Genuine imitation leather
Commentary
Object:
From time to time we come across things that are meant to sound or look like something
they are not. Perhaps the most positive version is the generic or store brand medications
that boast the same active ingredients as better-known products, but for considerably less
money. At the other end of the spectrum, meanwhile, we find counterfeit currency or art -
- worthless fakes that pose as articles of real value. In between there is that whole array of
products that endeavor to look and sound better than they actually are: imitation leather,
fake diamonds, gold-plated brass, knock-off designer clothes, and such.
In so many instances, the value and quality of a thing depends upon its source. For example, a certain kind of genius might be able to make a $50 bill that is essentially identical to the one produced by the United States mint, but it would not have the same value because it does not come from the authorized source. Likewise, with an excellent imitation of a Picasso painting or a Michelangelo sculpture.
This week, our scripture readings challenge us to check the label on something very important that we have: our righteousness. We are challenged to consider its source, to evaluate where it comes from.
The theme of righteousness is implicit in our Old Testament passage, for the Ten Commandments -- and the larger law that they represent -- form the standard against which righteousness is measured. Meanwhile, the theme is explicit in Paul, who discusses different kinds of righteousness in his letter to the Philippians. Finally, we detect the theme of righteousness just below the surface of the gospel lection, for Jesus' parable calls into question the very people who were known for their righteousness, while redefining what real righteousness looks like.
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
This week's Old Testament lection contains some of the most familiar material in all of scripture: excerpts from the Ten Commandments.
To exposit the commandments individually, of course, would exceed the constraints of a single Sunday morning. And so, since we have the broader passage to deal with, we ought to take a broader approach.
First, it is worth noting for our people the prominence of these commandments in ancient Israel. These tablets were the original occupants of the Ark of the Covenant -- Israel's single most holy object -- and kept in Israel's single most holy place.
Second, it might be helpful to observe that debate about the prominence of these same commandments has perhaps been somewhat misplaced. We have witnessed the cultural argument over whether replicas of those tablets belong on government property and in civic buildings. However, that debate misses the more practical point of the degree to which those commandments from God hold a properly central and important place in our lives. After all, if we keep the commandments in our government buildings but do not keep them in our lives, then we have dishonored them and their author in the most severe way possible. God did not intend for them to be museum pieces, but essential instruction and guidance for the lives of his people.
Third, we might also note that the commandments have lost something in translation. Not in the translation from Hebrew to English, but in the translation from verbatim to shorthand. For we have routinely distilled "mak[ing] wrongful use of the name of the Lord" into swearing, "remember[ing] the sabbath day" into going to church on Sundays, and "bear[ing] false witness against your neighbor" into lying.
In terms of the structure of the passage, we see that it consists of both message and medium. Both are important elements in any communication and both are of great significance here. The message portion is found in the first seventeen verses of the chapter: that is the text of the commandments. The medium, meanwhile, is captured in verse 18: "thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking."
This is not the sort of context in which we are accustomed to hearing the word of the Lord. The media we use to communicate his word are much more friendly and inviting, even amusing and entertaining. But the medium of Mount Sinai was not light-hearted: It was profound, majestic, and awesome. This communication did not tickle the funny bone, but melted the heart. The writer reports that the people "were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance."
Then Moses addresses himself to the response he sees in the people. "Do not be afraid," he assures them. Fine -- but then he goes on to offer this explanation: "God has come to test you and to put the fear of him upon you so that you do not sin."
So which is it, Moses? Are we to be afraid or not? You tell us not to be afraid, on the one hand, but then inform us that the endgame is the fear of God, on the other.
The passage provides an interesting insight into one of the fine lines that runs between proper and improper responses to God. The insecure apprehension that makes us shrink back from God is not consistent with the will of this loving Father. On the other hand, the awed reverence that keeps us faithful and holy is precisely the posture that he encourages and that we need.
The concluding phrase of the passage -- "so that you do not sin" -- is the tie that binds together both the medium and the message. The message articulates the essentials of obedience to God and righteous living, and the medium evokes the wonder and awe that produces such living. From the Garden of Eden on, sin has been the fatal foul line that God urges his people not to cross. The medium and the message of Sinai combine for this purpose: "So that you do not sin."
Philippians 3:4b-14
A number of passages of scriptures have acquired nicknames over the years. The "love chapter" (1 Corinthians 13), the "faith chapter" (Hebrews 11), and the "lost and found chapter" (Luke 15), are examples. Our selected New Testament lection for this week is among those nicknamed passages, for the first few of these verses are sometimes referred to as "Paul's pedigree."
That may be an important place to start, for without that backdrop, we might easily misunderstand what comes later. Taken out of context, a statement like "forgetting what is behind me and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal" could be misinterpreted. For if we are inclined to want to forget what is behind and press on toward a goal, it is generally the bad stuff that we would like to forget and leave behind us. That is not Paul's posture. He begins with the good stuff, and it is precisely that which he regards as rubbish, forgets, and leaves behind.
The good stuff, specifically, refers to Paul's impeccable credentials "in the flesh." Ralph Martin observes that Paul certifies his qualifications in terms of seven particulars: "Four items in the catalogue were his possessions by involuntary heredity; the other three were by his personal choice and conviction." And those are helpful distinctions, for surely we encounter people and circumstances that place the emphasis on heredity, as well as others who put a premium on personal achievement. Both would have been issues for the Judaizers against whom Paul has to make a case in so many places, and so he establishes himself on both grounds here.
Having opened up the safe-deposit box to display the family jewels, however, the apostle Paul just as quickly throws them in the trash. "These I have come to regard as loss," he shockingly reports.
The verb "regard" is a significant one in this passage. The underlying Greek word means "to consider, to count, or to esteem." It suggests a certain calculation and evaluation, and Paul employs it three times in just two verses. He "regard(s) these ... as loss," he "regard(s) everything as loss," and he "regard(s) them as rubbish." (The Greek word here, too, is an interesting choice, for what the NRSV translates as "rubbish" was a somewhat more colorful term, referring at times to animal excrement.)
A second recurring theme in this passage is "righteousness." It is a central issue to Paul's theology in general, and it is cited three times here. The way Paul presents the theme in this brief passage is a helpful summary of his larger understanding: namely, a contrast between "righteousness under the law" (v. 6) and "a righteousness of my own" (v. 9), on the one hand, and "the righteousness from God based on faith" (v. 9), on the other hand. While we may default into a dualism between sinfulness and righteousness, Paul the Pharisee engages us in a different paradigm, which may be better suited to many of our people. The question for us individually is not necessarily one of wickedness but rather of what sort and source of righteousness.
Finally, we should note also the forward focus of the passage. We observed that it begins with "Paul's pedigree." But that's all in the past, and the past is not Paul's primary interest. No matter how solid the resume, it can be tossed away, for his concern is what lies ahead: "to know Christ and the power of his resurrection," to "attain the resurrection from the dead," to "make it [his] own," and to "press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus." Whether the past is full of failure or glory, terrible sins or great accomplishments, no matter: for the best is yet to come.
Matthew 21:33-46
In Matthew's gospel, Jesus enters into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday at the beginning of chapter 21. This passage comes from the end of chapter 21 and so the stage is set. Jesus is in Jerusalem. It is early in that eventful week. He is being confronted and challenged by the Jewish leaders that are antagonistic to him. And he is beginning to tell the parables that comprise most of his end-time teaching.
If our people are not conversant in these parables and their interpretation, we might do well to begin at the end of the passage. After "the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them." That detail from the narrator will provide our people with an important clue to understanding the parable itself.
The parable tells the story of a vineyard owner, who leases his vineyard to certain tenants. A part of the contract, naturally, was that the tenants would return to the owner an agreed upon rent or the appropriate percentage of the produce of his property. When he sent his representatives to collect what was due to him, however, the tenants sent them away beaten, bruised, and empty-handed.
So it is that the owner decides to send his own son.
This is where the story -- and its placement in Jerusalem during Holy Week -- becomes so poignant. Can we imagine our way into Jesus' heart as he reports this twist in the story's plot: "So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him"? Pathos and prophecy merge in this parable.
However, the murder of the son is not the end of the story. Rather, there is the owner's fierce judgment that follows, with a "miserable death" for the original tenants, as well as a new contract with new tenants -- people, we hear later, "that produces the fruits of the kingdom."
When we read that the chief priests and Pharisees "realized that he was speaking about them," we wonder how much they understood. Did they recognize that they were the original tenants, entrusted by God with oversight of his property? Did they perceive the earlier messengers sent by the owner, the rejection of which Jesus attributed to them? (see Matthew 23:29-37). And could it possibly be that they understood the identity of the son in the parable?
Perhaps not. Perhaps they were only perceptive enough to recognize vaguely that finger was being pointed in their direction. Perhaps they only perceived the extent to which the parable was about them, but not the extent to which it was also about him. On the other hand, the tenants in the parable are under no delusions: they know that they're killing the son.
Meanwhile, not only was the parable in part about Jesus, but an opaque reference to a stone in Psalm 118 was written about him, as well.
Once again, a sense of context is helpful here. We are only a few verses removed from the account of Palm Sunday, which itself resonates with this remarkable psalm (see, for example, Psalm 118:23-27). And so here, Jesus deliberately recalls a verse from that same psalm: a picturesque way of saying that the people put in charge of a project had badly missed God's special contribution to that project.
In the first image, then, the Jewish leaders are tenants, who do not live up to the expectations of God, and who deliberately conspire to kill his son. In the second image, they are the builders, who foolishly dismiss the very stone that God had intended to be the cornerstone of his enterprise.
Finally, in both images, there is judgment: The "miserable death" of the tenants and the stone that "will crush anyone on whom it falls."
Application
"Is this real leather?" we ask the salesman, as we slowly rub our hand along the back of the handsome chair.
"No, not exactly, but it's genuine imitation leather!" he assures us.
"Ah," we say, nodding and smiling, though secretly wondering what exactly we're buying.
Likewise, there may be some undesirable product that we might call "genuine imitation righteousness." It's not made from the real thing and so it doesn't have the enduring value or beauty of the real thing. But at a glance, on the surface, it has the look. And the casual observer might walk by it and say, "Ah, righteousness!"
We may infer from the gospel accounts that there was a good deal of genuine imitation righteousness among the Pharisees of Jesus' day. They should not be unfairly singled out, of course, for we certainly see evidence of the same unhappy phenomenon in the audiences of, say, Isaiah, Amos, and Malachi. However, we focus on the Pharisees because they figure into the gospel lection this week, and they are part of the context of Paul's pedigree in Philippians.
Our Old Testament lection presents us with a sample of God's law from the slopes of Sinai. A thousand or so years later, Paul claims that "as to the law [he was] a Pharisee" and "as to righteousness under the law [he was] blameless."
So Paul's all good, right? Genuine righteousness! The real thing!
No, for we know that the question of genuine or counterfeit depends upon the source. And Paul has discovered the real source. He has set aside the "righteousness of my own that comes from the law" in favor of "the righteousness from God," which "comes through faith in Christ."
We are familiar with the scriptural exhortations to put aside our sinful ways and habits. We may not be so well acquainted, though, with the need to put aside righteousness. We should, of course, if it's not the real thing.
Righteousness based on our works, on our merit, on our compliance with the law -- these have the look, but they come from an inferior source. Our invitation is to receive the righteousness that comes from God through faith. Everything else is just a cheap imitation.
Alternative Applications
Philippians 3:4b-14. "Paul The Pearl Merchant." One of the briefest of Jesus' parables is the familiar story of the pearl of great price. "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls," Jesus says. And "on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it" (Matthew 13:45-46).
Meanwhile, in the letter to the Philippians, we finally get to see the merchant's face, and we discover that it's a familiar one. It is the apostle Paul.
We observed above how Paul has opened up the safe deposit box to reveal the family jewels, only to throw them in the trash. We mustn't misunderstand the sudden devaluation of these formerly prized positions. It's not that they have no value at all. Rather, the issue turns out to be that they have virtually no value when compared with what Paul has since discovered. For see what follows each of the "regard" statements highlighted earlier: "because of Christ," "because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ," and "in order that I may gain Christ."
It's not that the collector's pearls are suddenly worthless, you see; it's just that he has discovered a pearl whose value so far surpasses them all (see Matthew 13:45-46).
Matthew 21:33-46. "Is There Another Choice?" Every day we are presented with choices. What to wear, what to buy, what to eat, whom to hire, which direction to go, what decision to make, and on and on. Sometimes we have before us a menu that is so appealing that we have a hard time choosing because "it all just looks so good!" At other times, we aren't fond of any of our choices, and we talk about settling "for the lesser of two evils." We look at the unappealing selection, and we say, "Is there more? Is there another choice?"
That may well be our response to this teaching of Jesus. He identifies himself with the stone of Psalm 118:22, which by itself seems harmless enough. Indeed, it seems very positive -- except for those "builders."
Then Jesus elaborates on that stone: "The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls."
We wait to hear more options. We look around for another page in the menu. "Excuse me," we ask politely. "Is there another choice?"
Christian singer/songwriter Michael Card doesn't think so. In his song, "Scandalon," he speaks of Jesus being the truth and the healer of the broken. Brokenness, you see, is not bad news. It may be uncomfortable and unwelcome, but it is not bad. Rather, we gather from the psalmist (Psalm 51:17) that it is a prerequisite for the redemptive work of God our lives.
So it seems, the two choices are plenty. Indeed, that selection may be typical (see Deuteronomy 30:19; 1 Kings 18:21). But our people need to know exactly what those choices are.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 19
"The law of the Lord is perfect...." In a suspicious and cynical generation like this one, such a claim is automatically suspect. In the first place, protestants with sketchy education have learned from Saint Paul that law is not to be trusted. In the second place, again with sketchy educations, any notion of perfection is not only suspect, it is to be discounted. Perfect law? It would be easier to convince the Navy to put screen doors on submarines as it would be to convince this generation of a perfect law of God.
The struggle, though, is compounded when one hears that this law of God is not only perfect, it serves to revive one's soul and even offers wisdom to the simple.
This is a generation of skeptics. Informed by enlightenment thinking and fueled by the myth of scientific proof, people scoff openly at the notion that a precept of the Lord could both be perfect and good.
Yet, it is true. If we understand the "law" of the creator to be written, not only in our sacred texts but in creation itself we begin to get a glimmer of the truth and depth of this claim. Consider some of the more basic laws. The ancient dietary laws were not there merely to set up kosher kitchens. They were there to protect the health of the community. One didn't eat pork, quite frankly, because under food storage conditions of the day, it was frequently fatal to do so. The Ten Commandments are not mere exercises in following the whims of a capricious deity. They are practical, life-giving processes for the purposes of guiding a community.
It makes sense that we should not steal from one another. Rampant theft leads to chaos and chaos to the destruction of community. One wishes some of the predatory lenders working over the past years had heard of such a law. Neither does it take a world-class sociologist to figure out that killing people doesn't lead to productive and healthy community. So it is that the "Thou shalt not kill" commandment has power for us, especially today.
Yes, the law of the Lord is indeed perfect. Saint Paul's introduction of grace does not relieve us from the sacred calling to follow God's leading. Indeed, following these laws does lead to health, wholeness, and strength.
Perhaps this generation would do well to trade in its skepticism for a modicum of trust and prayerful reflection.
In so many instances, the value and quality of a thing depends upon its source. For example, a certain kind of genius might be able to make a $50 bill that is essentially identical to the one produced by the United States mint, but it would not have the same value because it does not come from the authorized source. Likewise, with an excellent imitation of a Picasso painting or a Michelangelo sculpture.
This week, our scripture readings challenge us to check the label on something very important that we have: our righteousness. We are challenged to consider its source, to evaluate where it comes from.
The theme of righteousness is implicit in our Old Testament passage, for the Ten Commandments -- and the larger law that they represent -- form the standard against which righteousness is measured. Meanwhile, the theme is explicit in Paul, who discusses different kinds of righteousness in his letter to the Philippians. Finally, we detect the theme of righteousness just below the surface of the gospel lection, for Jesus' parable calls into question the very people who were known for their righteousness, while redefining what real righteousness looks like.
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
This week's Old Testament lection contains some of the most familiar material in all of scripture: excerpts from the Ten Commandments.
To exposit the commandments individually, of course, would exceed the constraints of a single Sunday morning. And so, since we have the broader passage to deal with, we ought to take a broader approach.
First, it is worth noting for our people the prominence of these commandments in ancient Israel. These tablets were the original occupants of the Ark of the Covenant -- Israel's single most holy object -- and kept in Israel's single most holy place.
Second, it might be helpful to observe that debate about the prominence of these same commandments has perhaps been somewhat misplaced. We have witnessed the cultural argument over whether replicas of those tablets belong on government property and in civic buildings. However, that debate misses the more practical point of the degree to which those commandments from God hold a properly central and important place in our lives. After all, if we keep the commandments in our government buildings but do not keep them in our lives, then we have dishonored them and their author in the most severe way possible. God did not intend for them to be museum pieces, but essential instruction and guidance for the lives of his people.
Third, we might also note that the commandments have lost something in translation. Not in the translation from Hebrew to English, but in the translation from verbatim to shorthand. For we have routinely distilled "mak[ing] wrongful use of the name of the Lord" into swearing, "remember[ing] the sabbath day" into going to church on Sundays, and "bear[ing] false witness against your neighbor" into lying.
In terms of the structure of the passage, we see that it consists of both message and medium. Both are important elements in any communication and both are of great significance here. The message portion is found in the first seventeen verses of the chapter: that is the text of the commandments. The medium, meanwhile, is captured in verse 18: "thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking."
This is not the sort of context in which we are accustomed to hearing the word of the Lord. The media we use to communicate his word are much more friendly and inviting, even amusing and entertaining. But the medium of Mount Sinai was not light-hearted: It was profound, majestic, and awesome. This communication did not tickle the funny bone, but melted the heart. The writer reports that the people "were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance."
Then Moses addresses himself to the response he sees in the people. "Do not be afraid," he assures them. Fine -- but then he goes on to offer this explanation: "God has come to test you and to put the fear of him upon you so that you do not sin."
So which is it, Moses? Are we to be afraid or not? You tell us not to be afraid, on the one hand, but then inform us that the endgame is the fear of God, on the other.
The passage provides an interesting insight into one of the fine lines that runs between proper and improper responses to God. The insecure apprehension that makes us shrink back from God is not consistent with the will of this loving Father. On the other hand, the awed reverence that keeps us faithful and holy is precisely the posture that he encourages and that we need.
The concluding phrase of the passage -- "so that you do not sin" -- is the tie that binds together both the medium and the message. The message articulates the essentials of obedience to God and righteous living, and the medium evokes the wonder and awe that produces such living. From the Garden of Eden on, sin has been the fatal foul line that God urges his people not to cross. The medium and the message of Sinai combine for this purpose: "So that you do not sin."
Philippians 3:4b-14
A number of passages of scriptures have acquired nicknames over the years. The "love chapter" (1 Corinthians 13), the "faith chapter" (Hebrews 11), and the "lost and found chapter" (Luke 15), are examples. Our selected New Testament lection for this week is among those nicknamed passages, for the first few of these verses are sometimes referred to as "Paul's pedigree."
That may be an important place to start, for without that backdrop, we might easily misunderstand what comes later. Taken out of context, a statement like "forgetting what is behind me and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal" could be misinterpreted. For if we are inclined to want to forget what is behind and press on toward a goal, it is generally the bad stuff that we would like to forget and leave behind us. That is not Paul's posture. He begins with the good stuff, and it is precisely that which he regards as rubbish, forgets, and leaves behind.
The good stuff, specifically, refers to Paul's impeccable credentials "in the flesh." Ralph Martin observes that Paul certifies his qualifications in terms of seven particulars: "Four items in the catalogue were his possessions by involuntary heredity; the other three were by his personal choice and conviction." And those are helpful distinctions, for surely we encounter people and circumstances that place the emphasis on heredity, as well as others who put a premium on personal achievement. Both would have been issues for the Judaizers against whom Paul has to make a case in so many places, and so he establishes himself on both grounds here.
Having opened up the safe-deposit box to display the family jewels, however, the apostle Paul just as quickly throws them in the trash. "These I have come to regard as loss," he shockingly reports.
The verb "regard" is a significant one in this passage. The underlying Greek word means "to consider, to count, or to esteem." It suggests a certain calculation and evaluation, and Paul employs it three times in just two verses. He "regard(s) these ... as loss," he "regard(s) everything as loss," and he "regard(s) them as rubbish." (The Greek word here, too, is an interesting choice, for what the NRSV translates as "rubbish" was a somewhat more colorful term, referring at times to animal excrement.)
A second recurring theme in this passage is "righteousness." It is a central issue to Paul's theology in general, and it is cited three times here. The way Paul presents the theme in this brief passage is a helpful summary of his larger understanding: namely, a contrast between "righteousness under the law" (v. 6) and "a righteousness of my own" (v. 9), on the one hand, and "the righteousness from God based on faith" (v. 9), on the other hand. While we may default into a dualism between sinfulness and righteousness, Paul the Pharisee engages us in a different paradigm, which may be better suited to many of our people. The question for us individually is not necessarily one of wickedness but rather of what sort and source of righteousness.
Finally, we should note also the forward focus of the passage. We observed that it begins with "Paul's pedigree." But that's all in the past, and the past is not Paul's primary interest. No matter how solid the resume, it can be tossed away, for his concern is what lies ahead: "to know Christ and the power of his resurrection," to "attain the resurrection from the dead," to "make it [his] own," and to "press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus." Whether the past is full of failure or glory, terrible sins or great accomplishments, no matter: for the best is yet to come.
Matthew 21:33-46
In Matthew's gospel, Jesus enters into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday at the beginning of chapter 21. This passage comes from the end of chapter 21 and so the stage is set. Jesus is in Jerusalem. It is early in that eventful week. He is being confronted and challenged by the Jewish leaders that are antagonistic to him. And he is beginning to tell the parables that comprise most of his end-time teaching.
If our people are not conversant in these parables and their interpretation, we might do well to begin at the end of the passage. After "the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them." That detail from the narrator will provide our people with an important clue to understanding the parable itself.
The parable tells the story of a vineyard owner, who leases his vineyard to certain tenants. A part of the contract, naturally, was that the tenants would return to the owner an agreed upon rent or the appropriate percentage of the produce of his property. When he sent his representatives to collect what was due to him, however, the tenants sent them away beaten, bruised, and empty-handed.
So it is that the owner decides to send his own son.
This is where the story -- and its placement in Jerusalem during Holy Week -- becomes so poignant. Can we imagine our way into Jesus' heart as he reports this twist in the story's plot: "So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him"? Pathos and prophecy merge in this parable.
However, the murder of the son is not the end of the story. Rather, there is the owner's fierce judgment that follows, with a "miserable death" for the original tenants, as well as a new contract with new tenants -- people, we hear later, "that produces the fruits of the kingdom."
When we read that the chief priests and Pharisees "realized that he was speaking about them," we wonder how much they understood. Did they recognize that they were the original tenants, entrusted by God with oversight of his property? Did they perceive the earlier messengers sent by the owner, the rejection of which Jesus attributed to them? (see Matthew 23:29-37). And could it possibly be that they understood the identity of the son in the parable?
Perhaps not. Perhaps they were only perceptive enough to recognize vaguely that finger was being pointed in their direction. Perhaps they only perceived the extent to which the parable was about them, but not the extent to which it was also about him. On the other hand, the tenants in the parable are under no delusions: they know that they're killing the son.
Meanwhile, not only was the parable in part about Jesus, but an opaque reference to a stone in Psalm 118 was written about him, as well.
Once again, a sense of context is helpful here. We are only a few verses removed from the account of Palm Sunday, which itself resonates with this remarkable psalm (see, for example, Psalm 118:23-27). And so here, Jesus deliberately recalls a verse from that same psalm: a picturesque way of saying that the people put in charge of a project had badly missed God's special contribution to that project.
In the first image, then, the Jewish leaders are tenants, who do not live up to the expectations of God, and who deliberately conspire to kill his son. In the second image, they are the builders, who foolishly dismiss the very stone that God had intended to be the cornerstone of his enterprise.
Finally, in both images, there is judgment: The "miserable death" of the tenants and the stone that "will crush anyone on whom it falls."
Application
"Is this real leather?" we ask the salesman, as we slowly rub our hand along the back of the handsome chair.
"No, not exactly, but it's genuine imitation leather!" he assures us.
"Ah," we say, nodding and smiling, though secretly wondering what exactly we're buying.
Likewise, there may be some undesirable product that we might call "genuine imitation righteousness." It's not made from the real thing and so it doesn't have the enduring value or beauty of the real thing. But at a glance, on the surface, it has the look. And the casual observer might walk by it and say, "Ah, righteousness!"
We may infer from the gospel accounts that there was a good deal of genuine imitation righteousness among the Pharisees of Jesus' day. They should not be unfairly singled out, of course, for we certainly see evidence of the same unhappy phenomenon in the audiences of, say, Isaiah, Amos, and Malachi. However, we focus on the Pharisees because they figure into the gospel lection this week, and they are part of the context of Paul's pedigree in Philippians.
Our Old Testament lection presents us with a sample of God's law from the slopes of Sinai. A thousand or so years later, Paul claims that "as to the law [he was] a Pharisee" and "as to righteousness under the law [he was] blameless."
So Paul's all good, right? Genuine righteousness! The real thing!
No, for we know that the question of genuine or counterfeit depends upon the source. And Paul has discovered the real source. He has set aside the "righteousness of my own that comes from the law" in favor of "the righteousness from God," which "comes through faith in Christ."
We are familiar with the scriptural exhortations to put aside our sinful ways and habits. We may not be so well acquainted, though, with the need to put aside righteousness. We should, of course, if it's not the real thing.
Righteousness based on our works, on our merit, on our compliance with the law -- these have the look, but they come from an inferior source. Our invitation is to receive the righteousness that comes from God through faith. Everything else is just a cheap imitation.
Alternative Applications
Philippians 3:4b-14. "Paul The Pearl Merchant." One of the briefest of Jesus' parables is the familiar story of the pearl of great price. "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls," Jesus says. And "on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it" (Matthew 13:45-46).
Meanwhile, in the letter to the Philippians, we finally get to see the merchant's face, and we discover that it's a familiar one. It is the apostle Paul.
We observed above how Paul has opened up the safe deposit box to reveal the family jewels, only to throw them in the trash. We mustn't misunderstand the sudden devaluation of these formerly prized positions. It's not that they have no value at all. Rather, the issue turns out to be that they have virtually no value when compared with what Paul has since discovered. For see what follows each of the "regard" statements highlighted earlier: "because of Christ," "because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ," and "in order that I may gain Christ."
It's not that the collector's pearls are suddenly worthless, you see; it's just that he has discovered a pearl whose value so far surpasses them all (see Matthew 13:45-46).
Matthew 21:33-46. "Is There Another Choice?" Every day we are presented with choices. What to wear, what to buy, what to eat, whom to hire, which direction to go, what decision to make, and on and on. Sometimes we have before us a menu that is so appealing that we have a hard time choosing because "it all just looks so good!" At other times, we aren't fond of any of our choices, and we talk about settling "for the lesser of two evils." We look at the unappealing selection, and we say, "Is there more? Is there another choice?"
That may well be our response to this teaching of Jesus. He identifies himself with the stone of Psalm 118:22, which by itself seems harmless enough. Indeed, it seems very positive -- except for those "builders."
Then Jesus elaborates on that stone: "The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls."
We wait to hear more options. We look around for another page in the menu. "Excuse me," we ask politely. "Is there another choice?"
Christian singer/songwriter Michael Card doesn't think so. In his song, "Scandalon," he speaks of Jesus being the truth and the healer of the broken. Brokenness, you see, is not bad news. It may be uncomfortable and unwelcome, but it is not bad. Rather, we gather from the psalmist (Psalm 51:17) that it is a prerequisite for the redemptive work of God our lives.
So it seems, the two choices are plenty. Indeed, that selection may be typical (see Deuteronomy 30:19; 1 Kings 18:21). But our people need to know exactly what those choices are.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 19
"The law of the Lord is perfect...." In a suspicious and cynical generation like this one, such a claim is automatically suspect. In the first place, protestants with sketchy education have learned from Saint Paul that law is not to be trusted. In the second place, again with sketchy educations, any notion of perfection is not only suspect, it is to be discounted. Perfect law? It would be easier to convince the Navy to put screen doors on submarines as it would be to convince this generation of a perfect law of God.
The struggle, though, is compounded when one hears that this law of God is not only perfect, it serves to revive one's soul and even offers wisdom to the simple.
This is a generation of skeptics. Informed by enlightenment thinking and fueled by the myth of scientific proof, people scoff openly at the notion that a precept of the Lord could both be perfect and good.
Yet, it is true. If we understand the "law" of the creator to be written, not only in our sacred texts but in creation itself we begin to get a glimmer of the truth and depth of this claim. Consider some of the more basic laws. The ancient dietary laws were not there merely to set up kosher kitchens. They were there to protect the health of the community. One didn't eat pork, quite frankly, because under food storage conditions of the day, it was frequently fatal to do so. The Ten Commandments are not mere exercises in following the whims of a capricious deity. They are practical, life-giving processes for the purposes of guiding a community.
It makes sense that we should not steal from one another. Rampant theft leads to chaos and chaos to the destruction of community. One wishes some of the predatory lenders working over the past years had heard of such a law. Neither does it take a world-class sociologist to figure out that killing people doesn't lead to productive and healthy community. So it is that the "Thou shalt not kill" commandment has power for us, especially today.
Yes, the law of the Lord is indeed perfect. Saint Paul's introduction of grace does not relieve us from the sacred calling to follow God's leading. Indeed, following these laws does lead to health, wholeness, and strength.
Perhaps this generation would do well to trade in its skepticism for a modicum of trust and prayerful reflection.
