It was good
Commentary
The more I listened, the more I heard desperation.
"It is possible for there to be light and darkness without the sun and the moon," she said as she launched into a long explanation gleaned from some dubious website. "And of course the days are not real days, but eras," she concluded.
"But the days are defined as alternating periods of light and darkness," someone replied. "Are you trying to tell us that there was darkness for thousands of years, and then light for another thousand?"
"That's one possibility," she said.
"But what about the sun and the moon?" someone else asked. "Weren't they moving at the same rate they are now? How could there be darkness for thousands of years, if the sun comes up every morning?"
"There's no light if there's cloud cover," she said. "The important thing to notice is that the order of creation is precisely what science prescribes: vegetation, ocean life, birds, mammals, and human beings."
I pointed out that this order was established by the very evolutionist thinkers she was opposed to, and that the order of creation was different in Genesis 2. Besides, there's no mention of cloud cover in the story.
"Well, there could have been clouds."
So once again the attempt to turn Genesis into science collapsed into silliness, contradiction, and the death of a thousand qualifications. It is desperate; this twisting of ancient poetry into something it is not -- a scientific treatise. Witness the recent "Intelligent Design Movement," which tries to strip creationism of all its religious trappings, as if it would even exist apart from a certain reading of Genesis!
Genesis presents us not with a scientific account, but a priestly one. Its true value is theological in the proper sense: it shows us who God is: a God who presides over nature as a priest over an altar, blessing, consecrating, and separating the holy from the profane. It presents God as our creator, the one to whom we owe everything, beginning with our very existence. It validates not only our own lives, but also the worth of every stone, every river, and every living creature, offering this pronouncement over all: "It was good."
Genesis 1:1--2:4a
The opening of Genesis is the preface not just to that book, but the whole Hebrew Bible. It introduces the hopeful, yet pessimistic, primordial history (1:1--11:32) that serves as a backdrop to the call of Abraham. It is similar to, yet refutes the theological claims of, the Babylonian creation story found in the Enuma Elish. Stemming from the time of Israel's interaction with Babylon, it takes a priestly point of view, and may well have been used liturgically.
This first creation story is relatively abstract, spacious, and majestic (especially in comparison with the story found in Genesis 2, which concentrates on the garden). It moves from chaos to rest by means of constant repetition: "God said ... let there be ... and it was so ... and God made ... and God saw that it was good ... and it was evening and morning." The symmetrical pattern reflects the serenity of the process. There is also an overall symmetry to the passage: three different realms are populated on three parallel days, with a final day set apart to be observed by God alone. The number seven represents completeness, and figures prominently in the construction of the passage; not only are there seven days in the week, but seven repetitions of "And God saw that it was good." God is mentioned exactly 35 times, and the story of the seventh day is recounted in exactly 35 Hebrew words (2:1-3).
The story opens with a temporal clause: "In the beginning when God created...." God presides over a primordial chaos, something dark and dangerous and worse than nothing (which may well have reflected the experience of the exiles who molded this story). As in Babylonian myth, God shows mastery over the unfathomable deep, that great subterranean reservoir that will later erupt in the flood (1:1-2). Into this chaos God introduces light with nothing more than a word (v. 3); creation will be purely a result of God's will and speech. Like a priest distinguishing the sacred from the profane, God separates light from darkness ("separate," a bit of priestly vocabulary, is used five times in the story). God responds to creation by naming it, thus evaluating it and discerning its place in the whole (vv. 4-5). This is not scientific language; day and night here are defined solely in relation to the purpose of God, and have nothing to do with the (unheard of at the time) revolutions of the earth, and totally independent of the sun and moon, which are created later (vv. 13-18).
The picture of the earth itself is in no way scientific: a flat earth is coupled with a celestial dome to form a giant bell at the center of the universe, surrounded above and below by the deep. The dome that is the sky is a hammered-out slab (perhaps held up by pillars, cf. Job 26:11) designed to hold back the reservoir of sky-waters, just as the earth holds back the subterranean waters (v. 6). Again there is separation, the waters above from the waters below (v. 7), and then the seas from the land (vv. 9-10).
The first life is vegetation, seed-plants, and fruit-trees ("according to its kind," v. 11; note the priestly concern for separation and categorization). The seeds and fruit are ordained for the sustenance of humans and animals (v. 29). Like the vegetation, the animal kingdom is created and designated as "good" -- even the sea monsters! (v. 21). Nothing in this creation stands outside of the purpose and will of God.
The pinnacle of creation is humankind. In saying "Let us make humankind in our image," God includes the heavenly retinue in the creative process, just as God will make human beings creative agents. Creation is a dialogical and not monological act, which God shares with the created. Genesis asserts but does not specify the creation of humankind in the image of God and the heavenly cohort, except that it is both individual and plural, "him," "them," and "male and female"; human beings alone out of all creation are designated as created in this image. Sexual distinction is included as part of creation; God created sex, and then pronounced it good. The human beings are given "dominion" over the rest of creation; God gives the creation for human use, and humans are to exercise dominion as those who are in the image of the Creator (note this did not originally include permission to kill animals for food).
Finally God finishes and rests. This is a divine and not a human rest (the Sabbath law is not given until Exodus 16). While it may be seen (anthropomorphically) as an appropriate reaction to a hard week of work, it really indicates the nature of the God who made this good creation: there is in the heart of eternity a rest which is independent of all human notions of relaxation. In God there is a peace with creation that is expressed in God's rest.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
We move into a very different realm of biblical literature with the closing farewell of Paul's letters to the Corinthians, but there are similar notions to be found here: the goodness of creation (here expressed in community), and the rest and peace to be found only in God. As in the primordial history in Genesis, there is a strong strain of hope in Paul, coupled with an obvious pessimism about human nature.
Paul has called the Corinthians to a rigorous self-examination in light of his upcoming visit. They need to deal with their contentiousness and their other communal issues. Paul, his relationship with them at an all-time low, resorts to the ancient rule that "Any charge must be sustained by the evidence of two or three witnesses" (13:1; cf. Deuteronomy 19:15). This will be his third visit to them, and the third witness against them, unless they change. He sums up his desires for them in 13:10: "So I write these things while I am away from you, so that when I come, I may not have to be severe in using the authority that the Lord has given me for building up and not for tearing down."
The farewell (13:11-13) injects a ray of hope into this gloom. While it is a typically Pauline closing, it pithily sums up what the Corinthians need to do before he comes for his third (and perhaps final) visit. He exhorts them to put their communal affairs in order, to listen to his appeal, to agree with one another on the major issues, and thus to live in peace (v. 11). The "holy kiss," given on the brow and shoulders among families, should not be without meaning among them. Paul reminds them that there is a strong community of believers ("the saints") who stand behind him (v. 12).
Finally, he gives his exhortation one last bit of theological backing (v. 13). This is one of the few explicitly Trinitarian formulas in the New Testament (cf. 1:21-22; Matthew 28:19), and it serves as a summary of sort. The grace that comes through Jesus proceeds from the love that God showed by sending him to us, and results in fellowship not only with his Spirit, but also the fellowship with one another that is enabled by that Spirit. Thus Paul brings to a close his exhortation on communal life with a reminder that the community, however contentious, is a gift from God.
Matthew 28:16-20
The closing section of Matthew's Gospel picks up the thread of the story of the women at the tomb: true to Jesus' word (28:10) and the prediction of the angel of the Lord (28:7), the eleven go to the mountain in Galilee (28:16). They join in worship of the resurrected Lord, though some doubt (28:17). Jesus acknowledges that their worship is well-placed: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (28:18). The scene binds together two of Matthew's main images of Jesus: Lord and Teacher. The two cannot be separated; Jesus cannot be Teacher without being Lord. On the mountain, Jesus is the all-powerful resurrected Lord. He is also the Teacher (like Moses) who speaks his final words on the mountain of revelation. This is the climax as well as the end of the gospel: the royal Messiah, Son of David, Son of God, Teacher of the Law, is now enthroned as king. The disciples in turn are commissioned to continue Jesus' ministry.
The Great Commission is the final step in the disciples' training and preparation for their future mission. They are to become mirror images of Jesus in their own disciple-making: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you" (28:19-20). The exhortation lands squarely on its main imperative: "make disciples." The other verbs in the sentence ("go," "baptize," "teach") are not imperatives in Greek but participles, used to stress the means by which disciples are to be made: "Make disciples, by going and baptizing and teaching." The disciples' main job is to replicate themselves; like their Lord, they are to gather around themselves students of his teaching. The time until the end of the age (28:20) is to be spent making more disciples.
The mission includes community-formation and teaching. Baptism is the formation of a community "where two or three are gathered together" to be with the resurrected Jesus (18:19-20). The continued worship of these small communities is a crucial part of disciple-making. Matthew has not included baptism as a part of Jesus' teaching until now, apart from his own example of being baptized by John the Baptist. When Jesus was baptized, he told John it was to "fulfill all righteousness" (3:15); that is, to be baptized is thus a part of following the way of righteousness that Jesus teaches (5:6, 10; 6:33). Matthew assumes the practice of his own community in reporting this command, baptism being done in the name of the Trinity -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Teaching is a necessary part of the worship gatherings. Again, the idea is to replicate the work of Jesus. The subject of the teaching is "everything I have commanded you." The goal is obedience (28:20). Throughout Matthew's story, the disciples are presented as students of the Lord. They are good students for the most part; unlike the disciples in Mark, they seem to understand most of what Jesus has to say. At the end of his parable discourse, he asks if they have understood his teaching; they answer, "Yes" (13:51). When Jesus walks on the water, the disciples are not astounded (as in Mark 6:51-52), but they confess, "Truly you are the Son of God" (Matthew 14:33). Yet, there is one stumbling block Matthew's disciples cannot quite overcome: they do not understand his death (16:22-24; 17:23). The disciples are unprepared to stand by Jesus at the cross (26:56), being ill-prepared to understand his death, despite his predictions (16:21; 17:9, 22-23; 20:17-18). By the end of the story, however, most of the cobwebs have been cleared away (though some still doubt, 28:17). In becoming witnesses to his resurrection they are now finished with their training, and are fully ready to take their places in the teaching mission. They are truly scribes of the kingdom of heaven (13:52).
The mission of disciple-making is to be universal: the disciples are specifically sent to "all nations," or "all the Gentiles" (panta ta ethne, 28:19). Here Matthew draws out the implications of the various hints laid down throughout the story: Wise Gentiles worship him (2:11) since he is the light to the Gentiles (4:15-16; 12:18-21); Gentiles have faith in him when Israelites did not (8:10); a Canaanite woman takes the crumbs from his table (15:21-28); and many will come from east and west to sit at that table (8:11-12). Ironically, even the Roman soldiers responsible for his death speak words that recognize Jesus as the Son of God (27:54). Jesus' prophecy to the Jewish leaders will prove true: "The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a nation (ethnos) producing the fruits of it" (21:43, author's translation). At the end of his earthly life, and at the beginning of his resurrected life, Jesus' mission is extended beyond "the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (15:24; 10:5-6; cf. 9:36; 10:23; 19:28). These hints laid throughout the book are now given explicit fulfillment in the command of the resurrected Lord.
The gospel ends with the promise given at its beginning: Jesus is "God with us" (1:23). "Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age" (28:20). The NRSV translation of idou (an imperative of the verb "to see," normally translated "behold, look") as "remember" is perhaps idiosyncratic, as idou was generally used as a sort of exclamation point, drawing attention to what follows. But both "remember" and "look" point to the function of the disciple, preacher, and teacher. The ongoing job of disciples is to teach other disciples to "remember" the teachings of the Master, but also to point out the ways ("look!") that the resurrected Lord is still at work in the community, still "Emmanuel," God with us.
Application
Despite all appearances, God proclaims creation good. The world is good, according to Genesis. Human community is good, according to Paul. The work of making disciples is good, according to Matthew.
The world has its counter-arguments. A giant wave is taken as evidence of evil in God's good world (as if there could be a world with no laws of nature, and as if death were the ultimate evil in this world). There is no end of bad people in any community. And why would people be lining up for the Lotto and Powerball, if working were such a good thing?
The response of faith has to do with the nature of God. God is first and foremost Creator. God created us in conjunction with others, "them" as well as "him," and gave us creative powers. That the act of creation was in fact work is shown by the seventh day of rest. If we share the image of God in creation, then we can affirm its goodness with God. In the end, faith will allow us to look at the world, at our own lives, and say with God, "It was good."
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 1:1--2:4a; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Matthew 28:16-20. I long ago resolved not to inflict on any congregation one of those sermons that tries to "explain" the Trinity using a bad analogy ("the apple has a core, flesh, and skin, but it's all one apple"). Besides, it could be argued that preaching the biblical text has priority. The doctrine of the Trinity in its final form dates from long after the New Testament was written and compiled, and for those who preach the texts, the best we can find are the hints that led later theologians to develop the idea of a Triune God. Throughout the Bible, there is compelling evidence of a communal element within God. In Genesis, God is willing to share the pinnacle of creation and the image in which humanity is created with the rest of creation, embodied in the heavenly host. In Paul, community proves to be at the heart of faith. For Matthew, discipleship is all but defined as making other disciples. Can all this be any surprise, if the nature of God is indeed communal?
2) Matthew 28:16-20. Matthew commends not evangelism but disciple-making, and there is a difference. The disheveled young man told me that he had been booted from his orthodox Jewish household when he heard and accepted the Christian gospel from a Jew for Jesus. Now he did not know where to go.
"What about your friend? Can't he help you?"
"What friend?" He looked puzzled.
"The Jew for Jesus who converted you."
"Oh, he's not my friend, I just met him. I don't even know his last name or where he lives."
The Jew for Jesus had practiced hit-and-run evangelism, leaving God to pick up the pieces!
This is not what Matthew had in mind. Disciple-making includes not just "going" but also "baptizing" and "teaching." It is a long-term process of formation. This is what is so "Great" about the "Great Commission."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 8
Psalm 8 is an exuberant hymn of praise to God the Creator. It is, in fact, the only psalm written exclusively in the second person: its prayerful message is directed to the Lord from beginning to end.
There are some confusing textual problems in verses 1 and 2, which have led to a variety of interpretations. Who are the "babes and infants," out of whose mouths something significant flows: either praise, as some translations render it, or -- rather strangely, as others have it -- "a bulwark"? The Hebrew is, unfortunately, obscure, so there may never be a satisfying answer to this conundrum.
Recent advances in satellite technology, combined with computers, have led to some amazing websites, through which it is possible to view highly detailed photos of the earth taken from space. On some of these sites, it is possible to start with a map of an entire continent, then to zoom in, by successive mouse clicks, to a view of one's own neighborhood. That is the sort of perspective envisioned by the psalmist, millennia before either satellites or computers had even been conceived in the human mind. From the perspective of the vast expanses of heaven, "what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" (v. 4).
Yet, wondrously, we humans have been made "a little lower than God." We are "crowned with glory and honor" (v. 5). There is order to this God-created cosmos. Certain parts of the creation are subservient to other parts, and everything is subservient to the Creator. Just below God in the cosmic hierarchy are human beings, acting as God's plenipotentiaries. God has given humanity "dominion" over the other creatures. This whole concept of dominion -- which hearkens back to Genesis 1:26 -- is fraught with difficulty, from the standpoint of modern ecological ideals. Indeed, the whole notion of ecology -- which presupposes an interdependent, global system of which human beings are a part, rather than standing over and against it as managers -- is foreign to passages like this one. Human dominion over creation, in the modern sense, means something very different than it meant to the Hebrew mind.
Perhaps this could be a bridge, on this Trinity Sunday, to a discussion of the Trinity. Some of the richest theological understandings of the Trinity have portrayed it as an interdependent system. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are interrelated, and the positive force that binds each person of the Trinity to the others is love. Psalm 8 is overflowing with a joyous love that binds Creator and creation together.
Writing in his web journal on September 30, 2004, preacher and author Robert Fulghum reflected on the exuberant ways young children approach life: "I was carrying a trilobite in my pocket last night. A fossil from life 175 million years ago, when nothing like us was around. Sometimes I sit on the bench on the highest hill in my mind, hold my trilobite in my hand and consider the long view. It's my 'ant-in-Chicago' position. An ant will never comprehend Chicago. Never. But sometimes the ant must have a vague sense that something astonishing is going on around it.
"Vibrations and energy change. As do I. What's the meaning of it all? I will never know. But I may, like those first graders, give my life meaning by throwing myself recklessly into it daily, as if something astonishing is happening and I am part of it. It is and I am." (www.robertfulghum.com/journal.php).
"It is possible for there to be light and darkness without the sun and the moon," she said as she launched into a long explanation gleaned from some dubious website. "And of course the days are not real days, but eras," she concluded.
"But the days are defined as alternating periods of light and darkness," someone replied. "Are you trying to tell us that there was darkness for thousands of years, and then light for another thousand?"
"That's one possibility," she said.
"But what about the sun and the moon?" someone else asked. "Weren't they moving at the same rate they are now? How could there be darkness for thousands of years, if the sun comes up every morning?"
"There's no light if there's cloud cover," she said. "The important thing to notice is that the order of creation is precisely what science prescribes: vegetation, ocean life, birds, mammals, and human beings."
I pointed out that this order was established by the very evolutionist thinkers she was opposed to, and that the order of creation was different in Genesis 2. Besides, there's no mention of cloud cover in the story.
"Well, there could have been clouds."
So once again the attempt to turn Genesis into science collapsed into silliness, contradiction, and the death of a thousand qualifications. It is desperate; this twisting of ancient poetry into something it is not -- a scientific treatise. Witness the recent "Intelligent Design Movement," which tries to strip creationism of all its religious trappings, as if it would even exist apart from a certain reading of Genesis!
Genesis presents us not with a scientific account, but a priestly one. Its true value is theological in the proper sense: it shows us who God is: a God who presides over nature as a priest over an altar, blessing, consecrating, and separating the holy from the profane. It presents God as our creator, the one to whom we owe everything, beginning with our very existence. It validates not only our own lives, but also the worth of every stone, every river, and every living creature, offering this pronouncement over all: "It was good."
Genesis 1:1--2:4a
The opening of Genesis is the preface not just to that book, but the whole Hebrew Bible. It introduces the hopeful, yet pessimistic, primordial history (1:1--11:32) that serves as a backdrop to the call of Abraham. It is similar to, yet refutes the theological claims of, the Babylonian creation story found in the Enuma Elish. Stemming from the time of Israel's interaction with Babylon, it takes a priestly point of view, and may well have been used liturgically.
This first creation story is relatively abstract, spacious, and majestic (especially in comparison with the story found in Genesis 2, which concentrates on the garden). It moves from chaos to rest by means of constant repetition: "God said ... let there be ... and it was so ... and God made ... and God saw that it was good ... and it was evening and morning." The symmetrical pattern reflects the serenity of the process. There is also an overall symmetry to the passage: three different realms are populated on three parallel days, with a final day set apart to be observed by God alone. The number seven represents completeness, and figures prominently in the construction of the passage; not only are there seven days in the week, but seven repetitions of "And God saw that it was good." God is mentioned exactly 35 times, and the story of the seventh day is recounted in exactly 35 Hebrew words (2:1-3).
The story opens with a temporal clause: "In the beginning when God created...." God presides over a primordial chaos, something dark and dangerous and worse than nothing (which may well have reflected the experience of the exiles who molded this story). As in Babylonian myth, God shows mastery over the unfathomable deep, that great subterranean reservoir that will later erupt in the flood (1:1-2). Into this chaos God introduces light with nothing more than a word (v. 3); creation will be purely a result of God's will and speech. Like a priest distinguishing the sacred from the profane, God separates light from darkness ("separate," a bit of priestly vocabulary, is used five times in the story). God responds to creation by naming it, thus evaluating it and discerning its place in the whole (vv. 4-5). This is not scientific language; day and night here are defined solely in relation to the purpose of God, and have nothing to do with the (unheard of at the time) revolutions of the earth, and totally independent of the sun and moon, which are created later (vv. 13-18).
The picture of the earth itself is in no way scientific: a flat earth is coupled with a celestial dome to form a giant bell at the center of the universe, surrounded above and below by the deep. The dome that is the sky is a hammered-out slab (perhaps held up by pillars, cf. Job 26:11) designed to hold back the reservoir of sky-waters, just as the earth holds back the subterranean waters (v. 6). Again there is separation, the waters above from the waters below (v. 7), and then the seas from the land (vv. 9-10).
The first life is vegetation, seed-plants, and fruit-trees ("according to its kind," v. 11; note the priestly concern for separation and categorization). The seeds and fruit are ordained for the sustenance of humans and animals (v. 29). Like the vegetation, the animal kingdom is created and designated as "good" -- even the sea monsters! (v. 21). Nothing in this creation stands outside of the purpose and will of God.
The pinnacle of creation is humankind. In saying "Let us make humankind in our image," God includes the heavenly retinue in the creative process, just as God will make human beings creative agents. Creation is a dialogical and not monological act, which God shares with the created. Genesis asserts but does not specify the creation of humankind in the image of God and the heavenly cohort, except that it is both individual and plural, "him," "them," and "male and female"; human beings alone out of all creation are designated as created in this image. Sexual distinction is included as part of creation; God created sex, and then pronounced it good. The human beings are given "dominion" over the rest of creation; God gives the creation for human use, and humans are to exercise dominion as those who are in the image of the Creator (note this did not originally include permission to kill animals for food).
Finally God finishes and rests. This is a divine and not a human rest (the Sabbath law is not given until Exodus 16). While it may be seen (anthropomorphically) as an appropriate reaction to a hard week of work, it really indicates the nature of the God who made this good creation: there is in the heart of eternity a rest which is independent of all human notions of relaxation. In God there is a peace with creation that is expressed in God's rest.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
We move into a very different realm of biblical literature with the closing farewell of Paul's letters to the Corinthians, but there are similar notions to be found here: the goodness of creation (here expressed in community), and the rest and peace to be found only in God. As in the primordial history in Genesis, there is a strong strain of hope in Paul, coupled with an obvious pessimism about human nature.
Paul has called the Corinthians to a rigorous self-examination in light of his upcoming visit. They need to deal with their contentiousness and their other communal issues. Paul, his relationship with them at an all-time low, resorts to the ancient rule that "Any charge must be sustained by the evidence of two or three witnesses" (13:1; cf. Deuteronomy 19:15). This will be his third visit to them, and the third witness against them, unless they change. He sums up his desires for them in 13:10: "So I write these things while I am away from you, so that when I come, I may not have to be severe in using the authority that the Lord has given me for building up and not for tearing down."
The farewell (13:11-13) injects a ray of hope into this gloom. While it is a typically Pauline closing, it pithily sums up what the Corinthians need to do before he comes for his third (and perhaps final) visit. He exhorts them to put their communal affairs in order, to listen to his appeal, to agree with one another on the major issues, and thus to live in peace (v. 11). The "holy kiss," given on the brow and shoulders among families, should not be without meaning among them. Paul reminds them that there is a strong community of believers ("the saints") who stand behind him (v. 12).
Finally, he gives his exhortation one last bit of theological backing (v. 13). This is one of the few explicitly Trinitarian formulas in the New Testament (cf. 1:21-22; Matthew 28:19), and it serves as a summary of sort. The grace that comes through Jesus proceeds from the love that God showed by sending him to us, and results in fellowship not only with his Spirit, but also the fellowship with one another that is enabled by that Spirit. Thus Paul brings to a close his exhortation on communal life with a reminder that the community, however contentious, is a gift from God.
Matthew 28:16-20
The closing section of Matthew's Gospel picks up the thread of the story of the women at the tomb: true to Jesus' word (28:10) and the prediction of the angel of the Lord (28:7), the eleven go to the mountain in Galilee (28:16). They join in worship of the resurrected Lord, though some doubt (28:17). Jesus acknowledges that their worship is well-placed: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (28:18). The scene binds together two of Matthew's main images of Jesus: Lord and Teacher. The two cannot be separated; Jesus cannot be Teacher without being Lord. On the mountain, Jesus is the all-powerful resurrected Lord. He is also the Teacher (like Moses) who speaks his final words on the mountain of revelation. This is the climax as well as the end of the gospel: the royal Messiah, Son of David, Son of God, Teacher of the Law, is now enthroned as king. The disciples in turn are commissioned to continue Jesus' ministry.
The Great Commission is the final step in the disciples' training and preparation for their future mission. They are to become mirror images of Jesus in their own disciple-making: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you" (28:19-20). The exhortation lands squarely on its main imperative: "make disciples." The other verbs in the sentence ("go," "baptize," "teach") are not imperatives in Greek but participles, used to stress the means by which disciples are to be made: "Make disciples, by going and baptizing and teaching." The disciples' main job is to replicate themselves; like their Lord, they are to gather around themselves students of his teaching. The time until the end of the age (28:20) is to be spent making more disciples.
The mission includes community-formation and teaching. Baptism is the formation of a community "where two or three are gathered together" to be with the resurrected Jesus (18:19-20). The continued worship of these small communities is a crucial part of disciple-making. Matthew has not included baptism as a part of Jesus' teaching until now, apart from his own example of being baptized by John the Baptist. When Jesus was baptized, he told John it was to "fulfill all righteousness" (3:15); that is, to be baptized is thus a part of following the way of righteousness that Jesus teaches (5:6, 10; 6:33). Matthew assumes the practice of his own community in reporting this command, baptism being done in the name of the Trinity -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Teaching is a necessary part of the worship gatherings. Again, the idea is to replicate the work of Jesus. The subject of the teaching is "everything I have commanded you." The goal is obedience (28:20). Throughout Matthew's story, the disciples are presented as students of the Lord. They are good students for the most part; unlike the disciples in Mark, they seem to understand most of what Jesus has to say. At the end of his parable discourse, he asks if they have understood his teaching; they answer, "Yes" (13:51). When Jesus walks on the water, the disciples are not astounded (as in Mark 6:51-52), but they confess, "Truly you are the Son of God" (Matthew 14:33). Yet, there is one stumbling block Matthew's disciples cannot quite overcome: they do not understand his death (16:22-24; 17:23). The disciples are unprepared to stand by Jesus at the cross (26:56), being ill-prepared to understand his death, despite his predictions (16:21; 17:9, 22-23; 20:17-18). By the end of the story, however, most of the cobwebs have been cleared away (though some still doubt, 28:17). In becoming witnesses to his resurrection they are now finished with their training, and are fully ready to take their places in the teaching mission. They are truly scribes of the kingdom of heaven (13:52).
The mission of disciple-making is to be universal: the disciples are specifically sent to "all nations," or "all the Gentiles" (panta ta ethne, 28:19). Here Matthew draws out the implications of the various hints laid down throughout the story: Wise Gentiles worship him (2:11) since he is the light to the Gentiles (4:15-16; 12:18-21); Gentiles have faith in him when Israelites did not (8:10); a Canaanite woman takes the crumbs from his table (15:21-28); and many will come from east and west to sit at that table (8:11-12). Ironically, even the Roman soldiers responsible for his death speak words that recognize Jesus as the Son of God (27:54). Jesus' prophecy to the Jewish leaders will prove true: "The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a nation (ethnos) producing the fruits of it" (21:43, author's translation). At the end of his earthly life, and at the beginning of his resurrected life, Jesus' mission is extended beyond "the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (15:24; 10:5-6; cf. 9:36; 10:23; 19:28). These hints laid throughout the book are now given explicit fulfillment in the command of the resurrected Lord.
The gospel ends with the promise given at its beginning: Jesus is "God with us" (1:23). "Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age" (28:20). The NRSV translation of idou (an imperative of the verb "to see," normally translated "behold, look") as "remember" is perhaps idiosyncratic, as idou was generally used as a sort of exclamation point, drawing attention to what follows. But both "remember" and "look" point to the function of the disciple, preacher, and teacher. The ongoing job of disciples is to teach other disciples to "remember" the teachings of the Master, but also to point out the ways ("look!") that the resurrected Lord is still at work in the community, still "Emmanuel," God with us.
Application
Despite all appearances, God proclaims creation good. The world is good, according to Genesis. Human community is good, according to Paul. The work of making disciples is good, according to Matthew.
The world has its counter-arguments. A giant wave is taken as evidence of evil in God's good world (as if there could be a world with no laws of nature, and as if death were the ultimate evil in this world). There is no end of bad people in any community. And why would people be lining up for the Lotto and Powerball, if working were such a good thing?
The response of faith has to do with the nature of God. God is first and foremost Creator. God created us in conjunction with others, "them" as well as "him," and gave us creative powers. That the act of creation was in fact work is shown by the seventh day of rest. If we share the image of God in creation, then we can affirm its goodness with God. In the end, faith will allow us to look at the world, at our own lives, and say with God, "It was good."
Alternative Applications
1) Genesis 1:1--2:4a; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Matthew 28:16-20. I long ago resolved not to inflict on any congregation one of those sermons that tries to "explain" the Trinity using a bad analogy ("the apple has a core, flesh, and skin, but it's all one apple"). Besides, it could be argued that preaching the biblical text has priority. The doctrine of the Trinity in its final form dates from long after the New Testament was written and compiled, and for those who preach the texts, the best we can find are the hints that led later theologians to develop the idea of a Triune God. Throughout the Bible, there is compelling evidence of a communal element within God. In Genesis, God is willing to share the pinnacle of creation and the image in which humanity is created with the rest of creation, embodied in the heavenly host. In Paul, community proves to be at the heart of faith. For Matthew, discipleship is all but defined as making other disciples. Can all this be any surprise, if the nature of God is indeed communal?
2) Matthew 28:16-20. Matthew commends not evangelism but disciple-making, and there is a difference. The disheveled young man told me that he had been booted from his orthodox Jewish household when he heard and accepted the Christian gospel from a Jew for Jesus. Now he did not know where to go.
"What about your friend? Can't he help you?"
"What friend?" He looked puzzled.
"The Jew for Jesus who converted you."
"Oh, he's not my friend, I just met him. I don't even know his last name or where he lives."
The Jew for Jesus had practiced hit-and-run evangelism, leaving God to pick up the pieces!
This is not what Matthew had in mind. Disciple-making includes not just "going" but also "baptizing" and "teaching." It is a long-term process of formation. This is what is so "Great" about the "Great Commission."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 8
Psalm 8 is an exuberant hymn of praise to God the Creator. It is, in fact, the only psalm written exclusively in the second person: its prayerful message is directed to the Lord from beginning to end.
There are some confusing textual problems in verses 1 and 2, which have led to a variety of interpretations. Who are the "babes and infants," out of whose mouths something significant flows: either praise, as some translations render it, or -- rather strangely, as others have it -- "a bulwark"? The Hebrew is, unfortunately, obscure, so there may never be a satisfying answer to this conundrum.
Recent advances in satellite technology, combined with computers, have led to some amazing websites, through which it is possible to view highly detailed photos of the earth taken from space. On some of these sites, it is possible to start with a map of an entire continent, then to zoom in, by successive mouse clicks, to a view of one's own neighborhood. That is the sort of perspective envisioned by the psalmist, millennia before either satellites or computers had even been conceived in the human mind. From the perspective of the vast expanses of heaven, "what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" (v. 4).
Yet, wondrously, we humans have been made "a little lower than God." We are "crowned with glory and honor" (v. 5). There is order to this God-created cosmos. Certain parts of the creation are subservient to other parts, and everything is subservient to the Creator. Just below God in the cosmic hierarchy are human beings, acting as God's plenipotentiaries. God has given humanity "dominion" over the other creatures. This whole concept of dominion -- which hearkens back to Genesis 1:26 -- is fraught with difficulty, from the standpoint of modern ecological ideals. Indeed, the whole notion of ecology -- which presupposes an interdependent, global system of which human beings are a part, rather than standing over and against it as managers -- is foreign to passages like this one. Human dominion over creation, in the modern sense, means something very different than it meant to the Hebrew mind.
Perhaps this could be a bridge, on this Trinity Sunday, to a discussion of the Trinity. Some of the richest theological understandings of the Trinity have portrayed it as an interdependent system. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are interrelated, and the positive force that binds each person of the Trinity to the others is love. Psalm 8 is overflowing with a joyous love that binds Creator and creation together.
Writing in his web journal on September 30, 2004, preacher and author Robert Fulghum reflected on the exuberant ways young children approach life: "I was carrying a trilobite in my pocket last night. A fossil from life 175 million years ago, when nothing like us was around. Sometimes I sit on the bench on the highest hill in my mind, hold my trilobite in my hand and consider the long view. It's my 'ant-in-Chicago' position. An ant will never comprehend Chicago. Never. But sometimes the ant must have a vague sense that something astonishing is going on around it.
"Vibrations and energy change. As do I. What's the meaning of it all? I will never know. But I may, like those first graders, give my life meaning by throwing myself recklessly into it daily, as if something astonishing is happening and I am part of it. It is and I am." (www.robertfulghum.com/journal.php).
