Blessed to be a blessing
Commentary
Those who are preaching a series of sermons on the lessons from 1 and 2 Samuel will need to fill in the gap for your hearers between the text for last week and the text for today. That will include some words about the increasing role of David in bringing stability to the nation, the intense jealousy of Saul toward David, David's repeated attempts to be reconciled with Saul, and, most importantly, the deep friendship between David and Jonathan, Saul's son.
The text for today is the cry of a grief-stricken heart. David sorrows not only over the death of his friend Jonathan, but also over Saul, the man with whom he kept hoping he could have a good relationship. David's lament could be described as a funeral dirge. It is one of the earliest pieces of Hebrew poetry that has been preserved. Though not every psalm credited to David may have come from his own hand, there is ample evidence that David was a gifted poet and that it was his chosen medium for expressing the full range of his feelings, from grief and pain to high joy and praise.
Some suggest that verse 23 indicates that Saul and Jonathan were reconciled before their deaths. It is possible. Or it may be an expression of David's hope for what might have been. Unless we judge Saul to have been mentally ill, there is nothing in his behavior that would have merited such reconciliation with his son. Certainly Jonathan must have been torn between his affection for David and his loyalty to his father. We are not surprised. Again and again we see love and loyalty for a cruel and abusive spouse or parent that begs understanding. And while we should support those who must leave such relationships, we also know of the change of heart that has come to those cruel persons who have finally come to know unconditional love.
The friendship between David and Jonathan is a reminder of other such friendships in the Bible: Ruth and Naomi, Paul and Silas, Jesus and Lazarus. What makes this friendship unusual is the difference in background of the two men -- David the shepherd boy and Jonathan the king's son. It raises the interesting question, "Why are my friends my friends?" Most of us, as we think of that small circle of persons we call our "best friends," would be hard pressed to explain why we feel so intensely about these persons. We simply accept those relationships as a mystery. When we lose such a friend, the grief is as intense, if not more so, as when we lose a blood-related loved one.
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
As with the first lesson, some words of transition are necessary if you are preaching a series on the texts from 2 Corinthians. Whether it is because they are separate letters entirely, or a shift from one subject to another, there is a sharp break between chapters 7 and 8. After a lengthy discussion of his apostleship and an appeal for love and unity in the congregation, Paul now moves directly into a discussion of the need for the Corinthian believers to share their material abundance with poor sisters and brothers in Jerusalem. This is one of three places in his letters where Paul mentions this offering. Clearly, it is of high importance to him. Though he goes to some length to underscore that such offerings are to be given freely -- "I do not say this as a command" -- it is also clear that Paul sees the sharing of material blessings as integral to the privilege of being a child of God.
If this is all part of a single letter we must admire Paul for his forthrightness. Having just commended them for responding to his appeal for repentance and unity (7:2-16), Paul launches immediately into a fund appeal! Human nature was no different in the early church than it is today. A sure way to ruffle feathers is to make a strong appeal for the flock to give more generously. Furthermore, to lift up the churches of Macedonia as good examples of generous giving -- as Paul does in the first part of this chapter -- could easily backfire. It could be heard as a way of shaming them into giving.
Paul, however, knows how to set things into the right perspective. Ultimately, it is because of "the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ" that we should give. Good giving derives from Good News -- that "though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich." Whatever other means we may use to encourage generous giving, we will fail unless we begin and end all such appeals with a word about God's grace in Christ. There is no need for Paul to demand an offering. The example of Christ is sufficient.
Given the tension between the communities of Jewish and Gentile believers -- a major topic in Paul's letters -- we should look on this offering as more than a matter of sharing with the needy. This is a tangible way for them to bridge the gap which separates cultures but which cannot separate those who stand as equals at the foot of the cross.
Mark 5:21-43
The Gospel text illustrates what is often seen in Mark's gospel: namely, the interweaving of two stories. Whether Mark does so in order to make some kind of linkage between the two accounts or whether he is simply relating it as it happened is subject to conjecture. Certainly these two miracles are reminders of our most common fears -- that we will lose a child and that our own health will fail and we will find no cure.
I understand the pain of Jairus, having lost a teenage child. Though we know it can happen, every parent tries to put out of mind the possibility that a child will precede us in death. When there is illness or injury, and especially when it is life-threatening, we would gladly and unhesitatingly take that illness or injury ourselves. Jairus is no exception. He is a wealthy man. His status as a "ruler of the synagogue" means that he is highly regarded and influential in the community. He was probably accustomed to having others ask him for favors. He could easily have sent someone to Jesus to make the request on his behalf. But now he is desperate because the one who means more to him than anything in the world lies near death. He would gladly surrender everything if only he could find healing for his precious daughter. I understand. I too would have given anything, including my own life, if I could have somehow spared my son.
The woman represents the other major fear -- that we might be plagued with an illness that is not fatal but for which there is no cure. In an age where we take for granted that there is a medication or treatment for any and every malady, it is difficult for us to identify with all those millions who lived at a time when most of what we now call "common" illnesses were fatal. Possibly our best example would be AIDS or some form of cancer that is not treatable.
The interesting element in this text is that the initiative is with the woman. Jesus is unaware of her need for healing. The power simply goes out to her when she reached out to touch the hem of his garment.
Both texts present us with the problem that we face whenever faith is elevated as the chief element in healing. While we affirm it as a factor, we must be cautious not to lend any credence to the idea that if we only have faith we will be healed. There would have been no healing for Jairus' daughter or for the afflicted woman had it not been for the power of the Son of God. Those who pray and seek healing without any tangible result need to be reassured that God's presence continues to be with them as they struggle with loss and impairment. Out of my own experience, I can say that faith and healing often come in the very depth of despair and when, like Job and the Psalmist, we cry out to God from the depths of our darkness and confusion.
Suggestions For Preaching
It is not easy to see parallels between our lessons for this Sunday. And it may be best not to try to make artificial connections. One possibility, though quite remote, is to link the friendship of David and Jonathan with the affection of Paul for the Corinthian believers and the reference in the text from Mark (5:37) which indicates that the raising of Jairus' daughter was something Jesus wanted to share only with his most intimate disciples, including Peter -- whom we single out on this day.
Though this is "Saint Peter and Saint Paul, Apostles" Sunday, it would be dangerous, in my judgment, to make too much of the relationship of these two men. There is evidence of some tension between them (Galatians 2) and no indication that Paul had anything to do with Peter when he finally reached Rome. Though 2 Peter 2:14 implies that the relationship between the two men improved, there is little evidence that these two chief apostles of the early church were dear and cherished friends. (I have always found it a bit amusing that the "Week of Prayer for Christian Unity" begins with "The Confession of Saint Peter" [January 18] and ends with "The Conversion of Saint Paul" [January 25].)
If this is a time when you want to preach a sermon on the subject of Christian stewardship of our material blessings you would not find a better text than 2 Corinthians 8. The fundamental idea of responsibility, embedded in the call to Abraham and Sarah that they had been "blessed to be a blessing," comes to its New Testament fulfillment in the appeal of Paul to the church in Corinth.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
If David's victory over Goliath demonstrated his battlefield strength and acumen, he quickly got opportunity to show his adeptness in another arena of conflict: transitional politics. A giant off his back, he has to dispatch Saul and Jonathan in a way that regularizes his own position. Not surprisingly, David proves masterful.
Saul's awkwardness and later insanity masks his real achievement. He had his own transition to mind. The Books of Judges and 1 Samuel both show Israel's ambivalence about a king. While some longed for monarchy, others invoked the theocratic tradition of the charismatically endowed judges. Saul had to legitimize the office conferred on him by Samuel, the old judge himself apparently of a mixed mind about what he was doing. Saul pulled it off, apparently on the basis of his strength in battle. By the time he was done, there was no question but that Israel would have another king.
Saul's last years raised questions about the succession, however. Faced with the growing power of the Philistines, Saul came to his limits. At the same time, David was playing a little bit more than the palace harp. He didn't miss many opportunities to promote his legends. The combination of threats didn't do much for Saul's mental health.
For David, Jonathan was also a problem. As the monarchist saw it, regularizing succession was supposed to be the big advantage; instead of waiting for another charismatic figure, Israel would take the king's son. And in fact, Jonathan had already given some proof of paternity on the battlefield.
The court must have been alive with speculation. For while Jonathan was being groomed for power, David was one of the most charismatic figures the nation would ever know, a prototypical political messiah.
The smart money would have all been on David. If age and guile make a wise bet, youth, energy, and cunning can be an even better combination, especially with some divine assistance. As it turned out, however, the necessity of craft was obviated by violence. Paranoiac visions swirling in his eyes, Saul fell on his sword, a suicide. When Jonathan went down, the "shield of Saul," as David put it, was "anointed with oil no more" (verse 21).
The deaths of Saul and Jonathan put David in the same position politically that Samuel had placed him in with the Bethlehem anointment. Still, he had to legitimize his position. And so, multiply gifted, David turned to another of the talents for which he would be remembered, his singing. The piety expressed in the song, today's text, may be genuine. So are the human, and divine, hands moving underneath it.
The text for today is the cry of a grief-stricken heart. David sorrows not only over the death of his friend Jonathan, but also over Saul, the man with whom he kept hoping he could have a good relationship. David's lament could be described as a funeral dirge. It is one of the earliest pieces of Hebrew poetry that has been preserved. Though not every psalm credited to David may have come from his own hand, there is ample evidence that David was a gifted poet and that it was his chosen medium for expressing the full range of his feelings, from grief and pain to high joy and praise.
Some suggest that verse 23 indicates that Saul and Jonathan were reconciled before their deaths. It is possible. Or it may be an expression of David's hope for what might have been. Unless we judge Saul to have been mentally ill, there is nothing in his behavior that would have merited such reconciliation with his son. Certainly Jonathan must have been torn between his affection for David and his loyalty to his father. We are not surprised. Again and again we see love and loyalty for a cruel and abusive spouse or parent that begs understanding. And while we should support those who must leave such relationships, we also know of the change of heart that has come to those cruel persons who have finally come to know unconditional love.
The friendship between David and Jonathan is a reminder of other such friendships in the Bible: Ruth and Naomi, Paul and Silas, Jesus and Lazarus. What makes this friendship unusual is the difference in background of the two men -- David the shepherd boy and Jonathan the king's son. It raises the interesting question, "Why are my friends my friends?" Most of us, as we think of that small circle of persons we call our "best friends," would be hard pressed to explain why we feel so intensely about these persons. We simply accept those relationships as a mystery. When we lose such a friend, the grief is as intense, if not more so, as when we lose a blood-related loved one.
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
As with the first lesson, some words of transition are necessary if you are preaching a series on the texts from 2 Corinthians. Whether it is because they are separate letters entirely, or a shift from one subject to another, there is a sharp break between chapters 7 and 8. After a lengthy discussion of his apostleship and an appeal for love and unity in the congregation, Paul now moves directly into a discussion of the need for the Corinthian believers to share their material abundance with poor sisters and brothers in Jerusalem. This is one of three places in his letters where Paul mentions this offering. Clearly, it is of high importance to him. Though he goes to some length to underscore that such offerings are to be given freely -- "I do not say this as a command" -- it is also clear that Paul sees the sharing of material blessings as integral to the privilege of being a child of God.
If this is all part of a single letter we must admire Paul for his forthrightness. Having just commended them for responding to his appeal for repentance and unity (7:2-16), Paul launches immediately into a fund appeal! Human nature was no different in the early church than it is today. A sure way to ruffle feathers is to make a strong appeal for the flock to give more generously. Furthermore, to lift up the churches of Macedonia as good examples of generous giving -- as Paul does in the first part of this chapter -- could easily backfire. It could be heard as a way of shaming them into giving.
Paul, however, knows how to set things into the right perspective. Ultimately, it is because of "the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ" that we should give. Good giving derives from Good News -- that "though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich." Whatever other means we may use to encourage generous giving, we will fail unless we begin and end all such appeals with a word about God's grace in Christ. There is no need for Paul to demand an offering. The example of Christ is sufficient.
Given the tension between the communities of Jewish and Gentile believers -- a major topic in Paul's letters -- we should look on this offering as more than a matter of sharing with the needy. This is a tangible way for them to bridge the gap which separates cultures but which cannot separate those who stand as equals at the foot of the cross.
Mark 5:21-43
The Gospel text illustrates what is often seen in Mark's gospel: namely, the interweaving of two stories. Whether Mark does so in order to make some kind of linkage between the two accounts or whether he is simply relating it as it happened is subject to conjecture. Certainly these two miracles are reminders of our most common fears -- that we will lose a child and that our own health will fail and we will find no cure.
I understand the pain of Jairus, having lost a teenage child. Though we know it can happen, every parent tries to put out of mind the possibility that a child will precede us in death. When there is illness or injury, and especially when it is life-threatening, we would gladly and unhesitatingly take that illness or injury ourselves. Jairus is no exception. He is a wealthy man. His status as a "ruler of the synagogue" means that he is highly regarded and influential in the community. He was probably accustomed to having others ask him for favors. He could easily have sent someone to Jesus to make the request on his behalf. But now he is desperate because the one who means more to him than anything in the world lies near death. He would gladly surrender everything if only he could find healing for his precious daughter. I understand. I too would have given anything, including my own life, if I could have somehow spared my son.
The woman represents the other major fear -- that we might be plagued with an illness that is not fatal but for which there is no cure. In an age where we take for granted that there is a medication or treatment for any and every malady, it is difficult for us to identify with all those millions who lived at a time when most of what we now call "common" illnesses were fatal. Possibly our best example would be AIDS or some form of cancer that is not treatable.
The interesting element in this text is that the initiative is with the woman. Jesus is unaware of her need for healing. The power simply goes out to her when she reached out to touch the hem of his garment.
Both texts present us with the problem that we face whenever faith is elevated as the chief element in healing. While we affirm it as a factor, we must be cautious not to lend any credence to the idea that if we only have faith we will be healed. There would have been no healing for Jairus' daughter or for the afflicted woman had it not been for the power of the Son of God. Those who pray and seek healing without any tangible result need to be reassured that God's presence continues to be with them as they struggle with loss and impairment. Out of my own experience, I can say that faith and healing often come in the very depth of despair and when, like Job and the Psalmist, we cry out to God from the depths of our darkness and confusion.
Suggestions For Preaching
It is not easy to see parallels between our lessons for this Sunday. And it may be best not to try to make artificial connections. One possibility, though quite remote, is to link the friendship of David and Jonathan with the affection of Paul for the Corinthian believers and the reference in the text from Mark (5:37) which indicates that the raising of Jairus' daughter was something Jesus wanted to share only with his most intimate disciples, including Peter -- whom we single out on this day.
Though this is "Saint Peter and Saint Paul, Apostles" Sunday, it would be dangerous, in my judgment, to make too much of the relationship of these two men. There is evidence of some tension between them (Galatians 2) and no indication that Paul had anything to do with Peter when he finally reached Rome. Though 2 Peter 2:14 implies that the relationship between the two men improved, there is little evidence that these two chief apostles of the early church were dear and cherished friends. (I have always found it a bit amusing that the "Week of Prayer for Christian Unity" begins with "The Confession of Saint Peter" [January 18] and ends with "The Conversion of Saint Paul" [January 25].)
If this is a time when you want to preach a sermon on the subject of Christian stewardship of our material blessings you would not find a better text than 2 Corinthians 8. The fundamental idea of responsibility, embedded in the call to Abraham and Sarah that they had been "blessed to be a blessing," comes to its New Testament fulfillment in the appeal of Paul to the church in Corinth.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
If David's victory over Goliath demonstrated his battlefield strength and acumen, he quickly got opportunity to show his adeptness in another arena of conflict: transitional politics. A giant off his back, he has to dispatch Saul and Jonathan in a way that regularizes his own position. Not surprisingly, David proves masterful.
Saul's awkwardness and later insanity masks his real achievement. He had his own transition to mind. The Books of Judges and 1 Samuel both show Israel's ambivalence about a king. While some longed for monarchy, others invoked the theocratic tradition of the charismatically endowed judges. Saul had to legitimize the office conferred on him by Samuel, the old judge himself apparently of a mixed mind about what he was doing. Saul pulled it off, apparently on the basis of his strength in battle. By the time he was done, there was no question but that Israel would have another king.
Saul's last years raised questions about the succession, however. Faced with the growing power of the Philistines, Saul came to his limits. At the same time, David was playing a little bit more than the palace harp. He didn't miss many opportunities to promote his legends. The combination of threats didn't do much for Saul's mental health.
For David, Jonathan was also a problem. As the monarchist saw it, regularizing succession was supposed to be the big advantage; instead of waiting for another charismatic figure, Israel would take the king's son. And in fact, Jonathan had already given some proof of paternity on the battlefield.
The court must have been alive with speculation. For while Jonathan was being groomed for power, David was one of the most charismatic figures the nation would ever know, a prototypical political messiah.
The smart money would have all been on David. If age and guile make a wise bet, youth, energy, and cunning can be an even better combination, especially with some divine assistance. As it turned out, however, the necessity of craft was obviated by violence. Paranoiac visions swirling in his eyes, Saul fell on his sword, a suicide. When Jonathan went down, the "shield of Saul," as David put it, was "anointed with oil no more" (verse 21).
The deaths of Saul and Jonathan put David in the same position politically that Samuel had placed him in with the Bethlehem anointment. Still, he had to legitimize his position. And so, multiply gifted, David turned to another of the talents for which he would be remembered, his singing. The piety expressed in the song, today's text, may be genuine. So are the human, and divine, hands moving underneath it.
