The hardest job of all?
Commentary
There are lots of hard jobs in the world, things that are tough to do, work that requires long years of training or which uses skills that are hard to develop. There are the standard ones that we all think of as very hard jobs - nuclear physicist is one (in previous times it was "rocket scientist"); brain surgeon is another.
In the last six months the huge difficulty of being a firefighter has been driven home to us in the papers and on television. There are enormous risks to it, along with an enormous physical and emotional toll it takes on lives.
There is a book in Washington, D.C., called The Prune Book, published by the Council for Excellence in Government, which lists appointed positions in the federal government. Written primarily for incoming presidential appointees, it says this: "Presidential appointees have some of the world's toughest, most important jobs. The hours are long, the decisions difficult, the stress unrelenting. Just ask the Bush-administration appointees who worked to free the Navy crew held by China. One false move and the United States could have been at war."
In Christopher Buckley's satirical novel, Thank You for Smoking, Nick Naylor has one of the world's hardest jobs. As the chief spokesman for the Academy of Tobacco Studies, he's a spin-doctor for the tobacco industry.
And how about other really tough jobs that might exist: the Nutrition Director for the Snack Food Association of America. Or the Safety Director for the NRA.
The fact is that if you ask 10 people what the toughest jobs are and you will get 10 different answers. I want to suggest another one, the one that is without doubt the hardest job of all: being a follower of Jesus Christ, at least according to the specifications for the job given in the Bible.
It's a hard job. But one that we're called to nevertheless. So how in the world are we supposed to do it? Perhaps we need God's help.
Genesis 21:8-21
This passage follows immediately upon the birth of Isaac and it describes the results of the rivalry between Sarah and Hagar. It is also the conclusion, but for a few references later in Genesis, of the biblical story of Ishmael.
The story is told straightforwardly in the text, so I won't recount it here. But we should look at Abraham, who, as any true father, was deeply upset by Sarah's demand that Hagar and her son be cast out.
But then we hear a remarkable promise from God, one that is not spoken of often. "Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman," said God, "... I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring." And with that, assured that the child would be safe, Abraham sent Hagar and Ishmael packing.
So, just another interesting and quaint story in the Bible, right? Well, not exactly. The story might well end there if not for one simple, post-biblical, fact. Arabs and Muslims trace their ancestry to Ishmael. In fact, the prophet Mohammed was a descendant of Ishmael.
All these years - decades, centuries, millennia - of fighting between Arabs and Jews and both are descendants of Abraham. And the God of Israel even promised that Ishmael would be the father of a nation.
In the immediate aftermath of September 11, the airwaves and papers were filled with outrageous and provocative statements about Muslims. They became the enemy. But the testimony of this passage is that we are all kin. And that even the outcasts, the ones who aren't part of the "chosen" people, the ones we vilify, are on the receiving end of God's grace and care.
Romans 6:1b-11
It's not hard to predict when the question will come up. As a Presbyterian pastor, I know somebody will ask it if the discussion ever gets around to the doctrine of predestination. The question is this: If we're already going to heaven, then we can do anything we want, right? If it's already decided where I'm going, then it doesn't matter what I do. When people know that predestination has been associated with Presbyterians, someone is sure to ask it.
It is a similar question that Paul is dealing with here. Why not just go ahead and sin? In predestination, you might as well, since it doesn't matter. In Paul's theology, you might as well, since God's grace would increase as sin increases.
In this passage we are breaking into the middle of a difficult argument, even though it begins a chapter, so let's consider in sequence.
The background and context: Paul has been speaking of salvation as a free gift of God's grace, and he has been comparing Adam and Christ, the trespass that brought sin and death into the world and the free gift that brought grace into the world. Just as Adam's sin abounded for many, so in the same way Christ's grace abounds for many.
And then came the Law, which kicked up the struggle with sin a notch, because with the law, human beings knew what sin was. So with the law, sin increased. But the logical conclusion, in verse 20, is that where sin increases, God's grace would also increase.
The question: But that immediately suggests the question that Paul asks at the beginning of this reading: Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? If God's grace is a good thing, and surely we all admit that it is, then why not do the most we can to ensure more of it, to call forth more of it from the Creator?
Paul's answer: Well, that doesn't sound very good. And in fact, Paul reacts with horror at the suggestion. By no means! Okay then, how do we get around the problem?
Paul's synthesis: Paul is led in this theological problem toward what might be called the doctrine of participation in Christ, a uniquely Pauline teaching that has become a part of Christian orthodoxy. Paul speaks of our being "baptized into his death" and "buried with him" in that baptism. Even more, "if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin" (vv. 5-6). It is a spiritual bond that Paul is talking about, a union with Christ and with the specifics of his life and death. In other words, we have already died, participating spiritually in his crucifixion. Having died with Christ, we are beyond the grave. How then can sin have a hold on us?
But ... but hanging over it all is the fact of human sin here and now. Paul's is not an easy argument. Verse 11 helps a little, because at issue is something internal, how we "consider" ourselves; we are to consider ourselves "dead to sin." Verse 12a helps a little more even though it's not part of the reading. It is the call to not let sin have dominion over us, since that is now under our control.
The argument is a struggle with the "already, but not yet," what has already been achieved for us by Jesus Christ and the things that lie ahead in the future. It is the struggle for us to live in a world of sin with the fact of Christ's gracious benefit for us, namely, the death of sin.
Perhaps the last word on this complex matter should be simple. Paul is saying to the Romans, and to us: "You're freed from sin, so don't worry about it. But also, don't sin."
Matthew 10:24-39
Chapter 10 of Matthew consists of Jesus' instructions to and the commissioning of the Twelve before sending them out on a mission, even though Matthew, unlike Mark and Luke, refers to no actual mission journey. These verses are assembled by Matthew from different sources, but it is important to affirm that even though they appear in other contexts in Mark and Luke, what Matthew presents in chapter 10 is still a single unified message to the church. Verses 24-39 make up about two-thirds of the chapter, which is covered in three Sunday's readings.
Though intended for the Twelve, the instructions carry force for all of Jesus' followers, even for those 2,000 years after the fact. And if there is one thing to sum up these words that Jesus passes along to his disciples, it is that they are hard sayings and tough expectations. They don't present a rosy picture of what will happen to any who make the commitment to follow Jesus.
In the first division of the text, 24-25, Jesus tells them that because disciples are treated like their master, they will be subject to all the abuse that might be heaped upon him, including being called Beelzebul, an Aramaic name for the prince of demons, or the devil.
Verses 26-30 describe the persecution that will be the lot of Jesus' disciples, particularly when they broadcast aloud the things that Jesus has taught them in secret (v. 27), which will prove to be a dangerous undertaking. But, says Jesus, don't be afraid, because openness is on our side, and all will be revealed. It's a hard bit of comfort Jesus offers. Don't fear those that can kill the body but not the soul. The God who guards even the sparrows and counts the hairs on your head will keep you. After all, how much more valuable are you than the sparrows?
Through it all, there will be pressure, Jesus implies in 32 and 33, to keep silent, pressure not to acknowledge him in the face of persecution and threat. Indeed, we hear in this an anticipatory echo of Peter's denial of Jesus. It is a commitment that Jesus expects of his disciples, and not just any commitment, but a public commitment. And left unsaid is the sub-text of the whole reading, that it will be dangerous.
With verse 34 we come to the hardest of the sayings about discipleship, that those who follow will be separated from their families and loved ones. It is tempting to soften the difficult parts here, by speaking of, say, the Semitic penchant for hyperbole. Another suggestion has been that in the Bible the results of an action are often later stated to be the purpose of an action. In other words, a commitment to Jesus had the effect of separating people from their families, so the writer might later call that the intention, which would, presumably, be a comfort to those whose commitment had already hurt their family lives.
But we do a disservice to the text if we pave over the bumpy parts too quickly and easily. These are hard sayings of Jesus, and we need to wrestle with them. The reading ends with the hardest saying of all, about life in general, that those who find it will lose it, while those who lose it in commitment to Jesus will find it. So it is a dangerous and hard road that the Twelve, along with all the others who follow, are called to. But at the end of the road lies a newfound life.
Application
We all have a concept of hard jobs, things that are difficult to accomplish. There are occupations that require enormous education and training. Scientists and researchers fall into that category. There are jobs that are hard because they require a great deal of time. A new young associate in a large law firm can put in 80 hours a week or more. That makes it a hard job. There are jobs that are difficult because they require years and years of practice, developing skills. A concert pianist, for example, has a hard job, or a skilled woodworker who has taken years to hone his abilities has a hard job.
Each of us in our own jobs, whether or not they are considered hard jobs, come face to face with things that are hard to do, real challenges, tasks that require a great deal of concentration.
Whatever our job might be, we are task-oriented, profession-oriented, occupation-based people, far more than previous generations, when only about half the population didn't have jobs outside the home. For most of us, our identity and our well-being are tied up with our work. It's all about making a living, but more, it's about setting goals and accomplishing important things and helping people. And beyond that, hard work, tough jobs, are about changing ourselves, striving, leaning forward, reaching ahead. We're busy people, working hard, keeping at it.
Now contrast that with other sorts of things we do, other human endeavors that we're engaged in, that might not pose such challenges.
Most of us, for example, don't think of housework as a terribly difficult job. We may not like it, we may not do it, but most of us would say that it is something we could do fairly easily. Or how about driving? Isn't it second nature for most us? We don't even think about it. Going to the grocery store and running errands? No, that's nothing for us.
Then there's our leisure time, the things we do for recreation. There are some people who work very hard at their leisure activities - mountain climbing, sky diving, scuba diving. But for most of us, our vacations are more relaxing than other times.
Where are we heading with all of this? We're heading for this question: Of the two kinds of pursuits that we human beings engage in, where do you think most of us put our religion? Which category does our practice of our faith fall into? In the hard-charging, difficult tasks, like work, with a lot of striving? Or do we put it over on the side of the easy, piece-of-cake endeavors, along with going to the grocery store and taking a vacation at the beach?
For most of us, I would warrant, our religious activities fall on the easy side of the human activity spectrum.
The Bible's description of what it takes to be a Christian disciple paints it as a hard job, a very hard job. Beyond hard, in fact. Well nigh impossible.
In Romans, Paul calls us to put aside our sinful nature, and what he means by that is to die with Christ. Sounds admirable, but isn't that like a leopard changing its spots? Are we to exist in this world truly free from sin? That's a hard call, but it is our call nevertheless.
In Matthew it gets even harder. We are to subject ourselves to abuse, let ourselves be persecuted, hate our families, and take up our cross and prepare to die. And that's just in this one reading. Elsewhere in the Gospel of Matthew, we hear that if we get struck on the face, we stick it out there again. We're told to love our enemies. We're told to be perfect, even as God in heaven is perfect.
That's a much harder job than any of us make it, harder than nuclear physicist or brain surgeon or any of the other jobs mentioned earlier. How many of us even do a tiny fraction of it?
Back in the 1930s, in The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer challenged the church on precisely this issue. He pointed how much of our lives it costs to be truly a disciple of Jesus Christ. "When Jesus Christ calls a man," Bonhoeffer wrote, "he bids him come and die."
Is it true? Does Jesus Christ ask us to take on the impossible job of Christian discipleship? Perhaps. But perhaps there is another way to look at it. Yes, the work is hard work. But the fact is, it is less about doing tasks than about having a certain kind of relationship with God.
It turns out in the end, that being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a job after all. It is a relationship. It isn't a task with a series of steps that you have to accomplish, it is a way of life. The hard-boiled things Jesus says, the insurmountable obstacles put in our way, Paul's call to a sinless life, are not the last word about being a Christian. The thing that is being described by Jesus in Matthew and by Paul in Romans, is a life of commitment to a path and to a person.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis: On Being Chosen and Saved. We speak of Israel as the chosen nation, but it's clear that Ishmael was chosen as well. What does that do to our picture of God's covenant with Israel? Could it be that others are important to God too. The Genesis reading is about God's salvation of an Egyptian slave girl and the son she had by a married man. The particular kind of salvation that God brings to Hagar and Ishmael is called liberation - from slavery, from oppression and from fear.
2) Matthew: Open Words, Bright Lights. Matthew 10:27 is a very powerful statement: What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. It speaks of an openness about the Gospel and about what we know of Christ. Ours is not a secret religion, with a special knowledge held by just a few. On the contrary, we are called to proclaim to the world all that Christ says to us, and to hold nothing back.
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 21:8-21
This story troubles us modern Christians. It says that after Isaac is weaned at about age 3 (the common age for weaning in ancient Israel), Sarah sees Ishmael, the son of her Egyptian maid Hagar, playing with little Isaac. Ishmael was also fathered by Abraham, and Sarah is afraid that Ishmael will share in Isaac's inheritance. So Sarah insists that a reluctant Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael off into the desert to die. Abraham provides Hagar with bread and water, but soon their provisions run out. Hagar therefore puts her crying child under a bush and sits at some distance from him so she will not see him die of thirst, as she knows she also will die. An angel of the Lord hears the child's cries, however, provides a well of water, and indeed, preserves the lives of Hagar and Ishmael. Ishmael therefore becomes the forbear of the multitudinous tribe of the Ishmaelites, some of whom became skilled hunters and even wealthy traders.
We are bothered by the story because of the callous disregard of Sarah for Hagar and her child and because of Abraham's accession to Sarah's demand that they be sent away. Neither of them seems to have any morals. To be sure, by Israelite law, Hagar and her child were both the property of Sarah, to do with as she wished. And that too is a troubling fact to be found in the Holy Bible, isn't it? But the scriptures are not idealistically pious, as we would expect them to be. Instead they portray human life, with all of its goodness and evil, as it actually is. And the God of the Bible works out his purpose in the lives, not of pure and perfect pious saints, but through the actions of sinners like you and me.
Perhaps it helps in interpreting this text to realize that there is a story parallel to it to be found in Genesis 16. In that earlier version, despite God's promise of a son to Abraham and Sarah, Sarah remains barren. So she decides to help God's promise along a bit. She tells Abraham to conceive a child by Hagar, which Abraham does. When Hagar becomes pregnant with Ishmael, she scorns the barren Sarah, and at that point, Sarah has Abraham send Hagar away. But God preserves Hagar's life, and the result of her pregnancy is the birth of Ishmael. Could it be that we always get into trouble when we try to take God's purpose into our own hands and to work it out as we see fit, instead of waiting for God's fulfillment of it? Human history is littered with the evil results of human beings trying to replace God.
Most important in these parallel stories in Genesis 16 and 21, however, are the actions of the Lord God. Despite the human emotions and sins portrayed throughout the stories - pride, hatred, fear, callousness, weakness, despair - God grants his mercy to the participants. Abraham and Sarah are granted their son Isaac, in fulfillment of the Lord's promise. Hagar and her son are rescued from death in the desert and given descendants and a future. Indeed, Ishmael's name means "God has heard," because God hears the cries of his people and sees their affliction and weakness and need. God's mercy covers over the wrongful deeds of his people and moves his purpose forward according to his will. Despite all of our sin that would try to block God from working out his loving plan for human beings, the Lord God works in our lives, moving steadily forward toward his good fulfillment for us all. Surely that is the basis of our one joyous hope in this sin-saturated world of ours, isn't it?
Lutheran Option - Jeremiah 20:7-13
This is one of a number of prayers in Jeremiah that are known as the "Confessions of Jeremiah." The date is sometime between 604-601 B.C., and the prophet is being persecuted by his compatriots. Jeremiah, you see, has been commanded by God to announce God's destruction of Judah and Jerusalem by the armies of Babylonia because of Judah's sins of idolatry and injustice. Although he has no desire to do so, Jeremiah has faithfully proclaimed that God-given message. He even says in our text that when he has tried to shut up God's judging word inside of himself and not proclaim it, he has been unable to keep silent. God's word has become like a fire burning in his bones, and he has had to speak it forth.
In Jeremiah's view, however, God has not followed through on his word. The historical reason is that the Babylonian armies are busy elsewhere to the north and have not been able to get around to attacking Judah. And so Jeremiah has proclaimed that Babylonia is coming but her armies have not shown up on the horizon. God has not kept his word. Jeremiah has announced, "Terror on every side," and no terror has appeared.
In the most blasphemous prayer, therefore, Jeremiah accuses the Lord of deceiving him. Indeed, the Hebrew words he uses have the equivalent of "rape." God has raped him, violently misled him, forced him to proclaim a message that is not true. And Jeremiah has looked like a fool and a false prophet and suffered terribly for it. Everyone has made fun of him. He has become "a reproach and a derision all day long." Pashur the priest has even put him in the stocks overnight, where all of the Jerusalem inhabitants can make fun of him and poke at his eyes and kick him in the face and body (Jeremiah 19:1-2). The populace has taunted him with his own words, "Terror on every side. Terror on every side" (Jeremiah 20:10). And even his closest friends have denounced him and plotted against his life, scheming to have him executed as a false prophet (v. 10).
Jeremiah, however, cannot get rid of the Lord. God has given him an onerous task and called him to suffer for it. (One is reminded of the taunts and scorn hurled at our Lord on the cross.) But God also has not deserted him. The Lord is with him, Jeremiah realizes, as a "dread warrior" (v. 11). And that fearful warrior is the one who will finally overcome all of Jeremiah's foes and bring his prophetic message to pass.
In the midst of his suffering, therefore, Jeremiah reaffirms his trust in his God. "To thee I have committed my cause," he prays (v. 12), and in the assurance of God's trustworthiness, Jeremiah rests his life and future.
Beyond the vivid picture of the trials that Old Testament prophets often were called to endure, this text is noteworthy for the vigor of its revelation. There is no sweetness and light here, no shading of the truth, no pious religiosity that knows only what is beautiful and inspirational. Jeremiah's prayer is bald in its accusation against the Lord. Jeremiah speaks his mind out of the depth of his suffering, and you and I too should pray like that. God does not need to be shielded from what is really on our hearts and minds.
Secondly, the God who hears Jeremiah's prayer is a dread warrior, with the might and fury to overcome all his foes. We do not worship a namby-pamby God. We worship God Almighty, the Lord of all.
Third, Jeremiah rests his life in the hands of that Almighty God and takes no vengeance himself upon his persecutors. "Vengeance is mine. I will repay," says the Lord (Romans 12:19). We are to leave even requital against our enemies up to God. That is truly trust in the Lord.
(Verse 11 of our passage has been added to it by a redactor and is a typical ending to a form or genre called an "individual lament." Many of the Psalms have such a form.)
The Political Pulpit
Matthew 10:24-39
Sociologists since Max Weber (The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism) have contended for an intimate connection between the prevailing socio-economic standards of Western society and Protestant Christianity. Most Americans see it that way. To be a Christian is to be a good American citizen. Consider how the Religious Right has made its agenda synonymous with the crusade for "Family Values" (understood in terms of the mores and values of the early capitalist nuclear family). These attitudes reflect in the broader American public as measured by the Gallup Poll, which lump together Religion, Ethics, and Concern about Family Decline as one category (Gallup Poll Monthly, Dec. 1997, 48-49).
Of course the Poll itself is influential in shaping American thinking in how the public views itself. And insofar as it was the pollsters who combined religion, ethics, and family in a single category, the Gallup data could be read as an indication of how American opinion-makers are committed to taming religion, to portraying it as the great resource for middle-class American life. As portrayed in today's gospel lesson, Jesus clearly does not see followers of the Christian Way in that manner. This is your opportunity to present a Gospel that is liberated from middle-class American prejudices.
The American (it is perhaps the human) propensity to equate Christianity with the agenda of society has been most evident in the post-September 11, 2001, War on Terrorism. The religiosity of our politicians and the patriotism of our churches has been over- (or is it under-) whelming. And so God is invoked on our side in the war, and churches all over our nation hang signs out reminding us that God blesses America.
Do not get me wrong. I come not to criticize patriotism or even the strategic necessity of our engaging in retaliatory strikes after the September 11 terrorism. But Augustine and our Constitution remind us that every political action is shrouded with ambiguity, and that it is less likely to become tyrannical as long as we remind ourselves of its ambiguity. Thus we could take our bearings from Jesus' warning that nothing comes before commitment to our Lord and his agenda in order to raise critical questions about whether God is only on our side, whether he is not also concerned about the Afghan victims of our retaliatory strikes.
Yes, God has blessed America. But is all we have done as a nation divinely sanctioned? If the way America did its business were a little more sensitive to local customs, more sensitive to the impoverished in the areas in which we do business, would bin Laden have had enough of a following to wreak his havoc? This is a text that can at least open doors to embracing our enemy as it redefines for us loyalty to our (national) family.
Likewise, this pericope and I are not anti-family. Jesus' words are reminders, though, that the Family Values agenda is not all there is to the Christian ethic. For example, justice in employment may be more in accord with God's will than instituting a moment of silence in our schools. Perhaps if we attacked the problem of poverty and reduced the prison population first, the divorce epidemic would be more effectively addressed than all our exhortations have achieved.
With Jesus' words you can offer some serious social critique of our present socio-political agendas. More powerfully this can be a sermon to help your hearers appreciate how iconoclastic and countercultural our faith is. It can help to nurture some prophets among us.
In the last six months the huge difficulty of being a firefighter has been driven home to us in the papers and on television. There are enormous risks to it, along with an enormous physical and emotional toll it takes on lives.
There is a book in Washington, D.C., called The Prune Book, published by the Council for Excellence in Government, which lists appointed positions in the federal government. Written primarily for incoming presidential appointees, it says this: "Presidential appointees have some of the world's toughest, most important jobs. The hours are long, the decisions difficult, the stress unrelenting. Just ask the Bush-administration appointees who worked to free the Navy crew held by China. One false move and the United States could have been at war."
In Christopher Buckley's satirical novel, Thank You for Smoking, Nick Naylor has one of the world's hardest jobs. As the chief spokesman for the Academy of Tobacco Studies, he's a spin-doctor for the tobacco industry.
And how about other really tough jobs that might exist: the Nutrition Director for the Snack Food Association of America. Or the Safety Director for the NRA.
The fact is that if you ask 10 people what the toughest jobs are and you will get 10 different answers. I want to suggest another one, the one that is without doubt the hardest job of all: being a follower of Jesus Christ, at least according to the specifications for the job given in the Bible.
It's a hard job. But one that we're called to nevertheless. So how in the world are we supposed to do it? Perhaps we need God's help.
Genesis 21:8-21
This passage follows immediately upon the birth of Isaac and it describes the results of the rivalry between Sarah and Hagar. It is also the conclusion, but for a few references later in Genesis, of the biblical story of Ishmael.
The story is told straightforwardly in the text, so I won't recount it here. But we should look at Abraham, who, as any true father, was deeply upset by Sarah's demand that Hagar and her son be cast out.
But then we hear a remarkable promise from God, one that is not spoken of often. "Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman," said God, "... I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring." And with that, assured that the child would be safe, Abraham sent Hagar and Ishmael packing.
So, just another interesting and quaint story in the Bible, right? Well, not exactly. The story might well end there if not for one simple, post-biblical, fact. Arabs and Muslims trace their ancestry to Ishmael. In fact, the prophet Mohammed was a descendant of Ishmael.
All these years - decades, centuries, millennia - of fighting between Arabs and Jews and both are descendants of Abraham. And the God of Israel even promised that Ishmael would be the father of a nation.
In the immediate aftermath of September 11, the airwaves and papers were filled with outrageous and provocative statements about Muslims. They became the enemy. But the testimony of this passage is that we are all kin. And that even the outcasts, the ones who aren't part of the "chosen" people, the ones we vilify, are on the receiving end of God's grace and care.
Romans 6:1b-11
It's not hard to predict when the question will come up. As a Presbyterian pastor, I know somebody will ask it if the discussion ever gets around to the doctrine of predestination. The question is this: If we're already going to heaven, then we can do anything we want, right? If it's already decided where I'm going, then it doesn't matter what I do. When people know that predestination has been associated with Presbyterians, someone is sure to ask it.
It is a similar question that Paul is dealing with here. Why not just go ahead and sin? In predestination, you might as well, since it doesn't matter. In Paul's theology, you might as well, since God's grace would increase as sin increases.
In this passage we are breaking into the middle of a difficult argument, even though it begins a chapter, so let's consider in sequence.
The background and context: Paul has been speaking of salvation as a free gift of God's grace, and he has been comparing Adam and Christ, the trespass that brought sin and death into the world and the free gift that brought grace into the world. Just as Adam's sin abounded for many, so in the same way Christ's grace abounds for many.
And then came the Law, which kicked up the struggle with sin a notch, because with the law, human beings knew what sin was. So with the law, sin increased. But the logical conclusion, in verse 20, is that where sin increases, God's grace would also increase.
The question: But that immediately suggests the question that Paul asks at the beginning of this reading: Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? If God's grace is a good thing, and surely we all admit that it is, then why not do the most we can to ensure more of it, to call forth more of it from the Creator?
Paul's answer: Well, that doesn't sound very good. And in fact, Paul reacts with horror at the suggestion. By no means! Okay then, how do we get around the problem?
Paul's synthesis: Paul is led in this theological problem toward what might be called the doctrine of participation in Christ, a uniquely Pauline teaching that has become a part of Christian orthodoxy. Paul speaks of our being "baptized into his death" and "buried with him" in that baptism. Even more, "if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin" (vv. 5-6). It is a spiritual bond that Paul is talking about, a union with Christ and with the specifics of his life and death. In other words, we have already died, participating spiritually in his crucifixion. Having died with Christ, we are beyond the grave. How then can sin have a hold on us?
But ... but hanging over it all is the fact of human sin here and now. Paul's is not an easy argument. Verse 11 helps a little, because at issue is something internal, how we "consider" ourselves; we are to consider ourselves "dead to sin." Verse 12a helps a little more even though it's not part of the reading. It is the call to not let sin have dominion over us, since that is now under our control.
The argument is a struggle with the "already, but not yet," what has already been achieved for us by Jesus Christ and the things that lie ahead in the future. It is the struggle for us to live in a world of sin with the fact of Christ's gracious benefit for us, namely, the death of sin.
Perhaps the last word on this complex matter should be simple. Paul is saying to the Romans, and to us: "You're freed from sin, so don't worry about it. But also, don't sin."
Matthew 10:24-39
Chapter 10 of Matthew consists of Jesus' instructions to and the commissioning of the Twelve before sending them out on a mission, even though Matthew, unlike Mark and Luke, refers to no actual mission journey. These verses are assembled by Matthew from different sources, but it is important to affirm that even though they appear in other contexts in Mark and Luke, what Matthew presents in chapter 10 is still a single unified message to the church. Verses 24-39 make up about two-thirds of the chapter, which is covered in three Sunday's readings.
Though intended for the Twelve, the instructions carry force for all of Jesus' followers, even for those 2,000 years after the fact. And if there is one thing to sum up these words that Jesus passes along to his disciples, it is that they are hard sayings and tough expectations. They don't present a rosy picture of what will happen to any who make the commitment to follow Jesus.
In the first division of the text, 24-25, Jesus tells them that because disciples are treated like their master, they will be subject to all the abuse that might be heaped upon him, including being called Beelzebul, an Aramaic name for the prince of demons, or the devil.
Verses 26-30 describe the persecution that will be the lot of Jesus' disciples, particularly when they broadcast aloud the things that Jesus has taught them in secret (v. 27), which will prove to be a dangerous undertaking. But, says Jesus, don't be afraid, because openness is on our side, and all will be revealed. It's a hard bit of comfort Jesus offers. Don't fear those that can kill the body but not the soul. The God who guards even the sparrows and counts the hairs on your head will keep you. After all, how much more valuable are you than the sparrows?
Through it all, there will be pressure, Jesus implies in 32 and 33, to keep silent, pressure not to acknowledge him in the face of persecution and threat. Indeed, we hear in this an anticipatory echo of Peter's denial of Jesus. It is a commitment that Jesus expects of his disciples, and not just any commitment, but a public commitment. And left unsaid is the sub-text of the whole reading, that it will be dangerous.
With verse 34 we come to the hardest of the sayings about discipleship, that those who follow will be separated from their families and loved ones. It is tempting to soften the difficult parts here, by speaking of, say, the Semitic penchant for hyperbole. Another suggestion has been that in the Bible the results of an action are often later stated to be the purpose of an action. In other words, a commitment to Jesus had the effect of separating people from their families, so the writer might later call that the intention, which would, presumably, be a comfort to those whose commitment had already hurt their family lives.
But we do a disservice to the text if we pave over the bumpy parts too quickly and easily. These are hard sayings of Jesus, and we need to wrestle with them. The reading ends with the hardest saying of all, about life in general, that those who find it will lose it, while those who lose it in commitment to Jesus will find it. So it is a dangerous and hard road that the Twelve, along with all the others who follow, are called to. But at the end of the road lies a newfound life.
Application
We all have a concept of hard jobs, things that are difficult to accomplish. There are occupations that require enormous education and training. Scientists and researchers fall into that category. There are jobs that are hard because they require a great deal of time. A new young associate in a large law firm can put in 80 hours a week or more. That makes it a hard job. There are jobs that are difficult because they require years and years of practice, developing skills. A concert pianist, for example, has a hard job, or a skilled woodworker who has taken years to hone his abilities has a hard job.
Each of us in our own jobs, whether or not they are considered hard jobs, come face to face with things that are hard to do, real challenges, tasks that require a great deal of concentration.
Whatever our job might be, we are task-oriented, profession-oriented, occupation-based people, far more than previous generations, when only about half the population didn't have jobs outside the home. For most of us, our identity and our well-being are tied up with our work. It's all about making a living, but more, it's about setting goals and accomplishing important things and helping people. And beyond that, hard work, tough jobs, are about changing ourselves, striving, leaning forward, reaching ahead. We're busy people, working hard, keeping at it.
Now contrast that with other sorts of things we do, other human endeavors that we're engaged in, that might not pose such challenges.
Most of us, for example, don't think of housework as a terribly difficult job. We may not like it, we may not do it, but most of us would say that it is something we could do fairly easily. Or how about driving? Isn't it second nature for most us? We don't even think about it. Going to the grocery store and running errands? No, that's nothing for us.
Then there's our leisure time, the things we do for recreation. There are some people who work very hard at their leisure activities - mountain climbing, sky diving, scuba diving. But for most of us, our vacations are more relaxing than other times.
Where are we heading with all of this? We're heading for this question: Of the two kinds of pursuits that we human beings engage in, where do you think most of us put our religion? Which category does our practice of our faith fall into? In the hard-charging, difficult tasks, like work, with a lot of striving? Or do we put it over on the side of the easy, piece-of-cake endeavors, along with going to the grocery store and taking a vacation at the beach?
For most of us, I would warrant, our religious activities fall on the easy side of the human activity spectrum.
The Bible's description of what it takes to be a Christian disciple paints it as a hard job, a very hard job. Beyond hard, in fact. Well nigh impossible.
In Romans, Paul calls us to put aside our sinful nature, and what he means by that is to die with Christ. Sounds admirable, but isn't that like a leopard changing its spots? Are we to exist in this world truly free from sin? That's a hard call, but it is our call nevertheless.
In Matthew it gets even harder. We are to subject ourselves to abuse, let ourselves be persecuted, hate our families, and take up our cross and prepare to die. And that's just in this one reading. Elsewhere in the Gospel of Matthew, we hear that if we get struck on the face, we stick it out there again. We're told to love our enemies. We're told to be perfect, even as God in heaven is perfect.
That's a much harder job than any of us make it, harder than nuclear physicist or brain surgeon or any of the other jobs mentioned earlier. How many of us even do a tiny fraction of it?
Back in the 1930s, in The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer challenged the church on precisely this issue. He pointed how much of our lives it costs to be truly a disciple of Jesus Christ. "When Jesus Christ calls a man," Bonhoeffer wrote, "he bids him come and die."
Is it true? Does Jesus Christ ask us to take on the impossible job of Christian discipleship? Perhaps. But perhaps there is another way to look at it. Yes, the work is hard work. But the fact is, it is less about doing tasks than about having a certain kind of relationship with God.
It turns out in the end, that being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a job after all. It is a relationship. It isn't a task with a series of steps that you have to accomplish, it is a way of life. The hard-boiled things Jesus says, the insurmountable obstacles put in our way, Paul's call to a sinless life, are not the last word about being a Christian. The thing that is being described by Jesus in Matthew and by Paul in Romans, is a life of commitment to a path and to a person.
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis: On Being Chosen and Saved. We speak of Israel as the chosen nation, but it's clear that Ishmael was chosen as well. What does that do to our picture of God's covenant with Israel? Could it be that others are important to God too. The Genesis reading is about God's salvation of an Egyptian slave girl and the son she had by a married man. The particular kind of salvation that God brings to Hagar and Ishmael is called liberation - from slavery, from oppression and from fear.
2) Matthew: Open Words, Bright Lights. Matthew 10:27 is a very powerful statement: What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. It speaks of an openness about the Gospel and about what we know of Christ. Ours is not a secret religion, with a special knowledge held by just a few. On the contrary, we are called to proclaim to the world all that Christ says to us, and to hold nothing back.
First Lesson Focus
Genesis 21:8-21
This story troubles us modern Christians. It says that after Isaac is weaned at about age 3 (the common age for weaning in ancient Israel), Sarah sees Ishmael, the son of her Egyptian maid Hagar, playing with little Isaac. Ishmael was also fathered by Abraham, and Sarah is afraid that Ishmael will share in Isaac's inheritance. So Sarah insists that a reluctant Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael off into the desert to die. Abraham provides Hagar with bread and water, but soon their provisions run out. Hagar therefore puts her crying child under a bush and sits at some distance from him so she will not see him die of thirst, as she knows she also will die. An angel of the Lord hears the child's cries, however, provides a well of water, and indeed, preserves the lives of Hagar and Ishmael. Ishmael therefore becomes the forbear of the multitudinous tribe of the Ishmaelites, some of whom became skilled hunters and even wealthy traders.
We are bothered by the story because of the callous disregard of Sarah for Hagar and her child and because of Abraham's accession to Sarah's demand that they be sent away. Neither of them seems to have any morals. To be sure, by Israelite law, Hagar and her child were both the property of Sarah, to do with as she wished. And that too is a troubling fact to be found in the Holy Bible, isn't it? But the scriptures are not idealistically pious, as we would expect them to be. Instead they portray human life, with all of its goodness and evil, as it actually is. And the God of the Bible works out his purpose in the lives, not of pure and perfect pious saints, but through the actions of sinners like you and me.
Perhaps it helps in interpreting this text to realize that there is a story parallel to it to be found in Genesis 16. In that earlier version, despite God's promise of a son to Abraham and Sarah, Sarah remains barren. So she decides to help God's promise along a bit. She tells Abraham to conceive a child by Hagar, which Abraham does. When Hagar becomes pregnant with Ishmael, she scorns the barren Sarah, and at that point, Sarah has Abraham send Hagar away. But God preserves Hagar's life, and the result of her pregnancy is the birth of Ishmael. Could it be that we always get into trouble when we try to take God's purpose into our own hands and to work it out as we see fit, instead of waiting for God's fulfillment of it? Human history is littered with the evil results of human beings trying to replace God.
Most important in these parallel stories in Genesis 16 and 21, however, are the actions of the Lord God. Despite the human emotions and sins portrayed throughout the stories - pride, hatred, fear, callousness, weakness, despair - God grants his mercy to the participants. Abraham and Sarah are granted their son Isaac, in fulfillment of the Lord's promise. Hagar and her son are rescued from death in the desert and given descendants and a future. Indeed, Ishmael's name means "God has heard," because God hears the cries of his people and sees their affliction and weakness and need. God's mercy covers over the wrongful deeds of his people and moves his purpose forward according to his will. Despite all of our sin that would try to block God from working out his loving plan for human beings, the Lord God works in our lives, moving steadily forward toward his good fulfillment for us all. Surely that is the basis of our one joyous hope in this sin-saturated world of ours, isn't it?
Lutheran Option - Jeremiah 20:7-13
This is one of a number of prayers in Jeremiah that are known as the "Confessions of Jeremiah." The date is sometime between 604-601 B.C., and the prophet is being persecuted by his compatriots. Jeremiah, you see, has been commanded by God to announce God's destruction of Judah and Jerusalem by the armies of Babylonia because of Judah's sins of idolatry and injustice. Although he has no desire to do so, Jeremiah has faithfully proclaimed that God-given message. He even says in our text that when he has tried to shut up God's judging word inside of himself and not proclaim it, he has been unable to keep silent. God's word has become like a fire burning in his bones, and he has had to speak it forth.
In Jeremiah's view, however, God has not followed through on his word. The historical reason is that the Babylonian armies are busy elsewhere to the north and have not been able to get around to attacking Judah. And so Jeremiah has proclaimed that Babylonia is coming but her armies have not shown up on the horizon. God has not kept his word. Jeremiah has announced, "Terror on every side," and no terror has appeared.
In the most blasphemous prayer, therefore, Jeremiah accuses the Lord of deceiving him. Indeed, the Hebrew words he uses have the equivalent of "rape." God has raped him, violently misled him, forced him to proclaim a message that is not true. And Jeremiah has looked like a fool and a false prophet and suffered terribly for it. Everyone has made fun of him. He has become "a reproach and a derision all day long." Pashur the priest has even put him in the stocks overnight, where all of the Jerusalem inhabitants can make fun of him and poke at his eyes and kick him in the face and body (Jeremiah 19:1-2). The populace has taunted him with his own words, "Terror on every side. Terror on every side" (Jeremiah 20:10). And even his closest friends have denounced him and plotted against his life, scheming to have him executed as a false prophet (v. 10).
Jeremiah, however, cannot get rid of the Lord. God has given him an onerous task and called him to suffer for it. (One is reminded of the taunts and scorn hurled at our Lord on the cross.) But God also has not deserted him. The Lord is with him, Jeremiah realizes, as a "dread warrior" (v. 11). And that fearful warrior is the one who will finally overcome all of Jeremiah's foes and bring his prophetic message to pass.
In the midst of his suffering, therefore, Jeremiah reaffirms his trust in his God. "To thee I have committed my cause," he prays (v. 12), and in the assurance of God's trustworthiness, Jeremiah rests his life and future.
Beyond the vivid picture of the trials that Old Testament prophets often were called to endure, this text is noteworthy for the vigor of its revelation. There is no sweetness and light here, no shading of the truth, no pious religiosity that knows only what is beautiful and inspirational. Jeremiah's prayer is bald in its accusation against the Lord. Jeremiah speaks his mind out of the depth of his suffering, and you and I too should pray like that. God does not need to be shielded from what is really on our hearts and minds.
Secondly, the God who hears Jeremiah's prayer is a dread warrior, with the might and fury to overcome all his foes. We do not worship a namby-pamby God. We worship God Almighty, the Lord of all.
Third, Jeremiah rests his life in the hands of that Almighty God and takes no vengeance himself upon his persecutors. "Vengeance is mine. I will repay," says the Lord (Romans 12:19). We are to leave even requital against our enemies up to God. That is truly trust in the Lord.
(Verse 11 of our passage has been added to it by a redactor and is a typical ending to a form or genre called an "individual lament." Many of the Psalms have such a form.)
The Political Pulpit
Matthew 10:24-39
Sociologists since Max Weber (The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism) have contended for an intimate connection between the prevailing socio-economic standards of Western society and Protestant Christianity. Most Americans see it that way. To be a Christian is to be a good American citizen. Consider how the Religious Right has made its agenda synonymous with the crusade for "Family Values" (understood in terms of the mores and values of the early capitalist nuclear family). These attitudes reflect in the broader American public as measured by the Gallup Poll, which lump together Religion, Ethics, and Concern about Family Decline as one category (Gallup Poll Monthly, Dec. 1997, 48-49).
Of course the Poll itself is influential in shaping American thinking in how the public views itself. And insofar as it was the pollsters who combined religion, ethics, and family in a single category, the Gallup data could be read as an indication of how American opinion-makers are committed to taming religion, to portraying it as the great resource for middle-class American life. As portrayed in today's gospel lesson, Jesus clearly does not see followers of the Christian Way in that manner. This is your opportunity to present a Gospel that is liberated from middle-class American prejudices.
The American (it is perhaps the human) propensity to equate Christianity with the agenda of society has been most evident in the post-September 11, 2001, War on Terrorism. The religiosity of our politicians and the patriotism of our churches has been over- (or is it under-) whelming. And so God is invoked on our side in the war, and churches all over our nation hang signs out reminding us that God blesses America.
Do not get me wrong. I come not to criticize patriotism or even the strategic necessity of our engaging in retaliatory strikes after the September 11 terrorism. But Augustine and our Constitution remind us that every political action is shrouded with ambiguity, and that it is less likely to become tyrannical as long as we remind ourselves of its ambiguity. Thus we could take our bearings from Jesus' warning that nothing comes before commitment to our Lord and his agenda in order to raise critical questions about whether God is only on our side, whether he is not also concerned about the Afghan victims of our retaliatory strikes.
Yes, God has blessed America. But is all we have done as a nation divinely sanctioned? If the way America did its business were a little more sensitive to local customs, more sensitive to the impoverished in the areas in which we do business, would bin Laden have had enough of a following to wreak his havoc? This is a text that can at least open doors to embracing our enemy as it redefines for us loyalty to our (national) family.
Likewise, this pericope and I are not anti-family. Jesus' words are reminders, though, that the Family Values agenda is not all there is to the Christian ethic. For example, justice in employment may be more in accord with God's will than instituting a moment of silence in our schools. Perhaps if we attacked the problem of poverty and reduced the prison population first, the divorce epidemic would be more effectively addressed than all our exhortations have achieved.
With Jesus' words you can offer some serious social critique of our present socio-political agendas. More powerfully this can be a sermon to help your hearers appreciate how iconoclastic and countercultural our faith is. It can help to nurture some prophets among us.
