Trouble in Church

Trouble in Church

 

Acts 4:5-12
4:5 The next day their rulers, elders, and scribes assembled in Jerusalem,

4:6 with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family.

4:7 When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, "By what power or by what name did you do this?"

4:8 Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, "Rulers of the people and elders,

4:9 if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed,

4:10 let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead.

4:11 This Jesus is 'the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.'

4:12 There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."

 

 

I was always getting in some kind of trouble in church. As a young kid, my best friend was our pastor’s son, and my home church was a very old building built over a partial basement and a cavernous crawl space. Of course, we two boys loved exploring this area. One day, we crawled back into the crawl space and found an old shortwave radio, which we thankfully did not drag out and try to plug in, or we might have burned the place down! But we DID find a kind of “Dr. Frankenstein’s lab” switch bolted to a pole, and so we did what any two curious, elementary-aged boys might do, we turned it off. Nothing happened, so we continued playing in the basement until time to walk home (the parsonage wasn’t far, and my house was even closer). Come that following Sunday morning, the pastor’s son and I were seated in our normal seats in the church balcony, which faces another balcony across the way that is both choir loft and location of the main pipe organ console. As it was time for the prelude, we noticed the organist starting to look around the console with a panicked look on his face, and soon, a member of the church trustees was climbing down under the keyboard. I looked over at my friend, with one of those “UH-oh” looks on my face, and noticed his parallel “revelation” as to what that Frankenstein switch might have been for. Then we both looked down at his dad, who just glared back at us from the chancel. Thankfully, another of the trustees knew what to do to return the organ to life without consulting us, and better late than never, the service got underway. Two young boys were soon banned from the church basement.

 

Seeing that I had a habit of making friends with pastor’s kids, a few years later, I had befriended the somewhat mischievous sons of the local Presbyterian pastor. Their church building was much more interesting than our old Methodist church, so we took to playing ping pong in the plush parlor room on the boat-shaped conference table. We would tape an old ping pong net we found to the table, and get a few games in. Of course, we weren’t actually allowed in the recently-redecorated parlor, and playing ping pong on the mahogany conference table was frowned on, I’m sure, and most especially by the family who gave it as a memorial. One night, as we were in the middle of a grudge-match game, the reverend happened to drop by the parlor to see what all the unexpected noise was about. Seeing his dad in the doorway, my friend thought he’d escape trouble by sliding his ping pong paddle across the floor and under one of the sofas, without thinking that the net taped to the table was a giveaway, and that I was still standing there, red-handed, with a paddle, myself. It actually went down worse than all of that, though, as his aim wasn’t very good, as he hastily slid the paddle across the carpeted floor, and instead of parking itself under a sofa, it hit a carved, wooden pedestal that held what I’m sure was a ridiculously expensive vase, of some sort. The vase came crashing down, and even the new, thick-pile carpet wasn’t enough to cushion its fall, so it broke into a thousand pieces, all of this happening as the reverend watched in horror, and in what I’m sure must have looked like slow motion. Two boys were soon banned from playing in the church, save in the fellowship hall, where we certainly couldn’t do much damage. 

 

Interestingly, both of my pastor’s kids best friends were named “Mark.” I think of them every time I read from Mark’s gospel, and remembering how impetuous the young author of that book seemed to be, and how later, he would be the source of a falling out between Paul and Barnabas. I am forever thankful, though, that my two Marks’ dads never compared notes on their sons’ extra-curricular church activities, or they might have discovered that I was the common denominator.

 

God got even with me by calling ME into the ministry, many years later, and giving ME a son, who liked to play in or around the church. I remember one time when my wife and I went off to visit our daughter for “Parents Weekend” at college, leaving our son at home. Honestly, he was a quite responsible young man, so we weren’t concerned, but we DID say he should not hold the typical “post dance” gathering of friends in the house on Friday night. Turns out, he held to the “letter of the law” and didn’t have his friends IN the house, but they did play some music on a boom box and skateboard in the church parking lot, which was between the parsonage and the church. They had forgotten two things: there are neighbors who might not appreciate loud music blaring on a bomb box at 11:30PM, AND that community had an 11:00PM curfew for teens on Friday nights. Upon returning home to what seemed like a peaceful house, our son told us, “Hey dad, you might hear that the cops were here on Friday night.” “Were they?” I queried. “Well, yes,” he said, explaining what had happened, and that they were just given a warning and told to disperse. Thinking of a few of my church exploits, I figured, “No harm, no foul.”

 

This lection passage from Acts 4 brings these tales to mind! Only in Peter and John’s case, they were not dragged before the High Priests for turning off organ blowers or playing ping pong in the parlor. They had actually acted like the Body of Christ they were called to be! They had encountered a lame man, begging outside the temple, and healed the man. Rather than offer coins to his bowl, coins which they apparently did not have anyway, Peter just said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise up and walk!” And a man crippled since birth did exactly that, having been instantaneously healed by the power of the Risen Christ. Of course, he did not just walk, but according to Acts 3, he went “walking and leaping and praising God,” and did so in the temple, which must have been a sight even more stirring than Mark’s ping pong paddle bringing down a vase. While the man was jubilant, suffice it to say, the temple priests weren’t.

 

They would have known the lame man, given that he was a regular, begging outside the temple. Their questions as to what had happened that he was now doing the Macarena down their hallowed hallways was theologically on their minds. And they did what even many modern religious leaders want to do—quash excess enthusiasm and maintain control and decorum. Upon questioning Peter and John, Peter spoke up boldly (a real surprise here…) and gave an impressive sermon that included blaming the High Priests for their role in killing Jesus. It did not go over well.

 

This would be the first of many episodes of those early Christ followers getting in trouble “in church” for doing God’s work as part of the actual beginnings OF the church! As a religious leader myself, I can empathize with these priests, to some extent, as it IS partly our role to maintain order and keep the church from erupting into ecstatic anarchy during an “outbreak” of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes we do our job too well, even as did these chief priests. I’m surprised the Holy Spirit isn’t pictured in historic art as wearing a rain slicker, given the cold water “religious leaders” have doused upon her over the centuries. On the other hand, we all want to avoid the kind of “trouble” in church that will fester into even MORE trouble—or at least troubled Church Council meetings—down the road. Still, a text like this should remind us of several important things:

 

1.Ultimately, it is GOD’S WORK that will get done God’s way, and we would be wise to facilitate it, rather than try always to “tame” it.

 

2.Applying penalties and banishing prophets is not a good way to keep order; open conversations and prayerful guidance with the “newly moved” by the Holy Spirit is more compassionate and faith-building than dismissing them outright because we are “uncomfortable” with their enthusiasm.

 

3.Our people come to church hoping to experience the presence of God, not to get our “good theology” or just to be generous when they give the offering. Practicing the presence of God means being open to what the Holy Spirit may be trying to SAY to or DO in the church, and in the lives of our people. Being open to the Holy Spirit requires giving up at least some of our custodial “control,” and learning to live with being a bit uncomfortable with not knowing exactly what is up next.

 

Historically, “allowing” the Holy Spirit to act in the church—especially when this action was a wave of liberation—has always made some uncomfortable. While the Methodist/United Methodist Church has been fully ordaining women for decades, “women pastors” still are often rejected by men AND women parishioners who can’t get beyond their stereotypes and “traditions” that pastors should be men only. Likewise, ethnic minority pastors struggle for acceptance in a Conference like Western PA that is predominantly OLD and predominantly WHITE. One hears every excuse in the book as to why many of our backward churches reject women and ethnic minority clergy, most of which is, at best, bigotry dressed up in verbal “costume jewelry.” Even the best of these cutting edge, diverse pastors find themselves being “in trouble” in church, just because of who they ARE, and because their novel presence in the midst of a sea of aged whiteness brings “discomfort” to some of the ruling faithful. Again, as this text from Acts reminds us, in this regard, there is “nothing new under the sun.”

 

How about the movement to liberate and include the LGBTQ community in Methodism? How is that going? BOY, has THIS caused trouble in church. Why? Again, it’s more about discomfort with those who are different and a desire to be spared it. Oh, it, too masquerades in words like “Well, the BIBLE says…” and with people “speaking for God” in suggesting that “these people” don’t belong in church unless they change their sexual orientation, something that even Jesus never made people do. (And please don’t use his occasional unction to “go and sin no more” as an excuse to play the judge in this regard, for one’s sexual orientation is not “sin,” it is just who they are. Jesus NEVER excluded someone for who they were. Never.) Not only has the movement of the Holy Spirit to liberate LGBTQ persons in the life of the church brought “discomfort”—indeed, we have had a whole church SPLIT over it. Trouble in church, indeed. 

 

You probably got a chuckle out of my earlier stories about my mischief in the church, when I was a kid, but the bigotry, deception, and political power plays that has led to over a quarter of United Methodist church to disaffiliate should bring you to tears. Believe me, when we all stand before God someday, God will not pass out any trophies or “crowns” for “keeping those people out” of the church. There may be some judgement coming, but it will not go the way some think it will. Jesus taught us to do everything we possibly could do to welcome people into the family of God, including accept those who for millennia had been rejected—adulterers, lepers, Gentiles, and women, who up until Jesus’ time, had been treated merely as possessions. Members of the LGBTQ community are some of the latest to be queued up for inclusion by the Holy Spirit, and I’m very sorry for those who continue to reject them. 

 

Peter and John healed a lame man, whose excited gratitude and display of praise brought down the hammer of judgment by those who thought they had a corner on scripture. Rather than join the dance of the healed man, they held a hearing and according to Peter, “rejected the cornerstone.” It’s still going on in our midst. In believing they “speak for Jesus,” those who have divided the church have rejected the “cornerstone” (Jesus, himself) and his salvation for all humankind. 

 

Where is the Good News here? It is this: God continues to heal the hurting, those “made lame” by the judgment of some in the name of “orthodoxy” and “scriptural purity.” God is healing members of the LGBTQ community! Let’s hope that after the 2020 General Conference ends in a couple of weeks, there will be some serious “walking, and leaping, and praising God” going on, and less trouble in church! Amen.

 

Faith, By Any Other Name

 

Faith, By Any Other Name

 

1 John 3:1-7
3:1 See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know God.

3:2 Beloved, we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.

3:3 And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.

3:4 Everyone who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness; sin is lawlessness.

3:5 You know that he was revealed to take away sins, and in him there is no sin.

3:6 No one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him.

3:7 Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous.

WHAT does it mean to “believe”? This is the question of the day, as we examine the text of I John 3. We Christians talk of “faith” like it is something we all share, but just HOW and WHAT it means to each person is somewhat a mystery, as we don’t know what’s going on in each other’s souls. While Woody Allen’s autobiographical character, Alvy Singer, in the movie, “Annie Hall,” may say that he once cheated on a metaphysics exam by looking into the soul of the student sitting next to him, in reality, none of us have that power. When he was President, George W. Bush once said, after an extended meeting with Vladimir Putin, that he had “looked into his soul” and found a kindred spirit. He could not have been more wrong, as we have since found out. SO, when we say we “share a faith,” we really can’t be too sure about that, can we?

First of all, there is the whole matter of WHAT we believe. Mr. Wesley used to talk about the “essentials of faith.” Historically, we can surmise from his writings that his “essentials” involved three major beliefs:

 

1.Jesus Christ is God’s Son and the promised Messiah/Savior.

2.The Bible is our primary source for God’s revelation to humankind.

3.The church universal is the Body of Christ in the world, and is called to model faith, love, and mercy to the world.

John Wesley called his people to be of one mind about these “essentials,” but clearly, in his writings and sermons, he ruminated over many and oft-debated elements of each. For example:

What does it MEAN that Jesus is the Savior? How do we understand the atonement? How did his exit from the Mount of Olives affect his standing as Messiah? What must one DO to “be saved” or to accept God’s salvation offered in Christ? What of other religions?  

If the Bible is our “primary source” for revelation, why did Mr. Wesley also consult tradition, experience, and reason, the “other elements” of what Albert Outler called the “Wesleyan Quadrilateral”? Even within his own writings, John Wesley variously interpreted scripture, signaling that he did not advocate for a non-scholarly, “literal” interpretation of same, yet many of his followers today seem to have bought into this idea. 

If the church universal is the “Body of Christ,” why is it so divided? Even our own denomination, founded by Mr. Wesley himself, has just gone through another hurtful, angry division.  

My point here is that if these are the ESSENTIALS about which we are to have “unity,” in Mr. Wesley’s words, how CAN we, when we have so many disagreements over THEIR understanding?

To make matters worse, Mr. Wesley went on to say that beyond the “unity” we are to have in these essentials of the faith, we were to tolerate—even celebrate—and certainly feel free to debate what he called the “non-essentials,” saying about them, we should “think and let think.” Of course, we will never agree on these “non-essentials,” including the list of what they may be. A case could certainly be made that such current “hot-button” issues such as LGBTQ rights, gay marriage, and even abortion are on this list, items which have led to much debate, and even infighting and division. However, it is clear that theologically “conservative” persons would balk at them being labeled “non-essentials,” but historically, they would have a hard time making a case for them to be added to Mr. Wesley’s “essentials.” Then, what are they? 

Wesley also asserted, “In ALL THINGS, charity,” which is an archaic word for “love.” This brings us to this weekend’s lectionary text from I John 3.

Beyond some of the “coded” and esoteric language such as “lawlessness,” or the phrase, “we know not what we will be…but when he is revealed, we will be like him,” the first word that stands out to me in the passage is “love,” in the first verse. Echoing what Jesus himself said, this author suggests that we are called “children of God” BECAUSE of the love of God, revealed in and demonstrated by Jesus Christ. If there IS an “essential” of the Christian faith, this is it! In the next chapter, this pastoral epistle author will tell us, “God IS love.” If we accept this, then WHAT we believe, as Christ followers, must start with LOVE as its foundation. If God IS love, how can we say we believe in God without love being primary to any such belief? Frankly, I saw very little love at work in the disaffiliation process that separated many churches, pastors and people from our denomination. As far as being “children of God” and witnesses of Christ to the world, this was far from our finest hour, friends. 

A faith based on love has necessarily to be one that affirms, embraces, and includes, for that’s what love does. Surely there are times when love attempts to “correct,” but not with the aim to separate or divide, but to protect. Loving parents do not draw lines in the sand and then reject and evict children who cross them. As Christ followers, we are called to be “good parents,” not legal judges. The “what” of our belief must always wrestle with what love means in a given moment, and how it will govern our actions. I confess that I struggle with this, especially when Donald Trump is involved, or my anger over the warring actions of Israel, Hamas, or Vladimir Putin, but of late, I’m trying to “go first to love,” and think about how love might help me temper not only my OWN feelings, but must be part of any solution to ignorance, violence, or autocracy.

Think of something—or someone—that is really “bothering” you right now, even if only in mind. Try the “go first to love” method of pondering it/them. What might it look like to apply love to the situation? What of it or them can you “accept” in the name of love? What ground might you be willing to surrender, in order to “love” in this situation? Love is NOT the opposite of HATE—it is the potion or “antivenom” for it. When we look through the “eyes” of the love of Christ, one may be able to accept that a gay or lesbian individual is not “choosing” to be that way, intentionally purposing to “break God’s law,” as you see it. Love might help you understand that, for this individual, it is a question of being honest to self, one’s own feelings, and about living an “authentic” life. For them, it is all about love. For YOU, while not necessarily changing your thinking about LGBTQ persons, love has the power to help you reconcile a relationship—one that is not really about “doctrine” or “the law of God”—but interpersonal. “Going first to love” has helped me “feel” for Donald Trump and what might have afflicted him in such a way that he behaves toward others the way he does. Love doesn’t change my mind regarding my disagreements with him over national policy or the basic philosophies of life, but it DOES remind me that he, too, is a child of God, loved by God, and needs love to thrive, just like the rest of us. Love leads me to pray for his self-awareness, which seems sorely lacking, but also for my own, that is WAY too quickly derailed by negative, critical opinions of people like Mr. Trump.

What of WHY we believe? Here again, there are probably as many reasons as there are people! There are some motivators for faith that are less than “healthy,” though. Let’s look at a few:

Those who are AFRAID of God and God’s judgment; seek to “toe the line” to stay on God’s good side.

Those looking for a HANDOUT—happy to receive God’s pardon, especially if it is for free, but struggle to “stop sinning,” especially when forgiveness is so “easy” to get. “Handout” believers struggle with seeing themselves as part of the wider community of faith, as theirs may be a strictly individualized belief system.

Those who are hung up on being SURE about their faith, and whose lack thereof may lead them to “try” one religious “remedy” after another; may lead to heightened sense of religious conviction, even outsized judgment of OTHERS’ spirituality.

Those who largely GO THROUGH the MOTIONS—following the path taught them by parents, and/or the church; defenders of the “traditions” of the church; “going through the motions” becomes a kind of penitent, “appeasing” faith. 

My 36 years of pastoral ministry teaches me that, while all of these aberrant “faiths” are operative in the church, the great majority of persons desire to find and manifest a “genuine” faith in God. As a pastor, I did my best—still do—to help others discover such a genuine relationship with God. I wish I could feel that I succeeded in most of these cases, but again, MY faith must allow me to believe that God is the one who must do the “heavy lifting.” I continue to pray for all whom I was privileged to serve, and to believe that with God’s help, they will continue to develop and manifest what our denomination used to label, “open minds, open hearts, and open doors.” 

So, what would a “genuine” faith look like? We’ve already seen from the author of First John (and from Jesus!) that LOVE is the basis for it. “Basis” may be an inadequate term—it is the SUBSTANCE of it. The love of God as fully manifested in Jesus Christ IS what we “believe,” hence it is foundational. It is the “WHAT,” of our faith, indeed. The WHY of a genuine faith is not a “thing” as much as it is a result of accepting the foundational LOVE of Jesus Christ, and then acting on it in the way we live out our existence. Here is where the second “beckon” word from this weekend’s passage sings out—ABIDE.

The Greek word in verse six we translate as “abide” has as its root, meno, which means to remain, to stay, to lodge with, to wait for, to keep on, to continue to exist, to persist, to reside. To “abide in Christ” means to build a life WITH Jesus in such a way that we “go first to love,” and then define our actions and attitudes from there. “Abiding” is a lifestyle, not a method. It is arrived at in stages, from juvenile to maturity, and its primer is the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. It really doesn’t matter how we come to enjoin this journey of abiding in Christ, but it is a most healthy one when it starts with love—accepting who we are, and that we are worthy of God’s pardon and acceptance, not BECAUSE of who WE are, but because of who GOD is. From that “moment” (or heritage) that brings us to belief, we are nurtured by the church—the Body of Christ—as we take our first steps. We don’t do it out of fear, nor to “appease” God. It is meant to be a joyful, purposeful journey wherein we grow closer and closer to Christ, and in our understanding OF him and his mission to accept and love all the world. We become part of a larger and growing “abiding community” in Christ, whose presence through the Holy Spirit tethers us together with God and each other, like a climbing team. We are at our best as “abiders” when we fully rely on God AND each other. 

If this doesn’t sound like the church you know now, I’m not surprised. We struggle with this “abiding,” too often confusing human-extracted rules and doctrines from the much simpler “love” and “abide” teachings of the Bible. Love God, love each other, and love others until they discover God’s love for themselves. There is your biblical vision of the Body of Christ. I’m pretty sure this is the world God wants to build, a world we call the “Kingdom of God.” We’re called to assemble a “family reunion,” not win a war against “sin and evil.” Neither are we asked to defeat evil—that’s God’s job and is beyond our paygrade. We ARE called to forgive others and each other—Jesus told us that, remember? 

Mr. Wesley called this whole “abiding” thing, “going on to perfection,” with perfection being the fully realized Kingdom of God. Genuine faith is about loving and abiding. Period.

This kind of genuine faith helps our mental health, because while it emanates from God, it is stuff we can “do” as humans, and it builds on a positive “love” model, not the negatives of fear and appeasement. It doesn’t wait for Sundays to be active, but energizes our everyday routine by becoming a woven, integrated “part” of who we are. And its goal is loving relationships with God, ourself, and others. And it lives well alongside “doubt” because doubt doesn’t crumble our core process of love, acceptance, and life, which are the essence of God. We “live God,” we don’t have to “prove” God. Doubt is therefore disarmed, even though it survives in our thinking, reasoning self.

Want a slogan for this? How about the end of First Corinthians 13: “Faith, Hope, and Love ABIDE, but the greatest of these is LOVE. There’s your genuine faith! Amen.

A Lighter Love is All We Lift

 

A Lighter Love is All We Lift

 

Acts 4:32-35
4:32 Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.

4:33 With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.

4:34 There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.

4:35 They laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.

 

Too bad it didn’t last. After the resurrection of Jesus, the witness had much power, causing those early believers to be of “one heart and soul,” even to the point of surrendering their hold on their personal possessions. NO, it wasn’t “Communism,” or even socialism. They just, in the early moments of this miracle, took notice of those around them who were hurting because they didn’t even have the basics, while others had more than enough. “GREAT GRACE was upon them all,” which caused them to pool their resources—both well-to-do and even those LESS than well-to-do—so they could share them among all. The result? Everyone with need had enough, and even those who had enough, continued to have enough. Apparently, this lasted about a week.

 

Only a week beyond the miracle of Easter, here we are facing a sad fact about “the church.” Only a week beyond God’s offering of the Only Son to take away the sins of the world, shower us in “great grace,” and make possible the unity of all humanity, and we’re back to the status quo. Throngs rolled into our churches (in most cases) last week, and this week, they will declare a “worship holiday,” as attendance swoons downwardly to what is most likely the low week for the year. The enthusiasm for God has waned to the amount of chocolate left in your kid’s Easter basket. We have not only “left the building” (the church), but we’ve left behind much in the way of benevolence toward our fellow “man” (human community). Generosity leading to unity has already given way to selfishness leading to division and social stratification. We’re immediately back to some “having” and many “having not.” Love may have lifted us for a Sunday, but human reality and the self-centered guardianship of our financial and personal resources has returned to its seducing power. Donald Trump and his “God Bless the USA” Bible is back on the throne, for many people—why? Because Donald Trump will protect our personal worth like he does his own. What’s wrong with that, other than being selfish to the point that God MUST look the other way? Why is it so easy to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ when we think he is protecting our rights and our bank accounts, but so HARD, when the Real Bible suggests that he is NOT focused on this agenda with us? Our “love” is just not up to the heavy lifting Christ asks of us as followers.

 

As an older, retired person, I find it so tempting to eschew anything that wants me to sacrifice something. I was a denominational pastor, and really got paid much less than those in other professions and possessing three degrees including a doctorate. My life partner—due mostly to our offering ourselves to an itinerant clergy system—worked mostly part-time in her career, and acquired scant pension funds. Even with careful saving and the best strategies we could muster to get our two children through college with a minimum of debt, we retired to a comfortable, yet very “humble” existence. Compared to most of the world, we are probably quite wealthy. Held up against most of the people we served alongside, we’re probably not. And while I can attest to our satisfaction that our “plans” for retirement have gone well, and that we feel very blessed with being able to generally “maintain” our lifestyle, I am still haunted by this passage in Acts. Our “comfort” may very well mean that many others of God’s people are not “making it.” While this “aging” journey helps me understand why so many “old people” turn conservative, when it comes to their money, it doesn’t discharge us from the call of Christ to BE sacrificial with it, and sharing our resources to help others and further the mission of the Kingdom of God.

 

Seminary turned me into a Democrat. I was a small-town guy, raised in a Republican family. We were not money and “rights” crazy, but my family would generally balk at any suggestion from the pulpit that we were inarguably to be “our brother’s keeper.” After all, WE had to work for what we had, shouldn’t THEY? Of course, this patently overly simplistic “we” vs. “they” scenario overlooks the social dynamics of age, class, race, and the struggle that so many face in WORKING for what they have, too, but then finding that their work doesn’t seem to yield the same privilege that it does for me and my family. Why is that? Seminary introduced me to the idea that things like this cannot be answered by quoting a scripture verse or two, or by simple answers to very, VERY complex social and economic problems. Why hell, even the THEOLOGY behind why some struggle even after “working hard,” while others don’t was MUCH more complex than I had ever believed. Frankly, I came to understand that political parties had very few answers because power was still more their aim than prosperity for all. My social and theological “awakening” wrought by a seminary education AND the interaction with my peers sent me to the Democratic party as the “lesser of evils,” at least in these United States. 

 

I am still convinced that Democrats generally believe that America should be a land where no one has to be unsheltered, starving, or without healthcare. I also think they value education for all, including researching ways to make possible whatever “higher” education a person may need, be it a university degree or specialized training in one of the trades. Generally—GENERALLY—Republicans promote individual rights, “opportunity” for all (but with little recognition WAY too often for what “for all” may mean), and with an increasingly limited role for “government” (unless it is dictating what “rights” women and minorities may have). OBVIOUSLY, my summary is a gross simplification of “real world” politics, but I now vote mostly for Democratic candidates because they seem to be “for” more of what I read here in Acts 4. I believe there IS a “benevolent” role for government, and believe that “government” should be improved to do a better job of caring for the “least of these,” rather than eschewed.

 

I get really tired of those who say that government should not be worried about “the poor” because the CHURCH should take care of them. Fact is, the economies of scale say this is an impossible solution. A look at economic reality shows us that if EVERY dollar of EVERY offering plate from EVERY church, synagogue, or mosque in the United States were to be directed to caring for “the poor,” the total sum could barely cover the cost of the SNAP program (food stamps), which is little more than a “drop in the bucket” in lifting up those hurting souls largely “left behind” in our “greatest country in the world.” Only universal taxation, coupled with better ideas as to how to “redistribute” these funds through programs and training to help those who are not making it on their own, can assure that America is a “land of opportunity,” let alone the kind of “In God We Trust” nation we so often THINK we are. And even this pales alongside what happened in the early church in Acts 4.

 

Of course, THAT did not last long, as we know. Why? Because we are inherently selfish creatures. We do not easily part with what we think we have “earned” with little to no help of others. America is overpopulated with “self-made men” who believe this fantasy. My late father had an expression he would apply any time I or one of my brothers was bragging about something we had accomplished on our own: “Where are you getting this LINDBERGH stuff?” It was his way of saying something former President Barak Obama was saying, years later—if you are successful in doing ANYTHING in this country, you have built your success on the backs of those who went before you, on the backs of those who FOUGHT for our freedoms, and on the infrastructure that we all shared in creating, throughout our history. Of course, Charles Lindbergh KNEW his success was based on the work of many, including the Ryan Aircraft Company, his financiers, and all of the support people who backed his historic flight across the Atlantic. WAY too many of our successful “entrepreneurs” today DON’T understand this. 

 

As a United Methodist pastor, I was once asked by a local church leader, “Why do we have to pay these Conference apportionments? What do we GET for that?” My answer was simple—this is our “franchise fee.” It allows us to participate in all of the mission and ministry—worldwide—that is the United Methodist Church. It covers the “overhead” for much of our mission and relief work, so that when we raise funds to further a new mission field or cover cleanup from a natural disaster somewhere, every dime can go to the cause. Nothing gets “siphoned off” to cover “administration.” Our “franchise fee” provides the system and leadership that keeps our “business” alive, and our local “branch office” a healthy part of it all. Given that our logo—the Cross and Flame—is the most recognized religious symbol among Christian denominations, something we have done “together” must be working! It’s certainly not fully “Acts 4,” but it’s a start. This is also what saddens me about our recent “disaffiliation” chapter over grossly oversimplified theological issues. We “bombed the whole building” when just the plumbing needed fixed.

 

We’re never going to see an Acts 4 church again. Ever. We have sold out to our human selfishness, I’m afraid. Will God fry us for this? Probably not, because it is quite clear that God is LOVE, not flames. Even God doesn’t believe in this kind of coercion. Maybe THIS is the real lesson of Acts 4 for our time? If we could only convince ourselves as Christians that love is meant to LIFT ALL BOATS, not just those who think they deserve what they “worked” for? If only we could “tithe” the love with which we love ourselves to help others who need more support? Every time I catch a ray of hope, I hear another “Christian” proclaim support for a narcissist like Donald Trump, who has little love for anyone but himself, clearly. Donald Trump may just be the hood ornament of the car most Americans are driving, all the while we proclaim ourselves as a “Christian” nation. Acts 4 tells us this week that nations CAN’T be “Christian,” and that it will require personal sacrifice for any of us individuals to BE one! 

 

There was a time when I advanced the idea that the proper symbol for Christianity was the empty tomb, because of the hope it represents. However, I am now convinced that the cross truly is, because it forever reminds us of the sacrificial nature of God’s love for us, and of the individual sacrifice it calls us to manifest. This will never be a “comfortable” message; the cross should remain a hurtful, vexing symbol. One week into the Easter season, may we revisit the cost of the “great grace” we enjoy, Beloved. Amen.

Untimely Born...

 Untimely Born…

 

1 Corinthians 15:1-11
15:1 Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand,

15:2 through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you--unless you have come to believe in vain.

15:3 For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures,

15:4 and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures,

15:5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve.

15:6 Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died.

15:7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles.

15:8 Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me.

15:9 For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.

15:10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them--though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.

15:11 Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe.

 

Another Easter is upon us (what an interesting phrase!). “Upon,” as in “on top of,” or “burdening” us? This may be the language of a parish pastor, for whom “Holy Week” is actually what college frats might dub, “Hell Week.” Of course, none of this harsh labeling is due to any animosity toward God, Jesus, or the celebration of Christ’s Last Supper, trial, death, and resurrection. It’s mostly the result of each year’s Holy Week demanding a string of sermons and services, and some notable amount of “novelty” and/or creativity on the part of the preacher. After all, the congregation will be listening and offering their critique of the Holy Week messages—the few who show up on Maundy Thursday, or the dedicated group who join you at whatever kind of Good Friday service(s) your church or community put up—as well as the hordes who often “fill the church” on Easter. They expect you to tell them something they have never heard before, all the while not losing the narrative of the “tried and true” story of “Up From the Grave He Arose.” This is unlike Christmas, when the universal thrill of the holiday is so all-encompassing that they will be happy almost regardless of what you tell them in the Christmas message. Easter is different—they know the story as well as they do the Christmas one, but will be on the lookout for any fresh way you can relate it to their life, and most especially the one they are living right now. It’s a challenge. Some may just punt, tell the simple journalism account of the ancient event, and with outstretched arms, proclaim, “He is RISEN!” Others of us try and try and try to find a kernel of newness in the narrative. I always found SOMETHING, but it was often not the balm I had hoped it would be. In my defense, however, I DID try to find direct connections to the people I was serving at that point, and when I was successful, they “got” it. I was never one to make fun of the “Christmas/Easter” crowd, either. I was grateful they came, did my best to make them feel welcome in their own church, and take a crack at preaching in such a way they might actually want to come back before December 24. 

 

As one who never preached the same sermon twice—ever—I can say that my commitment to write “fresh” messages each week, including for the major Christian “events,” was good fodder for finding the unusual, the inspiring, or the just “Huh!” moments in the scripture accounts. When I say that I never preached the same sermon twice, it is true, but in a bit of a “mythical” way, in that I DID recycle some of my favorite (innovative or “whacky”—you decide) biblical interpretations of a text, and a story or two. Did I ever tell one congregation about “another church I once served”? Of course, but either omitted or changed the names to protect the innocent. Occasionally, I’d be REAL sneaky and say something like, “I’m going to tell the NEXT church I serve…” I found that this line always got their attention, and may be used as a “back door” into their religious psyche. 

 

Back to Easter. I decided to use this I Corinthians text for this week’s Easter retirement sermon because I don’t believe I ever did. I confess that, in spite of trying to introduce something novel into my Christmas and Easter messages, I kept in the familiar “rut” of Luke 2 and John 20, because these creative reductions of what happened are most familiar to my audience and me, and because if I screw up the rest of the sermon, at least they get the simple story again, and we all know how scripture is often the eternal “earworm” that sticks with a hungry soul, even if the preacher is having a bad day.

 

The first thing that caught my eye in this text was the phrase in verse 6: “Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died.” Paul tells us something here that is unique. Honestly, it sounds more like the Lukan author, who has a penchant for giving details and numbers, but I like the “most of who are still alive” part. This is significant, especially in light of what Paul will say a couple of verses down the road. When I read verse 6, I thought of the movie, Apollo 13. If you don’t know by now that I am a “space buff,” you haven’t been reading too much of what I write. I grew up through the Mercury/Gemini/Apollo era, and have never gotten over the advances and accomplishments of the people who made it a reality. I STILL like to go back and watch the cache of movies and documentaries I’ve amassed on DVD, and won’t miss new, stirring ones that show up, like the haunting film, “First Man” about Neil Armstrong, as portrayed by a brilliant Ryan Gosling. Of course, Apollo 13 is the Ronnie Howard movie portrayal of the one “failed” mission to the moon, most of the narrative for which came from James Lovell’s book about it, “Lost Moon.” Like the Christmas and Easter stories, you probably know Apollo 13’s. Not long after blasting out of Earth orbit and heading for the Moon, a mundane cryogenic “tank stirring” task precipitated an explosion in the Service Module, the part of the spacecraft that housed most of the essentials for life aboard Apollo. Breathing oxygen was bleeding out into space, oxygen that was also essential to the “fuel cells,” the mechanism that generated the electrical power for the Command Module (home to the astronauts on the journey, and the only part capable of getting them safely back to Earth). Again, not to belabor the story, but in essence, they used the Lunar Module as a “lifeboat” until they could loop around the Moon and fire up the batteries on the Command Module to re-enter Earth’s atmosphere. It all worked, they were safely home, much drama was part of how and why, and the rest, as they say, is history, blah, blah, blah.

 

As the movie is winding down, after the astronauts are safely aboard the aircraft carrier, Tom Hank’s voice (as Jim Lovell) narrates the closing scenes. As the camera pans over the jubilant “geeks” at the consoles in Mission Control, Hanks tells us that most of these engineers and flight controllers “have gone on to other things,” but that “some are still there.” Paul’s words that “some are still alive” from the 500-plus that witnessed the events around that first Holy Week prompted this Apollo 13 connection in my possibly twisted mind. I began an investigation, my inner dialogue and I. Is the story of Apollo 13 a micro-cosmic (sorry) “version” of the story of God and humanity? What begins as a romantic “mission” gets suddenly derailed by a human failing, and everything kicks into survival mode. Maybe this is as good a definition of the scriptures of the Hebrew Bible as there could be—“survival mode.” God and humanity going back and forth, trying to find a way to “keep alive” and together. Both parties must pool their “creativity” and expertise to overcome the plethora of obstacles to this partnership. At one part in Apollo 13, when a fight breaks out between astronauts Fred Haise and Jack Swigert, Jim Lovell intervenes and reminds them of the goal—survival and GETTING HOME. The prophets of the Old Testament do exactly the same thing, and it often seems like they are attempting to convince BOTH humans AND God of this, fearing that either/or may be ready to abandon the mission.

 

The Christ Event is the Lunar Module, in this scenario. Christ IS our “lifeboat” who “gets us home,” but even Christ can’t land us, safely. We also need a cast of thousands and our OWN commitment to “re-enter” the scorching atmosphere of life and the challenges of relationships. Once the Lunar Module saves our astronaut-heroes, it is cut free and burns itself up, resurrected in the on-going story of the ones it saved and a grateful nation. You can draw your own parallels here. 

 

Each year it seems we lose another astronaut or one of the principals who got us to the Moon. And we lose more of us who lived through the actual events, such as the hazardous flight of Apollo 13. Thankfully, there are storytellers who have recorded these events for us to read or watch, and even museums dedicated to their remembrance and the “re-living” of them for those who weren’t yet alive when they took place—those “untimely born.”

 

Of course this is our last parallel. Paul felt he “missed out” on the actual events around that first Holy Week—what he labels “untimely born,” and yet it is the incredible richness of his scriptural storytelling, his innovative crisis management, and the church he helps launch that has formed, fostered, and “forwarded” the faith we now share. And to this story, we are all “untimely born,” relying on those who have gone before us to “get us home” in our relationship with God and the Community of Faith. Now WE are part of that on-going cloud of witnesses, just like Paul, charged with keeping the story of redemption alive. The church is our “museum” of the story where we regularly rehearse and re-live the biblical events that give us our meaning and connect us all to God. Easter is the successful and triumphant “splash down” signifying to us that in Christ, we are all delivered home safely. 

 

At the end of the movie Apollo 13, Tom Hanks gives the following speech:

 

Gene Kranz retired as Director of Flight Operations just not long ago. And many other members of Mission Control have gone on to other things, but some are still there. As for me, the seven extraordinary days of Apollo 13 were my last in space. I watched other men walk on the moon, and return safely, all from the confines of Mission Control and our house in Houston. I sometimes catch myself looking up at the moon, remembering the changes of fortune in our long voyage, thinking of the thousands of people who worked to bring the three of us home. I look up at the moon, and wonder, when will we be going back, and who will that be?

 

As a retired pastor, I often find myself doing the same kind of retrospective about the church, “thinking of the thousands of people who worked to ‘bring us home’,” and “wondering who will that be?” that will lead us onward as we “re-live” the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ and witness him to the world. Who WILL that be? You? Me, even in retirement? This I know: it will be one untimely born. Amen. Oh, and HE IS RISEN! He is risen, Indeed! Happy Easter, Beloved!

The End of Religion

 The End of Religion 

Mark 11:1-11
11:1 When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples

11:2 and said to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it.

11:3 If anyone says to you, 'Why are you doing this?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.'"

11:4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it,

11:5 some of the bystanders said to them, "What are you doing, untying the colt?"

11:6 They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it.

11:7 Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.

11:8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields.

11:9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

11:10 Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!"

11:11 Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

 

This weekend is what we Christians have dubbed, “Palm Sunday,” because of the “triumphal” parade that occurs into Jerusalem, with Jesus as its Grand Marshall. Of course, there are those who choose to honor it as “Passion Sunday,” reading and elucidating on the Gospel texts about our Lord’s death on the cross. Even with a two-time seminary education, I confess that I am more greatly influenced by the traditions of my upbringing at Grace UMC in Oil City, where this Sunday was always about the parade and the palm branches we all waved, in remembrance.

 

The mnemonics of the day are unmistakable: the donkey upon which Jesus rode (or “both animals” in a kind of circus act, if you are Matthew); the palms, or coats (if you are Luke); the people shouting, “Hosanna, Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”; and the disciples telling the owner of the donkey, “The Lord has need of it.” I confess, though, of something that has always caught my eye in the Markan narrative, even as a child, when it was read in church, and it is in verse 11: “Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything…”

 

Have you ever moved from a place where you had lived for enough time to generate a host of memories? How did that feel? Did you take some extended time to look around one last time, re-triggering some of those precious deposits of your history? Here are a few of my experiences…

 

Way back in 1977, I found myself spending my last week all alone in the home I was raised in. For the final decade of his working life, my Dad had accepted a new job with Venango County as the Assistant Director of Two Mile Run County Park, and the position required him, my Mom, and my youngest brother to live in a county-owned home on the park’s property. They had moved their just a few days ago. My middle brother was away at college, so I was left to close out the homestead, as I was to be married and move into my newlywed apartment with my bride—after a short honeymoon—at the end of the week. The house was empty of furniture, except for my simple bedroom furniture. (My parents were keeping the house, and moving my grandparents into it the following week.) I remember packing most of my belongings into a couple suitcases at the end of the week, putting on my suit, and heading off to the wedding, but before I left, I had to take one last walk around the now empty house that had so many memories for me. The cavernous emptiness of it echoed as I walked around from room to room, remembering many of the things that had happened there over twenty-plus years. While I would visit there again many times after my grandparents moved in, and years later yet again, after my parents sold it to my youngest brother on article of agreement, it would never be the same. That last tour was an emotional fulcrum, as the teeter-totter of life shifted from being part of a loving family to going off to start my own.

 

Years later, I would do another such “walk around” in a small home that was the first owned by Dara and me. This time, it was a small house we had purchased from an elderly widow in our home church, a house we had begun to remodel in a small community called “Rocky Grove” that was just as welcoming and quaint as it sounds—a place that we thought we might live in forever, in a house with both character and much potential. God had different ideas, though, and now I was revisiting one last time the place where we welcomed both our daughter and now a son, who was just a month old. Parked in the driveway and ready to roll was a large U-Haul truck with all our earthly belongings. Next stop: Pittsburgh Theological Seminary in the suburb of East Liberty. I will never forget standing in my daughter’s room where we first placed that precious, tiny “package” into a custom-made bed built into the corner of the room by her loving carpenter/grandfather. Our little girl was two now, but as I took my last look around, I could only think of standing beside that bed/crib, rubbing her little back, and singing lullabies to her until she fell asleep. Even as I write this, I tear up, thinking of scenes like this that we will never relive. They are precious, but seeing them only in the proverbial rearview mirror of life brings a tinge of sadness to otherwise joyous memories. Little did I know that less than two decades later, I would be shedding tears in a similar bedroom scene…

 

Fast forward to the Fall of the year 2000. Our “little girl” had just been settled into her freshman dorm at Ohio Northern University in Ada, Ohio, some five hours from “home,” which was the mansion-now-parsonage of the Coraopolis United Methodist Church. We had been appointed to that church the Summer before my daughter’s sophomore year of high school, and she had chosen the third floor ballroom of the mansion as her bedroom. Now here was her Dad, sitting on the edge of her bed the day after we had returned from depositing her at college, crying elephant tears for yet another precious, yet traumatic transition in life. As excited as I was for Shelah and her “new life” at a wonderful college—a place where she would soon meet a man who would become her husband—and with a roommate who would be a life-long bestie, a Daddy had “lost” his “little girl.” Sure, she would be home and would sleep in this room again, but mostly as a guest, and not a resident, for her life was just beginning again. This scene of Dad shedding elephant tears on the edge of her bed would repeat itself for about two weeks before the joy of this transition would begin to overtake the grief.

 

I could go on with many other stories like this, several of them being about how it felt to take the final survey of a church from which I was moving, a place where I had preached a few hundred sermons, and served a congregation I had come to love. I would think of the weddings, funerals, baptisms, and other life transitions I had been privileged to officiate and celebrate with them. 

 

I’m sure by now you are thinking of a few of your own times like this, and if so, this sermon has met one of its key goals. These are precious and unforgettable times for us all, aren’t they? This weekend’s text reveals that even the Son of God had them, too. 

 

Of course, we can speculate that the tears Jesus shed in the Garden of Gethsemane were due more to the thought of leaving his human foray into the “far country” behind, and especially the Band of Brothers he had gathered unto himself. Don’t we try to recapture some of the emotion we imagine Jesus experience at the Last Supper when WE consecrate the elements of Holy Communion? None of us is immune to these deeply moving experiences and life transitions. None of us, even the Son of God.

 

Is this not exactly what was going on for Jesus when the Markan text tells us he entered the temple in Jerusalem and “looked around at everything”? Was it his humanness that was waxing nostalgic about the time he had spent in the temple as a youth? Was he reliving his discussions with the religious leaders when, as a teen, he held them spellbound with his “unearthly” knowledge of the scriptures and the Divine? Could Jesus’ “last look” around the Jerusalem temple have even a deeper meaning for us all?

 

Perhaps it was the timeless, divine “part” of the Son of God who visited the temple that day? Might it be that Jesus was thinking of how his “Father in Heaven” had set the wheels in motion for an eternal reconciliation for all of humankind, not only with the Godhead, not only that which would lead to an eternal home with God, but a redemption that would conquer the power of even the worst of human sin? Humanity, reconciled to God, to the rest of creation, and eventually even to each other, and the utensils and trappings of the temple would no longer be needed to affect it—one last look around the final resting place of religion would send a powerful message, wouldn’t it? This look at “everything” in the temple would most certainly have been an emotional time for Jesus, and for more reasons than we can ever imagine, I suppose. Add to this the fact that the drama that was about to unfold, with himself being the chief protagonist, and he may have also resorted to the familiar temple as a point of brief refuge. 

 

Any way you slice it, what this “look-see” punctuates is the end of religion. I’m using “religion” here to mean the many ways human beings contrive to “appease” God and/or make a useful “connection” to the Divine. After Jesus Christ and the totality of the Christ Event, God has forever been “appeased” by God’s own sacrificial love, and the “connection” is perpetual, due to the same agency. If we use the word “religion” now, we should see it as a polite term defining how we each appropriate the relationship that God has instituted with US, with little help on our part, except other than living with gratitude, pursuing peace with one another, and welcoming others into “the fold.” We may still have our edifices dedicated to our faith, but we Christians now call it a “Communion table,” not an altar—or at least should—because there is no longer the need for a sacrifice, except those born out of love for one’s fellow human beings, and the “least of these.” 

 

Unfortunately, “religion” of the earlier variety is hard to kill off. We rather like to manufacture out own “ways” to God, even if our faith traditions stress “relationships” over “retribution,” as Jesus would have us do. Why? Because we want to maintain control, reluctant to surrender it, even to the Son of God, and/or the Spirit of God. “Old Time Religion” keeps us in the driver’s seat, and too often allows us to welcome those whom we “appreciate” and close the door in the face of the ones we fear or despise. As we know from Jesus’ ministry, too often the temple had become a place of such controlling religion, from the “money changers” to the “high priests” who hammer Jesus because he threatens the hierarchy they had established to “maintain purity” and keep distance from the goyim (Gentiles). Is this not what Jesus prophesied when he said, “Tear down this temple and in three days I will raise it up”? His final look around the ancient temple may have given him the “real” courage he needed to “raise up” a temple not made with hands, but one that would welcome all of the people all of the time, forever. 

 

As modern believers, we are challenged to finally sound the death nell of the kind of religion that excludes and “filters” (judges?) who gets IN and who stays OUT. And as people who believe in the true power of love as came into our lives in the Jesus of God, we must also accept people of “other” religions who likewise focus on relationship than ritual. The three major biblical religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—are challenged to make peace with one another by the very same Christ Christians “claim” too often as exclusive Messiah. And all other people deserve to be accepted as the People of God, not because of what they believe—or don’t believe—but because of the sacrificial love God demonstrated to the world and the ages in Jesus Christ. It was Dietrich Bonhoeffer himself who dreamt of the advent of a “religion-less Christianity,” pointing instead to a faith that was lived out in beloved community, something Bonhoeffer sketched out in "Life Together."

 

The final end of death and hate was sown by the death and resurrection of the Son of God, and now we, as his followers, may bring it to fruition by ending religion and heralding that the Kingdom (Realm) of God is about relationships. Amen.

Greek to Me...

 

John 12:20-33
12:20 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks.

12:21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus."

12:22 Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus.

12:23 Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

12:24 Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

12:25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

12:26 Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

12:27 "Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--' Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.

12:28 Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again."

12:29 The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him."

12:30 Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not for mine.

12:31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.

12:32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."

12:33 He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

 

Greece has historically been one of the most curious and “factually motivated” cultures on planet earth. Of course, they have also been culturally advanced in the areas of philosophy and the arts, as well, but their almost pathological passion for information is most likely what drove a number of “Greeks” who seemed ever-present and curious during the ministry days of Jesus Christ, to seek him out. The author of the Gospel of John is often the one picking up on the presence of these inquisitive Greeks. 

 

I must say a word about curiosity, for it is what has been the motivator for our world of knowledge arrived at by great thinkers, great researchers, and creative authors down through the history of humanity. When we want to know WHAT happened, WHY it happened, and HOW it happened, we are doing more than answering the typical questions of journalism! These are the questions of enlightenment and learning. I wonder if today’s “curiosity” will carry human learning very far, given what we regularly see of it is more interest in social media, “pop” culture, fashion, iPhones and X-Boxes, and sports betting than in libraries and focusing on the core studies of STEM (Science, Technology, English, and Math). I often wonder that if Jesus were walking through our time, what would be the questions he would get from any curious observers? Would he get inquiries such as “What must I do to be saved?” or “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Or, would he be asked where he “emigrated from?” What was his favorite singer or band? Or maybe even whom did he like in the Super Bowl? I do fear that our cultural “curiosity gene” has developed a serious birth defect. And yet, God still loves us and wants to redeem and reconcile us.

 

Thankfully, the Greeks who sought knowledge of Jesus maintained a purity of curiosity. I would call it a “curiosity within a context.” They knew Jesus to be a “religious” leader of some sort; they were aware of the “miracles” taking place in his ministry, or at least within his “orbit”; and their questions were guided by the universally known and shared environment of these things. They were prepared to “seek Jesus” based on a foundation of the knowledge of him that had begun to “leak out” into the public sphere of “his-story.” Their query, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus,” was much more than a request for an audience. “To see” may very well carry the curiosity of all of human thinking. Do WE not “wish to see Jesus,” meaning all of what he was—and IS—about? 

 

I have suggested that one of the “two Greeks” (or in the case of this particular passage from John, “some Greeks”) may have included Luke, the physician. Luke was Greek, and may have also been one of the two men Jesus met on the road to Emmaus, after the resurrection. That text says that “one of them” was named Cleopas, which is a Greek name. Might the other one be the one who TELLS us this story—Luke? It is clear from reading his Gospel and his contributions to the Book of Acts that Luke is MOST curious about all things Jesus, which would have been characteristic of a Greek-trained thinker. 

 

I believe we need more “Greek” thinkers today, especially that which made them so curious about life, the universe, and everything! And this is especially true in the world of theological thinking. There seem to be only three “streams” of thinking about religion—and I’m specifically thinking of the Christian faith—today: those who codify and assert specific "orthodox" doctrines and dogma about what we “should” believe; those who believe what they are told; and persons who just CAN’T bring themselves to believe, either because of doubt OR that they don’t believe in accepting such doctrinally rigid religion as seems so prevalent. I believe it is not only HEALTHY but also formative to be curious about Jesus Christ, and to be “Greek” in desiring to know more by asking probing questions. Our desire to “see” Jesus should not be limited to “accepting” him via what others tell us we need to believe, but would be better approached by studying the Bible with other good inquirers, and not being afraid to ASK the tough questions. The best theologians have posited that forming and asking good questions is the key to serious theological reflection and understanding. The “Greek” approach to “seeing Jesus” is precisely this, and it has the ability to turn us ALL into better theological thinkers! Coming too quickly to an answer to the question, “What must I do to be saved?” may truly short-change the transformative power of that question, the answer to which may take a lifetime of prayer, study, and regular “recommitment” by the dedicated, growing-in-faith believer. Many will tell you, “Believe it, then live into it.” But what if “LIVE it, and you may come to BELIEVE it” is a better formula, especially for those who are skeptical? There should be freedom to experiment, here, and the church that spends more time “prescribing” than probing, poking, and prodding at what others so quickly want to label and market as “the truth” may be the church that fails. The curious church—the one which truly “wants to see Jesus”—may be the one that resonates with the agnostics, the disinterested and the “Nones” of our day. 

 

It is most interesting that just after being told that “these Greeks” want to see him, Jesus launches into a remarkable “vision” of the much, much larger picture of what he came to accomplish. “These Greeks” may, in Jesus’ mind, represent the countless future generations of the truly curious. He doesn’t rebuff them, he reveals himself to them—and to all of the future questioners who read this passage. The church in our day needs critical thinkers and life-long learners, ones who are willing to let their “seeing Jesus” be part of a transparent experiment in full view of others. Curiosity may have killed the proverbial “cat,” but it is the engine of both evangelism AND discipleship for any church that wants to open its arms to both GOD and God’s human creation. After all, what do you think Jesus meant, if not THIS, in verse 32—" And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”? It is in our passion to “see” him through our serious inquiry about WHO he IS and WHAT he is UP TO, as well as our curiosity as to what it means to US that “lifts him up from the earth.” And when he said that if we do this, he will draw ALL PEOPLE to himself, I believe for Jesus, ALL means ALL. If we are openly curious in our faith walk and in our approach to the scriptures, we send a very different message to the skeptics and other suspicious seekers than those who spout doctrines and “rules” in their direction. It is a message that says their doubts and questions are an “on ramp” to “seeing Jesus,” and that their current lifestyle is NOT a barrier to him “seeing” them! May we ALL want "to SEE Jesus!" Amen!