivity.

I suspect her thought process went something like this:

What? The Son of God is in my living room? I think I’d better go listen to him.

Really, it isn’t an opportunity that comes that often.

So she sat at Jesus’ feet — that’s the place of a disciple, a learner, with her master teacher.

And while Jesus says nothing do denigrate Martha’s priorities, he does praise Mary’s choice.

While Martha is distracted by “many things,”

there is need

of only one thing.” (Luke 10:42 NRSV)

There is, in life, a need for discernment. One has to look and figure out what is the more valuable thing to choose in any given moment. Jesus praises Mary’s choice.

Mary has chosen

the better part…” (Luke 10:42 NRSV)

We often have to choose how we spend our time. Of course we don’t feel the choice. What we feel is that we are driven from one demand to the next, quite apart from any autonomous decision.

But here, in this house in Bethany, choices were made. One chose to work in the kitchen. One chose to sit with Jesus.

In most of our lives both things need to be done.

We consciously feel the pull of the kitchen — we need to do our job and earn an income, or we need to engage in some active service of others in the world.
And whether we feel it or not, we also need to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen. That means taking a bit of time away from active service, whether at home, at the office, or at church.

Active and Contemplative

That’s what this passage was about for Christians in the middle ages. Back then, they assumed that Christians would be called to one of two primary forms of life.

Most, like Martha, would be called to the “active” life. They would have jobs, raise families, serve the needs of others in society.
But some, like Mary, would be called to the “contemplative” life. They would sit at the feet of Jesus and listen, living lives of prayer — mostly in monasteries and convents.

In my Protestant world, we don’t really do monasteries and convents any more. But we need to make room for the idea that choosing to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen is a legitimate life calling.

There are various ways to live a life of contemplation. Some are called primarily to a life of prayer. Some are called primarily to a life of study. Both can be listening at Jesus’ feet.

But many of us are called to both. That might well be true in this story,  just beyond the bounds of the text.

That is, later on Mary probably helped clean up the dishes. And Martha probably listened to Jesus during the meal, or whenever.

Most of us do well to think in terms of life having a rhythm that includes both active service and contemplation. We need to work for the welfare of others, and we need to have active lives of prayer.

But whether it is a whole life, or a part of each day, it is a choice.

Mary has chosen

the better part,

which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:42 NRSV)

Jesus values the choice — so make it. Choose to have a life of prayer. Start by making at least a short time of prayer a daily priority. It won’t be taken away from you either.

Choose the Better Part

If you want to work on your own life of prayer, sitting at Jesus’ feet, click this link to get on the info list for my online prayer classes. The next one will be this Fall. “Pray Like a Reformer” looks at the prayer practices taught by Luther and Calvin. They were most famous as theologians, but were also amazing teachers of prayer.

The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 6th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 11(16), Luke 10:38-42 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 5th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 10(15), Luke 10:25-37

The story of the “Good Samaritan” is one of the best known passages in the New Testament, but only Luke 10:25-37 tells the story.

And here it is, as the Gospel for the 5th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 10(15).

Luke 10:25-37

I love this story. It points to features of Jesus ministry and teaching that are most prominent in Luke’s Gospel, and which are core to the faith as a whole.

I’m not going to explore every nuance. Just a few key bits.

1. The Framing Story

The parable doesn’t stand on its own. It is an answer, or a lengthy on-topic response, to a specific question. The story that provided the question is itself a vastly important passage — one that appears prominently in all thre Synoptic Gospels.

In Luke’s version, Jesus is being interrogated by a lawyer. The lawyer asks

…what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25 NRSV)

Since the guy is a lawyer, Jesus asks him about the Law — God’s Law, like the first five books of the Bible.

They lawyer answers that the Law’s way to eternal life if what we all think of as the two Great Commandments:

You shall love the Lord your God

with all your heart,

and with all your soul,

and with all your strength,

and with all your mind;

and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27 NRSV)

Jesus tells him that he gave the right answer.

Over the centuries Christians have given a lot of attention to that answer.

Augustine of Hippo (d. 430), the most influential Western theologian, thought of this as the description of the true and blessed life for which we were created. If we could only do it we would be happy — but we’re broken so we can’t actually do it. So we need redemption in Jesus.
Charles Finney, the wildly successful revival preacher and president of Oberlin College back in the 19th century, thought of this as the core legal standard by which we are judged. He believed we are all still fully capable of obeying those laws — otherwise God would be unjust in giving them to us. So unlike Augustine, Finney preached the possibility, and necessity, of perfection.

I really like what Augustine does with the passage. We need to know what a God-pleasing life looks like, and here we have a full description: our whole being tuned to the love of God and neighbor.

Yes, we need help to do it. But it is good to know what we ought to be aiming for.

2. Love Your Neighbor

One thing that is particularly interests me is the way the second of these commandments is almost universally misquoted and therefore misinterpreted.

In the pulpit and in pop psychology I often hear people quote it as

Love your neighbor as you love yourself.

But that’s not what the lawyer and Jesus said. And it’s not what the passage of Leviticus being quoted here said.

The actual text is,

You shall love … your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27 NRSV)

See the difference?

What happens in the misreading?

The pop theology version makes our love for ourselves a standard of comparison, a level of love to strive for toward others. How much do you love yourself? Love your neighbor that much.
The pop psychology version turns it around as a standard of self care, an implicit command to love yourself. You know you should be kind and loving to your neighbor. Why don’t you treat yourself with just as much kindness and love?

But in the text there is no standard of comparison.

The text asks us instead to expand our personal boundaries. Love “as yourself.” Don’t think of your neighbor as separate, across the fence or across the boundaries of race or class. That person living next door? You need to think of him or her as you.

Fold your neighbor into your sense of who “you” are. Stop focusing on difference and distance, and just do some loving.

We’ll be half-way there when we just start thinking about Christianity as something experienced in the “plural”, instead of in the “singular.” I mean we start out as separate individuals, but through faith and baptism we are engrafted into Christ, and become one Body. If we are made into a single body, the distinction between “me” and “you” should sort of become irrelevant.

That is, don’t hold back on loving because you see a distinction. Love because you know in fact, in Christ, you are connected — one Body.

The other half of the journey is loving the non-Christian neighbor as ourself too. Maybe only the Christians are grafted into the Body, but even those with very different backgrounds and beliefs are our neighbors and are to be loved as ourselves. Hence the parable…

3. The Parable

The “Good Samaritan” is fascinating parable at every little turn, but what I want to note is that different people in different contexts interpret it very differently indeed.

Most 12st-Century North Americans identify with the Samaritan, called to love a neighbor who had a very different ethnic and religious background. That’s a very good message for our context. We are at odds between races and between religions. And people professing the name of Christ are too often in the lead at treating their very different neighbors badly. Those who are among the privileged slices of society do well to reach out more generously, driven by this passage and its call.

But in some corners of the world they identify more with the guy who got beaten up. And with good reason — a whole lot of people and groups have been beaten, robbed, and left for dead. This poor guy had to accept the culturally tainted help of someone from the group he despised most — a Samaritan. Sometimes this goes to international relations, where people who don’t like America very much have to follow this passage’s advice and accept American aid. Or pick some other disfavored relation. Humility is part of the calling here, and one simply has to accept help from the one who acts like a neighbor.

Back in the Middle Ages and the Reformation, however, the focus was on Jesus — and the parable was given a very different spin. Humanity as a whole was seen as the guy who got beaten, robbed, and left half dead — by sin. In the Middle Ages they tended to lean heavily on that “half” dead. Humanity, beaten up by sin, was not totally dead. We still had a bit of life — enough to reach out to God, to repent, to try and live virtuously. Then, and even in the Reformation, the Samaritan was identified as Jesus. Jesus comes to rescue us when we are at our lowest, reaching across boundaries greater than mere human divisions.

Before you dismiss any of these interpretations, it is worth noting that none of them perfectly fit Jesus’ question at the end:

Which of these three,

do you think,

was a neighbor

to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” (Luke 10:36 NRSV)

The man answered the way we expect from our North American interpretation: the Samaritan. He showed mercy. And that’s a good point. Jesus rolls with it. He tells the lawyer to do that too.

But look again at the core of the question:

Which of these three … was a neighbor to the man …?

Actually, they all were.

Every one of them was a neighbor.

The first two, the priest and the Levite, were nearer neighbors, members of the same community.
The Samaritan was just a more distant neighbor.

But all were neighbors. All were called to love the fallen man as their own self.

It’s just that only one lived up to the calling.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 5th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 10(15), Luke 10:25-37 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 4th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 9(14), Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Mission Trip — CC by carasc6 2.0

In Luke 10 Jesus is continuing his journey to Jerusalem to face his passion. Chapter 9 was emphatic about that shift to his agenda, but along the way Jesus was so completely invested in his day to day mission that it is easy to forget: everything here is ramp-up to the Cross and Resurrection.

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

The Revised Common Lectionary gives us Luke 10:1-11, 16-20 on the 4th Sunday after Pentecost.

They omit verses 12-15, presumably because they show Jesus predicting God’s judgement on Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. I guess the lectionary didn’t like the attitude Jesus was showing so they just edited it out.

Planning the Mission Trip

The passage is all about a mission trip. In the previous chapter Jesus had sent the Twelve out on the first ever church mission trip. It worked so well that now Jesus builds on the program.

This time he recruits 70 of his followers. And he adjusts the plan. Instead of sending them out as a great big group, or one-by-one in all directions, this time he goes with the buddy system.

Thirty-five teams of two. I’m thinking that was a recipe for success.

If he sent big groups they would go to fewer places. Now thirty-five villages would receive a team for a ministry of healing and teaching.

And if they went out one by there would be a whole lot of anxious missionaries. Anxious missionaries might well mean failed missions. But by going together with a partner they could encourage each other.

As it said in the Bible,

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9 NRSV)

No hot-shots, no solos. Team work, fellas.

Luke gives us one one other little insight into Jesus’ approach to planning mission trips. It has to do with picking where to go.

Today we send teams

to places we’ve been,
to places we know somebody,
or to places where we know of a need.

Or if we’re evangelically ambitious, we go

to places where Christ’s name has never been heard.

Jesus, on the other hand, sent his teams

to every town and place

where he himself intended to go.” (Luke 10:1 NRSV)

Personally I think there is some wisdom there for people going on or planning short term mission trips today.

If I were planning one I would probably tell the team,

Hey, we are the body of Christ, right? So when we go to this place and meet these people, whatever work we do the most important thing is that we bring Jesus.

I think there’s truth in that.

But with this text, I think maybe I’d instead say,

Hey team: Jesus sends us because this is someplace he’s planning to go. We need to remember that we aren’t the main event. We’re just the advance team. L eave them eager to meet the Lord who sent you.

Part of the message is humility. No matter what how good the work we do, what comes later is far more important.

I’ve suffered through post-mission talks where the team got that one wrong — where someone who didn’t even speak the language of the people he was serving, and came away convinced that he had been the crucial instrument of their salvation.

Part of it is a warning: Don’t be a jerk. Jesus is coming here and you don’t want to make it harder for him.

Think about the impression you make.

Briefing the Mission Team

Then Jesus gives them their actual instructions. And I have to say, it doesn’t sound that great:

See, I am sending you out

like lambs into the midst of wolves.

Carry no purse,

no bag,

no sandals;

and greet no one on the road.” (Luke 10:3-4 NRSV)

I’m not sure if I’m understanding this right but it sounds like it could be paraphrased,

I’m sending you into dangerous territory, and you aren’t allowed to pack any supplies or talk to anybody.

Should I put that on the permission slip for the upcoming youth mission trip.?

Clearly they are going to have to live in trust as they do Jesus’ work. That has to be the point of taking no resources of their own.

You see the need to trust when he tells them that once they get there they really must talk to people.

Whatever house you enter,

first say,

‘Peace to this house!’” (Luke 10:5 NRSV)

Trust God in the process of making friends and finding help.

If the house belongs to a a peaceable, welcoming person, stay there for the duration.

If the house belongs to someone who doesn’t welcome you peaceably, move on.

(I wrote about Mark’s version of this a while back and am resisting the temptation to retell the same story…)

Probably a good nugget for modern mission trips again: Find welcoming partners and peaceable hosts.

But the thing I want to note is the humbling advice Jesus gives about while you are staying with those peaceable hosts:

Remain in the same house,

eating and drinking whatever they provide, …

Do not move about from house to house.” (Luke 10:7 NRSV)

Two bits of teaching about how to be humble — how to be a good guest, really — one  of which is so important that he repeats it in the next verse:

Whenever you enter a town

and its people welcome you,

eat what is set before you;” (Luke 10:8 NRSV)

When you are a guest, Jesus tells us, especially when you are a guest because you are there to do his work, don’t be picky.

You may not like the food. Eat it anyway.
You may not like the bed. Sleep in it anyway.
You may not really enjoy talking with your host. Be polite anyway.

Be grateful instead. And put up with things you don’t like. Better still, learn to enjoy the things you don’t like.

That advice works for mission trips and for daily living as well.

Mission De-Brief

Then after the mission trip, the Seventy are so pumped. They’ve seen God do wonderful things through them, miracles at their own hands.

Lord, in your name

even the demons submit to us!” (Luke 10:17 NRSV)

Jesus acknowledges the truth of this. He also emphasizes the source: He has given them authority to tread on demons and serpents — the promise made to Eve in Genesis 3:15, and reaffirmed in the oft-ignored second ending to Mark.

But Jesus doesn’t want his mission team to focus on their newfound power.

Yes, it is exciting to have accomplished great things on a mission trip. But the point is to continue to work on character formation.

Humility counts

before the mission trip,
during the mission trip,
and after the mission trip.

…do not rejoice at this,

that the spirits submit to you,

but rejoice

that your names are written in heaven.” (Luke 10:20 NRSV)

The thing to focus on is not that you’ve done something great.

The thing to focus on is that you are loved by God.

Which is why you went on the mission trip in the first place. Right?

++++++++++++

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 4th Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 9(14), Luke 10:1-11, 16-20 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 3rd Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 8(13), Luke 9:51-62

Though this is “Year C” of the Revised Common Lectionary, and that means a focus on Luke’s Gospel, no one should feel alarmed at occasionally losing the thread of the narrative. Like maybe this week.

This week Jesus sets his sights on Jerusalem. The push to the Passion is on, and he’s still reaching out, calling new disciples to follow him.

Luke 9:51-62

The text is Luke 9:51-62. We were in this chapter before, way back just before Lent began. That was the Sunday of the Transfiguration, and I pointed out that it was a major turning point: Jesus in full divine splendor talked with Moses and Elijah about the new “Exodus” that Jesus would bring in Jerusalem.

The new focus was emphasized in the next passages of the chapter with Jesus making two predictions of his coming Passion and Resurrection.

And now, with those conversations behind him, the talking is done:

…he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51 NRSV)

So in the Church year we are done with the Passion and Resurrection, but in the Lectionary we see Jesus just getting ready for it.

Disorienting or not, this sense of being at the major turning point of Luke should be front and center in our minds to make sense of the otherwise somewhat random moments of our passage.

1. The Welcomer Rejected

The first thing that happens when Jesus begins his journey to the Cross is that he is rejected.

In Luke’s Gospel more than anywhere you see Jesus reaching out with God’s welcoming love to the outsider and the outcast. But when “he set his face to go to Jerusalem” the first stopover was going to be in Samaria. They turned him down.

Why? We only know one detail: his destination for his most important work was the capital of Samaria’s not-well-loved neighbor state.

I wonder if the Samaritans wanted Jesus’ love, his presence, his attention, only so long as Jesus wasn’t also loving those people across the border.

Jesus stays centered. He knows that to do what he has to do for the world he has to focus on Jerusalem.

Is he bothered by being rejected by the people of a Samaritan village? I don’t think so. The story unfolds as it has to. Jesus doesn’t complain about it.

After he did what needed to be done in Jerusalem, and before he ascended to heaven he told the disciples to be witnesses not only in Jerusalem and Judea, but also in Samaria and to the ends of the earth. Samaria rejecting Jesus wasn’t the end of Jesus’ work in Samaria.

One of the hard things in leadership is letting some people be disgruntled at the moment so that you can do what is good, even for them, in the long run.

2. The Restraint of New Power

On the other hand, the disciples were really ticked off by Jesus’ rejection in Samaria. James (a.k.a. Mr. “Show Your Faith by Your Works”) and John (a.k.a. Mr. “Love Your Neighbor”) both ask if they can call down the wrath of God on the village.

Lord, do you want us

to command fire

to come down from heaven

and consume them?” (Luke 9:54 NRSV)

These guys were like the prophets of the familiar modern military strategy. Sweep in with superior air power and wipe a human community off the map.

What got into them? Power. They went out on one mission trip, they saw a few miracles happen through their hands, and they thought they could act like judge, jury, and executioner.

Jesus, Luke tells us, rebuked them.

Probably something along the line of

Oh for pity’s sake you guys. Haven’t you learned anything about my priorities? I mean, how long have you been following me now?

I wish the conversation were included, but presumably the two chastened disciples didn’t want to talk about it much afterward.

Jesus just moved on.

3. Continuing to Call

The rest of the passage is what Luke seems to present as the Cliff’s Notes version of the next stage of Jesus’ ministry. He gives three vignettes about his ongoing work calling people to follow him.

It is easy to see these interactions as if they all end with the prospective follower walking away, head hung in shame, having missed the chance to be a disciple. That, however, is not in the text. None of the three vignettes include a conclusion. We have no idea how they responded to Jesus’ words.

And that has to be intentional. These are like quick video cuts, or sound bites that end with Jesus saying something pithy and challenging. We, the readers, are left hearing the words of Jesus as if they were spoken to us. We will have to write the end of our own stories.

I. The Volunteer: Face the Cost

The first encounter is not someone Jesus calls but someone who takes the initiative to seek Jesus out:

As they were going along the road, someone said to him,

‘I will follow you wherever you go.’

And Jesus said to him,

‘Foxes have holes,

and birds of the air have nests;

but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ (Luke 9:57-58 NRSV)

Jesus tells all of us who volunteer that we should think ahead to the cost. There is no ‘prosperity gospel’ in Jesus Way.

Jesus himself lived in poverty, homeless, wandering, serving. Those who would volunteer should know that their life might look just that way too.

What did this person feel when Jesus said that?

What did this person do next?

I wonder if they decided following Jesus was worth the cost?

II. The Invitee: Focus on the Mission

The second encounter is not a volunteer, but rather someone Jesus sought out:

To another he said,

‘Follow me.’

But he said,

‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’

But Jesus said to him,

‘Let the dead bury their own dead;

but as for you,

go and proclaim the kingdom of God.’” (Luke 9:59-60 NRSV)

This is the hard one, I’d say. This poor guy — Jesus calls him, but he’s worried about his dad, who is dead or dying.

Jesus says the mission is more important than the funeral.

Following Jesus, he seems to tell this person, is more important than family relationships.

And it is not the only time Jesus makes such a point. Later in Luke he will speak of counting the cost of being his disciple and say, among other thing,

Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26 NRSV)

Ouch.

Of course there is a differently bad way to read this. It is too easy for pastors and other church workers to take these passage as an excuse for being shoddy parents or shoddy spouses. Let’s not go there.

But the conversation surely continued offscreen. Surely the man asked for an explanation. Surely Jesus fleshed the point out a little bit.

But we are given just the sound bite.

I wonder if it functions for us as a call to more allegiance than we are comfortable with. It’s a kind of a Hegelian dialectic as a rhetorical strategy:

Thesis: I mean, sure, we want to follow Jesus — maybe to a level of “5” on a scale of 1 to 10.
Antithesis: Jesus says “Actually I’m looking for a 10.”
Synthesis: The raw presentation of what a “10” would look like shocks us into saying, “Okay. maybe I can do a 7?”

I wonder if he got to go to the funeral. I rather hope so.

I wonder if he got to go and proclaim the kingdom of God. I rather hope so.

III. Negotiator: Choose the Path

The final vignette is neither someone promising to follow Jesus nor someone being called.

This one is more a negotiation of terms.

Another said,

‘I will follow you, Lord;

but let me first say farewell to those at my home.’

Jesus said to him,

‘No one who puts a hand to the plough

and looks back

is fit for the kingdom of God.’” (Luke 9:61-62 NRSV)

“Why,” this person must have asked, “must I not even say goodbye? Surely it can’t always be that way…”

If this person had gotten to know the Apostles, perhaps he or she might have pointed out that back in chapter 4 Peter got to return to his home and see his wife and his sick mother-in-law.

I wonder what this person thought about what Jesus said… about following Jesus… about his beloved family back home…

I wonder if this person ended up as a follower of Jesus.

I suspect he or she did. But he or she would be chastened by Jesus’ words. He or she would know that being fit wasn’t a possibility — but following was.

I think if I were in this guy’s sandals I’d have said

Well, now we know. I’m really not fit for the kingdom of God. I don’t think anybody is. I still want to follow you. Back in a minute…

++++++++++++

I’d love to send you all my Monday Meditations, along with my other new articles and announcements. Scroll down to the black box with the orange button to subscribe and they’ll arrive by email most Fridays.

The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 3rd Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 8(13), Luke 9:51-62 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 2nd Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 7(12), Luke 8:26-39

From Pixabay

In the Gospel reading for the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost in Year C we are back in the middle of Luke’s Gospel. Luke 8:26-39 is the story of the man who was possessed by a legion of demons — demons who ended up possessing a legion of pigs.

It is a rich story, but a hard one to draw a single message from. I think that is because Luke gets a bit befuddled with the time line as he tells the story. He knows more than Jesus or the disciples did at the time, and both later and earlier matters get filled in. Some examples:

Jesus encounters the demon possessed man immediately as he steps ashore with his peeps (vs. 27a). But Luke weaves in all kinds of back story about the man: where he lived, what the demons did to him, and what the community did in response (vss. 27b, 29).
The formerly demon-possessed man asks to come along, and Jesus tells him to stay put — but this is after Jesus seems to have left already, at the request of the community.
Then, when Jesus and the disciples are really gone, Luke reports what the man did afterward (vss. 37-39).

Plus there are just so many fascinating reactions from so many characters.

Here’s my idea: Why not look at the narrative three times, through the eyes of the three primary characters or groups Jesus encounters? They may each have something to teach us.

The story of the community

The story that frames all the action is that of the gentile community where Jesus landed in the boat.

They had a troubled member. If he was alive today most people would have said he was mentally ill. Or they might suspect he was abusing some really nasty drugs. The guy was simply not sane — and the name for the condition was demon possession.

He was prone to tear off his clothes, and run into the wilderness. They had to do something about him. Maybe their consciences got to them, because they went out to the wilderness and brought him back.

But then what do you do with a violent naked lunatic when you get him back to town? There was no controlling him.

Somebody had a bright idea: chain him up on the far edge of town, down among the tombs.

So they did.

And when in his rage he broke the chains, they caught him again and chained him up again.

What can you do? They had a debt to this man, since he was one of them. But they had absolutely no way to help him.

So the man’s saviors became his oppressors. They made him live — if you can call it living — naked, in chains, in a graveyard.

But then a rumor reached the village: Someone drove all the pigs jump off the cliff. It was down by the tombs.

Must have been the guy with the demons.

This was bad news. That herd of pigs was a family’s business. How were the owners supposed to survive if some crazy guy kills the herd?

The madman had clearly gone too far.

Half the people grabbed their pitchforks. The others brought torches. They marched to the tombs.

And there was the troublemaker.

they found the man

from whom the demons had gone

sitting at the feet of Jesus,

clothed

and in his right mind.” (Luke 8:35 NRSV)

Perhaps you would think the crowd would be happy. I mean they were tired of his demon-driven antics. They were tired of taking care of him. Sort of.

They were afraid. Luke says so twice. Changing the status quo, even for the better left them scared.

And they were itchin’ for a fight. Somebody had to pay for those pigs.

Then they heard the story. Jesus had healed the man.

They had to admit this was a good thing. But still… those pigs.

They just couldn’t get over the fact that Jesus’ miracle had such a negative economic impact. They told him he had better leave town.

And you know, it is kind of like that in the world.

Sometimes the community doesn’t really want its problems solved. Changing the status quo makes people afraid. And it is costly.

If we were to do what is needed to solve the problem of global warming, it would be costly.
If we were to do what is needed to solve the problem of gun violence it would be costly.
If we were to do what is needed to solve the problem of white supremacist movements, it would be costly.

Solve any one of those problems and you’re likely to be told to leave town.

But it would surely be worth it.

The story of the demons

This is also a story that can be told from the perspective of a huge number of demons.

We are not told how they found their way into the man. We only know this: The man said they were a “Legion.” In the Roman army that was about 5000.

Somehow the legion took up residence in a man whose name is now forgotten — they subsumed it with their evil presence.

Maybe it started with just one. But that first demon brought a friend. Then the whole first string of Hell’s world cup team came for a visit. The guy seemed a willing host, and the underworld wanted an outpost, so eventually a whole bunch of others moved in.

The interesting thing, though, is that the demons seem to have entered the man to escape from where they had been before.

They called it

the abyss.

When Jesus showed up they new they were outmatched — the demons could always recognized Jesus, though Jesus never wanted their publicity.

But the demons knew Jesus was powerful.

They begged him not to order them

to go back into the abyss.” (Luke 8:31 NRSV)

So it turns out not even demons actually enjoy Hell.

They see a herd of pigs grazing on the hillside. That’s our clearest bit of evidence that this side of the lake was not Jewish territory. But for the legion of demons it was an opportunity:

…a large herd of swine was feeding;

and the demons begged Jesus

to let them enter these.” (Luke 8:32 NRSV)

The implication seems to be that outside of Hell the demons need a host. It’s a plot straight out of some TV shows I’ve seen.

More importantly, think about what the demons are doing:

The demons are praying to Jesus.
And Jesus answers their prayer.

That’s right. Jesus says “Yes!” to the prayers of the demons.

I suppose that those words could sound pretty dreadful, spoken in scorn by an enemy of Christ.

Here, however, it is simple exegesis. The demons made a request: Send us into the pigs instead of sending us back to the nothingness and darkness, the abyss which is Satan’s home. Jesus gave them what they asked for.

Now surely Jesus wouldn’t answer every prayer of demons. And he doesn’t necessarily do it for the reasons they wanted.

But Jesus is prone to editing even the best of prayers by the best of people.

Think of Augustine’s mom, Saint Monica, who prayed her son would stay in Africa. God answered — by sending him away from Africa to Rome, then on to Milan, where he came to repentance and faith in Christ.

Jesus answered Monica’s prayer by editing it. God said “No” about staying in Africa so that he could say a big “Yes” to her bigger prayer for her little Augie to become a Christian — the great Saint Augustine.

And Jesus put his own twist on answering the prayers of the demon legion. He sent them into the pigs, who jumped into the sea and drowned. Thereby they troubled no one any more, which was certainly Jesus’ good will for all concerned.

The story of the man

The third and most obvious main character for our story is the guy Jesus healed.

His story started long before this text.

He fell into bad spiritual company.

Had he done something to express openness to the dark side?
Had he sought the wrong kind of power?
Worshipped the wrong gods?
Was the the guy was poor and the demon promised riches?
Was he lonely and the demon promised love?
Or maybe the man began to compromise his ethics, chipping away at his own character by shortcuts and cheating, little white lies that morphed into bigger systematic deceptions.

One way or another, that first demon got in, and brought a deadly swarm of others along.

When Jesus asked the man his name he made a joke of it:

He said, ‘Legion’; for many demons had entered him.” (Luke 8:30 NRSV)

Or maybe the poor guy had forgotten his own name, lost in the internal, infernal, crowd.

Anyway, whether he welcomed the dark hordes or was victim of a hostile takeover, it didn’t play out well in his life.

They drove him away from society

…into the wilds.” (Luke 8:29 NRSV)

But somehow society wasn’t willing to let him go. They came and brought him back from the wilds. Though instead of helping him they chained him up in a graveyard which was, strangely, located in the prime real estate along the lakeshore.

The demons weren’t happy about being chained. Somehow they preferred the wild. (Who wouldn’t?)

So the man found himself in a tug of war: the people keep chaining him down and the demons keep breaking free of the chains.

Then Jesus stepped off of a boat and into the graveyard.

One thing quickly became clear: Mr Legion was so swamped with the darkness that had possessed him that he couldn’t tell one kind of spiritual power from another.

That is to say, he looked at Jesus, God in the flesh, the very definition of goodness, and he was terrified.

…he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice,

‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?

I beg you, do not torment me’” (Luke 8:28 NRSV)

Poor guy. Jesus wasn’t out to torment him. Jesus was there to love him.

But that’s how we get to feel about our status quo — even when the status quo is being possessed by things that will, in fact, kill us. Change is threatening.

Then Jesus dealt with the demons — but that isn’t this man’s story.

The man’s story resumes after the demons are gone.

The man sat calmly at Jesus’ feet — he was in the place of a disciple, like when Mary chose to sit and learn rather than serving dinner with Martha.

Somebody found the poor fellow some clothes — under the demons’ influence he’d long since torn off his old ones.

And he was in his right mind for the first time in ages — he no longer confused light and darkness, good and evil, God and devil. He was able to connect with Jesus, instead of raving in the tombs. He’d found his way home.

When it became clear that Jesus was heading back across the lake, the man begged to come along. Jesus clearly was the source of new life, and this man wanted to be one of his followers.

But then Jesus said no. He had to go back to his home town. He had to face the people who chained him in the tombs…The mothers who dragged their children away from wherever he was raving… The children who snuck out to the tombs to get a glimpse of the crazy man. He had to learn to live with them — to love those neighbors.

But there was one thing more: Jesus gave him a job to do. He was ordered to

Return to your home,

and declare how much God has done for you.” (Luke 8:39 NRSV)

But the man had had his eyes opened. Not only was he more confident and at peace being “in his right mind,” but by this time he really saw. So instead of following Jesus’ instruction to say “how much God has done for you,”

…he went away,

proclaiming throughout the city

how much Jesus had done for him.” (Luke 8:39 NRSV)

And of course, the man was right. There was no contradiction. God had healed him of his demons. And that God who healed him was Jesus, whom the Nicene Creed tells us is

God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God…of one substance with the Father.”

This is Luke’s proclamation of the deity of Jesus. John says it rather more boldly. Luke tells it in a story, in the words of a pagan man who spent his life oppressed by 5000 demons. Luke has made him a theologian as well as an evangelist.

In Luke, Christ’s mission is always to the rejected, the marginalized — and here the revelation comes through them as well.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 2nd Sunday after Pentecost/Proper 7(12), Luke 8:26-39 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Trinity Sunday, John 16:12-15

The Gospel for Trinity Sunday (always the first Sunday after Pentecost) in year C continues our seemingly random sampling of Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse” in John 13-17. For Trinity the selection is John 16:12-15, but as I’ve noted, just about any part of these chapters could serve well on the topic of the Trinity.

Briefing the Mission Team

In his last evening with his disciples, Jesus is telling them what they most need to know after he is no longer physically with them.

If you’ve ever left a job and wanted to help your successor have a smooth start, you know what that’s like. You want them to know

what’s really important in this work…
who to go to for what…
what the organization’s key priorities are…
the bits of history that shape the way things work best…
and, of course, where to find the extra coffee filters.

Well Jesus’ transition preparation weighed in heavily on the Trinity.

Of course he didn’t use the word “Trinity.” That word came along much later. But the fact that the word “Trinity” does not occur in Scripture ought not bother you. It really has bothered some people and movements in the past, but generally these have had an oversimplified view of how the Bible works – not to say that they were a bit rigid and narrow.

The Church needed a word to summarize what Jesus said about God, about the Father, about himself the Son, and about the Holy Spirit.

(And also, as I recently emphasized, the discourse is full of the relationships that define the Christian life – loving union with God, loving union with the community of faith, and loving engagement with the world not yet part of that community.)

John 16:12-15

As I meditate on this little slice of Jesus’ big teaching session at the Last Supper I find myself chewing on three particular emphases.

1. Our Limited Ability

I am struck by Jesus’ opening line:

I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” (John 16:12 NRSV)

Jesus is aware of his followers’ limits.

That is something that we, his followers, do not always have in common with him.

We tend to act as if we are fully capable of knowing everything Jesus might want to teach us – as if we are really fully able to know everything that can be known about God, or about the world, or whatever. Since the Enlightenment this has been the stance of humanity in general. And that Enlightenment arrogance has so infused Western society that it has permeated at least the Protestant branch of Christianity.

You hear it in the strident voices of the right, rigidly defending constructions of ideas as if they were fortresses built of absolute truths, rather than of biblical quotations stacked one upon the other with a mortar of verbal connections.

You hear it in the strident voices of the left, rigidly defending reconstructions of the faith as if they were fortresses built of absolute and divinely inspired truths, rather than of gleanings from the social sciences spread like stucco over the old stonework of historical Christianity to hide its unseemly appearance.

And frankly you hear it in the blasé voices of the moderate middle who don’t really know where they stand on matters of faith, but assume that the way to find it would be human reason through scientific investigation — even if they delegate that to the experts.

In each case we act as if there is no truth, no divine teaching, that we are unable to bear. Frankly we act as if we already had every truth well in hand.

But Jesus believed that his actual twelve Apostles, after three years of in-person coaching, just weren’t up to some of the things he wanted to teach them.

Our faith and our ministries in the world (not to mention our lives and relationships) might go a tad better if we embraced the idea that Jesus was right about this.

There are some things it would be useful for me to know that I do not yet know.
There are some things it would be useful for me to know that I’m not mature enough, wise enough, or strong enough yet to even be told.
And there are a whole lot of things I would really like to know that as a finite, sinful, broken human being, I am simply not capable of ever knowing.

We do well to remember Jesus’ words:

I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” (John 16:12 NRSV)

2. The Work of the Spirit

For people like me who live our Christian lives inside the Reformed tradition, this passage should have a special place in our hearts. I hereby nominate it for Most Reformed Passage in the category of Pneumatology.

Think about a traditional Reformed worship service, and then consider what Jesus says the Spirit will do for the disciples. First,

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth…” (John 16:13 NRSV)

And second,

…he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:14 NRSV)

If the worship service you were remembering was really traditional Reformed stuff (and not just “the way we’ve always done it at this Presbyterian church”) then before the Scriptures were read there was a “Prayer for Illumination.”

In that prayer, the person who was about to read asked God to send the Holy Spirit to shine some light in the darkened corners of our hearts and minds so that we can hear and see what God is trying to get across in the Scriptures.

I believe the practice predates Calvin, but Calvin’s ideas about the Spirit and the Bible explain it well.

For Calvin, the Bible is like a pair of glasses that allows us to bring into focus what is true about God and salvation. Without the Bible we are stumbling around mostly blind.
But even with the Bible, left to our own devices we are sitting in dark room. Glasses don’t work in the dark. We need the Spirit to shed light as we turn to the Bible, use our glasses if you will, and seek to hear God’s actual Word to us.

In this passage Jesus says that’s just the kind of thing the Holy Spirit does. The Spirit guides us into truth when we are ready to bear it, taking what Jesus says (and Jesus IS the Word of God – see John 1 – so what he says on earth or in heaven is what we ned to hear) and speaks it to us.

Putting together a complete picture of the work of the Spirit requires consideration of a lot of passages.

Of course it needs to include the gifts of the Spirit we see at the first Pentecost, and in Paul’s writings, and in the Pentecostal movement.

It also needs to include the fruits of the Spirit, the flourishing of Christ-like traits in our character, which Paul details in Galatians chapter 5.

It also needs to include what Jesus said here in the Farewell Discourse – like last week when the Spirit was said to be our Advocate or Counselor.

And it needs to include Jesus’ teaching here, where the Spirit is said to lead us to understand all truth, and especially the things Jesus is trying to say to us, and has said to us in Scripture.

3. The Trinity

And of course this passage is a great one for Trinity Sunday. In this very short text we see all three Persons of the Trinity in relation to each other and in their work toward us.

The Spirit doesn’t try to do anything on his own– in a divine self-giving way, the Spirit is silent except in revealing what Jesus has said.
And what Jesus has isn’t purely his own – in a divine self-giving way, the Father has granted all that is his own to the Son.

The Spirit’s role is to glorify the Son and reveal the Son’s teaching, which ultimately is given by the Father. Our understanding of God needs to be about what we see of the Trinity — self-giving love in humble relationship, deferring to the Other and always for the sake of mission.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Trinity Sunday, John 16:12-15 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.