Faithful finances
Commentary
They are almost universally despised and ridiculed in our country, but it is impossible to avoid at least indirect contact with them from time to time. As a profession, they have been present in every culture around the world from the earliest days of its governmental organization, whatever form that might have taken. Always present, always despised and ridiculed, often openly hated and vilified -- they are the "tax collectors."
Let's face it: Many of the reasons IRS agents are subjected to such abuse are not even really their fault. It is the Congress that writes the convoluted and labyrinthine tax code that makes filing a tax return so complicated. Maybe people would not live in such fear of being audited if they weren't so "creative" in their application of that tax code to their personal financial situation. If we are to understand this Sunday's Gospel Lesson, however, we must understand not just why tax collectors are so despised in our culture, but why the inhabitants of Judea in the first century so hated them. In the case of Zacchaeus, Matthew, and their colleagues, they genuinely had brought the abuse upon themselves.
Imagine a tax system where there was no tax code that could be creatively interpreted to figure out how much you owe. Indeed, imagine a tax system where the government had no say or even any real concern in the individual tax liability of the taxpayers. There were no deductions or personal exemptions, because the government did not legislate or even decree tax laws. Instead, the government simply sold tax-collecting franchises to the highest bidder. Would-be tax collectors contracted to pay the Roman imperial treasury a certain amount each year from the region for which they held the franchise. Whatever they could collect over and above that amount was their compensation. Obviously, then, they had a real incentive to collect as much as they possibly could. Add to that the fact that the taxes paid to Rome were not used to provide a social safety net but to support the military occupation of the region (obviously despised in its own right), and you begin to see that even "revenuer" wouldn't begin to reflect the colorful names given to these first century tax collectors.
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
There is little known about the personal life of Habakkuk. We have no information about his ancestry or geographical origin, and even the precise period of his ministry is uncertain. The reference to "rousing the Chaldeans" is generally taken to refer to the transition in dominance over the region from the Assyrians to the Neo-Babylonian empire in the period around 600 B.C. (Nineveh fell in 610 B.C., and Assyria was completely defeated at Carchemish in 605 B.C.), but some would relate it to events as late as the aftermath of the first Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 597 B.C. Habakkuk would have been a prophetic contemporary of Jeremiah, Zephaniah, and Nahum. In the additions to the book of Daniel known as "Bel and the Dragon," the prophet Habakkuk is identified as a Levite. Apart from the literary quality of portions of his oracles that resemble cultic songs and liturgy, there is nothing within Habakkuk itself to suggest this.
The somewhat unusual verse selection in the lectionary reading is drawn from a dialogue between Habakkuk and God. The dialogue proceeds in two cycles of questions raised by the prophet (1:2-4; and 1:12--2:1) and God's responses to them (1:5-11; and 2:2-5). The reading thus includes Habakkuk's initial question and his call for a reply that concludes the second round, and God's response to that second round of questioning. The central theme of the dialogue is expressed in Habakkuk's complaint, "The wicked surround the righteous -- therefore judgment comes forth perverted" (1:4b). To state it more directly, Habakkuk raises a basic question of theodicy: Where is justice to be found if God allows the wicked to succeed at the expense of the just?
The focus in the first round of the exchange is internal to Judah itself. The prophet asks how long he must pray that God will intervene to end the unjust and violent treatment of the weak at the hands of the powerful. The very fact that such injustice continues becomes itself a reason for people to disregard God's dictates: "So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails" (1:4a). God responds by telling Habakkuk that the time of judgment on Judah is coming at the hands of the Chaldeans. The powerful people of Judah will be swept away by them just as other nations already had.
Habakkuk objects, saying that judgment by such means can hardly restore genuine justice to the world. How can such a holy God whose "eyes are too pure to behold evil" remain "silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they"? (1:13). By now referring to the people of Judah as "righteous," the prophet is not retracting his earlier denunciation of their abuses. Rather, he is objecting that surely the Babylonian's practices are even more demanding of God's judgment. How can God, then, use them as the instrument of judgment against Judah? Certainly there must come a time when the Babylonians will come under God's judgment (1:17).
God's answer is, in essence, all in due time. "If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay" (2:3b). God is not unaware of the excesses in even those nations that become instruments of divine judgment against God's own people. The time will come when they too will be judged. Until then, "the righteous live by their faith" (2:4). Their understanding of God's just nature will assure them both of the correctness of God's current judgment upon them for their failings and of the certainty that God will ultimately judge others as well.
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
There is a clear tendency within the Revised Common Lectionary to pass over portions of readings that place a strong emphasis on acts of divine judgment. It is evidenced somewhat in the handling of the first reading from Habakkuk appointed for this Sunday, which drops God's response to the prophet's first complaint with its graphic description of the judgment that is coming at the hands of the Babylonians. But, the omission of the description of "the righteous judgment of God ... when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven" here in the opening of 2 Thessalonians results in a potential misrepresentation both of the verses included in the assigned reading and in the theology of the letter as a whole.
The letter and the lectionary reading open with thanksgiving for two qualities that are singled out in the Thessalonian Christians: Their faith is "growing abundantly," and their mutual love of one another is likewise "increasing" (1:3). Not only is this developing faith and love a cause for thanksgiving, but it is also a ground for Paul to boast about them before other congregations in the Pauline mission. These qualities are also regarded as all the more remarkable because they continue to develop in the face of external "persecutions and ... afflictions" that confront the Thessalonians (1:4).
At this point the reading skips ahead to verse 11: "To this end we always pray for you...." The impression that is left by reading the passage in this manner is that the reason Paul and his colleagues (see 1:1) are in prayer for the Thessalonians is because of those "persecutions and the afflictions that [they] are enduring." But the "end" that is in view is not their deliverance from those who persecute them; rather, Paul's prayer is so that they might be among the "saints" who will glorify the Lord Jesus when he comes in judgment "with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus" (1:7b-8). They need the support of prayer not to spare them from those who afflict them now, but to spare them from God's judgment in the future.
As unpalatable as such a theology is to many in modern mainline Christianity, this letter does not shy away from it either here or in the remainder of the book. At its core is a belief that God's very justness demands that the divine "repay with affliction those who afflict you" even as God also grants "relief to the afflicted as well as to us" (1:6-7a). The means to restoring justice to the world is through a grand eschatological reversal that brings destruction on those who have destroyed the lives of others and life to those who have suffered. All of chapter 2 is devoted to a discussion of this "coming of our Lord Jesus Christ," including the difficult assertion in 2:11-12 that God will personally send "a powerful delusion, leading them to believe what is false" lest those who have afflicted others should somehow escape their impending condemnation.
The runaway popularity of LaHaye and Jenkins' Left Behind novels makes it clear that this theology remains alive and well in some quarters of the modern church. While I agree with the theological instincts of the lectionary committee to reject such theology, it won't suffice to simply ignore its presence by glossing over the problematic passages and pretending they are not there. It will instead be necessary to raise questions about this theology from within the language of 2 Thessalonians itself. What view of God's relation to the world will truly make us "worthy of [God's] call and will fulfill by [God's] power every good resolve and work of faith" (1:11)? Is "the name of our Lord Jesus ... glorified in [us] ... according to the grace of God" (1:12) by a theology that extols God's power to destroy those who do evil, or by a theology that emphasizes God's power to redeem them? Shouldn't our prayers be directed to the end that all people will stand as "saints" at Christ's appearing?
Luke 19:1-10
We are told that Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector in Jericho. Now that was a prime region because it was a major crossing point for goods from the Arabian peninsula into Palestine and from there on into North Africa and Europe. The tax-collecting franchise there would not have come cheap, and Zacchaeus had been able to parlay it into a tidy personal fortune. Ever been curious how Jesus could have known the identity of a complete stranger crouching in a tree, and have known he was able to provide hospitality not only to Jesus but also to his growing entourage? Well, there is no miracle here; undoubtedly Zacchaeus was a widely known and notorious figure -- in the worst nuances of that word!
No, the surprise is not that this traveler from Galilee knows who the Jericho tax collector is, but that he is willing to have anything at all to do with him. Jesus did not just mockingly acknowledge the "big, bad tax collector" so small in physical stature that he must perch himself in a tree to see over the crowd. Jesus declared that he "must stay" at Zacchaeus' home that night. Zacchaeus "was happy to welcome" Jesus, but everyone else in town was grumbling about it. Surely the prophet from Galilee in the midst of pilgrimage to Jerusalem for observance of the high holy days of Passover should be concerned about his spiritual preparation, but instead he is partying with the sinner Zacchaeus.
It was, for Zacchaeus, a transforming moment of acceptance. With unbridled excitement, he publicly promises to use half of his considerable possessions for benevolence to the poor. From the rest, he promises restitution with 300 percent interest to anyone whom he had defrauded. (No doubt the list of claimants would be long, for both noble and ignoble reasons of their own!) "Today," Jesus no doubt joyously proclaimed, "salvation has come to this house" -- but not for the reasons the cynical either then or now might have thought.
Certainly there were those who continued to grumble to themselves and others that Zacchaeus had managed to buy himself acceptance and even salvation with all his ill-gotten gains. After all, the rich have always used their excess wealth for philanthropies to such ends. Notice that Jesus does not in any way link Zacchaeus' salvation to his new spending priorities. Jesus had not told him, as he had on occasion told others, to sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. No, Jesus said salvation came to that house "because Zacchaeus, too, is a son of Abraham." Through Jesus' accepting relationship with him, Zacchaeus had come to realize his relationship was first and foremost with God and with God's people, and not as a minion of imperial oppression. That relationship reshaped his attitude toward his finances rather than his new use of money reshaping his relationship.
Application
What we do with our money does not determine our relationship with God, but it does say a lot about how much we value that relationship. At this time of year, when many churches enter their annual stewardship campaigns, it might be useful to remind our congregations that unlike some other faith traditions, most Christian churches no longer impose either a direct tax or mandated fees upon their members. In a consumer culture that assesses value in line with the phrase, "you get what you pay for," the unfortunate results of such practice have tended to be both decreased levels of support to the church and a decreasing value associated with it in people's minds. People who say that the church and its ministries in response to God's grace are important and valuable in their lives need to be challenged to demonstrate that statement through the way they use their financial resources.
The cynical will no doubt talk about money-grubbing charities always seeking a handout, but the fact is that how we use our money always tells a lot about what we value most. Why do we give wonderful gifts to our spouses and our children? We do so because we love them. Why do we invest time and financial resources in our favorite hobbies? Because we value the enjoyment and self-restoration we find in engaging in them. Why do we give our money to the church and donate our very selves to its ministries? Because we know how important that spiritual relationship with God and the communal relationship we share with one another is to us, and we long to make it available to others.
Being faithful stewards in supporting the church is not about earning brownie points with God, or even about pulling our fair share of the load. It is about being faithful in our relationship with God just as we are faithful in our relationship with our spouses and our children. It is about genuine and joyful love that prioritizes our lives. Faithful finances are the natural outgrowth of faithful relationship.
An Alternative Application
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12. Despite the omissions of the central portions of both the Old Testament and Epistle readings in the lectionary, the juxtaposition of Habakkuk and 2 Thessalonians provides a golden opportunity for the preacher to put on the mantle of Habakkuk and challenge theodicies rooted in the divine power to destroy the destroyers as the means to restore justice in the world.
The theology found in 2 Thessalonians is a logical extension of the two cycles of dialogue at the beginning of Habakkuk. Prayers are offered for those who are the people of God that they will survive the coming judgments against those who oppose God, whether among the presumed people of God or among those presumed outside God's realm. Until God's climactic eschatological battle to destroy evil, they must endure through increasing faith and mutual love, confident that God will prevail in the coming day of the Lord.
But looking back over history, we might conclude that Habakkuk gave up his debate with God too quickly. Perhaps they should have gone one more round. We might go on to press the theodicy question one step further. If God adopts the means of injustice -- violence and destruction -- in an effort to establish justice, doesn't that undercut God's own claim to justice? Certainly history has been full of (and continues to be filled with) all manner of people who have taken up violence against those they consider evil while wrapping themselves in the cloak of agents of divine wrath. But none of these endeavors has yet to establish the realm of God's justice in the world. Could it be that the problem isn't just in the agents, but in the means? Could even Christ establish justice through the unjust means of violence?
There are plenty of places within the scriptural and theological tradition to which the preacher could turn to construct God's response conceding that indeed eschatological violence is inconsistent with eschatological grace. Moses had this same discussion with God ending on precisely this note while on Mount Sinai in the wake of the golden calf incident (Exodus 33-34). Even while expressing dire consequences for those who ultimately reject God's grace, the Gospel of John asserts that God's purpose was not to condemn the world through Christ but to save it (John 3:17-21).
Our theological understanding of God's ultimate purpose for the world makes a real, practical difference in how we live here and now. Convinced of God's intention to destroy the sinful in judgment, many have sought to hasten that day by acts of violence in God's name. Convinced of God's intention to redeem through the divine power and glory of grace, we can pray that our faith, in that end, and our mutual love for one another might extend through the world to bring that future hope into present reality.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 119:137-144
The psalmist exuberantly expresses his sense of joy and love for God's Law. We may have trouble understanding this emotion simply because of the way the word "law" functions in our culture. Mentioning the law may evoke images of courtrooms, judges, lawyers, and law libraries. We may get a picture of the legislative process or an image of law enforcement.
While some of this can be accurately associated with God's Law, those elements are not the primary characteristic. As we read the psalmist, we get the feeling that the law he is connected to is a vital force. It is alive and "life-giving."
In the verses 137-144, the psalmist turns his attention to the force behind the law -- the character of God. "You are righteous, O Lord, and your judgments are right" (v. 137). It is the force of God's own character that gives the law its vitality. It is as if God has put the very essence of God's own self in the law. This element of the presence of God is what gives the law its life-giving property.
Of course, the psalmist states the matter much more strongly than that. "Your decrees are righteous forever; give me understanding that I may live" (v. 144). For the psalmist, the word of God is not only life-giving, but is essential to life itself. Without the law, without these words, we do not and cannot live.
We are immediately struck by the similarity of this line of thinking with what Jesus said during the temptation. When the devil tempts Jesus to turn stones into bread Jesus replies that humankind does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God (Matthew 4:4; Luke 4:4).
The psalmist would say a hearty "Amen" to that sentiment. The wisdom offered in God's Law, and the access to God's character that the law provides are as necessary to survival as is the food we eat. Without food, our bodies wither and die, but without God's word, the deeper purpose of our existence comes to an end. We may continue to breathe and walk around, existing on some biological level, but we will not be alive in the deepest sense of the word. Although the psalmist does not use the following words, I do not think he would disagree with the meaning: It is God's Law and God's truth that makes us truly human.
Let's face it: Many of the reasons IRS agents are subjected to such abuse are not even really their fault. It is the Congress that writes the convoluted and labyrinthine tax code that makes filing a tax return so complicated. Maybe people would not live in such fear of being audited if they weren't so "creative" in their application of that tax code to their personal financial situation. If we are to understand this Sunday's Gospel Lesson, however, we must understand not just why tax collectors are so despised in our culture, but why the inhabitants of Judea in the first century so hated them. In the case of Zacchaeus, Matthew, and their colleagues, they genuinely had brought the abuse upon themselves.
Imagine a tax system where there was no tax code that could be creatively interpreted to figure out how much you owe. Indeed, imagine a tax system where the government had no say or even any real concern in the individual tax liability of the taxpayers. There were no deductions or personal exemptions, because the government did not legislate or even decree tax laws. Instead, the government simply sold tax-collecting franchises to the highest bidder. Would-be tax collectors contracted to pay the Roman imperial treasury a certain amount each year from the region for which they held the franchise. Whatever they could collect over and above that amount was their compensation. Obviously, then, they had a real incentive to collect as much as they possibly could. Add to that the fact that the taxes paid to Rome were not used to provide a social safety net but to support the military occupation of the region (obviously despised in its own right), and you begin to see that even "revenuer" wouldn't begin to reflect the colorful names given to these first century tax collectors.
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
There is little known about the personal life of Habakkuk. We have no information about his ancestry or geographical origin, and even the precise period of his ministry is uncertain. The reference to "rousing the Chaldeans" is generally taken to refer to the transition in dominance over the region from the Assyrians to the Neo-Babylonian empire in the period around 600 B.C. (Nineveh fell in 610 B.C., and Assyria was completely defeated at Carchemish in 605 B.C.), but some would relate it to events as late as the aftermath of the first Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 597 B.C. Habakkuk would have been a prophetic contemporary of Jeremiah, Zephaniah, and Nahum. In the additions to the book of Daniel known as "Bel and the Dragon," the prophet Habakkuk is identified as a Levite. Apart from the literary quality of portions of his oracles that resemble cultic songs and liturgy, there is nothing within Habakkuk itself to suggest this.
The somewhat unusual verse selection in the lectionary reading is drawn from a dialogue between Habakkuk and God. The dialogue proceeds in two cycles of questions raised by the prophet (1:2-4; and 1:12--2:1) and God's responses to them (1:5-11; and 2:2-5). The reading thus includes Habakkuk's initial question and his call for a reply that concludes the second round, and God's response to that second round of questioning. The central theme of the dialogue is expressed in Habakkuk's complaint, "The wicked surround the righteous -- therefore judgment comes forth perverted" (1:4b). To state it more directly, Habakkuk raises a basic question of theodicy: Where is justice to be found if God allows the wicked to succeed at the expense of the just?
The focus in the first round of the exchange is internal to Judah itself. The prophet asks how long he must pray that God will intervene to end the unjust and violent treatment of the weak at the hands of the powerful. The very fact that such injustice continues becomes itself a reason for people to disregard God's dictates: "So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails" (1:4a). God responds by telling Habakkuk that the time of judgment on Judah is coming at the hands of the Chaldeans. The powerful people of Judah will be swept away by them just as other nations already had.
Habakkuk objects, saying that judgment by such means can hardly restore genuine justice to the world. How can such a holy God whose "eyes are too pure to behold evil" remain "silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they"? (1:13). By now referring to the people of Judah as "righteous," the prophet is not retracting his earlier denunciation of their abuses. Rather, he is objecting that surely the Babylonian's practices are even more demanding of God's judgment. How can God, then, use them as the instrument of judgment against Judah? Certainly there must come a time when the Babylonians will come under God's judgment (1:17).
God's answer is, in essence, all in due time. "If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay" (2:3b). God is not unaware of the excesses in even those nations that become instruments of divine judgment against God's own people. The time will come when they too will be judged. Until then, "the righteous live by their faith" (2:4). Their understanding of God's just nature will assure them both of the correctness of God's current judgment upon them for their failings and of the certainty that God will ultimately judge others as well.
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
There is a clear tendency within the Revised Common Lectionary to pass over portions of readings that place a strong emphasis on acts of divine judgment. It is evidenced somewhat in the handling of the first reading from Habakkuk appointed for this Sunday, which drops God's response to the prophet's first complaint with its graphic description of the judgment that is coming at the hands of the Babylonians. But, the omission of the description of "the righteous judgment of God ... when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven" here in the opening of 2 Thessalonians results in a potential misrepresentation both of the verses included in the assigned reading and in the theology of the letter as a whole.
The letter and the lectionary reading open with thanksgiving for two qualities that are singled out in the Thessalonian Christians: Their faith is "growing abundantly," and their mutual love of one another is likewise "increasing" (1:3). Not only is this developing faith and love a cause for thanksgiving, but it is also a ground for Paul to boast about them before other congregations in the Pauline mission. These qualities are also regarded as all the more remarkable because they continue to develop in the face of external "persecutions and ... afflictions" that confront the Thessalonians (1:4).
At this point the reading skips ahead to verse 11: "To this end we always pray for you...." The impression that is left by reading the passage in this manner is that the reason Paul and his colleagues (see 1:1) are in prayer for the Thessalonians is because of those "persecutions and the afflictions that [they] are enduring." But the "end" that is in view is not their deliverance from those who persecute them; rather, Paul's prayer is so that they might be among the "saints" who will glorify the Lord Jesus when he comes in judgment "with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus" (1:7b-8). They need the support of prayer not to spare them from those who afflict them now, but to spare them from God's judgment in the future.
As unpalatable as such a theology is to many in modern mainline Christianity, this letter does not shy away from it either here or in the remainder of the book. At its core is a belief that God's very justness demands that the divine "repay with affliction those who afflict you" even as God also grants "relief to the afflicted as well as to us" (1:6-7a). The means to restoring justice to the world is through a grand eschatological reversal that brings destruction on those who have destroyed the lives of others and life to those who have suffered. All of chapter 2 is devoted to a discussion of this "coming of our Lord Jesus Christ," including the difficult assertion in 2:11-12 that God will personally send "a powerful delusion, leading them to believe what is false" lest those who have afflicted others should somehow escape their impending condemnation.
The runaway popularity of LaHaye and Jenkins' Left Behind novels makes it clear that this theology remains alive and well in some quarters of the modern church. While I agree with the theological instincts of the lectionary committee to reject such theology, it won't suffice to simply ignore its presence by glossing over the problematic passages and pretending they are not there. It will instead be necessary to raise questions about this theology from within the language of 2 Thessalonians itself. What view of God's relation to the world will truly make us "worthy of [God's] call and will fulfill by [God's] power every good resolve and work of faith" (1:11)? Is "the name of our Lord Jesus ... glorified in [us] ... according to the grace of God" (1:12) by a theology that extols God's power to destroy those who do evil, or by a theology that emphasizes God's power to redeem them? Shouldn't our prayers be directed to the end that all people will stand as "saints" at Christ's appearing?
Luke 19:1-10
We are told that Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector in Jericho. Now that was a prime region because it was a major crossing point for goods from the Arabian peninsula into Palestine and from there on into North Africa and Europe. The tax-collecting franchise there would not have come cheap, and Zacchaeus had been able to parlay it into a tidy personal fortune. Ever been curious how Jesus could have known the identity of a complete stranger crouching in a tree, and have known he was able to provide hospitality not only to Jesus but also to his growing entourage? Well, there is no miracle here; undoubtedly Zacchaeus was a widely known and notorious figure -- in the worst nuances of that word!
No, the surprise is not that this traveler from Galilee knows who the Jericho tax collector is, but that he is willing to have anything at all to do with him. Jesus did not just mockingly acknowledge the "big, bad tax collector" so small in physical stature that he must perch himself in a tree to see over the crowd. Jesus declared that he "must stay" at Zacchaeus' home that night. Zacchaeus "was happy to welcome" Jesus, but everyone else in town was grumbling about it. Surely the prophet from Galilee in the midst of pilgrimage to Jerusalem for observance of the high holy days of Passover should be concerned about his spiritual preparation, but instead he is partying with the sinner Zacchaeus.
It was, for Zacchaeus, a transforming moment of acceptance. With unbridled excitement, he publicly promises to use half of his considerable possessions for benevolence to the poor. From the rest, he promises restitution with 300 percent interest to anyone whom he had defrauded. (No doubt the list of claimants would be long, for both noble and ignoble reasons of their own!) "Today," Jesus no doubt joyously proclaimed, "salvation has come to this house" -- but not for the reasons the cynical either then or now might have thought.
Certainly there were those who continued to grumble to themselves and others that Zacchaeus had managed to buy himself acceptance and even salvation with all his ill-gotten gains. After all, the rich have always used their excess wealth for philanthropies to such ends. Notice that Jesus does not in any way link Zacchaeus' salvation to his new spending priorities. Jesus had not told him, as he had on occasion told others, to sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. No, Jesus said salvation came to that house "because Zacchaeus, too, is a son of Abraham." Through Jesus' accepting relationship with him, Zacchaeus had come to realize his relationship was first and foremost with God and with God's people, and not as a minion of imperial oppression. That relationship reshaped his attitude toward his finances rather than his new use of money reshaping his relationship.
Application
What we do with our money does not determine our relationship with God, but it does say a lot about how much we value that relationship. At this time of year, when many churches enter their annual stewardship campaigns, it might be useful to remind our congregations that unlike some other faith traditions, most Christian churches no longer impose either a direct tax or mandated fees upon their members. In a consumer culture that assesses value in line with the phrase, "you get what you pay for," the unfortunate results of such practice have tended to be both decreased levels of support to the church and a decreasing value associated with it in people's minds. People who say that the church and its ministries in response to God's grace are important and valuable in their lives need to be challenged to demonstrate that statement through the way they use their financial resources.
The cynical will no doubt talk about money-grubbing charities always seeking a handout, but the fact is that how we use our money always tells a lot about what we value most. Why do we give wonderful gifts to our spouses and our children? We do so because we love them. Why do we invest time and financial resources in our favorite hobbies? Because we value the enjoyment and self-restoration we find in engaging in them. Why do we give our money to the church and donate our very selves to its ministries? Because we know how important that spiritual relationship with God and the communal relationship we share with one another is to us, and we long to make it available to others.
Being faithful stewards in supporting the church is not about earning brownie points with God, or even about pulling our fair share of the load. It is about being faithful in our relationship with God just as we are faithful in our relationship with our spouses and our children. It is about genuine and joyful love that prioritizes our lives. Faithful finances are the natural outgrowth of faithful relationship.
An Alternative Application
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12. Despite the omissions of the central portions of both the Old Testament and Epistle readings in the lectionary, the juxtaposition of Habakkuk and 2 Thessalonians provides a golden opportunity for the preacher to put on the mantle of Habakkuk and challenge theodicies rooted in the divine power to destroy the destroyers as the means to restore justice in the world.
The theology found in 2 Thessalonians is a logical extension of the two cycles of dialogue at the beginning of Habakkuk. Prayers are offered for those who are the people of God that they will survive the coming judgments against those who oppose God, whether among the presumed people of God or among those presumed outside God's realm. Until God's climactic eschatological battle to destroy evil, they must endure through increasing faith and mutual love, confident that God will prevail in the coming day of the Lord.
But looking back over history, we might conclude that Habakkuk gave up his debate with God too quickly. Perhaps they should have gone one more round. We might go on to press the theodicy question one step further. If God adopts the means of injustice -- violence and destruction -- in an effort to establish justice, doesn't that undercut God's own claim to justice? Certainly history has been full of (and continues to be filled with) all manner of people who have taken up violence against those they consider evil while wrapping themselves in the cloak of agents of divine wrath. But none of these endeavors has yet to establish the realm of God's justice in the world. Could it be that the problem isn't just in the agents, but in the means? Could even Christ establish justice through the unjust means of violence?
There are plenty of places within the scriptural and theological tradition to which the preacher could turn to construct God's response conceding that indeed eschatological violence is inconsistent with eschatological grace. Moses had this same discussion with God ending on precisely this note while on Mount Sinai in the wake of the golden calf incident (Exodus 33-34). Even while expressing dire consequences for those who ultimately reject God's grace, the Gospel of John asserts that God's purpose was not to condemn the world through Christ but to save it (John 3:17-21).
Our theological understanding of God's ultimate purpose for the world makes a real, practical difference in how we live here and now. Convinced of God's intention to destroy the sinful in judgment, many have sought to hasten that day by acts of violence in God's name. Convinced of God's intention to redeem through the divine power and glory of grace, we can pray that our faith, in that end, and our mutual love for one another might extend through the world to bring that future hope into present reality.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 119:137-144
The psalmist exuberantly expresses his sense of joy and love for God's Law. We may have trouble understanding this emotion simply because of the way the word "law" functions in our culture. Mentioning the law may evoke images of courtrooms, judges, lawyers, and law libraries. We may get a picture of the legislative process or an image of law enforcement.
While some of this can be accurately associated with God's Law, those elements are not the primary characteristic. As we read the psalmist, we get the feeling that the law he is connected to is a vital force. It is alive and "life-giving."
In the verses 137-144, the psalmist turns his attention to the force behind the law -- the character of God. "You are righteous, O Lord, and your judgments are right" (v. 137). It is the force of God's own character that gives the law its vitality. It is as if God has put the very essence of God's own self in the law. This element of the presence of God is what gives the law its life-giving property.
Of course, the psalmist states the matter much more strongly than that. "Your decrees are righteous forever; give me understanding that I may live" (v. 144). For the psalmist, the word of God is not only life-giving, but is essential to life itself. Without the law, without these words, we do not and cannot live.
We are immediately struck by the similarity of this line of thinking with what Jesus said during the temptation. When the devil tempts Jesus to turn stones into bread Jesus replies that humankind does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God (Matthew 4:4; Luke 4:4).
The psalmist would say a hearty "Amen" to that sentiment. The wisdom offered in God's Law, and the access to God's character that the law provides are as necessary to survival as is the food we eat. Without food, our bodies wither and die, but without God's word, the deeper purpose of our existence comes to an end. We may continue to breathe and walk around, existing on some biological level, but we will not be alive in the deepest sense of the word. Although the psalmist does not use the following words, I do not think he would disagree with the meaning: It is God's Law and God's truth that makes us truly human.
