Acts of consecration
Commentary
While one of our daughters was serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Ghana, she was
often accosted for not being married. After some initial embarrassment and fumbling at
how to respond in her adopted culture, she finally came up with a reasonably satisfying
answer. She was not married, she told her neighbors, because her father had set too high a
bride price and no one was able to pay it!
In one of our lectionary readings today a high bride price is at the heart of the story. Whoever wished to gain the property of Elimelech and restore it to his widow, Naomi, also had to marry Ruth and call her first child by the family name of her late husband. This was not only expensive, but it could well create awkward family situations for men who were already married. Such was the case for the kinsman whom Boaz confronts. In the end, he found the cost too dear and opted out of the deal.
The idea of sacrifice and consecration play throughout each passage for today. Are we like Ruth or Jesus or the widow in the temple? How much are we willing to pay or give up for something of religious significance?
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
The drama of Ruth is cleverly and carefully written. A prologue (1:1-5) and epilogue (4:13-17, the second half of the lectionary passage for today) tell the story of Naomi's changing condition from destitution to restitution. These are reported in an almost dispassionate tone despite the tumultuous impact the times had on Naomi's life. In the first, Naomi seems to be a pawn drummed into exilic insolvency by the men in her life. Her husband, Elimelech (whose name means "My God is King"), decides to uproot the family from its divinely appointed inheritance at Bethlehem (which means, ironically, "House of Bread") and move in with the enemy nation of Moab that God had placed off- limits in a variety of ways. There Elimelech dies, leaving his widow without patrimony in a strange country. To add insult to injury, their two sons (Mahlon and Chilion -- the names mean "weak" and "sickly"!), now married to Moabite women, also pass away, and this before they are able to have boy babies.
The tragedy may not resonate with us, since we have obvious systems of welfare abounding around us. But women in ancient Israel had only a single welfare system -- they were cared for by men, who came (legally) in one of three shapes: father, husband, son. Furthermore, these men connected to the only other welfare system in the nation -- land. This begins to put a dire spin on Naomi's prologue condition. She is robbed of any tie to their landed inheritance in Israel as well as connections to her father, and then she is stripped of her husband and her sons. The final insult comes when these sons did not produce male heirs. In nearly every possible way, Naomi is out of luck.
Then comes the amazing drama of care that unfolds in four short dramatic acts ("The Condition" -- 1:6-22; "The Care" -- 2:1-21; "The Consecration" -- 3:1-15; "The Culmination" -- 3:16--4:12), each containing two scenes (one in a public place, the other in a private, reversing order between halves). There is a balance of words in the Hebrew language that makes each of these sections of nearly identical length. Furthermore, the prologue and epilogue are also virtually the same length. Also, every character or group in the story is counterbalanced by an opposite, except for Naomi herself -- there is an Orpah for Ruth, a nearer kinsman-redeemer to Boaz, a chorus of women surrounding Naomi and a chorus of men surrounding Boaz. All of these clues help with the interpretation of the passages in today's lectionary readings.
First, Naomi is the main character of the story, not Ruth. Naomi's condition is told in both prologue and epilogue, and she is unparalleled throughout. It is Naomi's story and situation which must stand at center stage.
Second, whatever happens between the prologue and the epilogue must be interpreted in light of the change of Naomi's circumstances. The drama does not unfold capriciously; it is a moral tale with a clear purpose. Therefore, little time should be spent trying to figure out how risqué or unseemly Ruth's nighttime encounter with Boaz on the threshing floor might have been. The point of the story is that Naomi had a need, and people who were willing to offer themselves in great moral sacrifice would make the necessary difference.
Third, there are hints in the Pentateuch about the ceremonies on the threshing floor and in the city gate, but none are described exactly. The point appears to be that both Boaz and Ruth followed religio-social patterns for seeking resolution to the problems faced by Naomi. Furthermore, each went beyond what was merely required: Ruth did not have to play any games by Israel's rules or those of the Sinai covenant; Boaz could have gotten out of family commitments simply because there were others who should have shouldered these responsibilities. In the end, each went above and beyond the letter of the covenant law to breathing its spirit, and thus resolved the matter for Naomi.
Fourth, the epilogue (4:13-17) and appendix (4:18-22) deliberately call attention to the transition from the time of the Judges (see 1:1) to that of the kings (and more specifically, the great reign of David and his descendents). This clarifies the teaching intended by this moral drama. How does one get from the terrible religious, social, political, and moral poverty of the time of the Judges and reap the harvest of good graces in the kingdom of David? It can only happen when people go beyond their personal comfort zones to breathe the spirit of the covenant in a missional care for others.
Fifth, in this light the meaning of Naomi herself emerges. While Naomi is a historical character, in terms of the biblical drama she is also clearly a type of the nation of Israel. After all the excitement of the conquest and settlement of Canaan under Joshua, Israel went bankrupt in every possible way during the time of the Judges. Only when people reached back to Sinai-covenant faithfulness, not as a legal code but as a way of life, did healing and hope return. Naomi is a picture of Israel, and Israel finds herself mirrored in the life of Naomi.
That is what needs to be preached today. How do the people of the congregation find themselves somewhere between Judges and Kings? Where have they sold their souls and their spiritual inheritance, and how will these be recovered? What are the signs of blessing (like Obed) that point to the dawning of the new day, the new age of the kingdom of God? And who will stand to sing the songs of blessing or make the testimonies of Naomi?
Hebrews 9:24-28
It is important to recognize that all of the theology in Hebrews is based upon the architectural layout of the tabernacle. Created at the foot of Mount Sinai, the tabernacle was intended to provide a residence for Yahweh among the people of Israel, in a dwelling as portable as were their own. It was part of the Suzerain-Vassal covenant agreement -- in order for Israel to fulfill its destiny as the divinely appointed ambassador for blessing to the nations (see Genesis 12:1-2), the nation had to embody Yahweh's presence on earth (see Exodus 33). In fact, under Hittite guidance, two copies of ancient international covenants were typically created. One was to return with the conquering king to his distant royal palaces while the other copy was to stay with the people and be used at least annually in a covenant-renewing ceremony. The interesting thing about the Sinai covenant between God and Israel is that two copies are also made (see Exodus 34:1), and that both of them are kept in the same place -- in the Ark of the Covenant (see 1 Kings 8:9). The significance was clear: God was not to be a distant, absentee landlord but a resident ruler and partner in the journeying of Israel.
All of the theology in Hebrews is designed to move readers in the Christian community from external places (heathen conditions and unbelief), past the altar of burnt offering (the cross of Christ) and laver (baptism), into the church (the holy of holies) where prayers are offered (altar of incense) and insight is gained (lamp stand) and the fellowship meal is celebrated (the Eucharist), finally to be received into the very presence of God (the most holy place). For a brief summary of this see Hebrews 10:19-25.
Moreover, as verse 23 (just preceding today's lectionary passage) shows, the image of the tabernacle in the book of Hebrews is tipped on end, so that the place behind the curtain or veil, the most holy place, is actually heaven, and the rest is terrestrial. Jesus is the great high priest who comes from behind the curtain (heaven) to our world in order to bring us back through the barrier with him to the other side (see Hebrews 4:14-16).
This illuminates the reading for today. Jesus is identified within the tabernacle context, but explained in terms of transcendent ideals. The ancient earthly representation was fitting for its time, but now, in this new age of revelation, a better high priest must emerge. This is the meaning of Jesus in his coming, life, ministry, teachings, and death. He brings news and insight from the most holy place (heaven) to our courtyard (earth), and offers the best sacrifice of all for us -- his own body.
Note that time itself is divided into two ages in verses 27-28. This is the age in which each person makes an appearance and then dies. Christ also made an appearance and died, but then he came alive again. That is why he is able to come again in the future, signaling the onset of the new age. Because Jesus rose to life again in this age, when he appears in the next age we will also rise to new life with him.
The implication for these Jewish Christians is clear. They live in a time of exile from the old covenant structures, but must keep firm hope in Jesus who straddles the ages between this eon and the next. They remind me of the people in my first congregation who were mostly immigrants from the Netherlands. They left that blighted country after the Second World War, sensing that their homeland was no longer the world they had been born into and loved as children. Foreign occupation, betrayal within communities, collapse of the commercial and economic systems, and even religious infighting within churches had turned everything upside down. Glowing promises nurtured by government propaganda lured them to Canada.
By the time I was called to be pastor in their church, most had found relative success. Many lived in the farm homes that had belonged to the people who originally employed them for hard labor in sugar beet fields. Nearly all drove late-model cars and trucks and were taking expensive vacations to exotic places. They had arrived penniless and had become prosperous.
But it had come at a price. Families had been separated, sometimes losing contact with one another for decades. Along with that, almost every household pointed to pictures of a son or daughter who had died of fever for which medical help was unaffordable in the early years, or an accident which could have been prevented in more "civilized" environments. More often still were the hesitant reports of children who had given up the faith, had left the church, or had forsaken God.
These are always threats to dislocated people, whether by force or choice. Those who held the memories in my early Alberta congregations were the survivors who had managed by grace to settle well without giving up their heart for heaven.
Similar pressures face our highly mobile culture. With most North American families going through seven career changes and twelve moves in an adult lifetime, it is easy to lose appropriate religious grounding or find the ties of quality family life slipping away. While we shift vagabond-like through the changes of our years, we may think the old ways and old culture and old customs and old religion don't match our hopes and dreams in each new world. Yet we need to remember that we are exiles searching for a utopia. We are expatriates seeking an ideal country. We are pilgrims building the kingdom of God in an alien land as we wait for the coming of Jesus Christ who will make all things new.
Mark 12:38-44
Jesus deliberately makes a contrast between the religious leaders of his day and the qualities that highlight the widow's place in the kingdom of God. The former are takers, the latter is a giver. Annie Dillard, in her marvelous journal, A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, makes the point that in the end the truest posture of humanity is to look heavenward and say, "Thanks!" This is the message that Jesus tries to teach his disciples, then and now.
Application
The history of the island nation of Nauru makes a stunning counter illustration to today's lectionary teachings about consecration. Nauru is a tiny dot in the Pacific, just over eight square miles and almost directly on the equator, with heat and humidity its primary noticeable qualities for centuries. Whaling ships made infrequent stops beginning in 1798 when Captain John Fearn named it Pleasant Island.
Its subsequent history, however, proved anything but pleasant. Deserters vied for control with natives, and all lost sanity when alcohol and firearms became the primary imports for trade of the food items picked up by passing ships. A decade of bloodshed reduced the population to a mere 900 by 1888.
But the worst was still to come. In 1900, Albert Ellis discovered that the island was essentially a big phosphorus rock, the largest natural deposit ever found. Within years the place became little more than a strip mine traded between nations, and turning all residents into company employees. Despite huge incomes, government and company corruption wasted most of it. By 1968, when the island gained its independence, eighty percent of its surface had been stripped bare. While profits continued for the next decade, the nationalized economy failed to change the course of mining exploitation. When the minerals and money ran out, Nauru gained income by becoming a tax haven for corrupt businesses and nations, and then a refugee detention center for Australia. Even those desperate measures quickly crashed. "When you're on Nauru," said reporter Jack Hitt, "there's a palpable sense of shame at what they've done.... The Nauruans literally sold off their homeland for a pot of wealth which is now lost."
Since the time of Esau, humans have displayed an eerie ability to sell the priceless for temporary baubles. Nations trade respect for wartime bragging rights. Social groups upstage one another by faint declarations of genetic superiority. Women give up dignity for late-night promises of love, and men invest in body-destroying drugs for a single headline on the sports page.
Scripture forces us again to count the cost in the value of life. Do we know what we are and have? Can we assess the worth of what we are willing to sell? Do we understand what it takes to live with a kingdom consciousness? How does it show?
Alternative Application
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17. The story of Ruth is a priceless treasure that begs to be retold and often preached. Care must be taken not to allegorize it, but to follow through on the principles of interpretation noted in the section above.
An illuminating window can be found in the life of Moses Mendelssohn (grandfather of the famous Felix). He was very short and far from handsome. He walked with a limping gait, partly because he sported a very noticeable hunchback.
The day Moses met Frumte, Cupid's arrow struck deep. Moses was determined to win the hand of this young beauty. He knew it would be difficult because, like other young women of Hamburg, Frumte was repulsed by Moses' misshapen body. Only after Moses made many requests to Frumte's father did she reluctantly agree to see him.
Frumte did not immediately love Moses. In fact, when he persisted in calling on her, she told him firmly and clearly that he should not return. She did not want to see him again.
At that Moses threw caution to the wind. This might be the last time he could get a foot in the door so he asked an intriguing question: "Do you believe that marriages are made in heaven?"
"Yes," replied Frumte hesitantly, reluctant in the insecurity of not knowing where he was headed with this. "I suppose so."
"So do I," agreed Moses. "You see, in heaven, just before a boy is born, God shows him the girl he will someday marry. When God pointed out my future bride to me, God explained that she would be born with a hideous hunchback. That is when I asked God if he would please prevent the tragedy of a beautiful girl with a hunchback. I asked God to let the hunchback fall on me instead."
Frumte's eyes filled with tears. Years later she wrote, "I looked into the distance and I felt some long hidden memory stir in my heart. At that moment I realized the depth and quality of this deformed young man. I never regretted marrying him."
Maybe Moses Mendelssohn overplayed his hand in conjuring scenes of prenatal heaven. Still, there is something quite beautiful in his understanding of love's commitments. We do not live well when we seek only to gain for ourselves. We live best when we are ready and willing to give again and again and again as part of our devotion to God.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 127
There is a story about a pastor who worked for years to revive and grow a failing downtown church. After endless hours of work and effort, the church actually did begin to come to life. New members came, new ministries were born, and it seemed as if a miracle were taking place. Then the pastor was called to a new congregation. In a few years, after a succession of failed pastorates, the church closed. The pastor who had given so much of himself, was devastated. It seemed that his work was "in vain."
Many people in our faith communities could relate stories from their lives about efforts they have made that have felt as though they were made for no purpose or no visible effect. In the folds of these stories lay wounded hearts and burned-out spirits. In the telling of these tales, we feel the exhaustion and frustration, and sometimes the resignation of those who have had enough.
It is into such difficulties that the words of this psalm come. How often do we plan, work, and strive to get things accomplished, relying only upon our efforts and our will? How often do we fail to place the results of our work in God's hands? How often do we fail to trust in God's "all sufficient grace" (2 Corinthians 12:9) as we labor for what we believe to be God's work?
The words seem jarring, but they ring true. "Unless God builds the house, those who build it labor in vain." Unless we place our whole trust in God's grace and love, the chances are that we are "laboring in vain." The interesting thing in all this is that success and effectiveness are really not the point. The psalm doesn't say that if we trust in God we will meet with success. This is a false promise delivered far too often by those in ministry. What the promise of God's grace does offer is the reality that our labors, if they are rooted in trust in God, will not be in vain.
There is no guarantee about how things will turn out in the end. But if our work is rooted in God's love and grace, it will not be wasted. The church in our story may have closed, but the fact that lives were touched, hearts healed, and people brought to Christ cannot be altered. The labor of the years, though not resulting in the pastor's desire for a revitalized and growing church, was not in vain.
The psalmist reminds us, no matter where we labor, we must place the results and the trust in God. Then we can be freed to work hard, to give deeply of time and heart energy knowing that the labor will not be in vain.
In one of our lectionary readings today a high bride price is at the heart of the story. Whoever wished to gain the property of Elimelech and restore it to his widow, Naomi, also had to marry Ruth and call her first child by the family name of her late husband. This was not only expensive, but it could well create awkward family situations for men who were already married. Such was the case for the kinsman whom Boaz confronts. In the end, he found the cost too dear and opted out of the deal.
The idea of sacrifice and consecration play throughout each passage for today. Are we like Ruth or Jesus or the widow in the temple? How much are we willing to pay or give up for something of religious significance?
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
The drama of Ruth is cleverly and carefully written. A prologue (1:1-5) and epilogue (4:13-17, the second half of the lectionary passage for today) tell the story of Naomi's changing condition from destitution to restitution. These are reported in an almost dispassionate tone despite the tumultuous impact the times had on Naomi's life. In the first, Naomi seems to be a pawn drummed into exilic insolvency by the men in her life. Her husband, Elimelech (whose name means "My God is King"), decides to uproot the family from its divinely appointed inheritance at Bethlehem (which means, ironically, "House of Bread") and move in with the enemy nation of Moab that God had placed off- limits in a variety of ways. There Elimelech dies, leaving his widow without patrimony in a strange country. To add insult to injury, their two sons (Mahlon and Chilion -- the names mean "weak" and "sickly"!), now married to Moabite women, also pass away, and this before they are able to have boy babies.
The tragedy may not resonate with us, since we have obvious systems of welfare abounding around us. But women in ancient Israel had only a single welfare system -- they were cared for by men, who came (legally) in one of three shapes: father, husband, son. Furthermore, these men connected to the only other welfare system in the nation -- land. This begins to put a dire spin on Naomi's prologue condition. She is robbed of any tie to their landed inheritance in Israel as well as connections to her father, and then she is stripped of her husband and her sons. The final insult comes when these sons did not produce male heirs. In nearly every possible way, Naomi is out of luck.
Then comes the amazing drama of care that unfolds in four short dramatic acts ("The Condition" -- 1:6-22; "The Care" -- 2:1-21; "The Consecration" -- 3:1-15; "The Culmination" -- 3:16--4:12), each containing two scenes (one in a public place, the other in a private, reversing order between halves). There is a balance of words in the Hebrew language that makes each of these sections of nearly identical length. Furthermore, the prologue and epilogue are also virtually the same length. Also, every character or group in the story is counterbalanced by an opposite, except for Naomi herself -- there is an Orpah for Ruth, a nearer kinsman-redeemer to Boaz, a chorus of women surrounding Naomi and a chorus of men surrounding Boaz. All of these clues help with the interpretation of the passages in today's lectionary readings.
First, Naomi is the main character of the story, not Ruth. Naomi's condition is told in both prologue and epilogue, and she is unparalleled throughout. It is Naomi's story and situation which must stand at center stage.
Second, whatever happens between the prologue and the epilogue must be interpreted in light of the change of Naomi's circumstances. The drama does not unfold capriciously; it is a moral tale with a clear purpose. Therefore, little time should be spent trying to figure out how risqué or unseemly Ruth's nighttime encounter with Boaz on the threshing floor might have been. The point of the story is that Naomi had a need, and people who were willing to offer themselves in great moral sacrifice would make the necessary difference.
Third, there are hints in the Pentateuch about the ceremonies on the threshing floor and in the city gate, but none are described exactly. The point appears to be that both Boaz and Ruth followed religio-social patterns for seeking resolution to the problems faced by Naomi. Furthermore, each went beyond what was merely required: Ruth did not have to play any games by Israel's rules or those of the Sinai covenant; Boaz could have gotten out of family commitments simply because there were others who should have shouldered these responsibilities. In the end, each went above and beyond the letter of the covenant law to breathing its spirit, and thus resolved the matter for Naomi.
Fourth, the epilogue (4:13-17) and appendix (4:18-22) deliberately call attention to the transition from the time of the Judges (see 1:1) to that of the kings (and more specifically, the great reign of David and his descendents). This clarifies the teaching intended by this moral drama. How does one get from the terrible religious, social, political, and moral poverty of the time of the Judges and reap the harvest of good graces in the kingdom of David? It can only happen when people go beyond their personal comfort zones to breathe the spirit of the covenant in a missional care for others.
Fifth, in this light the meaning of Naomi herself emerges. While Naomi is a historical character, in terms of the biblical drama she is also clearly a type of the nation of Israel. After all the excitement of the conquest and settlement of Canaan under Joshua, Israel went bankrupt in every possible way during the time of the Judges. Only when people reached back to Sinai-covenant faithfulness, not as a legal code but as a way of life, did healing and hope return. Naomi is a picture of Israel, and Israel finds herself mirrored in the life of Naomi.
That is what needs to be preached today. How do the people of the congregation find themselves somewhere between Judges and Kings? Where have they sold their souls and their spiritual inheritance, and how will these be recovered? What are the signs of blessing (like Obed) that point to the dawning of the new day, the new age of the kingdom of God? And who will stand to sing the songs of blessing or make the testimonies of Naomi?
Hebrews 9:24-28
It is important to recognize that all of the theology in Hebrews is based upon the architectural layout of the tabernacle. Created at the foot of Mount Sinai, the tabernacle was intended to provide a residence for Yahweh among the people of Israel, in a dwelling as portable as were their own. It was part of the Suzerain-Vassal covenant agreement -- in order for Israel to fulfill its destiny as the divinely appointed ambassador for blessing to the nations (see Genesis 12:1-2), the nation had to embody Yahweh's presence on earth (see Exodus 33). In fact, under Hittite guidance, two copies of ancient international covenants were typically created. One was to return with the conquering king to his distant royal palaces while the other copy was to stay with the people and be used at least annually in a covenant-renewing ceremony. The interesting thing about the Sinai covenant between God and Israel is that two copies are also made (see Exodus 34:1), and that both of them are kept in the same place -- in the Ark of the Covenant (see 1 Kings 8:9). The significance was clear: God was not to be a distant, absentee landlord but a resident ruler and partner in the journeying of Israel.
All of the theology in Hebrews is designed to move readers in the Christian community from external places (heathen conditions and unbelief), past the altar of burnt offering (the cross of Christ) and laver (baptism), into the church (the holy of holies) where prayers are offered (altar of incense) and insight is gained (lamp stand) and the fellowship meal is celebrated (the Eucharist), finally to be received into the very presence of God (the most holy place). For a brief summary of this see Hebrews 10:19-25.
Moreover, as verse 23 (just preceding today's lectionary passage) shows, the image of the tabernacle in the book of Hebrews is tipped on end, so that the place behind the curtain or veil, the most holy place, is actually heaven, and the rest is terrestrial. Jesus is the great high priest who comes from behind the curtain (heaven) to our world in order to bring us back through the barrier with him to the other side (see Hebrews 4:14-16).
This illuminates the reading for today. Jesus is identified within the tabernacle context, but explained in terms of transcendent ideals. The ancient earthly representation was fitting for its time, but now, in this new age of revelation, a better high priest must emerge. This is the meaning of Jesus in his coming, life, ministry, teachings, and death. He brings news and insight from the most holy place (heaven) to our courtyard (earth), and offers the best sacrifice of all for us -- his own body.
Note that time itself is divided into two ages in verses 27-28. This is the age in which each person makes an appearance and then dies. Christ also made an appearance and died, but then he came alive again. That is why he is able to come again in the future, signaling the onset of the new age. Because Jesus rose to life again in this age, when he appears in the next age we will also rise to new life with him.
The implication for these Jewish Christians is clear. They live in a time of exile from the old covenant structures, but must keep firm hope in Jesus who straddles the ages between this eon and the next. They remind me of the people in my first congregation who were mostly immigrants from the Netherlands. They left that blighted country after the Second World War, sensing that their homeland was no longer the world they had been born into and loved as children. Foreign occupation, betrayal within communities, collapse of the commercial and economic systems, and even religious infighting within churches had turned everything upside down. Glowing promises nurtured by government propaganda lured them to Canada.
By the time I was called to be pastor in their church, most had found relative success. Many lived in the farm homes that had belonged to the people who originally employed them for hard labor in sugar beet fields. Nearly all drove late-model cars and trucks and were taking expensive vacations to exotic places. They had arrived penniless and had become prosperous.
But it had come at a price. Families had been separated, sometimes losing contact with one another for decades. Along with that, almost every household pointed to pictures of a son or daughter who had died of fever for which medical help was unaffordable in the early years, or an accident which could have been prevented in more "civilized" environments. More often still were the hesitant reports of children who had given up the faith, had left the church, or had forsaken God.
These are always threats to dislocated people, whether by force or choice. Those who held the memories in my early Alberta congregations were the survivors who had managed by grace to settle well without giving up their heart for heaven.
Similar pressures face our highly mobile culture. With most North American families going through seven career changes and twelve moves in an adult lifetime, it is easy to lose appropriate religious grounding or find the ties of quality family life slipping away. While we shift vagabond-like through the changes of our years, we may think the old ways and old culture and old customs and old religion don't match our hopes and dreams in each new world. Yet we need to remember that we are exiles searching for a utopia. We are expatriates seeking an ideal country. We are pilgrims building the kingdom of God in an alien land as we wait for the coming of Jesus Christ who will make all things new.
Mark 12:38-44
Jesus deliberately makes a contrast between the religious leaders of his day and the qualities that highlight the widow's place in the kingdom of God. The former are takers, the latter is a giver. Annie Dillard, in her marvelous journal, A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, makes the point that in the end the truest posture of humanity is to look heavenward and say, "Thanks!" This is the message that Jesus tries to teach his disciples, then and now.
Application
The history of the island nation of Nauru makes a stunning counter illustration to today's lectionary teachings about consecration. Nauru is a tiny dot in the Pacific, just over eight square miles and almost directly on the equator, with heat and humidity its primary noticeable qualities for centuries. Whaling ships made infrequent stops beginning in 1798 when Captain John Fearn named it Pleasant Island.
Its subsequent history, however, proved anything but pleasant. Deserters vied for control with natives, and all lost sanity when alcohol and firearms became the primary imports for trade of the food items picked up by passing ships. A decade of bloodshed reduced the population to a mere 900 by 1888.
But the worst was still to come. In 1900, Albert Ellis discovered that the island was essentially a big phosphorus rock, the largest natural deposit ever found. Within years the place became little more than a strip mine traded between nations, and turning all residents into company employees. Despite huge incomes, government and company corruption wasted most of it. By 1968, when the island gained its independence, eighty percent of its surface had been stripped bare. While profits continued for the next decade, the nationalized economy failed to change the course of mining exploitation. When the minerals and money ran out, Nauru gained income by becoming a tax haven for corrupt businesses and nations, and then a refugee detention center for Australia. Even those desperate measures quickly crashed. "When you're on Nauru," said reporter Jack Hitt, "there's a palpable sense of shame at what they've done.... The Nauruans literally sold off their homeland for a pot of wealth which is now lost."
Since the time of Esau, humans have displayed an eerie ability to sell the priceless for temporary baubles. Nations trade respect for wartime bragging rights. Social groups upstage one another by faint declarations of genetic superiority. Women give up dignity for late-night promises of love, and men invest in body-destroying drugs for a single headline on the sports page.
Scripture forces us again to count the cost in the value of life. Do we know what we are and have? Can we assess the worth of what we are willing to sell? Do we understand what it takes to live with a kingdom consciousness? How does it show?
Alternative Application
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17. The story of Ruth is a priceless treasure that begs to be retold and often preached. Care must be taken not to allegorize it, but to follow through on the principles of interpretation noted in the section above.
An illuminating window can be found in the life of Moses Mendelssohn (grandfather of the famous Felix). He was very short and far from handsome. He walked with a limping gait, partly because he sported a very noticeable hunchback.
The day Moses met Frumte, Cupid's arrow struck deep. Moses was determined to win the hand of this young beauty. He knew it would be difficult because, like other young women of Hamburg, Frumte was repulsed by Moses' misshapen body. Only after Moses made many requests to Frumte's father did she reluctantly agree to see him.
Frumte did not immediately love Moses. In fact, when he persisted in calling on her, she told him firmly and clearly that he should not return. She did not want to see him again.
At that Moses threw caution to the wind. This might be the last time he could get a foot in the door so he asked an intriguing question: "Do you believe that marriages are made in heaven?"
"Yes," replied Frumte hesitantly, reluctant in the insecurity of not knowing where he was headed with this. "I suppose so."
"So do I," agreed Moses. "You see, in heaven, just before a boy is born, God shows him the girl he will someday marry. When God pointed out my future bride to me, God explained that she would be born with a hideous hunchback. That is when I asked God if he would please prevent the tragedy of a beautiful girl with a hunchback. I asked God to let the hunchback fall on me instead."
Frumte's eyes filled with tears. Years later she wrote, "I looked into the distance and I felt some long hidden memory stir in my heart. At that moment I realized the depth and quality of this deformed young man. I never regretted marrying him."
Maybe Moses Mendelssohn overplayed his hand in conjuring scenes of prenatal heaven. Still, there is something quite beautiful in his understanding of love's commitments. We do not live well when we seek only to gain for ourselves. We live best when we are ready and willing to give again and again and again as part of our devotion to God.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 127
There is a story about a pastor who worked for years to revive and grow a failing downtown church. After endless hours of work and effort, the church actually did begin to come to life. New members came, new ministries were born, and it seemed as if a miracle were taking place. Then the pastor was called to a new congregation. In a few years, after a succession of failed pastorates, the church closed. The pastor who had given so much of himself, was devastated. It seemed that his work was "in vain."
Many people in our faith communities could relate stories from their lives about efforts they have made that have felt as though they were made for no purpose or no visible effect. In the folds of these stories lay wounded hearts and burned-out spirits. In the telling of these tales, we feel the exhaustion and frustration, and sometimes the resignation of those who have had enough.
It is into such difficulties that the words of this psalm come. How often do we plan, work, and strive to get things accomplished, relying only upon our efforts and our will? How often do we fail to place the results of our work in God's hands? How often do we fail to trust in God's "all sufficient grace" (2 Corinthians 12:9) as we labor for what we believe to be God's work?
The words seem jarring, but they ring true. "Unless God builds the house, those who build it labor in vain." Unless we place our whole trust in God's grace and love, the chances are that we are "laboring in vain." The interesting thing in all this is that success and effectiveness are really not the point. The psalm doesn't say that if we trust in God we will meet with success. This is a false promise delivered far too often by those in ministry. What the promise of God's grace does offer is the reality that our labors, if they are rooted in trust in God, will not be in vain.
There is no guarantee about how things will turn out in the end. But if our work is rooted in God's love and grace, it will not be wasted. The church in our story may have closed, but the fact that lives were touched, hearts healed, and people brought to Christ cannot be altered. The labor of the years, though not resulting in the pastor's desire for a revitalized and growing church, was not in vain.
The psalmist reminds us, no matter where we labor, we must place the results and the trust in God. Then we can be freed to work hard, to give deeply of time and heart energy knowing that the labor will not be in vain.
