The Expectations And Mercy Of God
Commentary
Immanuel. God with Us. We have celebrated his birth. We have listened to the shepherds tell of angels singing praises and directing them to a baby who has a manger for a cradle. We have been told that this baby is God in Flesh -- the incarnation. He has been persecuted already, driven out of his home country by the king who should have worshiped him but tried to kill him instead. His earthly father packed them all up in the dark of night and took him far away, to Egypt, the land out of which the nation of Israel escaped.
That baby became a man who announced that God had not forgotten these people who had hoped for the messiah for centuries. Throughout Epiphany, the glory of Christ has been made known -- first to Jesus himself, then to his cousin John. God’s Spirit is being made manifest in him. He gathers young people who want to learn more from him. They follow him, trying to understand what he teaches.
It isn’t easy. Jesus wants them to go against their world, to accept the poverty of the itinerant preacher. He wants them to put up their swords, to forgive those who hate them, and to never return evil for evil. He wants them to be good, even as God is good. Who can do this? So they follow, because they cannot comprehend his words. They -- and we -- have to learn by imitation, to do as he does and follow what he says. It is a walk of faith, one foot in front of the other, in the darkness of the world, hoping that we can be light in dark places.
Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12)
Sarcasm? In the Bible?
Yes: “day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways” is juxtaposed with “as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness.” This is not the Israel that we learned about in Sunday school. This is judgment on real life, on the sins that beset us yet today.
Isaiah is called by God not just to preach this -- he is told in verse one to “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!”
“Oh no,” we may mutter, “not another street-corner preacher.” Nobody likes a street-corner preacher. They’re strident, they’re confrontational, they press their little booklets into your hand. If s/he were any kind of decent preacher, s/he would have a church. A big church, maybe on that very corner. So we look the other way (don’t look him/her in the eye, s/he’ll grab you!) and hurry on.
Furthermore, from our personal point of view, this preacher is talking about stuff we don’t understand. Or as one parishioner said to me when I invited the congregation to the discipline of fasting for Lent, “Isn’t that the kind of thing Jesus condemned? You know, kind of, uh, a sign of self-righteousness?”
No, it’s not the fasting Jesus condemned. It’s the way we fast that bothers God. Hunger sharpens our edges. (Not starvation; when we enter that stage, we lose interest in the world around us.) Hunger, when we use it to turn to God and to hear what God has to say, has the power to reform (re-form) us. But if we think that fasting is only a spiritual practice aimed at humbling us, we miss the point also.
This is precisely what Jesus meant when he condemned the Pharisees’ practices. Instead of wearing their usual fine clothes, they would parade their “humility” by wearing burlap and throwing ashes on their heads. Some of them would pray aloud on street corners. They would shout out to God: “When will we see the messiah? When will you drive out the Romans who rule over us? When will you appear in our Temple?” And if anyone were to challenge them, a fight might break out. Sadducees vs. Pharisees vs. Essenes vs. Zealots; each mocked the other.
Some will look at verse seven and say, “The meaning of fasting must be that we ought to take the money we would have spent on food and give it to charities that help give food to the poor.” Apparently that’s a step in the right direction, but not enough: “Is not this the fast I choose: ...bring the homeless poor into your house; ...not to hide yourself from your own kin?” Well, the prophet is being a bit extreme there, isn’t he? Who is going to take in some poor relation, too lazy to get a job? Or worse, take in someone you don’t even know?
Back in my early ministry I served in a deep rural community, far from the social services that are available in big cities. I began to notice that there were a lot of reports of “domestic violence” (men who beat their wives and children). I talked to the Social Service Department worker who worked with these families and discovered that they needed farm families to take in some of these women until they could decide what to do about the situation. Taking them to homes in town, the violent husband or boyfriend could easily find them and hurt the family that took them in. So I talked to our women’s group and asked if any of them would open their homes from time to time to shelter a woman, and perhaps her children, where the husband couldn’t find them until the situation either cooled down or some resolution could happen.
Three women opened their homes, even though they were very nervous about what they might be letting themselves in for. And it turned out that their worries were valid. Some women would get on the phone and tell their husbands to come and pick them up, thus putting that safe house out of operation. We couldn’t risk that the woman or her husband would tell their neighbors where she had been staying, thus giving future families a way to end the safety of those being abused, not to mention the possibility of the abuser going out “to teach those people a lesson!” We all learned that it can be dangerous to do what God wants us to do (v. 6).
On the other hand, one of those three women who opened her family’s home went back to school and on to seminary. Another of them went on to help establish a formal Safe House, where there was no phone available to the women. If they wanted to go back to their husband, someone would drive them home. If they stayed and wanted to change their lives, they had trained help in applying for jobs or welfare or education that would help them establish a new future. That program became a model for three other counties in our state, thus spreading the word that there was help to escape brutality and to avoid those behaviors that perpetuate abuse.
For a start, we could follow verse 3, and find ways to spread a little joy where we live and work. Not by bringing jelly donuts to work on Ash Wednesday, but by spreading compliments and “attaboy/girls” around us. By asking the clerk who waits on us how she’s doing -- and waiting for an answer. By telling a manager how well their employee took care of you, or how nice their department looks. We may not have workers that we are directly responsible for, but there are all kinds of people who work for us every day.
The reward for us doing so is that the light and love we spend on others cannot help but light up our own lives. We feel happier when we make others feel better. And even more (v. 9), if we encourage others to do the same. And when we do that God rewards our efforts, and we can rely on God to surround us with Love.
1 Corinthians 2:1-12 (13-16)
First Corinthians is written by Paul (no question, it is attested by three of the very earliest Christian writers), probably while he was preparing to leave Ephesus (he says he will be traveling in Macedonia, which helps date the letter). While it is the first letter to the Corinthians which we have, there are references here which suggest that this is at least the second such letter. As we read through 1 Corinthians, we will find some ragged patches where up to four other letters to Corinth may have been “patched in.”
Why so much written to Corinth, when we have just one letter to the Romans, for example? Because the city of Corinth was a byword for excess in every way -- sex, food, alcohol, politics, and cruelty. For an example of how this society was affecting the newly planted Christian congregation, we have Paul’s comments elsewhere about a man who was having an ongoing sexual relationship with his stepmother, who was still married to the man’s father.
In addition, Paul’s claim to speak on behalf of Christ has been under attack. He cannot claim to be an apostle, it has been said, because he never knew Jesus. Paul has had to account for his designation and his insistence on continuing to say he speaks for God.
He has also had to defend his preaching style. (Does this sound familiar?) He is surrounded by a city that values elegance in their speakers. This desire for grace from the pulpit has led to the Christians taking sides as to who is the “better” preacher, Paul or Apollos. Apparently Apollos preached much the way the philosophers argued, and his followers appreciated his panache. Paul, however, was a more direct preacher, without the gestures and stage presence of the trained philosophers. This is where our selection for today comes in.
Paul begins by reminding them that he has been there among them, and that he preached then as he still does. He didn’t use “lofty words or wisdom.” On the contrary, he says that he came “in fear and trembling,” perhaps because the people of his day were well informed about the “Wisdom Tradition.” One didn’t have to be Greek to understand this. The figure of Wisdom is found in the first four chapters of the Proverbs in the Bible. In fact, some of the Psalms are wisdom literature as well, as are parts of the Song of Songs (Song of Solomon), Esther, and Job.
The Wisdom Tradition does not require us to hear from God in order to live a good and happy life. Rather, it reflects on the meaning of everyday events, and derives a way of life from those observations. Examples in Judaism are found in the Talmud of Babyonia, the Midrash, and the Talmud. In the Talmud, we see the combination of ancient and modern study, finding wisdom in both scripture and in the everyday.
In our contemporary world, we see the working of the Wisdom Tradition in young adults who will tell you that they are spiritual but not religious, and do not attend church because the ancient books are confusing. They will also tell you that there is a current of Truth running through all religions, and that they look for those things that are similar in the various world religions to inform their approach to life. Those denominations that focus exclusively on Jesus tend to “turn off” these young adults. And this is exactly what Paul is addressing in the first five verses of his letter. He ends that long statement by saying that he does not want their faith to rest on human wisdom, but on the power of God.
He does not mean that there is no wisdom in what God has done in Jesus Christ. But the wisdom that comes from knowing Christ delivers us from the fear of death. The wisdom of the Corinthians emphasizes the flesh, which is doomed to die. No amount of exquisite food and drink, no home (no matter how beautifully decorated and furnished), no sexual relationship, and no idol can promise an eternal life that is filled with joy. In fact, when we overindulge we wind up sick, and may die of the excesses in which we partake.
This is reflected in his comment in verse 7. The wisdom of God is not evident in what we can experience in the physical world. The full revelation of what God has in mind for us is hidden. A woman may be beautiful in face and form, and may have all the good manners we expect her to live by, and still be hard-hearted, vindictive, and jealous. Those qualities will eventually show on her face, but remain hidden for a long time. Likewise, a man may be tall, handsome, and well-built, but if power is all he is interested in this will show up over the long haul. We have all seen men and women who are completely centered on their own interests, people who will cheat their own friends and family, who will set up Ponzi schemes and sell shares even to hospitals and educational foundations. Meanwhile they put up a good front, saying the right things. One example of this, if reports are true, is the Church of Scientology, which has attracted those who want fame and power by the promise of personal insight if they follow the program without question.
Paul says that if the rulers of the age had understood that God works quietly, behind the scenes, without parading Divine Power, then they would not have crucified “the Lord of glory” (i.e.,Jesus). In verse 9, Paul seems to quote from some source which is not in the scriptures. But the statement has been repeated so many times that we all know it, or should. It ought to be so familiar that it is as though it is imprinted on our consciousness, because it conveys not just confidence but a deep longing in every human heart. We all want to be loved and cared for, protected and encouraged. We want to know that even when we fail, we are loved. But for many people the reality is that love is often dependent on what they can do or provide, and those who fail are mocked or condemned. This makes it difficult to believe that God will love us unconditionally and forever. It goes against the common wisdom.
How does Paul know this? How can we know it? Well, in verse 10 Paul says that God’s Spirit reveals the depths of God to us. We must practice in order to connect in such a way with God that we can be absolutely certain of God’s love and care.
Many years ago I was having a great deal of pain due to stenosis in my neck. I’d been told that I would probably need surgery. But a chiropractor who was recommended to me urged me to begin to work out, using free weights. I bought a set of weights: two short solid steel rods to hold weights at each end, a set of weights from one pound to 25 pounds each, and locking pieces to hold things in place.
All I could do at first was to use the bare short rods, which weighed about one pound each. Once I could lift those 15 times, I fastened on the lock pieces, which added another pound. Little by little, over several months, I worked with increasing weight. My neck was free of pain, I stood straighter, I could do more around the house. Then one day my neck was again stuck and I was again in terrible pain.
Off to the chiropractor I went. He said, “Oh Sandra, your neck is hard as a board!” As his hands explored my neck and shoulders, he suddenly said, “Wait a minute! You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” I retorted that I had been doing what he’d told me to do, and hadn’t he noticed since he hadn’t seen me for a while? He laughed and said, “Let me show you what you’ve accomplished.” And with that, he popped a vertebra back into place. My pain was relieved instantly. “Wow!” I said, and he said “Keep it up!”
A few weeks later, I got in my car to drive 90 miles to a meeting. I had really thought hard about not going. The roads had those scattered slippery spots the weather forecasters love to warn us about and I really didn’t want to go, but I’d missed the last meeting, and the rule was three missed meetings and you’re off the board. So despite my misgivings, I set out. Between those scattered slippery spots and low-lying fog, it took me two hours to get there. And it didn’t help that every time I hit a bad patch I kept hearing a little voice in my head saying, “Don’t go. Go back home.”
When I walked in the building, I was told that only a few people had showed up so they had called it quits and gone home. “When the roads are this bad, you should really call before you drive all the way here,” the receptionist said with a rueful smile.
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
All the way back home, I was unhappy that I hadn’t listened to that “little voice.” Finally I said out loud, “Okay, Lord! How am I supposed to know that it’s you telling me to go back home and not just my unwillingness to make the drive?” And that same little voice said, “Practice.” I instantly saw myself with those weights, doing a little at a time, building up to heavier weights and more repetitions. Uh-huh. Practice.
You can bet that I preached that sermon. And I brought weights for the children’s time, 25 pounds worth. I gave the children the chance to try to lift that weight, and only one boy could. One of the men in the congregation couldn’t stand it; he got up and came up front with the children. “Can I try?” he asked. “Wow, that IS heavy. You really lift this every day?” “Yes I do. One in each hand. Fifteen repetitions and relax, then again, then a third time. But when I started,” and here I took off the locks, “I could only do five repetitions three times with just this bare bar.” Then we passed that around. The kids were very impressed, and the grownup people had a lot of questions about how we “practice” listening for God.
As Paul says in vv. 15-16, practicing prayer that leaves space for God to talk to us seems foolish. People who say God talks to them are usually written off as “nut cases.” But if we never listen, we will never, as Paul puts it, know the deeper things of God.
Matthew 5:13-20
Today’s lesson is at the end of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (a parallel of Luke’s Sermon on the Plain).1 Jesus is being followed by a crowd who are seeking healing for themselves or someone dear whom they have brought along. Seeing this, Jesus sits down with his disciples around him and begins to teach.
He begins by flipping the definition of “blessed” upside-down. John Calvin was not the first to say that those who are blessed by God with the hope of eternity can be identified by the ease of life which they enjoy here on earth. High position, wealth, authority -- all of these are signs that this person has found favor with God. In reverse, the poor are poor because they are predestined to be poor (or thieves or liars, or violent) and fail to live eternally in heaven.
In this Sermon, however, Jesus says that those who are “poor in spirit” will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Likewise, those who mourn, those who are humble, those who constantly beg for righteousness, are all blessed. They have it hard here, but they are destined to be comforted, to inherit the earth, to see what they beg God for come to pass. Even more, those people who are considered “soft” will also be blessed: those who are merciful rather than judgmental; those who are pure of heart (we might say “naïve”); those who always try to reconcile those who are fighting; those who are mocked for being careful to never do what God disapproves of; all will be rewarded for being as they are.
And then, Jesus talks about his followers being like salt and light in the world.
Salt never stops being salt. If we pour huge amounts of salt into water, the water will become salty. If we want to preserve vegetables and fish, we put them into a brine of vinegar and salt. Leave the tablespoon of salt out of a bread recipe that makes four loaves, and you will notice the flatness as soon as you take a bite. Salt is essential to life.
In Jesus’ day ovens would have salt piled up on the bottom to catch drippings so that they wouldn’t flare up, as well as to lend flavor. Formed loaves of bread would be laid on the salt, so the crust would be crisp all over. Some have said that perhaps what Jesus meant by the salt losing its saltiness referred to that salt bottom. When it is soaked with fat and no longer removes the smells of past meals, it might be thrown out onto the street to keep weeds under control.
Because nothing can take the saltiness out of salt crystals, salt has long been considered holy. Baptismal water in many churches has a pinch of salt thrown in, making it holy, and thereby blessing the baptized. Salt can also bleach out wine stains, kill mold and fungi (that’s why you don’t put the yeast into bread until the salt is either stirred into the flour or dissolved in hot water). In some places, newborns are rubbed with salt soon after birth to remove the blood and dirt from them, especially where clean water cannot be assumed, in an attempt to keep them from getting sick. Rubbing salt into a wound, painful as it is, will in fact check infection if put on soon enough and rubbed into the torn flesh.
Did Jesus mean that we ought to be holy, cleansing presences? Or to be tough enough to inflict pain in order to make people and situations better? Or holy enough to wipe out things that leave a stain on people’s hearts and minds? And that warning -- if I’m no longer holy and/or tough, am I worthless to God?
“You are the light of the world.” We live in a world so light-polluted that we can no longer see more than a few stars at night in populated areas. But in Jesus’ time, nighttime was dark -- when there was no moon, it was easy to stumble and fall, or to be set upon by thieves, who could hide in the shadows and jump out without warning. If you were well-off and wanted to go outside, you had servants who could carry lighted lamps ahead of and behind you so that you could see the way. But if you were poor, nighttime was the time for sleep and not much else.
We have all had the experience of Christmas Eve candlelight services. It is amazing that no matter the size of the church or chapel, when we put out the lights and light just one candle, one can see the whole sanctuary. Jesus tells us that we are to be the light that allows people to see the good in the world despite whatever darkness may be threatening.
Like a city on a hill, visible from afar, the way we behave ought to draw others to emulate us. Are we grumpy, critical, rude, insensitive? Then we will invoke those same attitudes in those around us. Are we courteous, holding doors open for others? Do we pause as we greet each other, or ask “How are you” and keep on walking? Do we compliment the people we live with, or only criticize? Do we thank each other for the work we do to keep our home clean and nice-looking, to bring home or cook supper, to go the extra mile to help one another? It’s amazing the difference we make with our words and attitudes.
If all of this sounds as though we had better shape up or we won’t get into heaven, we may wonder where the grace is. Jesus makes an interesting comment in v. 19: “whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments ...will be called least in the kingdom of heaven.” It sounds as though God leaves room for those of us who just cannot seem to overcome our negativity. I may be the least of those in heaven, but I will be there! On the other hand, greatness in heaven doesn’t rely on becoming pope, president, or chairman of the board at an international charity. Those who speak up when someone is being gossiped about, saying “But I like him!” might be one of the greatest in heaven.
And just to drive the point home, Jesus tells us that unless our righteousness exceeds that of those who are to be looked up to as leaders in the faith, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Our righteousness, not our self-righteousness. Our adherence to the law that God writes in our hearts, not a series of laws meant to keep us from straying anywhere near the lines drawn by God. Our righteousness that comes when we practice listening for the voice of God, not the self-righteousness we tend to feel when we make a show of prayer around others who don’t pray in public.
God’s standards are high. We must never think that God approves of underhandedness or violence or any of the other damaging behaviors we can indulge in. But God’s mercy is even higher. He sees our weakness. He sees our failure. He sees our self-loathing. But he also sees our sadness at the results of sin. He sees us hoping for the best from someone who has never been the best. He mourns our losses, cheers when we succeed. Practice listening, and we each may hear God whisper, “You know, you’re one of my favorite people.”
That baby became a man who announced that God had not forgotten these people who had hoped for the messiah for centuries. Throughout Epiphany, the glory of Christ has been made known -- first to Jesus himself, then to his cousin John. God’s Spirit is being made manifest in him. He gathers young people who want to learn more from him. They follow him, trying to understand what he teaches.
It isn’t easy. Jesus wants them to go against their world, to accept the poverty of the itinerant preacher. He wants them to put up their swords, to forgive those who hate them, and to never return evil for evil. He wants them to be good, even as God is good. Who can do this? So they follow, because they cannot comprehend his words. They -- and we -- have to learn by imitation, to do as he does and follow what he says. It is a walk of faith, one foot in front of the other, in the darkness of the world, hoping that we can be light in dark places.
Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12)
Sarcasm? In the Bible?
Yes: “day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways” is juxtaposed with “as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness.” This is not the Israel that we learned about in Sunday school. This is judgment on real life, on the sins that beset us yet today.
Isaiah is called by God not just to preach this -- he is told in verse one to “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!”
“Oh no,” we may mutter, “not another street-corner preacher.” Nobody likes a street-corner preacher. They’re strident, they’re confrontational, they press their little booklets into your hand. If s/he were any kind of decent preacher, s/he would have a church. A big church, maybe on that very corner. So we look the other way (don’t look him/her in the eye, s/he’ll grab you!) and hurry on.
Furthermore, from our personal point of view, this preacher is talking about stuff we don’t understand. Or as one parishioner said to me when I invited the congregation to the discipline of fasting for Lent, “Isn’t that the kind of thing Jesus condemned? You know, kind of, uh, a sign of self-righteousness?”
No, it’s not the fasting Jesus condemned. It’s the way we fast that bothers God. Hunger sharpens our edges. (Not starvation; when we enter that stage, we lose interest in the world around us.) Hunger, when we use it to turn to God and to hear what God has to say, has the power to reform (re-form) us. But if we think that fasting is only a spiritual practice aimed at humbling us, we miss the point also.
This is precisely what Jesus meant when he condemned the Pharisees’ practices. Instead of wearing their usual fine clothes, they would parade their “humility” by wearing burlap and throwing ashes on their heads. Some of them would pray aloud on street corners. They would shout out to God: “When will we see the messiah? When will you drive out the Romans who rule over us? When will you appear in our Temple?” And if anyone were to challenge them, a fight might break out. Sadducees vs. Pharisees vs. Essenes vs. Zealots; each mocked the other.
Some will look at verse seven and say, “The meaning of fasting must be that we ought to take the money we would have spent on food and give it to charities that help give food to the poor.” Apparently that’s a step in the right direction, but not enough: “Is not this the fast I choose: ...bring the homeless poor into your house; ...not to hide yourself from your own kin?” Well, the prophet is being a bit extreme there, isn’t he? Who is going to take in some poor relation, too lazy to get a job? Or worse, take in someone you don’t even know?
Back in my early ministry I served in a deep rural community, far from the social services that are available in big cities. I began to notice that there were a lot of reports of “domestic violence” (men who beat their wives and children). I talked to the Social Service Department worker who worked with these families and discovered that they needed farm families to take in some of these women until they could decide what to do about the situation. Taking them to homes in town, the violent husband or boyfriend could easily find them and hurt the family that took them in. So I talked to our women’s group and asked if any of them would open their homes from time to time to shelter a woman, and perhaps her children, where the husband couldn’t find them until the situation either cooled down or some resolution could happen.
Three women opened their homes, even though they were very nervous about what they might be letting themselves in for. And it turned out that their worries were valid. Some women would get on the phone and tell their husbands to come and pick them up, thus putting that safe house out of operation. We couldn’t risk that the woman or her husband would tell their neighbors where she had been staying, thus giving future families a way to end the safety of those being abused, not to mention the possibility of the abuser going out “to teach those people a lesson!” We all learned that it can be dangerous to do what God wants us to do (v. 6).
On the other hand, one of those three women who opened her family’s home went back to school and on to seminary. Another of them went on to help establish a formal Safe House, where there was no phone available to the women. If they wanted to go back to their husband, someone would drive them home. If they stayed and wanted to change their lives, they had trained help in applying for jobs or welfare or education that would help them establish a new future. That program became a model for three other counties in our state, thus spreading the word that there was help to escape brutality and to avoid those behaviors that perpetuate abuse.
For a start, we could follow verse 3, and find ways to spread a little joy where we live and work. Not by bringing jelly donuts to work on Ash Wednesday, but by spreading compliments and “attaboy/girls” around us. By asking the clerk who waits on us how she’s doing -- and waiting for an answer. By telling a manager how well their employee took care of you, or how nice their department looks. We may not have workers that we are directly responsible for, but there are all kinds of people who work for us every day.
The reward for us doing so is that the light and love we spend on others cannot help but light up our own lives. We feel happier when we make others feel better. And even more (v. 9), if we encourage others to do the same. And when we do that God rewards our efforts, and we can rely on God to surround us with Love.
1 Corinthians 2:1-12 (13-16)
First Corinthians is written by Paul (no question, it is attested by three of the very earliest Christian writers), probably while he was preparing to leave Ephesus (he says he will be traveling in Macedonia, which helps date the letter). While it is the first letter to the Corinthians which we have, there are references here which suggest that this is at least the second such letter. As we read through 1 Corinthians, we will find some ragged patches where up to four other letters to Corinth may have been “patched in.”
Why so much written to Corinth, when we have just one letter to the Romans, for example? Because the city of Corinth was a byword for excess in every way -- sex, food, alcohol, politics, and cruelty. For an example of how this society was affecting the newly planted Christian congregation, we have Paul’s comments elsewhere about a man who was having an ongoing sexual relationship with his stepmother, who was still married to the man’s father.
In addition, Paul’s claim to speak on behalf of Christ has been under attack. He cannot claim to be an apostle, it has been said, because he never knew Jesus. Paul has had to account for his designation and his insistence on continuing to say he speaks for God.
He has also had to defend his preaching style. (Does this sound familiar?) He is surrounded by a city that values elegance in their speakers. This desire for grace from the pulpit has led to the Christians taking sides as to who is the “better” preacher, Paul or Apollos. Apparently Apollos preached much the way the philosophers argued, and his followers appreciated his panache. Paul, however, was a more direct preacher, without the gestures and stage presence of the trained philosophers. This is where our selection for today comes in.
Paul begins by reminding them that he has been there among them, and that he preached then as he still does. He didn’t use “lofty words or wisdom.” On the contrary, he says that he came “in fear and trembling,” perhaps because the people of his day were well informed about the “Wisdom Tradition.” One didn’t have to be Greek to understand this. The figure of Wisdom is found in the first four chapters of the Proverbs in the Bible. In fact, some of the Psalms are wisdom literature as well, as are parts of the Song of Songs (Song of Solomon), Esther, and Job.
The Wisdom Tradition does not require us to hear from God in order to live a good and happy life. Rather, it reflects on the meaning of everyday events, and derives a way of life from those observations. Examples in Judaism are found in the Talmud of Babyonia, the Midrash, and the Talmud. In the Talmud, we see the combination of ancient and modern study, finding wisdom in both scripture and in the everyday.
In our contemporary world, we see the working of the Wisdom Tradition in young adults who will tell you that they are spiritual but not religious, and do not attend church because the ancient books are confusing. They will also tell you that there is a current of Truth running through all religions, and that they look for those things that are similar in the various world religions to inform their approach to life. Those denominations that focus exclusively on Jesus tend to “turn off” these young adults. And this is exactly what Paul is addressing in the first five verses of his letter. He ends that long statement by saying that he does not want their faith to rest on human wisdom, but on the power of God.
He does not mean that there is no wisdom in what God has done in Jesus Christ. But the wisdom that comes from knowing Christ delivers us from the fear of death. The wisdom of the Corinthians emphasizes the flesh, which is doomed to die. No amount of exquisite food and drink, no home (no matter how beautifully decorated and furnished), no sexual relationship, and no idol can promise an eternal life that is filled with joy. In fact, when we overindulge we wind up sick, and may die of the excesses in which we partake.
This is reflected in his comment in verse 7. The wisdom of God is not evident in what we can experience in the physical world. The full revelation of what God has in mind for us is hidden. A woman may be beautiful in face and form, and may have all the good manners we expect her to live by, and still be hard-hearted, vindictive, and jealous. Those qualities will eventually show on her face, but remain hidden for a long time. Likewise, a man may be tall, handsome, and well-built, but if power is all he is interested in this will show up over the long haul. We have all seen men and women who are completely centered on their own interests, people who will cheat their own friends and family, who will set up Ponzi schemes and sell shares even to hospitals and educational foundations. Meanwhile they put up a good front, saying the right things. One example of this, if reports are true, is the Church of Scientology, which has attracted those who want fame and power by the promise of personal insight if they follow the program without question.
Paul says that if the rulers of the age had understood that God works quietly, behind the scenes, without parading Divine Power, then they would not have crucified “the Lord of glory” (i.e.,Jesus). In verse 9, Paul seems to quote from some source which is not in the scriptures. But the statement has been repeated so many times that we all know it, or should. It ought to be so familiar that it is as though it is imprinted on our consciousness, because it conveys not just confidence but a deep longing in every human heart. We all want to be loved and cared for, protected and encouraged. We want to know that even when we fail, we are loved. But for many people the reality is that love is often dependent on what they can do or provide, and those who fail are mocked or condemned. This makes it difficult to believe that God will love us unconditionally and forever. It goes against the common wisdom.
How does Paul know this? How can we know it? Well, in verse 10 Paul says that God’s Spirit reveals the depths of God to us. We must practice in order to connect in such a way with God that we can be absolutely certain of God’s love and care.
Many years ago I was having a great deal of pain due to stenosis in my neck. I’d been told that I would probably need surgery. But a chiropractor who was recommended to me urged me to begin to work out, using free weights. I bought a set of weights: two short solid steel rods to hold weights at each end, a set of weights from one pound to 25 pounds each, and locking pieces to hold things in place.
All I could do at first was to use the bare short rods, which weighed about one pound each. Once I could lift those 15 times, I fastened on the lock pieces, which added another pound. Little by little, over several months, I worked with increasing weight. My neck was free of pain, I stood straighter, I could do more around the house. Then one day my neck was again stuck and I was again in terrible pain.
Off to the chiropractor I went. He said, “Oh Sandra, your neck is hard as a board!” As his hands explored my neck and shoulders, he suddenly said, “Wait a minute! You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” I retorted that I had been doing what he’d told me to do, and hadn’t he noticed since he hadn’t seen me for a while? He laughed and said, “Let me show you what you’ve accomplished.” And with that, he popped a vertebra back into place. My pain was relieved instantly. “Wow!” I said, and he said “Keep it up!”
A few weeks later, I got in my car to drive 90 miles to a meeting. I had really thought hard about not going. The roads had those scattered slippery spots the weather forecasters love to warn us about and I really didn’t want to go, but I’d missed the last meeting, and the rule was three missed meetings and you’re off the board. So despite my misgivings, I set out. Between those scattered slippery spots and low-lying fog, it took me two hours to get there. And it didn’t help that every time I hit a bad patch I kept hearing a little voice in my head saying, “Don’t go. Go back home.”
When I walked in the building, I was told that only a few people had showed up so they had called it quits and gone home. “When the roads are this bad, you should really call before you drive all the way here,” the receptionist said with a rueful smile.
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
All the way back home, I was unhappy that I hadn’t listened to that “little voice.” Finally I said out loud, “Okay, Lord! How am I supposed to know that it’s you telling me to go back home and not just my unwillingness to make the drive?” And that same little voice said, “Practice.” I instantly saw myself with those weights, doing a little at a time, building up to heavier weights and more repetitions. Uh-huh. Practice.
You can bet that I preached that sermon. And I brought weights for the children’s time, 25 pounds worth. I gave the children the chance to try to lift that weight, and only one boy could. One of the men in the congregation couldn’t stand it; he got up and came up front with the children. “Can I try?” he asked. “Wow, that IS heavy. You really lift this every day?” “Yes I do. One in each hand. Fifteen repetitions and relax, then again, then a third time. But when I started,” and here I took off the locks, “I could only do five repetitions three times with just this bare bar.” Then we passed that around. The kids were very impressed, and the grownup people had a lot of questions about how we “practice” listening for God.
As Paul says in vv. 15-16, practicing prayer that leaves space for God to talk to us seems foolish. People who say God talks to them are usually written off as “nut cases.” But if we never listen, we will never, as Paul puts it, know the deeper things of God.
Matthew 5:13-20
Today’s lesson is at the end of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (a parallel of Luke’s Sermon on the Plain).1 Jesus is being followed by a crowd who are seeking healing for themselves or someone dear whom they have brought along. Seeing this, Jesus sits down with his disciples around him and begins to teach.
He begins by flipping the definition of “blessed” upside-down. John Calvin was not the first to say that those who are blessed by God with the hope of eternity can be identified by the ease of life which they enjoy here on earth. High position, wealth, authority -- all of these are signs that this person has found favor with God. In reverse, the poor are poor because they are predestined to be poor (or thieves or liars, or violent) and fail to live eternally in heaven.
In this Sermon, however, Jesus says that those who are “poor in spirit” will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Likewise, those who mourn, those who are humble, those who constantly beg for righteousness, are all blessed. They have it hard here, but they are destined to be comforted, to inherit the earth, to see what they beg God for come to pass. Even more, those people who are considered “soft” will also be blessed: those who are merciful rather than judgmental; those who are pure of heart (we might say “naïve”); those who always try to reconcile those who are fighting; those who are mocked for being careful to never do what God disapproves of; all will be rewarded for being as they are.
And then, Jesus talks about his followers being like salt and light in the world.
Salt never stops being salt. If we pour huge amounts of salt into water, the water will become salty. If we want to preserve vegetables and fish, we put them into a brine of vinegar and salt. Leave the tablespoon of salt out of a bread recipe that makes four loaves, and you will notice the flatness as soon as you take a bite. Salt is essential to life.
In Jesus’ day ovens would have salt piled up on the bottom to catch drippings so that they wouldn’t flare up, as well as to lend flavor. Formed loaves of bread would be laid on the salt, so the crust would be crisp all over. Some have said that perhaps what Jesus meant by the salt losing its saltiness referred to that salt bottom. When it is soaked with fat and no longer removes the smells of past meals, it might be thrown out onto the street to keep weeds under control.
Because nothing can take the saltiness out of salt crystals, salt has long been considered holy. Baptismal water in many churches has a pinch of salt thrown in, making it holy, and thereby blessing the baptized. Salt can also bleach out wine stains, kill mold and fungi (that’s why you don’t put the yeast into bread until the salt is either stirred into the flour or dissolved in hot water). In some places, newborns are rubbed with salt soon after birth to remove the blood and dirt from them, especially where clean water cannot be assumed, in an attempt to keep them from getting sick. Rubbing salt into a wound, painful as it is, will in fact check infection if put on soon enough and rubbed into the torn flesh.
Did Jesus mean that we ought to be holy, cleansing presences? Or to be tough enough to inflict pain in order to make people and situations better? Or holy enough to wipe out things that leave a stain on people’s hearts and minds? And that warning -- if I’m no longer holy and/or tough, am I worthless to God?
“You are the light of the world.” We live in a world so light-polluted that we can no longer see more than a few stars at night in populated areas. But in Jesus’ time, nighttime was dark -- when there was no moon, it was easy to stumble and fall, or to be set upon by thieves, who could hide in the shadows and jump out without warning. If you were well-off and wanted to go outside, you had servants who could carry lighted lamps ahead of and behind you so that you could see the way. But if you were poor, nighttime was the time for sleep and not much else.
We have all had the experience of Christmas Eve candlelight services. It is amazing that no matter the size of the church or chapel, when we put out the lights and light just one candle, one can see the whole sanctuary. Jesus tells us that we are to be the light that allows people to see the good in the world despite whatever darkness may be threatening.
Like a city on a hill, visible from afar, the way we behave ought to draw others to emulate us. Are we grumpy, critical, rude, insensitive? Then we will invoke those same attitudes in those around us. Are we courteous, holding doors open for others? Do we pause as we greet each other, or ask “How are you” and keep on walking? Do we compliment the people we live with, or only criticize? Do we thank each other for the work we do to keep our home clean and nice-looking, to bring home or cook supper, to go the extra mile to help one another? It’s amazing the difference we make with our words and attitudes.
If all of this sounds as though we had better shape up or we won’t get into heaven, we may wonder where the grace is. Jesus makes an interesting comment in v. 19: “whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments ...will be called least in the kingdom of heaven.” It sounds as though God leaves room for those of us who just cannot seem to overcome our negativity. I may be the least of those in heaven, but I will be there! On the other hand, greatness in heaven doesn’t rely on becoming pope, president, or chairman of the board at an international charity. Those who speak up when someone is being gossiped about, saying “But I like him!” might be one of the greatest in heaven.
And just to drive the point home, Jesus tells us that unless our righteousness exceeds that of those who are to be looked up to as leaders in the faith, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Our righteousness, not our self-righteousness. Our adherence to the law that God writes in our hearts, not a series of laws meant to keep us from straying anywhere near the lines drawn by God. Our righteousness that comes when we practice listening for the voice of God, not the self-righteousness we tend to feel when we make a show of prayer around others who don’t pray in public.
God’s standards are high. We must never think that God approves of underhandedness or violence or any of the other damaging behaviors we can indulge in. But God’s mercy is even higher. He sees our weakness. He sees our failure. He sees our self-loathing. But he also sees our sadness at the results of sin. He sees us hoping for the best from someone who has never been the best. He mourns our losses, cheers when we succeed. Practice listening, and we each may hear God whisper, “You know, you’re one of my favorite people.”
