Courage – Speaking Truth to Power

This is my sermon on the Gospel passage for July 15, 2012, Mark 6:14-29. (From Common English Bible). It is a dramatic passage and one that cries out for an emotional delivery.

Herod the king heard about these things, because the name of Jesus had become well-known. Some were saying, “John the Baptist has been raised from the dead, and this is why miraculous powers are at work through him.” Others were saying, “He is Elijah.” Still others were saying, “He is a prophet like one of the ancient prophets.” But when Herod heard these rumors, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised to life.”

He said this because Herod himself had arranged to have John arrested and put in prison because of Herodias, the wife of Herod’s brother Philip. Herod had married her, but John told Herod, “It’s against the law for you to marry your brother’s wife!” So Herodias had it in for John. She wanted to kill him, but she couldn’t. This was because Herod respected John. He regarded him as a righteous and holy person, so he protected him. John’s words greatly confused Herod, yet he enjoyed listening to him.

Finally, the time was right. It was on one of Herod’s birthdays, when he had prepared a feast for his high-ranking officials and military officers and Galilee’s leading residents. Herod’s daughter Herodias came in and danced, thrilling Herod and his dinner guests. The king said to the young woman, “Ask me whatever you wish, and I will give it to you.” Then he swore to her, “Whatever you ask I will give to you, even as much as half of my kingdom.”

She left the banquet hall and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?”

“John the Baptist’s head,” Herodias replied.

Hurrying back to the ruler, she made her request: “I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head on a plate, right this minute.” Although the king was upset, because of his solemn pledge and his guests, he didn’t want to refuse her. So he ordered a guard to bring John’s head. The guard went to the prison, cut off John’s head, brought his head on a plate, and gave it to the young woman, and she gave it to her mother. When John’s disciples heard what had happened, they came and took his dead body and laid it in a tomb.

Danger and arrest. Courtly intrigue and manipulation. Vanity and murder most foul. Why are these in the bible? Especially within the gospel of Mark; within the good news of Jesus Christ.

To be truthful, all these things are rather common place in the Old Testament. There’s some rousing and rowdy tales of prophets and monarchs, of war and peace, of capture and exile.

But it strikes us as being out of place within a story about our savior’s life. And yet…his life was cut short because of intrigue and manipulation; because of vanity. There was danger for him. And arrest. And finally death.

Do you begin to see? John the Baptist’s death points us to Jesus’ own death. In 15 short verses, it foreshadows and anticipates the fate of Jesus.

But why did John have to die? He and Jesus were cousins. They had similar ministries. Jesus came into his own ministry only after John baptized him.

If we listen to Josephus, a Jewish historian of the first century, we learn that John had quite a following. Enough people followed his teachings to present a problem to the Roman control of the region and to the Herodian Tetrarchy. Other peoples’ repentance and reflection is a bad thing when the rulers want to control them.

If we listen to Herod, we hear a man who is concerned that John has been raised from the dead and now works within the person of Jesus. Others in his court think Jesus may be the risen Elijah or another prophet. But Herod is convinced; it is John that has returned. This would not have been unusual with in first century Jewish belief. This isn’t resurrection as we tend to think of it. It’s much more functional and purposeful – to have one’s character put to work in another.

It does sound as though Herod has a guilty conscience and we find out that he was the one who ordered John’s death.

Let me take a moment, though, to clear up a question of identity. This Herod is not King Herod the Great. This Herod is one of his sons, Herod Antipas. Herod the Great died around the time that Jesus was a small boy. And at his death, his region was divided between his four sons. Herod Antipas was lucky enough to get the Galilee.

So, going back to the history books, we learn that this Herod, the son, is almost as big a scoundrel as his father. He divorces his wife, a princess from an adjoining region, because he has had an affair with his brother’s wife, Herodias. The two of them marry and this is when John the Baptist enters the story.

John is bold enough to tell Herod he’s done a bad thing. It isn’t lawful for him to marry his brother’s wife. It’s the law. It’s in Leviticus, chapter 20!

And this is John’s fatal mistake. Herodias is no wall flower. She is a strong-willed, determined, and vindictive woman. For his impudence and meddling, Herodias wants John dead. But her husband? Well, Herod kind of likes the guy. He likes to listen to him teach and preach. Herod actually respected the guy though John could confuse him easily; Herod found him righteous, holy even. But with a harridan for a wife, what’s a king to do to keep peace in the palace but imprison the poor guy.

So Herod throws John in jail but he protects him from his wife’s anger. And that would have been that except for Herod’s own pride.

In due time, a feast is prepared for Herod’s birthday. The birthday boy invites all his buddies in the court, all the generals of his army, and all the elite citizens of Galilee. It’s a veritable who’s who of men in the region. Of course, there’s a party for the women, too – they’re just across the hall in another room!

For the entertainment, Herod’s daughter is asked to perform. Now here’s where Hollywood and the bible take slightly different paths. Hollywood would have you believe that Herod’s daughter is Salome, she who dances with the seven veils.

She’s beautiful.

Womanly.

Scandalous.

Sexy.

In Mark’s gospel, she is named Herodias, after her mother. And in the Greek, she is called a “korasio”, a young girl, a maiden. Not a woman. And this makes what happens a bit squirrely to our ears.

I’d like to think her father asked her to come in and show his buddies what she’d learned in dance class. But sadly, she wouldn’t have been taught ballet. Close to an age where she could be married off, she would have known dances that would have caused Herod’s guests to, shall we say, sit up and take notice.

Our modern sensibilities are shocked by this – this poor young girl asked to strut her stuff for strange men. We would be appalled. And yet, there are modern parallels. Cheerleaders for pro sports. Toddlers and Tiaras. I’m sure you can think of others.

Young Herodias is applauded and her father is so grateful for her performance that he offers her whatever she wants – even half his kingdom if she wants it. The young girl is still naïve enough that she doesn’t know how to answer and runs to her mother. “What should I ask for? What?”

And her mother sees the opportunity she’s been looking for, a way to get even.

“Ask Daddy for John the Baptist’s head, dear.”

The perfect go-between, the young girl returns to the banquet room and even raises the ante a bit.

“Daddy, bring me John the Baptist’s head.” She adds “I want it on a plate and I want it right now.”

I can almost see her stomp her foot. A spoiled little girl learning her lessons well.

Well, what is Herod to do? In front of all his buddies, in front of all the movers and shakers of his corner of the world, he’s promised his daughter whatever she asks. He can’t take it back, can he? He’d lose face in front of all those men. He’d be shamed. Herod is devastated. He can no longer protect John. A guard is sent to the prison. And what seems like moments later, he returns bearing John’s head on a plate and presents it to Herod’s daughter. She, in turn, runs across the hall to present it to her mother.

This is a story of rejection. It’s a rejection so much worse than what Jesus experienced in Nazareth that it leaves us breathless in the scope of John’s suffering.

And I’d like to focus on John now for a moment. As Mark describes him, he’s a bit of a free spirit. Ascetic in the extreme, he’s clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. In Mark’s gospel, John was arrested some time after Jesus baptism but before Jesus returned from his time in the wilderness. He was a truth-teller and didn’t like the ruling powers or leaders of the temple or the synagogues. They were so wrapped up in ritual and their own importance that he called them nasty names and predicted dire fates for them in the gospels of Matthew and Luke.

John is a truth-teller and he didn’t care about the consequences. His faith, his belief, his strength all came from God. And so he wasn’t afraid to tell Herod how wrong he was.

John kind of reminds me of the small hero of “The Emperor’s New Clothes”. Though young, that child is the only one who told the emperor the truth. Deceived and flattered by scam artists, opportunists, yes-men, and those who feared him, the emperor was caught with his pants down, as it were, in public. The boy told him the truth without fear and without guile. “You’ve got no clothes on!”

This is the gift of John, and of Jesus. Both of them had the facility to speak truth to power, whatever the consequences.

It takes courage to do that.

Courage to stand your ground.

Courage to speak out.

I told a friend earlier this week that true courage isn’t necessarily being brave – it’s doing what you need to do even though it might scare the hell out of you. That’s also strength!

I’m amazed at the strength people have, especially when they are standing up to power.

I’m amazed at the courage of Anita Hill who spoke out about sexual harassment.

I’m thankful for the courage of Margaret Sanger who spoke out for the right of women to reproductive health care, for the foresight of Susan B. Anthony who worked for the right of women to vote, for Jane Adams who pioneered social work, speaking out for the poor and disadvantaged.

I’m humbled by Archbishop Romero of El Salvador who was martyred because he spoke out about government corruption and oppression.

I’m grateful for the courage of Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont who continually uses his own standing and power to speak truth to others in power.

I’m glad for the work of Michael Adee and the Rev. Janie Spahr, for Lisa Larges and the Rev. Tara McCabe who fight for the equality of all people and for the right of all people to marry.

And, I’m grateful for Martin Luther King, Jr. who fought for the civil rights of oppressed people.

These men and women are prophets in their own time. Some see far into the future, and others see in the here and now.

Who are your prophets?

Who are your truth-tellers?

Who do you know, that like John, speak truth to power? With strength and without fear.

I hope and pray that each of us may have and use that opportunity to speak our minds and our hearts, strengthened and emboldened by our faith in God, reassured by the grace of Jesus Christ, and inspired by the Holy Spirit.

May it be so.

Healing Touch

This was the lectionary reading for today, 7/1/12. It’s one of my favorite miracle stories – for a lot of reasons. But mostly, I think, because it involves Jesus interacting with females, a woman and a girl; he is respectful, honoring them as equals. Jesus’ love and healing powers are available to all, if we only believe.

Mark 5:21-43 (NRSV)

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”

So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

Healthcare has been in our minds this week. Healthcare that is available to all. Healthcare that is affordable for all. Healthcare that will cover young people until they are on their own. Healthcare that won’t deny coverage because of pre-existing – or chronic conditions.

Women’s healthcare has also been top of mind for me for a while now. I can be quite strident about it. In the last century, women came quite far in claiming autonomy for themselves. But there is still a long way to go. I am appalled at the legislation coming out of both state and the federal governments that says we are unable to make our own health decisions; laws that put our lives at risk; laws that insult our intelligence and our autonomy.

And today’s story illustrates for me, ways that all people, but especially women, should be treated when it comes to health care.

Politics aside, health care is about having our bodies sorted out, cured, rehabilitated, made better. We want to be cured. But there is also a part of health care that is about healing. About making peace between body and mind. About peace of mind.

“Aren’t they the same thing, healing and curing?” you might ask. I used to think so. Serving as a chaplain allowed me to discover the difference. Pastoral care is considered a healing art and I was not down with that at all. “Healing is for doctors and nurses,” I said. “How can I possibly heal anyone?”

Well, of course the answer is, I can’t. But in that position, as a chaplain, I had the honor and privilege of being present for people; of holding a hand; of praying with them. Of helping them rediscover a relationship with God; of helping them find a measure of peace.

One lady I visited was very sick. Much sicker than she knew when she came to the hospital. With a weak heart and previously undiagnosed COPD, she was anxious and distressed. Her son, who lived locally, seemed not to care, or worse, to enjoy pushing his mother’s hot buttons. When we discovered she would need abdominal surgery, but couldn’t be anesthetized because of her heart and lungs, she was scared beyond measure. She thought she was done. As we talked and prayed together, she eventually reached a place where she was ready. Ready for surgery; ready for whatever came next. She reached a place of peace. A place where she could rest in the healing arms of God. I have to credit the Holy Spirit with getting her to that place. She survived her surgery and recovered quickly – and just as quickly fell into dysfunction with her son. But such is life!

Today’s story from Mark, makes me think about the capacities we have for self-healing, for coping, and what having faith in our health provider can do for us.

The woman in the story, let’s call her Tamar, carries with her a chronic disease. For Tamar, it was a blood disease, a constant bleeding. Tamar spent all the money she had on doctors who couldn’t help her, and on folk medicines that also didn’t help. She was probably anemic; weak and restless from the lack of iron in her system. Tamar was tired beyond measure; sick of being sick.

For us it might be heart disease, or diabetes. Perhaps arthritis or asthma. Any one of a number of chronic conditions. They linger. They take up residence. They might go into remission for a while but then they come back with a vengeance. And we ask our doctors for help – drugs, surgery, therapy – we want a cure. We might even try alternative medicine, hoping there might be an answer there. When one isn’t to be had, we have to live with whatever discomfort or pain comes with our condition.

And yet, Tamar hears that Jesus is in town. She risks venturing out among the crowds. Even in her weakened condition, Tamar knows, believes, that Jesus will heal her. Even if she doesn’t speak to him, Tamar knows just touching his garments will be enough. This knowledge, this belief is a faith so strong that it touches Jesus’ heart when Tamar simply reaches out to touch his robe. Her faith creates a link between the two of them, allowing his ability to heal to transcend the lack of physical connection. Tamar recognizes it and interprets it as curative and her body responds. And Jesus feels it. He knows something has happened; something has, for just a moment, tapped into his person, taking what it needed. In other healing stories of Jesus, there has been a physical connection; but for Tamar, all that’s needed is to brush her hands along his robe. Yet Jesus needs to know who engaged his healing power and so he asks, “Who was it? Who touched me?”

In humility and gratitude, Tamar can only speak the truth and tell Jesus what she’s done. Jesus in turn acknowledges that she’s been cured, she’s been made well; and he tells her why – it was her faith which opened her to receive Christ’s healing energy.

Our story is not yet over, however. Davina, who is cherished by her father, Jairus, has succumbed to an illness which has left her at death’s door. Jairus has come to ask Jesus to see her, heal her. Again, his faith is strong. Though he is from the local synagogue’s power structure, he sees something in Jesus that encourages him to reach out. Jesus agrees to help but then is interrupted by Tamar.

By the time this story within a story is completed, we now hear that Davina has died.

Instead of saying, “So sorry for your loss, Jairus,” Jesus insists they continue on. “Fear not,” he says. “Believe.” Again, Jairus’ faith is important; it’s a critical piece in Jesus’ ability to work, to heal, to minister. So, in hope and faith, Jairus, Jesus, Peter, James, and John, continue on to Jairus’ home. Jesus rebukes the mourners for the funeral ceremonies have already begun. And he and Davina’s mom and dad, and his 3 disciples go to her room where she lies on her bed.

Now, I have to interrupt the story here to say that while my experience of teenagers pales before those who parent them, I do remember what it was like to be one. Here’s a young girl, barely twelve. Her body is changing, her thoughts are changing. And in first century Israel, she would soon be leaving her parents’ home to become a wife, the property of her husband. Her life was rapidly spinning out of the safe space her parents had created for her.

I remember the drama, the angst of my teen years, and I bet you remember yours as well. I remember diving into books to live vicariously through them; much like we pull away from others today, isolating ourselves with headphones or video games; building walls around us. Remember slamming doors and retreating to your room? And sometimes, we pulled so far into ourselves that those around us, our parents and our friends, had to wonder if we were all right. Just stop the world, just for a second ‘cause getting off seems better than staying on.

Jesus goes up to her bed and sits on the edge. He gently takes her hand in his and says, “Little one, come, get up. Davina, wake up.” There is no recrimination. There’s no lecture. There’s no interrogation. There is only love – The touch of a hand; Davina, come on.

And to the amazement of her parents, she gets up and behaves normally. Jesus, always wise in the ways of children and practicality, says, “Get her something to eat. She hasn’t eaten in some time.”

Now, Jairus’ faith and Jesus’ touch were instrumental in bringing Davina back. But I think that we’ve all seen this at work in our lives. There is more to healing than being cured.

Each of us has the ability to be a healing force. And, again, healthcare has been uppermost in our minds this week. Each of us has something to say about that. Each of us has something to say about the care available to our partners, our children, our families and our neighbors. In our privilege, we have the responsibility to speak out about health care system that’s available to some, but not all. We have the responsibility to speak out when we learn of legislation that weakens our own personhood or threatens our health. We have the responsibility to speak out when coverage is denied, or treatment withheld.

A soft touch, a listening ear, a murmured encouragement can work miracles. A whispered prayer and a hand held in compassion can help someone find peace – even when they can’t be cured.

But a voice, willing to speak out, can help fix and heal a health care system that needs to serve all, not just a few.

May we find, in each of us, the compassion of the spirit to use as we reach out, to speak out, to touch someone’s life with grace and love, sharing the healing energy that flows through us, just as it flowed through Jesus Christ.                                Amen.

Teachable Moment

This was a sermon for Trinity Sunday. I am indebted to the articles in Feasting on the Word. The scripture passage was from John 3:1-17. This passage comes immediately after Jesus chased away the money changers from the temple, which is very early in Jesus’ ministry, according to John. We have a dialogue of sorts here. Look for the teachable moment as Jesus converses with a temple dignitary. Isaiah’a call story is also referenced.

From the Common English Bible:

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom.⁶Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew. God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human Oneⁱ be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

God is calling us. Calling, inviting us in love to be in relationship with the Holy One. God will not force us or coerce us. That is not the way of love. But make no mistake, while we are all children of God, to join in relationship, to become brothers and sisters in faith, we need to accept that call, that invitation.

When we are baptized, we are born through water into the fellowship of God. And though our parents and our congregations make promises to raise us and teach us in the faith, it isn’t until we reach the milestone of confirmation or until we affirm our faith as members of a faith community that we own our faith as true brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ.

Faith is not a one-time statement. It is something we profess initially, perhaps to please our parents, or because it’s what our peers do. But then a funny thing happens – faith continues to grow and develop, just as we continue to grow, to learn, to live. And faith is just as individual as each of us is.

Nicodemus, perhaps, models for us the path more of us have followed. His journey to Jesus begins in the dark and continues into the daylight – but I’m getting ahead of myself.

In our first lesson this morning, Isaiah is worshipping in the temple and has a powerful vision: A powerful king on a throne somewhere above the earth surrounded by seraphim. Isaiah is fearful; he’s convinced he’s doomed. He confesses his sins because he realizes he is unworthy to have such a vision. And a seraph burns the sins away with a coal. Isaiah can now speak to God – accepting a role which many of us would probably turn down.

Israel is at a cross-road. The king has died and politics begin to destabilize the country – pitting Israel against Judah. History takes a bad turn for the Jewish community and Isaiah gets caught up in it. Isaiah is the one who must be the conscience of God among the people. As a prophet he must continually remind the powers that be and the regular people, too, just what their responsibilities are as a people set apart by God. By then end of chapter 6, Isaiah knows that Israel will have turned away from God and will be in exile. Only a few will remain, through each successive invasion and exile – those few will be the stump from which Israel will grow again.

Isaiah is reluctant at first, thinking himself unworthy. And yet when he accepts God’s call, he gets a life he didn’t bargain for.

No one who accepts God’s call gets to go on with the same old life. God’s call, and our acceptance of it changes us.

So here we have Nicodemus. Nick is a Pharisee, a man with a certain standing in the temple community. He and the other Pharisees are aware of this young preacher, this rabbi, from Galilee. Nicodemus thinks there might be something to this young man. He wants to know more.

So he comes under cover of night to speak to Jesus. Not during the day when many would see and comment. But at night. Can’t you see him? Wrapped up in his cloak, walking softly through the streets and alleyways? Looking around to make sure no one follows or sees him?

Nick says to Jesus, “Look, we know you’re a teacher. We know you’ve been sent from God. No one could do what you do unless God is present with you.”

And then the conversation takes an odd turn. Jesus speaks in symbolic, spiritual, metaphorical ideas. Nick speaks in terms of what he sees and knows to be true. They may be using the same words, but their meanings are completely different.

Jesus says, “No one can see God’s realm unless one is born anew.”

Can’t you just see Nick scrunch up his forehead at that? He thinks for a minute and says, “But I’m already an old man. How can I be born now that I’ve grown old? It’s not as if I could crawl back inside my mother and be born again.”

Jesus responds. “What I’m saying is, no one can enter God’s realm without being born of water and Spirit. Flesh comes from flesh and spirit is derived from spirit. Why are you surprised that I say this to you – that you must be born anew. You know how the wind goes wherever it wants – you hear it rustling in the fields or feel it across your skin but you don’t know where it comes from and you don’t know where it goes. People born of the spirit are just like that…”

Nick is very puzzled. His brain just isn’t working on that frequency. “How can this be,” he says.

And Jesus says, “You call yourself a teacher of Israel yet you don’t understand? I speak of what I know and testify to what I’ve seen, yet you don’t believe me. If I had told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?”

Nick is working and speaking from his knowledge of the law of Moses. Jesus, as we know, knows the law inside and out yet he is speaking as one sent from God. Sent from above. Jesus is trying to get Nick to understand. Nick keeps responding with what he knows to be true; what is written in the Torah and what he knows from his own experience. Jesus, on the other hand, is challenging him to take a step into imagination and creativity.

Being born anew, being born of the spirit is a, well, spiritual experience. It is available to all of us. And sometimes it is most needed by religious people who might think they don’t need it at all.

When religion becomes a correct observance of practice bound in tradition, when it becomes routine and unchanging as it had for the Pharisees, this hinders spiritual sensitivity – and, as Jesus tries to tell Nick, a transformation is needed.

Jerry Goebel says, “Imagine studying all your life to be among the elite and powerful only to be told that all of your theories are based upon a completely false premise. The unfortunate thing is that many of us do experience this reality at some point in our life when we finally realize that life is really not ‘all about me,’ and that God could care less what I know but instead wants to know who I loved.”

This is radical. As John Allen says, “To be born anew is to enter the world with a different set of guiding principles, a new way of approaching everything, and a completely altered perception. Thus, this second birth is a politically subversive act – not just within the religious sphere but also in the civil.”

Jesus is asking Nicodemus to be born in a new way, to be born from above, to bear God’s logic among a world that functions astray from the will of the divine. Jesus is asking Nicodemus to be on the ground floor of something new. To turn away from what has been done before, to turn away from the rules and logic that have ordered his life up to this point, to emerge anew into the world.

This is frightening. This is not what we bargained for. And yet, like Isaiah, we embrace it in the best way we can.

Jesus says, “The wind blows where it chooses.” Can we see this as an image of God in search of humanity? Can we see this as a vision of God’s decision to turn toward humankind, to search for us, to reveal God’s self to us? And why should we? Because it is the nature of God to want to be in relationship with us. Just as God is in relationship with Christ and the Holy Spirit. It is a relationship built on community, a community of three yet one that is self-communicating, self-giving and self-receiving. It is a community that is in relationship to itself and to us. And we celebrate and affirm that God’s essence in in relationship.

What happened to Nicodemus? Well, he got more than he bargained for that night. But he thought about what Jesus said. He looked deep within himself and began to think in different ways. Nicodemus stood up for Jesus before the Sanhedrin, risking his own good name to defend the teacher from Galilee. And at Jesus death? Nicodemus was right there with Joseph of Arimathea providing the spices to anoint Jesus’ body. Isn’t this what a disciple, a person who heard and answered the call would do?

If we turn to 2 Corinthians for a moment, Paul clearly tells us: Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation (born from above); everything old has passed away, everything has become new. (2 Cor 5:17-19) All of this is accomplished by the creative love of God, the redemptive offering of Christ, and the empowering presence of the life-giving Spirit. Three are one.

Possessed?

Who possessed Jesus? Beelzebul or the Holy Spirit? And just who is the family of Jesus? All questions raised by this Gospel reading.

Thanks to David Ewart and David Lose whose articles appear like angels from heaven on Textweek.com. And thanks to Wendy Farley, whose article on this passage in Feasting on the Word was so helpful.

Mark 3:20-35 (Common English Bible)

Jesus entered a house. A crowd gathered again so that it was impossible for him and his followers even to eat. When his family heard what was happening, they came to take control of him. They were saying, “He’s out of his mind!”

The legal experts came down from Jerusalem. Over and over they charged, “He’s possessed by Beelzebul. He throws out demons with the authority of the ruler of demons.”

When Jesus called them together he spoke to them in a parable: “How can Satan throw Satan out? A kingdom involved in civil war will collapse. And a house torn apart by divisions will collapse. If Satan rebels against himself and is divided, then he can’t endure. He’s done for. No one gets into the house of a strong person and steals anything without first tying up the strong person. Only then can the house be burglarized. I assure you that human beings will be forgiven for everything, for all sins and insults of every kind. But whoever insults the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven. That person is guilty of a sin with consequences that last forever.” He said this because the legal experts were saying, “He’s possessed by an evil spirit.”

His mother and brothers arrived. They stood outside and sent word to him, calling for him. A crowd was seated around him, and those sent to him said, “Look, your mother, brothers, and sisters are outside looking for you.”

He replied, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers? ” Looking around at those seated around him in a circle, he said, “Look, here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God’s will is my brother, sister, and mother.”

It seems as though there are several different things going on in our gospel lesson this morning. We’ve got Jesus, his followers, a crowd, Jesus’ family, the temple scribes and a couple short parables. All this packed into 15 short verses. What are we to make of all this?

Well, first we have to know that Jesus was probably exhausted. He’d been up in the hills, that day. He called and named his apostles, giving them the gifts of preaching and healing for they were to be his messengers – what the word apostles means in Greek.

Everywhere Jesus went, Mark says, crowds followed him once they discovered he could heal and cast out demons. Even on this day.

Jesus and his followers come back to town and go to someone’s house. All he wants to do is recline and have a bit of supper. But the crowds come and they are so demanding that Jesus and his disciples can’t even eat.

Jesus family arrives. They’ve heard about these new activities of his — that he’s been baptized and wandered in the desert; that he’s been healing and preaching. And they think that he’s gone off the deep end. That he is, somehow, beside himself. And they want to take him home, make sure he’s OK.

In the midst of all this clamor, here come the scribes from the temple. The scribes know the Hebrew law inside and out. You wanna talk Moses? They know from Moses. They know and teach the law. They claim Jesus is possessed by demon named Beelzebul. How else can he possibly cast other demons out except by the authority of Satan himself.

It must have been a mad house, that evening.

Yet Jesus, ever ready to engage in teachable moments, takes on the scribes first. He throws their own question back at them, using the stories he is to become known for. “Really? I’m possessed by a demon? How exactly does that work? If I’m a demon, why would other demons let me cast them out? Surely we would encourage and hold onto possession. If a ruler has strength, that strength comes from power and beliefs that must be shared. If they are not shared, they are not supportive and that ruler’s domain will crumble. Likewise, if a family is broken into many pieces, it isn’t long before that family will fall apart. So if Satan has become separated and estranged from his demons, he can no longer stand and he will fail.

So really, I wouldn’t be able to cast out demons unless Satan has not already been bound by God. It’s like if someone tried to steal from a very strong man. If the man is left alone, he will defend what is his. But if the burglars get the drop on him and tie him up, well… they can take anything they want.

So if you still think I’m possessed by a demon think again. If I am possessed it is by the Holy Spirit, sent by God. And if you curse the name of the Holy Spirit, you have committed an eternal sin. God forgives an awful lot. All of you here will know your sins and any curses you say will be forgiven. But those who say I have an unclean spirit? Sorry friends. That won’t wash.”

In the meantime, Jesus’ family works their way closer and closer. They send someone from the crowd to him to tell him they were there, waiting to take him home.

And in front of everyone, Jesus says, “They aren’t my family. They don’t understand yet what I’m trying to do. But you do. Anyone who is willing to do what God wants; anyone who is willing to do God’s work is my family. You all have been adopted into God’s, and therefore my, family.”

It is rather ironic, however, that in a gospel where so many, including the disciples, are clueless about what Jesus is doing that he should single out his own family as being particularly clueless.

But this passage does stress the idea that Jesus didn’t really fit. He saw himself as not fitting within the structure of his family and he also demonstrated early on his disagreements with the religious authorities.

This passage does raise a couple of questions.

If the scribes were confused about what is good and what is evil, how are we confused by the same thing?

How easy is it for us to say, oh, well – family values… that’s what makes us strong. And church leaders are authority figures, right? So we should identify with them. Right? And yet, we are living those lives, aren’t we. We hear a lot about traditional family values these days. And if we’re not in a traditional family, it’s something we might yearn for. If we attend church and teach Sunday school and sit on church boards, we’re part of the leadership.

So Jesus just said that we don’t recognize who he is. Wait! What does that mean, exactly? Does that make us out of touch with God?

We want to think of the scribes as evil – yet they aren’t. David Lose says it’s the way they relate to God that Jesus thinks is wrong. “They are part of a long and proud tradition of faithful service to God and the people of God. It is just that Jesus doesn’t conform to their structures. Jesus declares that the law, finally, isn’t about regulating our relationship with God but was given by God to help us get more out of life.”

And, I don’t know about you, but I can’t quite believe Jesus really thought his family had no place within his ministry or within his life. Perhaps it is that he looked at family a bit differently.

We choose, we adopt those we want to be close to — and it isn’t always our families. And I’m willing to bet that, for Jesus, that was his inspiration. But he did it bigger and better than we ever would. Look at who his friends were: people on the fringes of society. Today they would be the homeless, addicts, prostitutes, the unemployed, the IRS, those who are differently abled, returning veterans, refugees, those disfigured by war and oppression. He chose those who we perceive as different and as the other.

We have a hard time with this. We want Jesus family to look and feel and act just like us. But this would be against the gospel.

As Wendy Farley says, “When we think about who is near Jesus, it is not the morally perfect. It is just the diverse mess of humanity, with all of its moral, physical, spiritual beauty and imperfection.” The ones who are on the outside looking in? Well, that would be the ones who think they have all the answers to family and religious life. It would be us.

And what does it mean to “blaspheme the Holy Spirit”? It might mean that, like the scribes and like his family, we’re unable to tell when the Holy Spirit is truly at work in someone.

It’s hard to tell sometimes. But Wendy thinks there may be a clue. People went to Jesus for comfort, for compassion, for healing. If we pay attention to what heals and reconciles people and to what brings healing to God’s creation, we’ll be in good company.

It is in the stories of healing and grace that we find the good news. David Ewart says, “Jesus is not out of his mind; Jesus is not filled with demonic spirits. Rather, Jesus has the mind of God; Jesus is filled with the Holy Spirit – and invites all of us to be of the same mind and same Spirit in a new family as his sisters and brothers.”

To find the good news, take a look around you. Take a step outside of yourself and don’t affirm the status quo. That will, indeed, be good news.

Laying Down One’s Life

In preaching on John 15:9-17, I am indebted to David Ewart’s Holy Textures blog; Brian Stoffgren’s Exegetical Notes at CrossMarks; and Peter Woods’ blog Love How? for help with this sermon.

John 15:9-17 (Common English Bible): This was our gospel reading this morning and it is the conclusion to Jesus’ “I am the true vine” speech. The importance of living in the love and teachings of Jesus is the main message here! Consequences are alluded to – pruning and cleansing in the previous verses. In this reading, implications are alluded to with a couple of poignant “if” statements.

⁹ “As the Father loved me, I too have loved you. Remain in my love. ¹⁰ If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. ¹¹ I have said these things to you so that my joy will be in you and your joy will be complete.

¹² This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you. ¹³ No one has greater love than to give up one’s life for one’s friends. ¹⁴ You are my friends if you do what I command you. ¹⁵ I don’t call you servants any longer, because servants don’t know what their master is doing. Instead, I call you friends, because everything I heard from my Father I have made known to you. ¹⁶ You didn’t choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you could go and produce fruit and so that your fruit could last. As a result, whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give you. ¹⁷ I give you these commandments so that you can love each other.

God’s love creates a generous dwelling place. Our gospel lesson speaks of Jesus’ love as a reality in which we abide, in which we remain, even as we provide this haven for others. This place of love is a place of joy as well as of obedience given willingly—not out of the fear that separates servant from master, but out of the understanding that grows between friends: Jesus and his disciples. First John describes an even closer relationship: believers are born to our parent God. Our passage from Acts speaks of the story of Cornelius’s baptism adds the detail of spaciousness: the living space in which love welcomes all peoples.

David Ewart says, “Jesus then removes any sense of honor status differences between himself and his followers: “You are my friends.” Their relationship is no longer one of slaves who do what the master wants; or of clients seeking favors from a patron; or as disciples seeking teaching from a master.

They are friends – they are equals who have a solemn obligation to look out for each other’s good – even to the point of laying down one’s life (something one would normally only do to defend the honor of a blood relative.)

And they are not just friends with Jesus. Jesus is commanding them to be friends with one another since that is how he loves them.

That we are commanded to be friends, and that Jesus stresses it is not we who chose him, but rather he who chose us, emphasizes that “friendship” is not “liking;” is not about feelings at all.

Whether we like one another or not, Jesus commands us to look out for each other’s good – even to the point of giving our life.

But the point is not just that we should be friends. We are friends for a purpose.

And yet, there’s this verse…

“No one has greater love than to give up one’s life for one’s friends.”

Haven’t you heard this as a tribute to a hero, a soldier; someone who lost their life doing the most amazing, selfless thing. Do you ever wonder if we’re capable of it; of this depth of love. Those of us who are parents may understand the concept or the ideal. Those who work as first responders might understand in actuality. But mostly don’t we wonder… is this what Jesus really requires of us? That we have to make the ultimate sacrifice?

It’s about love, isn’t it. But what kind of love?

Within the Greek of the New Testament there are several kinds of love – each different in its approach to relationships.

Eros we know as the love that makes us blush, makes our hearts race and our palms sweat. We are eager for that person’s presence and the way we feel when we’re with them.

Philos is the love of family and friends. Brotherly love, sisterly love, familial love. It extends to community as well – all those we love who are our friends.

Agape love is the tricky one. It’s a love that defies our understanding The greek dictionaries say it denotes the love which springs from admiration and veneration, and which chooses its object with decision of will, and devotes a self-denying and compassionate devotion to it. Love in its fullest conceivable form; first exhibited by Christ, expressive of God’s relation to us, and the relation between the Father and the Son. Lastly it is the distinctive character of the Christian life in relation to to all. It is unconditional in nature and self-giving in practice. Hmmm…

There are two words in greek relevant to our topic today. One is Zoe, and it is used quite often 137x in the new testament and Psuche, which is used 105x in the NT. They share a common meaning of life, but each has its own attributes. The word used in our passage today is psuche – if we bring that into terms we might understand, you can think of it as psyche…

The life Jesus is talking about, the life Jesus wants us to lay down for the other is related to our psyches. What thoughts does that inspire in you?

What might have been in Jesus mind as he said this?

The “life” that Jesus refers to being laid down can be translated in any of these phrases:

• lay down (or set aside) their heart
• lay down their mind
• lay down their soul
• lay down their being

Peter Wood says, “These ancient words hover at the edge of our modern psychological understanding of human nature don’t they?” Would he be pushing too hard to suggest that a contemporary reading of Jesus’ words would be, “There is no greater unconditional love than when someone gets their ego out of the way for another.”?

I’m sure we’ve all seen people with egos. And I’m sure that in meetings at work, in community groups, at school gatherings, and even here at church, we’ve seen egos at work. They don’t get out of the way very easily, do they? It’s part of the grain of our culture, our context and our conditioning. It’s much easier to assert oneself and one’s own desires, one’s own agenda. We don’t even have to think about it. It just happens.

How would these encounters change, our relationships change, if we consciously went against the grain, against our instinctual assertion of self. What if we let go of our egos and actually thought about the good of all as opposed to the “good of me”.

Think of it this way:

Peter Yancey writes in What’s So Amazing about Grace, “Not long ago I received in the mail a postcard from a friend that had on it only six words, “I am the one Jesus loves.” I smiled when I saw the return address, for my strange friend excels at these pious slogans. When I called him, though, he told me the slogan came from the author and speaker Brennan Manning. At a seminar, Manning referred to Jesus’ closest friend on earth, the disciple named John, identified in the Gospels as “the one Jesus loved.” Manning said, “If John were to be asked, ‘What is your primary identity in life?’ he would not reply, ‘I am a disciple, an apostle, an evangelist, an author of one of the four Gospels,’ but rather, ‘I am the one Jesus loves.’”

What would it mean, if we came to the place where we saw our primary identity in life as “the one Jesus loves”? How differently would we view ourselves at the end of a day?

Yancey continues: Sociologists have a theory of the looking-glass self: you become what the most important person in your life (wife, father, boss, etc.) thinks you are. How would my life change if I truly believed the Bible’s astounding words about God’s love for me, if I looked in the mirror and saw what God sees?

Brennan Manning tells the story of an Irish priest who, on a walking tour of a rural parish, sees an old peasant kneeling by the side of the road, praying. Impressed, the priest says to the man, “You must be very close to God.” The peasant looks up from his prayers, thinks a moment, and then smiles, “Yes, he’s very fond of me.”

I believe that if nothing else, every parishioner in every congregation should leave every worship services having heard: “You are someone Jesus loves.”

How does that change the meaning of the phrase laying down one’s life?

Are we looking for opportunities to do that? Or can we more easily start at the tip of our heads and realize we can set aside, or lay down, part of ourselves. We can set our ego aside. We can set our own agendas aside and listen to and hear one another’s thoughts.

I hope that becomes a place we can start; a place we can begin to be more concerned for the other than for ourselves. I hope it becomes a place where we begin to show we understand what agape love is.

May it be so.

Inheriting the Kingdom: The Mission Field

I was honored to be asked to preach at the First Presbyterian Church of Chicago Heights on the Sunday they dedicated their Thank Offering from their Presbyterian Women. They always as a seminary student or a recent graduate to bring the word for that day. I was asked to preach on Matthew 25:34-40 (NRSV), the sheepful portion of The Last Judgement.

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; ³⁵for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. ’³⁷Then the righteous will answer him, Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? ³⁸And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ ⁴⁰And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’

Our gospel lesson this morning is part of a larger narrative in Matthew 25 where Jesus tells us what judgment will look like. The first story of the narrative is of the ten bridesmaids, how to watch, wait and be prepared for the coming kingdom. The second story tells the tale of the talents, which explores how much risk are we willing to take in order to care for and use the gifts we have been given in service to others as we prepare for the return of our master. Today’s passage looks at how judgment will happen: how people will be divided into those who behaved and those who didn’t. It kind of reminds me of Santa’s good little boys and girls list. Everyone else gets coal.

Our passage for today, however, looks only at the sheep – the good ones, the ones who follow the leadership, explicit or implied, of their shepherd. The goats are left to fend for themselves, as they will anyway, at the end of the passage. Interestingly, this passage says nothing about faith, belief, or salvation. It’s not about how we earn salvation – because we can’t – our salvation rests in our belief and in our faith. That is what makes us righteous before God. If “inheriting the kingdom” isn’t about salvation, what is it about?

Well, let’s be clear. First of all, we’re not earning, or working for, or intentionally buying into the Kingdom. We’re being given the kingdom. We’re inheriting it. We’re receiving it. Secondly, the one who gives it, who bestows it is the one making the decision. Not us. And third, the kingdom of God is here and now, it has been here since the foundation of the world and it is a work in progress.

And there’s nothing inherently religious or spiritual in what our sheep are doing. Faith isn’t required; belief isn’t required. Basic good behavior and a concern for others is. Jesus gives it to us straight up in Matthew 7, vs. 12 when he says, “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” This is the golden rule.

We’ve known this rule all our lives. This isn’t a new rule, a new request – it’s ancient, in fact. It isn’t even inherently Christian. Ancient Egyptians looked at and totted up their good deeds to help them get ahead in the afterlife. In rabbinical midrash of the Jewish tradition, the deceased one boasts of his good deeds and keeps score. In the words of the prophets we are exhorted to care for widows and orphans, to be hospitable to travelers and those in need.

In the period of time leading up to Jesus’ birth, Rabbi Hillel, when challenged by a Gentile to explain the Torah while standing on one leg, responded with “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow: this is the whole Torah; the rest is commentary; go and learn.” Hillel recognized brotherly and sisterly love as the fundamental principle of Jewish moral law.

So if this isn’t new, why does Jesus make a point of it? It may be because it’s something we sometimes take for granted and forget to think about. It may be because Jesus wants us to think a bit differently about sin: the sins that we know we do and the sins that just slip in and out of our lives.

Or, and this is really what intrigues me about this passage, maybe Jesus is not just encouraging us to follow the golden rule but to follow it in a deeper way.

I have a sneaking suspicion that most bible scholars, along with my seminary professors, will tell me I’m way off base here. But I can’t help but wonder about the words Matthew chose to tell this story. Yes, we are encouraged to feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in prison. And all of these aren’t difficult to accomplish. We use agencies and fund their programs, we donate to Purple Heart or the Salvation Army, we donate to the local food pantry, we have community meals, we take meals to those who are sick, we support our mission programs, we visit our members in the hospital and those who are home bound.

But what if we’re being asked to go deeper? I love words and I love this passage because it’s so rich with opportunity, for seeing how words might add depth and insight into a passage we all know pretty well. Every translation is an interpretation so let’s see what might happen if we dig a bit below the surface of the translations we’ve become so familiar with and tease it apart just a bit.

The word Matthew uses for being hungry also has a sense of need about it, a deep yearning for something, and the word for thirst speaks not just to wanting a drink of water, but of wanting something more in a spiritual sense. Hospitality, being welcoming, is more than just having folks over for dinner or a cocktail party. It’s opening your heart and your home to them. The word used for welcoming is from the same word that has come to mean synagogue – it’s a community, an assembly, a gathering; it becomes a place where healing and reconciliation can take place.

When Jesus talks about nakedness, there is not just the sense of being bare physically, but also being spiritually naked, without defenses. In clothing someone, that word also has a sense of throwing something around or building protection around someone or something. It requires action of us.

To be sick could also have the sense of having a disability or being in poverty about it. What is translated as visiting also has a sense of looking after, of care being given, of acting on behalf of someone.

Does this change what you hear, what you see, when you hear these verses?

Empowerment is the key, I think. In doing things for others, we don’t want to create co-dependent relationships which keep us and those we’re helping in a kind of bondage one to another. We want to listen; we want to hear; we want to support and encourage; we want to teach; we want to bring healing and reconciliation. We want to provide tools, not do it all the work for them.

I see empowerment when I read these verses. I see people extending themselves, not just in good deeds, but in fully, deeply, human ways. Caring for others comes easily to many of us, maybe even unconsciously such that compassion is something we live into, not something we do. It is a part of us. And this might be why the sheep are surprised and say, “When did we do these things!? We don’t remember doing any of this!”

Brian Stoffgren, a bible commentator, says that most of us experience this kind of surprise. It happens when someone comes up to us and says, “What you did for me sure helped me a lot.” Or “What you said to me had a powerful influence on my life.” When they say these things, we’re left wondering, trying to remember what we said, or did, that was so great. Often we don’t even know what good we are doing – and only later discover that we have served Christ in the least of these.

We are called to do lots of good works, says Brian. We are also called not to keep score.

Be engaged. Be loving. Be compassionate. And always be open and willing to be surprised. You might find you’ve made a goat into a sheep!

Loving God, your son reminds us of our obligation to each other. May your spirit always guide us, let us help and never hurt as we move through this life. Let us reach out, at all times in compassion, with open hearts and open arms. May we share our strength, our wisdom, and our blessings with others; let us protect, build up, heal, and reconcile, without ever keeping score, for we are all your children, now and forever. We ask this in the strong name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Credibility Gap

I was asked to preach on 10/30/11 at a church for whom I’ve been doing some pulpit supply. I chose to work with the text from Matthew for the sermon. The text evidences the tensions between Jesus and the Pharisees, though he’s careful to demonstrate some respect for their position and responsibility. So how do faithful people handle hypocrisy? And how do we become brave enough to look at the logs in our own eyes?

Matthew 23:1-12 (read from the new Common English Bible)

Then Jesus spoke to the crowds and his disciples, ² “The legal experts and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat. ³ Therefore, you must take care to do everything they say. But don’t do what they do. ⁴ For they tie together heavy packs that are impossible to carry. They put them on the shoulders of others, but are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. ⁵ Everything they do, they do to be noticed by others. They make extra-wide prayer bands for their arms and long tassels for their clothes. ⁶ They love to sit in places of honor at banquets. ⁷ They love to be greeted with honor in the markets and to be addressed as ‘Rabbi.’

⁸ “But you shouldn’t be called Rabbi , because you have one teacher, and
all of you are brothers and sisters. ⁹ Don’t call anybody on earth your father, because you have one Father, who is heavenly. ¹⁰ Don’t be called teacher , because Christ is your one teacher. ¹¹ But the one who is greatest among you will be your servant. ¹² All who lift themselves up will be brought low. But all who make themselves low will be lifted up.

So… Jesus is pretty direct in this passage. He doesn’t mince words and one doesn’t really need an interpreter to realize this passage is about hypocrisy. He is being very straightforward in his denunciation of what he sees as the failings of those in religious leadership.

What does he call the Pharisees out on? Is it simply the “Do as I say but not as I do” syndrome? Every child learns to recognize that early on. Or is there something more going on here?

Well, first of all, the Pharisees are said to sit in Moses’ seat. That has special meaning within the Jewish community for Moses is one of the greatest, if not the greatest ancestor in their past. Moses is the lawgiver, the original judge, the one who directed the Israelites in their 40 years in the desert. To sit in Moses’ seat means that one guards and interprets the law for others. And the Pharisees teach and interpret the law with a dedication that, rather than devotion, inspires resentment. They are happy to point out how one is mistaken and to tell you how to correct the error of your ways, but they aren’t very good at actually helping you.

But why is it always the Pharisees and scribes who are concerned with the law? Well, first of all, let’s take a short history break. Surely there are other facets of Temple life that would have made them more holistic in their approach? Therein lies a quirk of history. By the time Matthew’s gospel was written, other strains of temple and Jewish life had been run over by the Romans when they destroyed the temple in 70. The Sadducees were no longer the keepers of worship and religious life; they had been seen as collaborators in the Roman occupation and were already regarded suspiciously. The Essenes had been all about purity and austerity; returning Judaism to an authentic life of faith. And the Zealots lived to make Rome’s life difficult at every turn by any military means they could come by.

So the only clergy Matthew had to point the finger at were the Pharisees. Throughout the gospel they are maligned from the epithet John the Baptist uses, “You brood of vipers” to the plainly spoken word, hypocrite.

But this isn’t about Pharisees, Jews and Gentiles. It’s about human nature. In cautioning his followers, Jesus is also telling them what they shouldn’t be doing. This is bigger than “Do as I say, not as I do.” And I think we need to break this down into specific concerns.

Earl Palmer says these people in leadership positions do not practice in their own life the themes they put forward and expect others to embrace. It’s a question of integrity and relevance isn’t it? It’s hard to defend against if one is being watched, their public life and behavior open to our gaze.

But what the Pharisees are doing is also dangerous. Palmer says because they are people with enormous influence in the community, they have placed the wrong kinds of burdens on those who listen to their teaching. These burdens do not flow from the text of the law but from the Pharisees own specialized interpretation of the law. The burden is therefore artificial. It becomes toxic because the larger hope of God’s message is buried in the law.

Allan Hilton says the third caution is the Pharisees need for position and approval – to be recognized in public, to be honored, to be esteemed.

He says that Jesus accuses hypocrites, on the one hand, of speaking, but not doing and, on the other, of doing in order to receive praise. So here we have people that speak out but don’t do, yet when they know folks are watching, they act all righteous and concerned.

What are we to believe? What makes them credible? Or are we destined to be disappointed.

I think I need to counter that with another question. How is it that we are so quick to see hypocrisy in others but rarely do we look deep within ourselves? Of course, it’s easier to say, “Go get ‘em, Jesus!” And it’s even easier for us to search for affirmation from each other rather than God. We don’t want to look to closely at ourselves.

Jesus spoke of this earilier in Matthew’s gospel, too, when he calls out the nameless judge and instructs him to… first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s.

What are our logs? Where do we fall short of walking our talk. Let’s face it. We’re all hypocrites in some fashion. That doesn’t make us unique, it makes us human beings who are broken, who need the hope and the love that God graciously gives to heal and restore.

Last time I was with you, I spoke bravely about forgiveness. About how letting go of pain and hurt by forgiving someone can free your spirit.

Yes, I forgave my colleague. But I confess I find it enormously difficult to be near this person or even talk with them. Part of it is self-protection, I recognize that. I simply don’t want to be hurt again. But if I believe in the worth of all God’s children, can’t even talk to this person, than how am I not a hypocrite?

If I use my God-given talents and gifts only for the applause and place of honor, only for the regard of another person, how am I not a hypocrite.

Where are our hypocrisies? What is the log in your own eye? In each of your bulletins is a post-it note. Use it to call out yourself. What can you change? What can you let the Spirit reform in you to lessen your own hypocrisy?

And how do we bring these lessons to public life, not just religious life? We’ve been watching the Occupy Wall Street movement sweep across this country and the world. The protestors have pointed to hypocrisy in our leaders and our business community. And whether you agree with their methods or not, I think we know deep down that our leaders don’t serve us, as they should, but the interests of those who can pay to have them re-elected. And our business community, our insurance companies, our banks – few of them serve us, but their own interests.

Where has that sense of responsibility for one another, the love of neighbor we’ve been commanded to have, where have those gone? And what’s left in their place?

It’s a betrayal of our trust – and isn’t that how the new community of Christians felt? Their trust had been betrayed by the elements of their culture and society. Just as we experience today.

So – where does this all leave us? I think it’s important to realize we can become victims of our own weakness or pride. Both hold us back. Neither suits God’s purpose or the progress of God’s reign here on earth. We need to find the antidote for hypocrisy. And as with God, the antidote is simple – we must rely on God’s grace.

Grace is not earned. It is foreign to us who work every day to earn a living, earn respect, even earn love. Grace is a gift freely given by God. And God, in Matthew’s gospel, forgives infinitely. Jesus also forgives: he forgives denial, cowardice, and doubt. Jesus, and God, keep loving and loving, despite all our failings and blemishes. The burden Jesus asks us to carry is nowhere near as heavy as the burden of hypocrisy we’ve been carrying. It’s now where near as heavy as the burden we place on ourselves to be praised by others.

Come to me, Jesus says, and I will give you rest. Acknowledge your burdens and let them go.