Water and Grace

The people are whispering about John. "Is he the one? Is this the Christ we've been looking for?"

John answers in very strong terms. He is not the one. In fact, the One will be so incomparably greater than John that John will not even be worthy to untie the strap of his sandal. John has only baptized with water but the One who is coming will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. He will separate the wheat from the chaff and burn the chaff with unquenchable fire. 

These are images of judgment but it is judgment for the purpose of refinement and purification, not mere destruction. John is proclaiming that the One who comes after him will purify Israel. He will be the refiner's fire spoken of in Malachi. He will purge Israel of its corruption. He will baptize, not merely with water, but with God's own Holy Spirit thus making real holiness possible. 

Shortly after John's proclamation of the One, Jesus appears on the scene. After having been baptized by John, the heavens are opened, the Holy Spirit descends on Jesus, and a voice from heaven proclaims "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased." The first phrase this voice speaks is supplied by Psalm 2:7. This Psalm spoke of the special relationship between God and God's anointed king; a relationship so unique in its closeness that God referred to the king as his son. Luke's point is fairly obvious. This is the One about whom John had been speaking. He is the Lord's anointed. 

But if you read Luke 3:15-22, you'll notice that the story doesn't run quite as smoothly as I've presented it here. There is an interruption between John's proclamation and his baptism of Jesus. V. 18-20 tell us that Herod had locked up John in prison because John had reproved Herod for his relationship with Herodias, his brother's wife. Chronologically speaking, these verses do not belong here. That is, this imprisonment of John obviously comes later. Why does Luke interrupt his story about Jesus' baptism by John with this aside about John's later fate? 

Luke is too polished a story teller for this to be an accident. This is not an "Oh, by the way, let me tell you what ends up happening to John while I'm thinking about it." Luke has placed this story about John's imprisonment here intentionally. It is a foreshadowing of what is to come. Luke intends for us to connect Jesus' baptism with John's imprisonment. Jesus is, indeed, the Lord's anointed but his path will be similar to John's. By being baptized by John, Jesus has essentially cast his lot with John. While John proclaims the very real difference between himself and Jesus, Jesus' baptism signifies what is the same. Like John, Jesus will be a prophetic voice at odds with the powers that be and his prophetic voice will earn him a fate similar to John's. 

I believe we are doing something similar when we are baptized into Christ. Just as Jesus identifies with John in his baptism, I believe we are identifying with Jesus in our own baptism. We confess that this Jesus is the Lord's Christ, the one who is filled with the Holy Spirit, the one who can refine us and baptize us with the Holy Spirit. And in making that confession, we also confess that we know where this path leads; that this journey must go through the cross. There is no confessing Jesus as Lord without also confessing him as crucified. When we are baptized, we confess that we want to be identified with this Jesus, this crucified Messiah. We signify that we intend to join his movement toward the cross. 

This Sunday, we will baptize our youngest daughter just as we have our other two children. The sheer cuteness of a child only a few months old, the mundane simplicity of plain water poured from a pitcher into a waiting basin, the day to day grind it takes to raise a child, and the weekly repetitions and routines of frail, human attempts at worship all threaten to drown out the gravity of that moment when a parent chooses to baptize a child. For in that moment, we will be committing her to the way of Jesus and his kingdom and, in so doing, we acknowledge that we are setting her feet - those weak and helpless feet of our precious baby girl, feet not yet able to support the weight of her own body - along a path that must eventually bear the weight of a cross. If that seems a painfully stark contrast, I mean for it to be. Far too often we forget - I forget - what it means to call ourselves both parents and disciples of Jesus. When we baptize Esther, we confess that she is on loan to us. That she is God's first and ours second. That we are only stewards. As such, it is not our task to make her happy or successful. It is to reveal to her the way of the crucified messiah by continually walking that path toward the cross ourselves. 

Of course, there will be a day (and many after that initial one) when Esther will choose or reject this path for herself. Jess and I will not always be able to make this confession on her behalf as we do now. However, we baptize her now believing that long before we ever chose to walk this cross-shaped path, Christ walked it on our behalf. Before Christ called us to identify with his suffering, he identified with us in our suffering. The Son of God cast his lot with us human beings choosing to have his fate bound to ours, his divinity bound to our flesh. It is only possible for us to choose him because he first chose us. That is why Esther can be baptized into the Body of Christ before she is even old enough to be aware of her own body. God has already chosen her - just as he chose all of us - by his grace, apart from any of our own doing. We will baptize our daughter because it is among our deepest of hopes that Esther will walk in that grace for all of her days. 

Burn Out Bright

"Wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, "Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?" Herod gathered all of the religious experts and scholars to find out where this king might be. Their answer comes from Micah 5:2

"And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel."  

So Herod sends the wise men on their way to Bethlehem. Upon finding Jesus, they fall down and worship him. Jesus is the King of the Jews for whom the wise men were looking. He is the mighty ruler spoken of by the prophet Micah who would deliver his people.

But there is more to Matthew's story. Without mentioning it specifically, Matthew tells the story of the wise men in a way reminiscent of next Sunday's Old Testament reading, Isaiah 60. Similar to the passage from Micah, this chapter from Isaiah speaks of Israel's deliverance. The prophet says to Israel:

"Arise, shine, for you light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will rise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising."

It's that last verse which is especially interesting for the story of the Magi in Matthew. Isaiah 60 envisions a day when Israel's deliverance will be so complete that not only will it stand prosperous and secure but it will also be like a beacon of light to which all the others kings and nations will be drawn. V. 5-6 read:

"the wealth of the nations shall come to you...They shall bring gold and frankincense and shall bring good news, the praises of the Lord."

Matthew tells a story in which gentile, pagan kings are drawn to a shining light over Israel. They bring with them gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The wealth of the nations has been symbolically brought into Israel. Thus Matthew shows us that Jesus is not only the King of the Jews who will deliver Israel. He is also the king who will complete Isaiah's vision of a day when all the nations of the earth will come to the God of Israel.

This is good news. The best of news. There's just one problem. There is already a king in Israel. His name is Herod and he is not interested in giving up his power to a toddler. Quite to the contrary, he is so set on maintaining his power that he will use it to murder every male child under the age of two in Bethlehem.

This Sunday is the day known as Epiphany and begins the season by the same name. Epiphany is a season for contemplating the kingdom of Christ. It is appropriate then that it begins with the story of the wise men visiting Jesus for there may be no other story more fitting for contrasting the nature of Christ's kingdom with the kingdom of this world. Matthew proclaims to us without hesitation that Jesus is a king.... The King. But he also shows us in his presentation of Jesus that this king and his kingdom are unlike any other. Whereas the Herod's of the world build their kingdom on the use of force and power, Jesus' kingdom is one of humility and vulnerability. Herod's kingdom holds all the swords. Jesus' kingdom holds only a flight to Egypt and the promise of a cross.

I feel this is a message I repeat a lot. It seems to come up so much in my preaching that I often wonder if my congregation grows tired of hearing it. When I come to a passage of Scripture like this one, where the weakness and vulnerability of Jesus and his kingdom as compared to the kingdoms of this world is on display, I often go out of my way to look for another theme, something else, something new to say. And yet I can't seem to escape it. Perhaps if it is a message that Scripture finds worthy of repetition then it is one that bears repeating in my preaching.

I imagine most of us don't see ourselves as being in much danger of being like Herod. There is, undoubtedly, an enormous difference between the murderous ways of Herod and the ways we practice church. But that doesn't mean we haven't bought into the basic premise of his rule, the premise of gaining and maintaining power, the idea that the goal of our existence as a church is to constantly expand our influence. We often assume, along with every other power structure in the world, that bigger is better.

I believe Christ calls us to something different from that way of thinking and that his kingdom is founded on different principles. Rather than being a kingdom which is concerned with perpetuating its own existence and rule, I believe Christ's kingdom is one that comes into being only by constantly giving itself away. It is a kingdom that arises out of the little, otherwise insignificant town of Bethlehem in the midst of a peasant family and humble conditions. It is one that is often painfully vulnerable to the murderous forces in our world. But it is also one that, in all of its vulnerability, is a light which will draw all the nations of the world into the worship of its King.

That light burns brightest, not when we insist on its own preservation, but when we imitate a savior "who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness and being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross."

Necessity

Luke 2:41-52 is the only story of Jesus as an older child in any of the four canonical gospels. Neither Mark nor John tell us anything of Jesus’ life prior to his public ministry. After the birth narrative and the visit from the Magi, Matthew skips from the flight to and return from Egypt to the ministry of John the Baptist. In Luke, only a brief summary statement about Jesus’ growth and this story of Jesus at the age of 12 intervene between Jesus’ infancy and his ministry as an adult.

It seems that in telling this story of Jesus in the temple at a young age, Luke is giving us an indication of the greatness that is to come in the story of Jesus’ life. It was a common tactic in Greco-Roman literature of the first century to narrate some remarkable story from a hero’s early life that was an indication of the great things they would later accomplish. To some degree, this is not uncommon in the biographies of our own day as well. If we are going to hear the stories of successful people, we often want to know about their “roots”. Where did they come from? What made them who they are? Were there signs of their success early on?

This episode serves a similar function in Luke’s gospel. We learn that Jesus comes from a pious and devout family for they journey to Jerusalem for the Passover festival every year. But we also learn that Jesus is not merely the typical product of a devout family. At only 12 years old, Jesus is found sitting among the teachers in the temple, listening to them and asking questions that cause all those who hear him to be amazed at his understanding. Clearly, Luke wishes us to see that Jesus is maturing into one who can fulfill the remarkable promises that surrounded his birth.

What may be just as remarkable, however, is the restraint with which Luke accomplishes this. Although this is the only story of Jesus’ childhood in the canonical gospels, there are a number of stories about Jesus’ childhood in the many writings about his life not included in our Scripture. These other writings were deemed to not be faithful witnesses to Jesus and so were not included in the Christian canon of Scripture. Nevertheless, they make for an interesting comparison since most of them include stories which are almost comical in their miraculous content. In one a young Jesus molds doves from the mud he is playing in and then breathes on them to bring them to life. In another a childhood playmate stomps through the puddles in which Jesus is playing with the result that Jesus strikes him dead but will later raise him back to life after being reprimanded by Joseph. In yet another it is not Jesus’ power but his superior intellect which is on display when he lectures the tutor Joseph has hired for me him about how little he knows.

Compare those stories with the one Luke tells. This story from Luke’s gospel contains no miracles or signs. And while the people do marvel at Jesus’ wisdom, Luke says that he was listening and asking questions, not lecturing anyone. Although Jesus is presented as remarkable, the story ends with his submissive obedience to his parents. In contrast to the overly dramatic childhood stories of the non-canonical gospels, Luke’s presentation of 12 year old Jesus is almost mundane.

But there is power in this more subtle presentation of Jesus for it communicates what is most remarkable about him.  When Mary finally finds Jesus, she asks “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” Jesus responds by saying “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” The word translated as “must” is the Greek word dei; a word that communicates necessity. There is a driving necessity in Jesus’ life to be about his father’s work and it is this necessity; this commitment to his Father’s will, more so than even his miracles or his wisdom, which makes him remarkable. This overwhelming necessity in Jesus’ life to do his Father’s will is the one thing we must not miss about Jesus in this passage of Scripture.

But there is something else we might notice here as well. Often we think of faith and family as two things that go hand in hand; one reinforcing the other. In fact, “family values” are sometimes spoken of in our culture as if they were completely interchangeable with Christian faith. In this passage, we certainly see that Jesus’ family is instrumental in shaping his own obedience to God. But we also see that Jesus’ obedience puts a strain on his family. Mary is clearly upset with Jesus when she finally finds him and Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph fail to understand what Jesus said to them about being in his Father’s house. Later in the gospels, Jesus speaks of his kingdom dividing families and in another place he declares his disciples to be his brothers and sisters over and above his actual mother and siblings. As important as family is, even as important as it is in the formation of faith, Jesus refuses to allow it to detract from the one overwhelming necessity of his life.

In our lives today, family continues to be important. For many people, it is the primary means of discipleship in their life. Godly parents and grandparents can often do much more to disciple children than a pastor or Sunday School teacher ever could in the one or two hours we get each week. But family values are not faith and having a happy and healthy family is not the same thing as being about our Father’s work in this world. The kingdom that Jesus proclaims relativizes every other allegiance in our lives; including our allegiance to our family. When we are baptized, we become a part of the family of God first and our biological family second. When we are plunged beneath those waters, we become a part of a people whose life consists of a driving necessity to be about our Father’s work and it is that necessity which defines us as a people. 

With Us To Emmaus

Two disciples are journeying from Jerusalem to the town of Emmaus. On the way, they discuss the terrible things that have happened in recent days. They have seen the one they thought was Israel's messiah handed over to the Romans; beaten, and crucified by the very powers they thought he would defeat. They have seen their hopes and dreams for God's redemptive work in the world nailed to a cross and buried in the ground.

One who appears to them as a stranger begins to journey with them and asks what they are discussing. They are surprised by this question for everyone knows what happened in Jerusalem. They speak of Jesus' death as one of those incidents where people are saying "Did you hear about..." and they don't have to finish the sentence because there is only one tragic event about which everyone is talking and of which they are trying to make sense. Nevertheless, the two disciples inform their fellow traveler about Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word and deed. You can hear their pain and disappointment bleeding through the pages of Luke's gospel. "But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel."

"We had hoped..."

Had. Past Tense. No longer. There is no hope now. Jesus is dead. For all his power, he was unable to prevent this tragedy of all tragedies. When his followers needed a miracle most, Jesus failed to come through.

This stranger who journeys with them has a different perspective. They thought the Messiah was one who would prevent these terrible things from happening. He points them to Scripture they had never considered to be speaking about the Messiah. He argues that rather than being a conquering warrior the Messiah was always meant to be a servant who would suffer with those who are hurting; one who would win his victory by weakness rather than strength.

As the three travelers near the village, the two disciples urge their new traveling companion to stay with them. He agrees and they sit down at table together. There, he blesses the bread, breaks it, and gives it to them. It is only then, in this act of hospitality, this table fellowship, and the breaking of the bread, that they realize it has been Jesus himself who has been journeying with them all along.

This is not the text from which I had planned to preach this Sunday. It is one more often associated with Easter than the Sunday before Christmas. Nevertheless, I find it to be an appropriate word for the final Sunday of Advent. For in this season we remember that Christ has come but that his kingdom is not yet. In Advent, we are reminded that Jesus was the long-awaited prophet, mighty in word and deed. But we are also reminded that we are still waiting. That our hope has not yet been fulfilled. That our world is far from being filled with the peace and justice of God's reign.

Most of the Christian life is walked on that road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We've placed our trust in Jesus. We've pinned our hopes for God's redemptive purposes in the world on Jesus. We've confessed that he was the one who could deliver our world. But then a 20 year old man walks into a school and takes the lives of 20 children and 6 adults after killing his own mother. And our confession threatens to become past tense. We had hoped that he was the one but what can stand up against this kind of evil? This kind of brokenness? We thought Jesus was supposed to put a stop to precisely this kind of madness. If in all of God's power and might, he failed to act in this most critical of times, this time when his intervention was needed most, this time when 6 and 7 years old were crying out to him for help, then perhaps he does not deserve our hope, our trust, or our faith. Perhaps we are best served by giving up on the idea that this world can ever change.

There are no answers in these times. There are no explanations that can make things better. Explanations don't bring children back from the dead.

But I do believe that in the midst of our darkest tragedies, Jesus walks that road from Jerusalem to Emmaus with us. I believe that when it seems that God is dead and powerless, he is actually walking right beside us. In all likelihood, we will not be able to see that it is Jesus who walks with us. The pain and tragedy are real; blindingly real. But Jesus isn't put off by our inability to see him. He keeps walking with us. He lovingly listens as we tell him about the tragedy, about why we've lost all hope and faith in him. And he keeps walking with us. He tries to show us that God is one who suffers with those who suffer. And he keeps walking with us.

And because he keeps walking with us, I do not believe that our blindness to his presence will last forever. If, in the time of our deepest tragedy, the time when we question our hope for God's redemption of our world, we can manage to show hospitality to a stranger...  If we can continue to enjoy table fellowship together... If, despite all the reasons to give up hope, we can continue to break bread together then our eyes will eventually be opened and we will realize that Jesus is far from dead. He has, in fact, been traveling with us all along. And though we may not be able to say it now, we will eventually be able to say of this time "Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked with us on the road?" even when we didn't recognize the one who spoke with us.

Then we will be a people who proclaim an Easter hope in a Good Friday world. Not because everything is OK. Not because there is no tragedy. Not because we are blindly optimistic. But because the resurrected Jesus, the God who suffers with the suffering, walks with us. Because God's love for us is so great that he took on our flesh; the weak and vulnerable flesh of Charlotte, Daniel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Madeleine, Catherine, Chase, James, Jesse, Grace, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Benjamin, Avielle, and Allison. Because death is not the end of God's redemptive purposes in the world. Because he is present with us in the breaking of the bread until his kingdom comes.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Preparing the Way in a Broken World

In the third chapter of his gospel, Luke introduces John the baptist as a prophet. He does so by giving him the literary introduction typical of prophets. Consider the following:

"The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzzah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah." Isaiah 1:1

"On the fifth day of the month (it was the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin), the word of the Lord came to Ezekiel, the son of Buzi, in the land of the Chaldeans by the Chebar canal..." Ezekiel 1:2

"The word of the Lord that came to Micah of Moresheth in the days of Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah, which he saw concerning Samaria and Jerusalem." Micah 1:1

These are only a few of the introductions of the Old Testament prophets but they are enough to show that Luke is doing the same thing for John when he says:

"In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness."

Not only does Luke give John a prophetic introduction. We also see in the next few verses that John does what prophets do; he calls Israel to repentance. Clearly, Luke wants us to see John as speaking on behalf of God in the same way that Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the other prophets had done before him.

In addition to letting us know that John was a prophet, this prophetic introduction, like its Old Testament counterparts, also locates John's prophetic word in history. More than merely giving us a date for John's ministry (which any commentator will tell you it actually doesn't do all that well), it tells us something about the world in which this word from God came to John. It tells us that John ministers in a world where Rome reigns supreme, its power overwhelming and unquestionable. It is also a world in which the largely despised Herod Antipas serves as an underling of Roman power. In other words, it tells us that, not unlike the days of Israel's earlier prophets, Israel finds itself under the thumb of foreign rule. I imagine that for a first century audience the simple mention of the names of these rulers would have been a reminder of all they felt was wrong with their world.

In the midst of these hopelessly corrupt politics, the word of God came to John in the wilderness. This, I think, is an enormously important statement by Luke in its own right. That even as the Caesars and Pilates and Herods of the world seem to hold all the power, God still speaks. And of all places, God speaks not in the courts of rulers, the halls of power, or even in the religious spaces of temples but in the wilderness. Neither is John's message a profound one; a simple baptism signifying repentance leading to the forgiveness of sins. But Luke tells us that this is how God speaks.

Furthermore, the word that God speaks through John is one of deliverance from exile. Luke tells us that this is what was written about in the prophet Isaiah when he said:

"The voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."

These words come from Isaiah 40:3-5, verses which proclaimed the end of Israel's exile in Babylon. By quoting them here, Luke is letting us know that John prepares the way for the Lord who will bring about the end of Israel's exile.

It goes without saying that although we believe John's proclamation that Jesus is the one who has come to end our exile, that end has not yet come in its entirety. We still live in a world of Caesars, Pilates, and Herods though they go by different names. Luke teaches us that in all the corruption and complexity of the politics of our world,  God still speaks and God's kingdom will still come. We are a people who are called to prepare the way for our coming Lord by our own repentance leading to forgiveness.

With Power and Great Glory

Luke 21 is a mysterious and puzzling passage of Scripture - though perhaps we produce some of that puzzlement ourselves in the assumptions we bring to the text. Its talk of wars and destruction, famine and pestilence have caused countless Christians to speculate as to when the events described in this chapter might take place. Many modern Christians have assumed that the events referred to here are still future ones that will take place before Jesus returns. Consequently, many Christians have also spent a good bit of time trying to match up events of our own time with the events described in this chapter and others like it thereby predicting that the return of Jesus is near. This approach, however, is problematic for a number of reasons.

Perhaps the most important of those reasons is that Jesus himself warns against it in this very passage. The disciples ask Jesus when all these things will happen to which he replies:

"See that you are not led astray. For many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he!' and, 'The time is at hand!' Do no go after them." (v. 6)

This, combined with Jesus' admonition in Acts 1 that no one knows the time and date of Jesus' return, should be enough to put to rest every attempt by Christians to put together any kind of "End of the World" timetable or blueprint.

A second important facet of Jesus' discourse in this passage is that it is all ultimately a response to comments about the temple. The chapter opens with the story of a poor widow putting two copper coins into the temple offering and Jesus commenting that she has given more than all the rest because she has given all she had. Afterward, some of those present are marveling at the temple in all its glory. The Jerusalem temple was indeed a building that would have inspired awe by ancient standards. It was both enormous in its construction and ornate in its craftsmanship. But rather than joining in their gawking over the temple, Jesus says:

"As for these things that you see, the days will come when there will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down."

This prophecy by Jesus was quite literally fulfilled in 70 A.D. when the Romans put down a Jewish insurrection and burned the temple to the ground in the process. Far from being a prediction about the future, much of what Jesus speaks about here takes place in the disciples' own lifetime. In fact, Luke makes a point of speaking about the disciples in Acts in a way that fulfills Jesus' words here. In v. 12-14 Jesus says:

"But before all this they will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors for my name's sake. This will be your opportunity to bear witness. Settle it therefore in your minds not to meditate beforehand how to answer, for I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict."

In Acts 4, Luke tells the story of Peter and John being arrested and brought before the religious leaders because they have been preaching in the name of Jesus. When they are given the chance to defend themselves, Peter is filled with the Holy Spirit and speaks eloquently about Jesus. When the religious leaders heard Peter's speech they are astonished that some with education could speak as Peter has just done. Furthermore, seeing the formerly crippled man that Peter had just healed standing next to them, the council is unable to speak in opposition to what Peter has just said. Jesus' words in Luke 21 are fulfilled in Peter.

Thirdly, it is important to recognize the kind of literature we are dealing with in this passage. Like its similar sounding counterparts in Daniel and Revelation, this passage is an example of apocalyptic literature. The Greek word from which this literature derives its name means to reveal or uncover. The purpose of apocalyptic literature is to pull back the curtain of everyday, visible reality and expose the greater reality that easily remains unseen. So in Revelation, for example, John portrays seemingly harmless compromise with the Roman Empire as nothing short of keeping company with a Great Harlot who derives her seductive power from the unholy psuedo-trinity of false prophet, satanic beast, and devouring dragon. Likewise, Jesus is uncovering an important reality for his disciples when in v.27 he describes himself as the Son of Man described in Daniel 7. A few verses from that chapter of Daniel will suffice to show why that would be a reassuring image for those who count themselves followers of Jesus.

"I saw in the night visions, and behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man, and he came to the Ancient of Days and was presented before him. And to him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away; and his kingdom one that shall not be destroyed." Daniel 7:13-14

In other words, in the midst of all this tragedy, when things seem most hopeless, Jesus' disciples are still to raise their heads and their hopes high because their redemption is near. Even as nation rises up against nation, Jesus is the one to whom dominion over all the nations has been given. Whatever chaos the powers that be may cause, Jesus is the one true power who reigns supreme.

In some ways, this may seem an odd message for this time of year. We would rather think of holiday cheer and a cute baby boy born in a manger. But the gospels will not let us forget that the baby boy in the manger is the one who rules the nations. Furthermore, this is an appropriate word for the first Sunday of Advent for it is the coming of Christ and his kingdom which is our hope. As Christians, there is a certain sense in which we are always living in a season of advent because it is Christ's cosmic reign of peace and justice which we eagerly anticipate even as we live in a world of wars and rumors of wars. We are always a people who are waiting, a people leaning into the future, living into the day when the Son of Man will come in the clouds with power and great glory. May His kingdom come.

A Different Kind of Fiscal Cliff

Last week, I wrote about some of the surprising ways in which Leviticus calls us to love our neighbor. Leviticus 25 is another one of those somewhat surprising ways. Israel has already been commanded to keep a Sabbath rest every seventh day. Now God declares that the land is to have a Sabbath as well - every seventh year. In that year, the people of Israel were to leave the land uncultivated, allowing it to grow wild. It is easy to see how this would have been a remarkable practice of trust in Yahweh for the people of Israel - just imagine taking a whole year off of work and trusting God to provide in that year. God promised that if Israel kept this command that the land would produce enough surplus in the sixth year in order to provide throughout the scarcity of the seventh year. Israel was to trust God in the promised land just as they had to trust Yahweh to provide during their wilderness wandering.

But the commandment becomes even more exceptional. In addition to leaving the ground fallow every seventh year, Israel was also to celebrate Jubilee every 50th year. As a part of this celebration, Israel was commanded to proclaim liberty throughout the land; slaves were released from their slavery and property was returned to its original owner. It seems the year of Jubilee was a way of maintaining some level of economic equality within Israel. In other words, it was acknowledged that some Israelites might grow wealthier and others poorer and that in itself is not condemned. However, it seems there was also an acknowledgement that if left unchecked this disparity of wealth could become to great and therefore unjust. As a result, every 50th year was to serve as a "leveling of the playing field". If someone had grown so poor that they had to sell their property or sell themselves or a family member into slavery, then on the 50th year they or their family member or their land were to be released. God specifically states that land was not to be sold into perpetuity because the land ultimately belonged to God (v. 23). As such, God would not allow the land to be used to accumulate a wealth so great that it was crushing one's neighbor. There had to be limit on how much one could profit while another suffered.

This had to be one of the most radical of all of Israel's laws (so radical, in fact, that many scholars question whether or not it was ever actually practiced in Israel). If it is hard to imagine on an individual level what would happen if one intentionally went without work for a year trusting God to provide then it is even more difficult to imagine the kind of large scale economic restructuring that would take place in a society where every land-debt was forgiven and every slave released on one day. How would our own society be transformed if every debt was forgiven every 50 years? (To his credit, Pope John Paul II called for the year 2000 to be a year of Jubilee, a call which went largely unanswered by the corporations and nations of the world. However, there has been some discussion since then about the wealthier nations of the world forgiving the overwhelming debts owed by poorer nations.)

Isaiah 61 uses this radical language to describe Israel's own return from exile. The prophet declares:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor ; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor..."

 "To proclaim liberty" is language lifted right out of Leviticus 25. In his commentary on Isaiah, Walter Brueggemann argues that "the year of the Lord's favor" is also an allusion to the year of Jubilee. Isaiah uses this language of Jubilee to proclaim God's deliverance of Israel. The poor, brokenhearted captives described in this passage are God's own people who have been exiled from their homes by the nation of Babylon. God is, in effect, declaring a year of Jubilee through the prophet Isaiah for Israel itself by proclaiming that the debt of Israel's sins have been canceled, that they will be released from their captivity, and that they will return to the land God gave them. The God who commanded Israel to practice Jubilee is now enacting Jubilee on their behalf.

Jesus quotes these words from Isaiah in Luke 4. In fact, they are programmatic for the way Luke will go about portraying Jesus in his gospel. Bringing good news to the poor, binding up the brokenhearted, and proclaiming liberty to those held captive by disease, disability, ritual impurity, and prejudice are precisely the kind of things we see Jesus doing in the gospel of Luke. After reading from the scroll in the synagogue, Jesus hands its back to the attendant and sits down - the position from which someone would typically expound on the Scripture just read. Jesus' only words are "Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

Initially, the people marvel at Jesus' words. When Jesus read this, the people of Israel lived in their own land so they were not in exile in the traditional sense. However, they lived in their land under the rule of Rome. As such, many Jews considered themselves to be living in exile and looked for God to deliver them from that exile again just as God had in the days of Isaiah. So the synagogue audience is excited because Jesus has just proclaimed that Israel's return from exile is close at hand. Furthermore, Jesus' makes this proclamation in his hometown of Nazareth. Surely, the people assume, if the messiah who accomplishes the return from exile is from their very own town then they stand to find themselves at the head of the victory parade.

In fact, Jesus sums up those assumptions well when he says:

"Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, 'Physician heal yourself.' What we have heard you did in Capernaum, do here in your hometown as well."

 But Jesus then undercuts those assumptions when he says:

And he said, “Truly, I say to you, no prophet is acceptable in his hometown. But in truth, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the heavens were shut up three years and six months, and a great famine came over all the land, and Elijah was sent to none of them but only to Zarephath, in the land of Sidon, to a woman who was a widow. And there were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.”

Not only does Jesus remind them that no prophet is ever accepted in his own town. Jesus also cites two instances of prophetic ministry in which gentiles receive God's deliverance while Israel does not. In other words, Jesus declares that his promise of Jubilee and return from exile is not for Israel alone but for non-Jews as well. The audience which first responded to Jesus' message so favorably now becomes so angry that they try to push him off a cliff.

I find it fascinating that Luke chooses to portray Jesus' proclamation of salvation in the economic language of Jubilee - to say that the salvation Jesus brings is akin to an emancipation proclamation and a nation-wide mortgage burning ceremony all rolled into one. Like the audience in that synagogue, our response to such a revolutionary message will probably be largely determined by where we stand. So long as we think we are the ones having our debts canceled then we welcome the word of liberation. When we find out that some one else might receive the same grace, we question this message or perhaps even become angry. Or to put it in terms of the wealthiest Christians who have ever inhabited the face of the earth, so long as Jesus' message of liberation is about canceling our spiritual debts we are happy to accept it. But what if Jesus' proclamation of Jubilee is also a call to restructure the economic systems which benefit us but lead to the oppression of others? What if praying for the forgiveness of our own spiritual debts entails our forgiving of all kinds of debts on behalf of others?

Will we find the nearest cliff?

Intimacy, Mary, and Uninvited Guests

The birth of a child is typically a supremely intimate and family oriented event.  You can almost imagine concentric circles surrounding the birth of a child that indicate just how close those in each circle are to the new born child.  Of course, the first circle includes really only the child and mother, as they have already been connected for months but very close to this circle is the one that also includes the father.  Then the next circle might include siblings of the new born child and proud grandparents.  In many instances, these may be followed by aunts and uncles and other extended family.  It is usually only after this that very close friends of the family are allowed to see the child.  Of course, not every birth works out just this way.  The birth of my own children did not since we are so far from so much of our family.  But even in the endless variations on this scenario, there is a strong sense that one must be invited into this intimate circle to see this new life and it would be considered very odd if a mere acquaintance showed up uninvited during this intimate family occasion.

Enter the shepherds.  Can you imagine?!  You've just welcomed your first child into the world, you are still gazing into the child's eyes, amazed at the wonder of this new life.  You are still adjusting to this new reality that has been gifted to you.  You want nothing other than to remain undisturbed, memorizing every feature of this child's face, responding to every little movement or noise.  This is a still, quiet moment; peaceful in the deepest sense of that word.  And all of a sudden a gang of smelly shepherds....SHEPHERDS!... straight from the field bust in and ruin the moment.  And they are loud!  They won't stop going on about some vision they've seen.  They just keep yammering about how amazing it is!  Then they come over and want to see the child; with their nasty, been working with animals all night hands and their ragged, dirty clothes, they want to see YOUR BABY; your weak, precious, helpless, fragile, new born baby.  As if that's not enough, they start telling YOU how great YOUR new kid is going to be.  THE AUDACITY!  "I know how great he is, he's MY kid after all, thank you very much."  Then they leave just as noisily as they came, still talking about the angels they saw and how excited they are about the birth of your child.

These shepherds are outsiders.  They don't belong here.  Don't they know they aren't part of the family?  Don't they know they weren't invited?  They've broken into a circle far more intimate than is their place.

But rather than rejecting the shepherds and having Joseph send them away, "Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart."

The truth is this was not the first and would not be the last time that someone would speak to Mary about her son in this way.  Before Jesus was born, Mary's relative Elizabeth said "Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb!".  Upon Jesus' presentation in the Temple, Simeon tells Mary "this child is appointed for the falling and rising of many in Israel."  The same day, the prophetess Anna speaks about Jesus to those who were waiting for the redemption of Israel.  One would normally assume that a mother is the expert on her own children but apparently there is much that Mary needs to hear about her son from others that barely know him.

In many ways, this is a foreshadowing of a larger theme that runs throughout the Gospel of Luke.  Repeatedly, those we would not expect to find in those inner circles of intimacy with Jesus and his kingdom are precisely the ones who come bursting in and Jesus does not turn them away.  In the parable of the banquet, those who were invited to the party refuse to come, so the lame, blind, and crippled are invited in their place.  In the parable of the good Samaritan, the priest and the Levite who should be examples of holiness make their way to the other side of the road avoiding the man in need while a Samaritan (read: hated outsider) acts with the kind of compassion Jesus calls neighborly.  In the parable of the prodigal son, it is the younger son who has lived foolishly and squandered his father's wealth whose return is celebrated in love while his older brother stands out in the field, filled with contempt.  When Jesus heals ten lepers, it is only (yet another hated) Samaritan who returns to give thanks for what Jesus has done for him.  This scenario plays out so frequently in the Gospel of Luke that one could argue these should not even be seen as anomalies or exceptions but the rule itself.  Its not that a few outsiders happened to sneak in with the rest by accident but that the very way of God's kingdom is to make the outsider an insider.  This is what grace is, after all; finding ourselves in a far more intimate circle than we deserve.

This should humble us in a couple of ways.  First, we should be reminded of what we easily forget after 2000 years of Christianity; that as gentiles, we are all outsiders in the story of Jesus.  We are the Samaritan, the younger son, the shepherds.  We do not belong in this very Jewish story.  We are only a part of this family because Jesus has graciously made room for us in his circle.

But now that the grace of Christ has provided a way in for us, we should remember a second thing; that just because we are now "in" doesn't mean that this kingdom has stopped being for those who are "out".  To put it frankly, the temptation for any of us who have been Christians for very long is to see ourselves as closer to Jesus than others who are newer at church or don't do all the pious things we do or etc, etc.  Then the next temptation is to let them know it; to let them know, however subtly, that we are spiritually superior, that they really don't belong in this intimate circle with Jesus like we do, and that they need to get in line and pay their dues before they can be a part of this family.  But if Luke is right about Jesus and his kingdom, it would seem the exact opposite is true.  It is the paradox of this kingdom that we find ourselves closest to Jesus when we are closest to those who seem furthest from him.

So we find once again that Mary is a superb model for us of what it means to participate in this kingdom.  In a very significant sense we can say that no one has ever been closer, more intimate with Jesus than Mary.  There is no human being who has a more rightful claim to being in the inner-most circle with Jesus than his own mother, no one who can presume to know Jesus better.  Yet when lowly shepherds who know nothing of her or her family or her new born boy show up uninvited in her first intimate moments with her son, she does not shew them away but listens to the message they claim was spoken by angels and treasures up their words, pondering them in her heart.

Of course, most churches today don't shew away visitors.  But many do a pretty good job of letting them know where they stand.  We greet people with an enthusiastic welcome, inviting them back next week and all is great until they do something a little different that intrudes on our intimate time with Jesus and changes what has made this place comfortable for us.  Then we let them know (often subtly and unintentionally but sometimes bluntly) that this this is our church, that we are the ones who know how things are done around here, that we are the ones with the gospel answers, and they can conform or leave.  What if instead we recognized that Jesus wants us to make room for them (which may make things a little less comfortable for us) just as Jesus made room for us?  What if we considered that they might be able to tell us something about Jesus just as those shepherds did for Mary?  Maybe rather than seeing them as intruding on our intimate time with Jesus we could treasure them, not merely as an addition to our church but as people, and ponder what it is that Jesus might be teaching us through them.

From Jerusalem to Emmaus

Two disciples of Jesus journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus, their deepest hopes and dreams having been crushed.

We use that word hope a lot.  We hope someone gets better soon.  We hope our favorite sports team wins.  We hope the store has what we are looking for or that maybe it will even be on sale.  And so, we easily forget what it is to really hope for something, to believe in something so much that we commit ourselves to it.

That is what these disciples had done.  They had pinned all their hopes on Jesus.  These were hopes that had been passed down over generations, promises from long ago.  These were the hopes of not only individuals but of an entire people.  The kind of hope that these disciples had in Jesus stemmed from events that were hundreds of years old.  They were rooted in what God had done for Israel so long ago and so many times over.  God delivered the people from their slavery in Egypt through Moses by conquering Pharaoh and his army at the Red Sea.  God had delivered the people into the promise land with Joshua at the head of Israel's armies.  God had raised up judges and kings to lead them in their time of need.  And God had delivered the people when they found themselves in exile in a foreign land.  God had always raised up a leader to deliver Israel in its time of need.

Now many in Israel believed that they were in need of deliverance once again, this time from Rome and its powerful army and its pagan religions.  And here came Jesus, doing these incredible things, healing, casting out demons, raising the dead, talking about God in a way that no one else could.  As these disciples on the way to Emmaus say "He was a prophet mighty in word and deed".  So they put their faith in him.  They pinned all their hopes and the hopes of their people on him.  They committed their lives to him, followed his teaching, believing that he was the one who could get the job done.  This is what they mean when they "But we were hoping that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel."

"We were hoping..." implying that they no longer hold that hope.   Indeed, how could they?  It would be foolish to hold such a hope.  Perhaps we are even to imagine that these disciples are making this journey away from Jerusalem because they are fearful.  Jesus, their leader, had been crucified and buried in a tomb.  He had been defeated just like all the other pretenders, all the others who had claimed to be Israel's deliverer but had just ended up executed by Rome's enormous power.  Maybe the Roman officials would come after Jesus' followers next.

No, there was no hoping now.  There was only pain, confusion, and fear.   I can almost imagine the conversation that these two disciples must have been having on their way out of Jerusalem.  "How could we have been so stupid?  We were so sure that he was the one.  But clearly we were deceived."  That is, after all, what the cross meant.  At this point, there was no thought on the part of Jesus' disciples that his suffering was somehow redemptive or that it could bring salvation.  No, the cross meant unquestionably, undeniably that Jesus had NOT brought salvation, that he had failed in his mission as messiah.  Jesus was dead and Israel remained in need of deliverance, in need of restoration.  In addition to all this, the disciples had now heard reports that Jesus' body was missing; that it was no longer in the tomb where it had been laid.  And so on this journey to the town of Emmaus they must have wondered why someone would bother to steal Jesus' dead body from the tomb.  This is a journey filled with questions and grief.  It is a journey in the absence of hope.

Then Jesus shows up.  At first, these two disciples mysteriously fail to recognize him.  In fact, when Jesus asks what they are discussing they take Jesus to be somewhat ignorant, asking him "Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem and unaware of the things which have have happened here in these days?"  These disciples go on tell the one in whom they had placed all their hope about how now all their hope is lost.  Jesus is not put off by their blindness or misunderstanding.  Instead, he graciously continues to journey with them and he explains to them from the scriptures how this had been a part of God's plan all along.  Jesus explains to them that his death was not his defeat but the beginning of his victory.

The disciples still do not seem to recognize Jesus but they invite this one they see as a stranger to stay with them for the night rather than traveling on by himself.  Jesus agrees and shares a meal with them.  It is only when Jesus breaks the bread to share at the meal, much as he had done at his last meal with the disciples and as he had done when he fed the crowds from only a few loaves and few fish, that they suddenly recognize who it is that has been traveling with them all along.  Upon this revelation on the part of the disciples, Jesus vanishes from their sight but the disciples say "Were not our hearts burning within us while He was speaking to us on the road, while He was explaining the scriptures to us?" and they immediately get up and head back toward Jerusalem to share the good news that their hope is alive once again.

Perhaps you have been down that road to Emmaus yourself; the one filled with grief, pain, and confusion; that journey where it seems like all the hopes you ever had have been nailed to a cross and buried in a cold, stone tomb.  Certainly, it is a common journey in this world of ours where we are surrounded by death, violence, greed, poverty, brokenness, and pain.  To one degree or another, we must all walk that road.  And at some point we may even look around in all of that pain and confusion and ask ourselves "Where is God in all of this?"

But the truth is God has been walking right by our side all along, we only failed to see that it was him.  God is there in the bread and juice that we share together at the Lord's table.  God is there in the fellowship that we share with one another.  God is there in the simple acts of hospitality extended to a stranger.  But most importantly, God is there when we are journeying down a hopeless road with nothing but fear and and questions, God is there.

The hope that we have as Christians is not a naive one.  It is not a rose-colored glasses approach to our world that pretends there is no pain or suffering or that's it not important.  Our hope is one that says that pain and suffering are not the end; that death does not have the last word because there is a God who is more powerful than death.  We believe that our God and Father raised Jesus our Lord from the dead and that he will do the same for us.  We believe that our ultimate enemy, death, has been defeated and if death itself can't stand in God's way then its hard to imagine what can.

That is why we gather for worship Sunday after Sunday.  That is why we serve others and reach out to those we don't know with the love of God.  That is why we have committed ourselves to Jesus.  We have pinned all of our hopes on him because he has set our hearts on fire with his resurrection life.

Prosperity or Presence?

Passages of scripture like Psalm 91 make it easy to see how things like the "prosperity gospel" get started.  You know, the whole idea that if you pray hard enough then God will give you a luxury vehicle, perfect health, and a large house.  After all, the Psalmist says things like "no evil will befall you" and that God will command his angels so that you won't even strike your foot against a stone.  If Psalm 91 was the only part of the Bible we had, then we might conclude that those who are faithful to God never suffer any misfortune ever.

Of course, simple human experience teaches us that the faithful do indeed suffer and clearly Psalm 91 is not the only passage of scripture in the Bible.  Just like any other passage of scripture, we have to allow the words of Psalm 91 to be interpreted by the whole of scripture.  Are the words of Psalm 91 true?  Yes, I believe wholeheartedly that God is with and watches over those who make God their refuge.  I've seen too many instances of this in my own life and in the life of the Church to not believe it.  But Psalm 91 is not the whole picture.  We must understand the promises of Psalm 91 in light of everything else that is said in the Bible rather than creating out entire theology out of a single verse or passage.

In fact, anyone who isn't already convinced of this should consider the New Testament passage in which Psalm 91 is quoted.  In Luke 4:10-11, verses 11 and 12 of this Psalm are quoted by none other than the devil himself.  Satan is tempting Jesus to take short cuts in his messianic mission, a mission which Jesus knows will include suffering, and he uses scripture to do it.  If the devil can quote scripture to support his own evil purposes then surely we can recognize the fallibility of putting too much weight on any single verse or passage of scripture.

Even the words of Psalm 91 itself cause us to consider carefully the promises that are made there.  The final words of the Psalm read:

"He will call upon me and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble.  I will rescue him and honor him.  With a long life I will satisfy him and let him see my salvation."

The Psalmist assumes there will be trouble.  The promise is not that God will keep us from all trouble but that God will be with us in that trouble.  There is a promise that God will rescue and honor those who seek the Lord but perhaps for some the rescue will only come on the other side of death as it did for God's own Son.  The Bible and the Church's experience are filled with stories of God's protection and deliverance of his people but even as we re-tell those stories we must be ever mindful of the fact that God did not deliver his own Son from the pain and suffering of the cross.  But neither did the Father finally abandon Jesus.  He rescued Jesus when he seemed to be beyond the point of rescue; when he had already been laid in the tomb Jesus was raised to new life.  It is the resurrection which is the ultimate refuge that God provides.  It is not sheltering from every trouble or even from death itself but a promise that God will never abandon us and that death will not have the last word.

A New Moses and a New Exodus

In Luke 9:28-36, the passage normally referred to as the transfiguration (though Luke does not use that word as Matthew and Mark do), Jesus, Peter, James, and John go up on a mountain to pray. This should be our first clue that something important is about to happen since important things happen on mountains in the Bible. One especially important event in Israel's story took place on a mountain; the giving of the Law to Moses. Luke tells us that while Jesus was praying the appearance of his face became different and his clothing became white and gleaming. Moses, too, found that his face was radiant after he had received the ten commandments from God. Then we find out that Moses and Elijah, two of the greatest prophets of the Old Testament, show up and begin speaking with Jesus. Furthermore, their conversation with one another centers around the exodus (many translations have the word "departure" in v. 31 but the Greek word is the same one used to refer to God's deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt) which Jesus is about to accomplish in Jerusalem. At this point, Peter, James, and John awaken from the sleep that had overcome them. Peter, stumbling over his own excitement at what he sees, wants to hang on to this moment so he suggests that they build three tabernacles (again, some translations simply say "shelters" but the word is the same one used to refer to the tent that represented God's presence with Israel while Moses was their leader). Finally, a cloud envelops them much as it enveloped Moses on Mount Sinai and a voice speaks from the cloud saying "This is My Son, My Chosen One; listen to Him!" These are similar to the words spoken from heaven at Jesus' baptism only now the command "Listen to Him!" is added, echoing the words of Moses in Deuteronomy 18:15 when he spoke of the prophet that God would raise up like him for the people of Israel.

Sensing a theme here? Jesus is the new Moses and God is accomplishing a new exodus, a new great deliverance, and a new people. God had worked through Moses not only to deliver the people of Israel from their slavery in Egypt but also to call them into covenant community by giving them the Law and teaching them how to live as God's holy people. Now God would do the same thing through Jesus. Only instead of delivering Israel from physical slavery through miraculous plagues and giving laws on stone tablets now God would deliver all people from their slavery to sin through the death and resurrection of Jesus and fill them with his Spirit so that they might live his life of holiness.

Of course, no single passage of scripture can exhaust all that there is to say about who Jesus is or who we are through him but this passage captures much of both. Jesus is the mighty deliverer who has the power to break the chains of our bondage to sin and death. We, the Church, are the new exodus community that has been and is being delivered so that we might be free to live the abundant life to which Jesus calls us and help deliver others from their bondage as well.

Just Good Enough?

You can hear Simon Peter's grudging reluctance in Luke 5:1-11 Peter and his fellow fishermen have already been working all night without any reward for their labor. They are tired and disappointed and want to go home to get some rest. But Jesus had started teaching while they were washing their nets and a crowd had gathered to hear him speak. It was such a crowd, in fact, that Jesus had commandeered a boat, Peter's boat, so that he could teach from a few feet off shore, providing enough space between himself and the crowd so that everyone could hear. Peter must have been eager for Jesus to finish speaking so that he could haul in his boat for the day and head home. Instead, when Jesus is finished speaking, he makes yet another request of Peter. Jesus asks Peter to put the boat out into deeper water and to cast his nets again. That must have been the last thing Peter wanted to do. "Lord, we worked had all night and caught nothing but I will do as you say and let down the nets." Maybe Peter felt obligated to do as Jesus said because Jesus had healed his mother in law. Maybe Peter was tired but obedient because he knew that Jesus could do the miraculous. Or maybe Peter thought Jesus should stick to his area of expertise, religious teaching, and leave Peter to his, catching fish. What could Jesus possibly know about these waters, that Peter, the professional fisherman, did not? Whatever was going through Peter's mind, he reluctantly forced his tired body to follow Jesus' command and the result was a catch of fish so large that it nearly broke his nets and sunk his boats.

Of course, the real catch here was not the fish but Peter himself. The real miracle was not a quantity of fish so large that it resulted in broken nets but that Peter recognized his own brokenness. Somehow a net full of fish caused Peter to say to Jesus "Go away from me Lord for I am sinful man, O Lord!" Somewhere in the midst of hauling in that once in a lifetime catch, Peter moved from reluctant recipient to genuine disciple. Any other day, I have to imagine Peter's first thought would have been to rush this massive catch of fish to market or to whoever his regular buyer was so that he could profit from this enormous good fortune. But Luke says "When they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed Him". Peter left behind what must have been the largest, most profitable catch of his life as a fisherman, as well as all he had ever invested in, his nets and his boats, to follow Jesus.

We often have a tendency to think of life in terms of good or bad. We think that as long as we fill our lives with good things and avoid bad things then we are on the right track. But sometimes the biggest distractions in our lives aren't bad things but good things that we give too much importance. Peter's catch of fish was a good thing, a very good thing, probably the highlight of his career. But Peter could see enough to know that it wasn't the best thing in front of him. So Peter left everything and followed Jesus.

Pushing Jesus Over a Cliff?

If someone in your family suddenly made it big, maybe they signed an NFL contract or landed a record deal or just won the lottery, you'd expect at least a small portion of their good fortune to overflow to you, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about a distant cousin here. If a sibling or parent or that favorite aunt was suddenly rolling in millions while you continued to toil in your less than lucrative job trying to pay off the mortgage and the car payments and the college loans, you might expect that your suddenly fortunate family member might make at least a little of that debt disappear for you, right?

In Luke 4:21-30, the people of Nazareth are like family members who have just watched one of their kin make it big. This passage is a continuation of the story I preached from two weeks ago. In that passage, Jesus stands up to read from the book of Isaiah in the synagogue at Nazareth, the town where he grew up. These words are about the God-sent, Spirit-anointed, messiah who will proclaim good news to the poor, release to the captives, and freedom to the oppressed and Jesus says that these words have been fulfilled in their hearing. In other words, Jesus is that deliverer that Isaiah was talking about.

We might expect that this is the reason that the people want to push him off a cliff by the end of this story. After all, the Pharisees are constantly questioning Jesus' authority and claims about himself and by the end of the gospel Jesus is put on trial for blasphemy. However, that is not what is going on here at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry. No, at first, the people are thrilled that Jesus has made this claim about himself. That is because Jesus' Jewish audience would have seen themselves as the poor, captive, and oppressed that he was talking about. Every first century Jew knew that those words from the prophet Isaiah were about poor, afflicted Israel that had been enslaved in Egpyt, exiled in Babylon, and was now being oppressed by Rome. Those present in the synagogue would have heard Jesus saying that he had been sent to deliver them. That is why Luke says that "they were amazed at the gracious words that were falling from his lips; and they were saying, 'Is this not Joseph's son?" Translation: "Israel's deliverer is from our own town and from a family we all know? That is good news for Israel but especially good news for us!" Those at the synagogue figured if Jesus was going to be a big time king someday soon then they all stood to benefit from their close connection to him. You can almost hear them saying "We believe in you Jesus! Just remember us when you're a big star!"

Of course, none of this is lost on Jesus. He knows what kind of expectations he has stirred up with these words from Isaiah. He knows that the people of Nazareth will expect favors and kickbacks from him. And, as usual, Jesus refuses to conform to expectations. Instead, Jesus tells two short stories:

I assure you that there were many widows in Israel in Elijah's time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. ²⁶Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon. ²⁷And there were many in Israel with leprosy in the time of Elisha the prophet, yet not one of them was cleansed—only Naaman the Syrian."

In both of these stories, God's prophetic messengers go to Gentiles instead of God's people Israel. Jesus' message is clear. Like Elijah and Elisha before, Jesus' prophetic ministry is not only to Israel but also to the Gentiles. The promise of good news, deliverance, liberation, and freedom is not only for Israel but for all who will respond to Jesus. It is this message, that Jesus is the messiah and deliverer for all people and not just Israel, that so enrages Jesus' audience that they seek to kill him by pushing him over a cliff.

Maybe none of us has tried to shove Jesus off a cliff lately but isn't it easy to make the same mistake that crowd in Nazareth made; to see in Jesus only what he can do for us and to discard him when we see that he will no longer be a benefit to us? In this passage, the Spirit of Jesus is speaking to his Church, saying "I didn't come just for you. I came so that you might learn to live for others."

King of Outcasts

As Christians, we expect the sinless, Son of God, perfect, king of all creation kind of Jesus. He's the one we are accustomed to hearing about. That's what we look for when we read the gospels. So at Jesus' baptism, when we read that there is a voice from heaven that says to Jesus "You are My beloved Son, in You I am well-pleased" we are not surprised. What could be more fitting to describe Jesus than the combination of a quote from Psalm 2, which describes the coronation of the king of Israel, and Isaiah 42, which describes the king who will enact God's justice?

But often etched between the kingly connotations of Jesus' ministry are hints of scandal. His baptism is no exception. He is baptized by his oddball cousin. Luke doesn't tell us as much about John the baptist's strange appearance (camels hair for clothing and a diet of locusts and honey) as Matthew does but he does tell us that John does his preaching and baptizing in the wilderness which seems like kind of an odd place to try to draw a crowd. If John wanted to draw a crowd concerned about religion, he would have done much better preaching in Jerusalem near the Temple where religion was the hot topic. Its no surprise then that the crowds John does draw to hear his message consist of tax collectors and soldiers, folks who aren't exactly held up as examples of religious faithfulness in 1st century Jewish culture. And just in case we missed all this, Luke drives the point home by reminding us in the verse immediately preceding Jesus' baptism that John himself ends up imprisoned by Herod, the current king of the Jews.

It is with this crowd of miscreants and reprobates that Jesus lines up in the desert to be baptized by a man who will soon be considered an outlaw. In doing so, Jesus publicly demonstrates that he wishes to be identified with John and those he baptizes. It is John's ministry; one of repentance and real love for others, and not the ministry of the Temple, which will be the forerunner of Jesus's own ministry. It is with this crowd, a people tired of corrupt religion but so hungry for a real transformation in their lives that they will travel out into the wilderness and be dunked in a dirty river to find it, that Jesus wishes to be associated. In being baptized by John, the beloved Son who pleases the Father has cast his lot with those who have been left out by the established religion of their day.

Sentimental Does Not Equal Sacred

Sometimes I wonder if sentimentality contributes to a misunderstanding of the gospel more than just about anything else. We turn this cross-bearing way of life into an idyllic portrait of Jesus laughing and playing with little children and somehow the hope of all creation becomes nothing more than a Precious Moments figurine or a Thomas Kincaid painting or whatever other way we can find to turn the revolutionary message of Jesus into something that will stir our emotions and makes us feel more religious or good or spiritual for the moment.

Nowhere is this way of thinking more evident than during the Christmas season. We have these idealized versions of the birth of Jesus running through our heads (if we are even thinking about Jesus rather than the shopping we need to get done) where Joseph and Mary find a place to stay (after being turned away by the heartless innkeeper) just in time for her to give the world's cleanest and least painful birth to a child who "no crying he makes". Meanwhile, "the cattle are lowing", "the ox and the lamb kept time" while a little boy plays his drum, and "the ox and ass before him bow" (this must be a pretty gifted ox, bowing and tapping its foot in rhythm at the same time). Soon after the shepherds and wise men show up and the star which the wise men followed kindly serves as a spotlight on Jesus for a climactic end to the whole production. It's a little surprising we haven't found a way to get Santa himself into the story somehow. Perhaps his reindeer were pulling a sleigh filled with the wise men's gifts.

It's not surprising then that we try to make our own Christmas celebrations correspond in perfection to the idealized perfection we imagine encompassed that first Christmas. The tree, the gifts, the Christmas cards, the pictures, the dinner, must also be just as perfect as the perfect baby in the perfect manger or we'll have missed out on something. If the whole day doesn't culminate in some cataclysmic level of joy and absolute bliss, then it becomes a disappointment rather than a celebration.

But this all bears very little resemblance to the way Luke actually tells the story of Jesus' birth...or any birth story that has ever been told for that matter. Have we forgotten that this is an actual birth story of a real human baby?

The births

of my two children are two of the bloodiest, messiest, and most awkward experiences of my entire life and I wasn't even the one doing the birthing. If Jesus was indeed fully human as orthodox Christian faith claims, then why would we imagine that his birth would be any different? In fact, it seems that contrasting Jesus' kingly nature with the ordinary and even lowly nature of his birth is precisely part of the point that Luke is making in the way that he tells the story.

Luke begins the story of Jesus' birth by giving us some context. He tells us that it was in the days when Caesar Augustus had ordered a census to be taken of the whole Roman Empire. This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria and everyone had to return to their hometown to be registered. So Joseph went with Mary to his hometown of Bethlehem. In telling us these things, Luke is giving us some historical background and setting the scene like the professional story teller that he is but he is also doing much more than that. When I talk about the birth of my son, I usually don't bother to mention that he was born during the Obama administration when Pat Quinn was governor of Illinois. That's because those details seem completely irrelevant to something as personal as the birth of my own child. For Luke, however, it is relevant to place the birth of Jesus in the context of the world powers of his day. This is because Luke wants us to see right away that this is not the birth of just another Jewish boy. It is not merely a personal, family event but one that has significance for the whole world. In fact, when many in the Roman Empire spoke about Caesar Augustus, they used words like savior and Lord. Augustus was known as the one who had brought peace to the empire. So when the angels proclaim to the shepherds that a savior had been born in the city of David who was Christ the Lord and they proclaimed peace on earth, this is no mere coincidence. Luke is saying in story form what all the early Christians believed; that even though Caesar was widely known as Lord and savior of the whole world, it was really only Jesus, a descendant of the great King David, who was the true Lord, savior, and prince of peace.

Of course, we might expect that if Jesus were the next world ruler then his birth would be announced in the capital city of Rome or at least at the Temple in Jerusalem and there would be trumpets and streamers and royal feasts with all of the most important people in attendance. Instead, he is born in a tiny village in the part of the house where animals slept. (This image of Mary being turned away by a heartless innkeeper even while she is having birth pangs in the middle of the night is reading a lot into the story that isn't there. Luke simply says "While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth" so they could have already been in Bethlehem for a while when it was time. Furthermore, the word often translated as "inn", the place where there was no room, is probably better translated as family room or guest room (as it is in Luke 22:11). Most ancient houses had an attached but somewhat separate room where the animals slept which is probably where Mary and Joseph were. It is likely that there simply wasn't enough room for the birthing process in the main room of the house with many other relatives staying there for the census.) Additionally, Jesus' birth is not announced to VIPs and heads of state. It is announced to lowly, unimportant shepherds in the fields nearby.

The one true king, lord, savior, and prince of peace is born among smelly animals, laid in the box where those animals ate, and worshiped by unnamed, lowly shepherds. This is our gospel, our good news; that the king of all did not cling to his kingly status and use it against us but humbled himself to our lowly position so that we might be a part of his kingdom. We only cheapen this magnificent reality when we turn it into a sentimental, feel good, greeting card kind of idea that we celebrate once a year by gorging ourselves on shopping and food. God calls us to humble ourselves as well; to lower ourselves to the position of those in need, to learn what it is like to live in their flesh because that is what God did for us...and not just in December, but everyday, as a way of life. Only then do we truly honor Jesus as Lord.

The Church and Social Justice

I won't be preaching this week because we are having the children's Christmas musical in our morning service. However, if I were preaching this week the sermon text would be Isaiah 61. One of the very last papers I wrote while I was in seminary was on this passage along with its quotation in Luke 4. In this paper, I elaborate on how I believe these passages should inform the participation of the Church in causes of social justice in our world. I have decided to post that paper here in place of my usual reflections on the sermon text for the week. You can download the paper at the link below.

An Anointed, Spirit Filled Community of Righteousness