Any questions -- show of hands
Commentary
"Any questions?" The words hang in the air at the end of the teacher's lecture as the
students play out their own pedagogical strategies. There are the usual hands that shoot
up in a display of promoting the students' own eruditions. For them this will be an
opportunity to display the most profound of their thoughts by asking the most arcane,
esoteric questions. For others, this will be signal for a duck and cover drill as they hide
from their own inabilities to take in what the teacher was talking about. Others step
forward to reveal their honest confusion. Some, in effect, ask for the lecture to be
repeated in simple English this time. A few, having learned something, want to know
more.
When we come to the texts for preaching, where will we line up? I suspect that some of us might fall into patterns of asking little of the text because we bring such familiarity to the words. I look at the text from Proverbs and cringe. Over the years, like in the words of the letter from James, "I do not have because I do not ask." I ask little of these words other than to be the basis for a suitable funeral reflection that would capture the essence of some seriously active loving souls. There is nothing wrong in this. As a matter of fact there has been much blessing. Yet, I suspect that I have asked too little of this text over the years, considering that it was not originally written to supply my needs for funeral themes. Indeed, I suspect as the letter of James puts it, that I do not receive because I ask wrongly. I ask in a rush and on the run of a busy pastor's schedule. I ask thinking that a surface knowledge of the text will suffice; I did not take a seminary course on the Wisdom literature, yet I seek to come across with a level of rabbinic wisdom I do not have. The letter of James suggests that I might do this in order to spend what I get on my pleasures. I might get the pleasure of getting through a funeral with having squeezed something pleasing out of the text, but have I forsaken the depth that might be here? Yes, of course, maybe a funeral is not the time for such thoughts. Yet, how often does there seem to be another time in which I can begin to really ask of the text the kind of questions that, while demonstrating my limited knowledge, will get me further in the direction of knowing the ways of the Lord.
The texts for this Sunday challenge me as to what I ask for and how I do my asking. The letter of James challenges me with the words, "And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace." I hear the words of the peace activist A. J. Muste, "There is no way to peace, peace is the way." I have asked for peace of mind, peace in the house, peace in the church community, and the world." My asking for peace seems to outrun the number of times I have asked to be a blessing of peace or inquired about being an instrument of the peace that passes all understanding, or for the strength to walk in peace the first mile that I may go the second mile. James may have it right here; I am missing something in my life because I do not know how to ask or I ask wrongly. When we are asked "Are there any questions?" just why are our hands shooting up or why might we be sitting on our hands?
In the Markan text we are confronted by one of Mark's basic themes. The disciples get it wrong. Indeed, if there is a way for the disciple to get it wrong, they will find it. One suspects that this theme is the result less of academic insight than of Mark's reflection on his own church life. I suspect that Mark's faith community was probably as prone to get wrapped up in these kinds of embarrassing arguments as the disciples -- the kind that you might not want to take to Jesus to have him settle. Would we really want Jesus to make the call on the passionate dispute over the carpet color in the sanctuary or the new hymnal?
Or should we be coming to him in a different way about these matters -- other than trying to determine who has the greatest approach? Perhaps the biggest question is just how and why we will raise our hand when the master teacher asks.
Proverbs 31:10-31
Here is a text which many of us do not ask much more of than a confirmation of middle- class domesticity. Here we have a model that fits in with many of the folks we serve. Who would not want to have an effective chief executive officer like the wife portrayed in these words? These words are quite comforting especially if you are a husband who aspires to be the chair of the board of such a corporation. How else can you be known in the city gates -- known enough to be able to take your place among the elders? As I read the text, I wonder if the writer is accepting the notion that in order for the husband to take his place, the wife must know her place. In the twenty-first century I find myself at a sticking point with this text. Must it be that way? Is it okay to be that way if that is your choice? Is this a requirement for the families of those who aspire to public roles? It says that the children rise up and call her happy. It sounds like there are no phone calls forgotten on Mother's Day. Yet it seems that calling her happy is dangerous without knowing what makes her happy. The husband calls her happy, which seems a lot easier than knowing what makes her happy.
This takes me to another question. Just how can a text speak to me when it arises out a very different cultural context? In this instance, can a text from a male-dominated, hierarchical, authoritarian culture speak to me? Must I throw overboard whatever the text is saying because I find it seriously flawed? Or, is it that God uses even the profoundly flawed, in terms of current values, to bring out profound truths? In this case the more I look at it, even given the values of our day, the more it appears that there is much here that is redeeming material.
If nothing else, as we read the text, we must be astounded at the capacity of this woman to maintain a tough mindedness along with a gentle heart. Holding these two together reminds me of Jesus' instruction to his disciples to be wise as serpents as well as innocent as doves. Holding these two together affords us the capacity to be in the world but not of it. One can anticipate disaster in this house if the woman in this case did not take up this role. Perhaps even more dangerous is a flip-flop in which the manager of the household has a "tender mind and a tough heart." The text asks me to consider what is the right balance. It also pushes me to ask what happens if we also count on someone to perform the same role over and over again. In this situation, what happens when the kids are all grown up and there is an empty nest? In this case does the woman have as hard a time as men do maintaining balance when something like retirement comes? One might rewrite the text something like this, "A good wife is one who knows when to quit, she is like one who knows how to hand power on when the time comes, and she remains silent when the new ownership does things differently. She rises early for prayer and does not let the sun go down without considering whether she has had sufficient sabbath rest."
Much happens for me when I move beyond the very little that I usually ask this text to do for me. When I make that move, suddenly I find that it is as if at the end of class the teacher, rather than asking if I have any questions, turns it around and says, "Now I have questions for you to wrestle with." Suddenly I find the text calling into question, my assumptions and presumptions about life. When it does, then I find myself knowing what and how to ask of the text in return.
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a
The letter of James poses a less than delightful thought. That we do not have because we do not ask. This hardly seems right. If anything we seem to be asking for something all the time. Our list of wants is great. Can it be that God is just waiting for us to get it right? I think I hear the voice of seminary professors challenging the notion that we have to get it right before God gets with us. Maybe Martin Luther was right in his suspicions about the worthiness of James as a vehicle of Christian proclamation. Yet Jesus said that we should seek first the kingdom of God and all else would be added unto us. My theological feathers are somewhat smoothed by the notion that the problem may be that I do not know how to ask for what I already have. The asking seems to be an essential step in appropriating what God has given me. The practical truth of what James is saying here is clear for me, because when I examine what I often ask for and how I ask for it I find much that gets in the way of my relationship with God.
One bit of the evidence of my problem is Mahatma Gandhi's list of the seven deadly sins, "Politics without principles, wealth without work, commerce without morality, pleasure without conscience, education without character, science without humanity, and worship without sacrifice." Our society seems to be able to ask for the first in each of these pairs without being prepared to ask for the latter. We find it all too easy to separate what God has joined together. We ask wrongly when we ask what it takes to win an election, not what it takes to govern a people. We ask wrongly when we make a god of the free market. We ask wrongly when we maximize pleasure and minimize responsibility. We ask wrongly when we educate for careers, not vocations. We ask wrongly when we ask about possibilities without asking about consequences. We ask wrongly when we ask for comforting worship that does not help us confront injustice.
James' claim that, "You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask" seems at first to be fairly farfetched. However, what often seems to lead to many deaths is the failure to ask about the consequences, leaving it all up to the free market, or seeking valueless education, or a science without social responsibility. I rather suspect that it may be the death of churches that we too readily seek feel-good religion that does not give us a feel for what the kingdom of God is.
The context of the letter seems to be church disputes that have gotten out of hand. This often comes when people think that they have alone seized the high ground. It seems to me that in asking wrongly there is enough foolishness to go around, and we need to be establishing common ground for our mutual forgiveness.
In a sense, we ask for much without asking about the price, not only what we have paid but what God has paid. Inquiring about the latter has a way of bringing me to my knees in gratitude for a God who has reached beyond my sins and foolishness. We do not ask about the price. If we do, we discover that we are all on a level playing field and share equally in the forgiveness of God. Inquiring about the price has a way of putting limits on our egos and toning down our conversations while lifting our spirits.
James also points out that we do not receive because we do not ask. Putting into words what we really want can be daunting. There is a personal price we wind up paying when we do ask. Saying it out loud may force us to confront some of the foolishness of what we want. Saying it out in public may be more revealing than we want. Yet putting our requests into words and putting them before others can bring needed perspective. Church could be the place where we learn to ask rightly.
Mark 9:30-37
Jesus, like most good teachers, must have recognized the pained, quizzical look on the disciple's face. It is the kind of look that students give when they don't get it, try to hide that they don't get it, and are in prayer that whatever the teacher was talking about will not be on the final exam. Of course, they were afraid to ask. The fact that they don't get it might be a judgment as much on the teacher as on the students. What student wants to inform the teacher that today's lesson might have been a bomb? It is not always obvious that when you don't understand, the appropriate response is to ask. You need to really feel the teacher out on this one. On the other hand, as I recall from school days, asking could unleash all sorts of other unwanted possibilities. Your question could let loose an answer that could go on forever. Lord help you if you have stumbled into the teacher's favorite area of expertise. You could find the teacher perceiving in you more of an interest in the course than you really have. This could lead to all kinds of interesting assignments and challenges that you might not want to take on. It could set the teacher off and send you off with a dressing down. You might be held responsible for the teacher ratcheting up the challenge level on the next quiz. There are all sorts of reasons to sit on your hands lest they impulsively leap into the air with a question.
Good teachers like Jesus know when we have hit that point. The cloud of ignorance and fear descends as the class makes its way to the door. If there are no questions from the students, Jesus has one of his own: "What were you arguing about on the way?" Were you arguing about who is going to tell the professor that we have a communication problem? He could clearly see the agitation going on.
Mark says that they were silent because they were arguing about who was the greatest among them. Maybe if they could establish a pecking order, then the least among them would be the poor soul who would have to tell Jesus that they just didn't get it this time. The disciple's conversation does not seem as odd as it might appear on the surface.
Of course, their strategy is deeply flawed. Anything that prevents us from talking with Jesus or coming to him just as we are is probably going to get us into difficulties. Jesus makes very clear that the disciples have gotten things out of line here. He puts a child into their midst as their starting point. Children are not only naturally curious but they are inherently brave. They have not learned the potential, fearful consequence of asking.
You don't get a lecture from Jesus. You get a conversation, a give and take, that can take you to insights about yourself and the world. Go ahead and raise your hand, you won't have an endless waste of your time -- you will find eternity. Go ahead and ask -- you will find support. Go ahead and ask -- you will find yourself sorting out the difference between what you want and what you need. Welcome that child in yourself that can't wait to raise their hand and you will find yourself welcoming the God who sent Jesus into the world. Ask your questions of his stories, ask of one another, ask of the saints of old and the teachers of the church, ask in prayer with the hand waving enthusiasm of a child and you will find yourself welcoming God into your life.
Application
I think there ought to be a class on how to ask the right questions. Experience tells me that either through timidity or convenience I fail to ask enough of scripture. In doing so I miss the God that asks more of me in my study of scripture. I ought to ask more about price and consequence. I have an easier time asking about the price I might pay rather than the price that God pays or that others pay. A surefire way to fall into trouble in the asking department is to fail to put my asking into words or out loud. Kept within me my asking can lead to delusions. Asking without entering into dialogue with others can lead to serious negative consequences. Of course, a preoccupation with my asking can lead to my inability to hear what God or others might be asking of me.
I find that in the asking department I discover common ground with all sorts of people. Groups of political left or right seem to do no better job in the asking department than their opposites. I suspect that both groups would benefit from a class on asking. I suspect they would benefit even more from taking it together -- "Class, any other questions?"
Alternative Application
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a. In verse 13 of chapter 3, the letter of James talks about the gentleness born of wisdom. What kind of wisdom leads to gentleness?
I think that it rather depends on the way you define wisdom. Certainly there is that kind of wisdom that can draw lines in the sand and define clear boundaries. One should not undersell the necessity of that kind of wisdom. How many folks have poor life outcomes because of an inadequate sense of their boundaries? However, my gentleness also comes from the wisdom that knows how to draw inclusive circles as well as lines in the sand. One without the other is a bad bet.
The modern definition of prudence is calculated self-interest. No doubt that kind of wisdom will get us many things at the stock market, or in the corporate world, but gentleness may not be one of them. Prudence might be more accurately characterized as practical wisdom. Gentleness might come from knowing that we are all on a level playing field when it comes to the practical questions of life and getting through the day. Pooling our wisdom on these matters might lead to gentleness of spirit. No society I know of has a lock on the art of changing a diaper, encouraging a child that has just struck out for the fourth time in a baseball game, or how a man and a wife heal after inflicting emotional pain on each other. Considering such things together might lead to a real gentleness of spirit.
There is the wisdom that knows how to analyze, dissect, and classify. I can't imagine the world getting along without that kind of wisdom but I am not sure that we get much gentleness from it. Synthesizing, weaving, and knowing how to put yourself in another's place goes a long way toward creating gentle space.
The words of the letter of James from today's epistle lesson, "Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom," send me scampering to consider how I define wisdom.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 1
It would be an easy thing to read through this psalm and nod in assent before moving on to the next. It all seems pretty obvious. "Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread...." It is tantamount to what the young people refer to as a "no-brainer." Much of this bad advice could be avoided by turning off our televisions. And the sinner's well-worn walk-ways? They too seem fairly apparent. Yet somehow they continue to be well worn.
Today it is the seat of the scoffers that merits attention. Scoffing, or as the King James Bible has it, being "scornful," is considered high sport these days. From a burgeoning host of television shows where people are scorned and insulted in public, to a peanut gallery of scoffers who take delight in deriding most anything that tries to rise up or to be even slightly noble, it is ubiquitous. Cynicism is in fashion. There can be no heroes anymore. Everyone is under the microscope, and any flaws that are found are hoisted up as proof of perfidy.
Heroes like Martin Luther King, Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, and many, many more have been examined and found wanting in their humanness. The role of scorn and derision has become so central in our culture that many who would take a stand or assume the mantle of leadership decline to do so. Shoulders shrug and a sharp breath escapes, "Who needs it?"
The psalm is clear and hits at a stark truth. "Happy, very happy, is the one who does not sit in the seat of the scoffers...." It follows then, that blessings and happiness are not a part of the vernacular of scorn.
Perhaps the most distressing piece of all this is the fact that our churches are not immune. In some places, the pews where we worship have become the "seats of the scoffers."
In this maelstrom of negative energy, the voice of the holy calls to those of us who call ourselves Christians. Can we, who must navigate the currents and eddies of this culture, create a true sanctuary in our church? Can we, who claim Christ as Lord, reclaim Christian community as a place where people are truly safe? Dare we unseat the scoffers? Dare we make it clear that in our churches it is imperative that each person be physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe? Dare we stand together to create a community where everyone is welcome, and everyone is respected?
The answer, coming from Jesus who went before us is, "Yes. Yes. In fact, I double dare you."
When we come to the texts for preaching, where will we line up? I suspect that some of us might fall into patterns of asking little of the text because we bring such familiarity to the words. I look at the text from Proverbs and cringe. Over the years, like in the words of the letter from James, "I do not have because I do not ask." I ask little of these words other than to be the basis for a suitable funeral reflection that would capture the essence of some seriously active loving souls. There is nothing wrong in this. As a matter of fact there has been much blessing. Yet, I suspect that I have asked too little of this text over the years, considering that it was not originally written to supply my needs for funeral themes. Indeed, I suspect as the letter of James puts it, that I do not receive because I ask wrongly. I ask in a rush and on the run of a busy pastor's schedule. I ask thinking that a surface knowledge of the text will suffice; I did not take a seminary course on the Wisdom literature, yet I seek to come across with a level of rabbinic wisdom I do not have. The letter of James suggests that I might do this in order to spend what I get on my pleasures. I might get the pleasure of getting through a funeral with having squeezed something pleasing out of the text, but have I forsaken the depth that might be here? Yes, of course, maybe a funeral is not the time for such thoughts. Yet, how often does there seem to be another time in which I can begin to really ask of the text the kind of questions that, while demonstrating my limited knowledge, will get me further in the direction of knowing the ways of the Lord.
The texts for this Sunday challenge me as to what I ask for and how I do my asking. The letter of James challenges me with the words, "And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace." I hear the words of the peace activist A. J. Muste, "There is no way to peace, peace is the way." I have asked for peace of mind, peace in the house, peace in the church community, and the world." My asking for peace seems to outrun the number of times I have asked to be a blessing of peace or inquired about being an instrument of the peace that passes all understanding, or for the strength to walk in peace the first mile that I may go the second mile. James may have it right here; I am missing something in my life because I do not know how to ask or I ask wrongly. When we are asked "Are there any questions?" just why are our hands shooting up or why might we be sitting on our hands?
In the Markan text we are confronted by one of Mark's basic themes. The disciples get it wrong. Indeed, if there is a way for the disciple to get it wrong, they will find it. One suspects that this theme is the result less of academic insight than of Mark's reflection on his own church life. I suspect that Mark's faith community was probably as prone to get wrapped up in these kinds of embarrassing arguments as the disciples -- the kind that you might not want to take to Jesus to have him settle. Would we really want Jesus to make the call on the passionate dispute over the carpet color in the sanctuary or the new hymnal?
Or should we be coming to him in a different way about these matters -- other than trying to determine who has the greatest approach? Perhaps the biggest question is just how and why we will raise our hand when the master teacher asks.
Proverbs 31:10-31
Here is a text which many of us do not ask much more of than a confirmation of middle- class domesticity. Here we have a model that fits in with many of the folks we serve. Who would not want to have an effective chief executive officer like the wife portrayed in these words? These words are quite comforting especially if you are a husband who aspires to be the chair of the board of such a corporation. How else can you be known in the city gates -- known enough to be able to take your place among the elders? As I read the text, I wonder if the writer is accepting the notion that in order for the husband to take his place, the wife must know her place. In the twenty-first century I find myself at a sticking point with this text. Must it be that way? Is it okay to be that way if that is your choice? Is this a requirement for the families of those who aspire to public roles? It says that the children rise up and call her happy. It sounds like there are no phone calls forgotten on Mother's Day. Yet it seems that calling her happy is dangerous without knowing what makes her happy. The husband calls her happy, which seems a lot easier than knowing what makes her happy.
This takes me to another question. Just how can a text speak to me when it arises out a very different cultural context? In this instance, can a text from a male-dominated, hierarchical, authoritarian culture speak to me? Must I throw overboard whatever the text is saying because I find it seriously flawed? Or, is it that God uses even the profoundly flawed, in terms of current values, to bring out profound truths? In this case the more I look at it, even given the values of our day, the more it appears that there is much here that is redeeming material.
If nothing else, as we read the text, we must be astounded at the capacity of this woman to maintain a tough mindedness along with a gentle heart. Holding these two together reminds me of Jesus' instruction to his disciples to be wise as serpents as well as innocent as doves. Holding these two together affords us the capacity to be in the world but not of it. One can anticipate disaster in this house if the woman in this case did not take up this role. Perhaps even more dangerous is a flip-flop in which the manager of the household has a "tender mind and a tough heart." The text asks me to consider what is the right balance. It also pushes me to ask what happens if we also count on someone to perform the same role over and over again. In this situation, what happens when the kids are all grown up and there is an empty nest? In this case does the woman have as hard a time as men do maintaining balance when something like retirement comes? One might rewrite the text something like this, "A good wife is one who knows when to quit, she is like one who knows how to hand power on when the time comes, and she remains silent when the new ownership does things differently. She rises early for prayer and does not let the sun go down without considering whether she has had sufficient sabbath rest."
Much happens for me when I move beyond the very little that I usually ask this text to do for me. When I make that move, suddenly I find that it is as if at the end of class the teacher, rather than asking if I have any questions, turns it around and says, "Now I have questions for you to wrestle with." Suddenly I find the text calling into question, my assumptions and presumptions about life. When it does, then I find myself knowing what and how to ask of the text in return.
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a
The letter of James poses a less than delightful thought. That we do not have because we do not ask. This hardly seems right. If anything we seem to be asking for something all the time. Our list of wants is great. Can it be that God is just waiting for us to get it right? I think I hear the voice of seminary professors challenging the notion that we have to get it right before God gets with us. Maybe Martin Luther was right in his suspicions about the worthiness of James as a vehicle of Christian proclamation. Yet Jesus said that we should seek first the kingdom of God and all else would be added unto us. My theological feathers are somewhat smoothed by the notion that the problem may be that I do not know how to ask for what I already have. The asking seems to be an essential step in appropriating what God has given me. The practical truth of what James is saying here is clear for me, because when I examine what I often ask for and how I ask for it I find much that gets in the way of my relationship with God.
One bit of the evidence of my problem is Mahatma Gandhi's list of the seven deadly sins, "Politics without principles, wealth without work, commerce without morality, pleasure without conscience, education without character, science without humanity, and worship without sacrifice." Our society seems to be able to ask for the first in each of these pairs without being prepared to ask for the latter. We find it all too easy to separate what God has joined together. We ask wrongly when we ask what it takes to win an election, not what it takes to govern a people. We ask wrongly when we make a god of the free market. We ask wrongly when we maximize pleasure and minimize responsibility. We ask wrongly when we educate for careers, not vocations. We ask wrongly when we ask about possibilities without asking about consequences. We ask wrongly when we ask for comforting worship that does not help us confront injustice.
James' claim that, "You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask" seems at first to be fairly farfetched. However, what often seems to lead to many deaths is the failure to ask about the consequences, leaving it all up to the free market, or seeking valueless education, or a science without social responsibility. I rather suspect that it may be the death of churches that we too readily seek feel-good religion that does not give us a feel for what the kingdom of God is.
The context of the letter seems to be church disputes that have gotten out of hand. This often comes when people think that they have alone seized the high ground. It seems to me that in asking wrongly there is enough foolishness to go around, and we need to be establishing common ground for our mutual forgiveness.
In a sense, we ask for much without asking about the price, not only what we have paid but what God has paid. Inquiring about the latter has a way of bringing me to my knees in gratitude for a God who has reached beyond my sins and foolishness. We do not ask about the price. If we do, we discover that we are all on a level playing field and share equally in the forgiveness of God. Inquiring about the price has a way of putting limits on our egos and toning down our conversations while lifting our spirits.
James also points out that we do not receive because we do not ask. Putting into words what we really want can be daunting. There is a personal price we wind up paying when we do ask. Saying it out loud may force us to confront some of the foolishness of what we want. Saying it out in public may be more revealing than we want. Yet putting our requests into words and putting them before others can bring needed perspective. Church could be the place where we learn to ask rightly.
Mark 9:30-37
Jesus, like most good teachers, must have recognized the pained, quizzical look on the disciple's face. It is the kind of look that students give when they don't get it, try to hide that they don't get it, and are in prayer that whatever the teacher was talking about will not be on the final exam. Of course, they were afraid to ask. The fact that they don't get it might be a judgment as much on the teacher as on the students. What student wants to inform the teacher that today's lesson might have been a bomb? It is not always obvious that when you don't understand, the appropriate response is to ask. You need to really feel the teacher out on this one. On the other hand, as I recall from school days, asking could unleash all sorts of other unwanted possibilities. Your question could let loose an answer that could go on forever. Lord help you if you have stumbled into the teacher's favorite area of expertise. You could find the teacher perceiving in you more of an interest in the course than you really have. This could lead to all kinds of interesting assignments and challenges that you might not want to take on. It could set the teacher off and send you off with a dressing down. You might be held responsible for the teacher ratcheting up the challenge level on the next quiz. There are all sorts of reasons to sit on your hands lest they impulsively leap into the air with a question.
Good teachers like Jesus know when we have hit that point. The cloud of ignorance and fear descends as the class makes its way to the door. If there are no questions from the students, Jesus has one of his own: "What were you arguing about on the way?" Were you arguing about who is going to tell the professor that we have a communication problem? He could clearly see the agitation going on.
Mark says that they were silent because they were arguing about who was the greatest among them. Maybe if they could establish a pecking order, then the least among them would be the poor soul who would have to tell Jesus that they just didn't get it this time. The disciple's conversation does not seem as odd as it might appear on the surface.
Of course, their strategy is deeply flawed. Anything that prevents us from talking with Jesus or coming to him just as we are is probably going to get us into difficulties. Jesus makes very clear that the disciples have gotten things out of line here. He puts a child into their midst as their starting point. Children are not only naturally curious but they are inherently brave. They have not learned the potential, fearful consequence of asking.
You don't get a lecture from Jesus. You get a conversation, a give and take, that can take you to insights about yourself and the world. Go ahead and raise your hand, you won't have an endless waste of your time -- you will find eternity. Go ahead and ask -- you will find support. Go ahead and ask -- you will find yourself sorting out the difference between what you want and what you need. Welcome that child in yourself that can't wait to raise their hand and you will find yourself welcoming the God who sent Jesus into the world. Ask your questions of his stories, ask of one another, ask of the saints of old and the teachers of the church, ask in prayer with the hand waving enthusiasm of a child and you will find yourself welcoming God into your life.
Application
I think there ought to be a class on how to ask the right questions. Experience tells me that either through timidity or convenience I fail to ask enough of scripture. In doing so I miss the God that asks more of me in my study of scripture. I ought to ask more about price and consequence. I have an easier time asking about the price I might pay rather than the price that God pays or that others pay. A surefire way to fall into trouble in the asking department is to fail to put my asking into words or out loud. Kept within me my asking can lead to delusions. Asking without entering into dialogue with others can lead to serious negative consequences. Of course, a preoccupation with my asking can lead to my inability to hear what God or others might be asking of me.
I find that in the asking department I discover common ground with all sorts of people. Groups of political left or right seem to do no better job in the asking department than their opposites. I suspect that both groups would benefit from a class on asking. I suspect they would benefit even more from taking it together -- "Class, any other questions?"
Alternative Application
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a. In verse 13 of chapter 3, the letter of James talks about the gentleness born of wisdom. What kind of wisdom leads to gentleness?
I think that it rather depends on the way you define wisdom. Certainly there is that kind of wisdom that can draw lines in the sand and define clear boundaries. One should not undersell the necessity of that kind of wisdom. How many folks have poor life outcomes because of an inadequate sense of their boundaries? However, my gentleness also comes from the wisdom that knows how to draw inclusive circles as well as lines in the sand. One without the other is a bad bet.
The modern definition of prudence is calculated self-interest. No doubt that kind of wisdom will get us many things at the stock market, or in the corporate world, but gentleness may not be one of them. Prudence might be more accurately characterized as practical wisdom. Gentleness might come from knowing that we are all on a level playing field when it comes to the practical questions of life and getting through the day. Pooling our wisdom on these matters might lead to gentleness of spirit. No society I know of has a lock on the art of changing a diaper, encouraging a child that has just struck out for the fourth time in a baseball game, or how a man and a wife heal after inflicting emotional pain on each other. Considering such things together might lead to a real gentleness of spirit.
There is the wisdom that knows how to analyze, dissect, and classify. I can't imagine the world getting along without that kind of wisdom but I am not sure that we get much gentleness from it. Synthesizing, weaving, and knowing how to put yourself in another's place goes a long way toward creating gentle space.
The words of the letter of James from today's epistle lesson, "Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom," send me scampering to consider how I define wisdom.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 1
It would be an easy thing to read through this psalm and nod in assent before moving on to the next. It all seems pretty obvious. "Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread...." It is tantamount to what the young people refer to as a "no-brainer." Much of this bad advice could be avoided by turning off our televisions. And the sinner's well-worn walk-ways? They too seem fairly apparent. Yet somehow they continue to be well worn.
Today it is the seat of the scoffers that merits attention. Scoffing, or as the King James Bible has it, being "scornful," is considered high sport these days. From a burgeoning host of television shows where people are scorned and insulted in public, to a peanut gallery of scoffers who take delight in deriding most anything that tries to rise up or to be even slightly noble, it is ubiquitous. Cynicism is in fashion. There can be no heroes anymore. Everyone is under the microscope, and any flaws that are found are hoisted up as proof of perfidy.
Heroes like Martin Luther King, Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, and many, many more have been examined and found wanting in their humanness. The role of scorn and derision has become so central in our culture that many who would take a stand or assume the mantle of leadership decline to do so. Shoulders shrug and a sharp breath escapes, "Who needs it?"
The psalm is clear and hits at a stark truth. "Happy, very happy, is the one who does not sit in the seat of the scoffers...." It follows then, that blessings and happiness are not a part of the vernacular of scorn.
Perhaps the most distressing piece of all this is the fact that our churches are not immune. In some places, the pews where we worship have become the "seats of the scoffers."
In this maelstrom of negative energy, the voice of the holy calls to those of us who call ourselves Christians. Can we, who must navigate the currents and eddies of this culture, create a true sanctuary in our church? Can we, who claim Christ as Lord, reclaim Christian community as a place where people are truly safe? Dare we unseat the scoffers? Dare we make it clear that in our churches it is imperative that each person be physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe? Dare we stand together to create a community where everyone is welcome, and everyone is respected?
The answer, coming from Jesus who went before us is, "Yes. Yes. In fact, I double dare you."
