Let's have a parade!
Commentary
Unless you happen to serve in a recreation/vacation area where you are blessed with summertime visitors, this Sunday, on Independence Day Weekend, probably marks low tide in worship attendance. And that, in turn, brings with it the temptation to ease off a bit in our sermon preparation. Given the texts for this Sunday, that would be a tragedy. Those "faithful few" who come on this day will have a feast in store for them if we give this sermon the same energy we devote to the rest of this year's efforts.
The key to a common thread for the day may be in the words of Paul to the Romans: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" With sky rockets and marching bands and brilliant aerial displays fresh in the minds of the congregation, this is a day to remind ourselves that there is room for loud and joyful celebration among the citizens of the Kingdom of God!
Come, celebrate; your banners high unfurling,Your songs and prayers against the darkness hurling.To all the world go out and tell the storyOf Jesus' glory. (Lutheran Book of Worship, #393)
Apparently Christ enjoyed a rousing good time now and then. Though criticized for it by narrow-minded legalists, he enjoyed a wedding and thought it merited a generous supply of the best wine. He welcomed children when others thought they should be "seen but not heard." He accepted sweet perfume that critics said should go to the poor. He enjoyed a good meal with good drink, though some prudish folk interpreted his freedom as the actions of "a glutton and a drunkard." Even on the eve of his crucifixion, he accepted the cheers of those who misunderstood his mission. A libertine? No, not at all. Just one who thought life without times of celebration was sterile and dull.
So let this be a day of celebration. Use the festive spirit of the holiday to accent the joy and delight we have in being "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people" (1 Peter 2:9). The King who reigns over this "holy nation," however, is unique. He is the Suffering King who came to serve. As such, he is our example. Our devotion to nation must be rooted in a willingness to serve others.
Grist For The Mill
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Those who look for a mate have at least two things in mind. First, that the background of the prospective bride or groom will be compatible. But, more importantly, that the spirit of the sought-after-one will be in tune with one's own.
In cultures where the family takes an active role in the choice of a mate, those concerns are shared by parents. So it is no surprise that Abraham and Sarah want their son Isaac to marry someone from their own clan. But what makes this story one of our favored Genesis texts is the attentiveness to the will and guidance of God that surrounds the whole adventure. The servant is not sent to look for just any woman, one who just happens to be charming and beautiful, but one who combines in her person all the characteristics celebrated in the ideal Hebrew wife of Proverbs 31.
When such a woman is found, the whole account takes on an air of celebration. Though Rebekah's family is loathe to see her go, they accept this as the will of God and send her off with blessings and prayers for prosperity. Waiting for her is Isaac. The RSV suggests that he "went out to meditate in the field at the eventide." The NRSV says that he simply "went out in the evening to walk in the field." Whatever he did, it is clear that he is in high expectation and excitement about the woman who will be his bride. And who wouldn't be!
What is most important in this account, however, is the simple, poignant expression in 24:67: "He loved her." In a society where polygamy was common, the evidence from Genesis is that there was never another woman in Isaac's life or another man in Rebekah's life. They had their struggle as we will discover in the text for next Sunday. Yet, they loved until parted by death.
At a Bible camp in my fourteenth year, a counselor suggested to our cabin of young boys that most of us would marry one day and that it was not too early to begin praying for the one who would be our mate. Hundreds of miles away at about the same time a young woman was encouraged to do the same. When we married nearly a decade later, my wife and I had the joy of knowing that it was more than a physical attraction that brought us together. There was a profound sense that this was the will of God.
Of all that we might celebrate on this Sunday, the blessings to society of good marriages, healthy families, and solid friendships should rank high on our list.
Romans 7:15-25a
Many churches include a "Confession of Sins" as a regular part of the Sunday worship service. One such liturgy suggests that "we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves" (Lutheran Book of Worship, p. 56). As a bishop I could always count on two or three letters a year raising serious questions about the appropriateness of those words. The letters were usually written by folks who had experienced a radical conversion or awakening of some kind. "Why do we keep confessing that we are 'in bondage to sin' when we have been set free from such bondage? Why don't we just celebrate the victory of Christ over sin?"
I would usually respond to such letters by explaining the "already/not yet" nature of the Christian life. Yes, the work of Christ is complete. Yes, we are forgiven when we repent. Yes, there is reason to celebrate. Yes, we can shout, "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"
But so long as we live in this world there is also the "not yet" side of Christian experience. We are still "on the way." Like Paul, we are baffled at times by our actions. "I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." Contrary to those who want to evade the thrust of this text by claiming that Paul is referring here to his pre-Christian life, we aver that our experience is exactly that of Paul. Just as he owned his ongoing struggle by claiming to be the "least of the saints" (Ephesians 3:8) and the "foremost of sinners" (1 Timothy 1:15), so we look honestly at our thoughts, words, and deeds, and see an enormous gap between who we would like to be and who we are.
C. S. Lewis framed the question as well as anyone:
... human beings, all over the earth, have this curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way, and can't really get rid of it. ... they don't in fact behave in this way. They know the Law of Nature; they break it. These two facts are the foundation of all clear thinking about ourselves and the universe we live in. (C. S. Lewis, The Case For Christianity; New York: Macmillan Co., 1945, p. 7.)
If this be so, what is there to celebrate? Only one thing: The victory we have in Christ. After an honest look into his soul, where he finds inconsistency, good but broken intentions, and captivity to sin, Paul can only cry out, "Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" There is but one answer: The victory we have in Christ.
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
A traveling evangelist once told me that he didn't mind preaching in a certain community, "but I surely wouldn't want to live there." He was referring, of course, to the legalistic way of life that pervaded in that area. The infighting was intense. Believers were constantly bickering. Those who exercised some liberty in thought or behavior were shunned.
Christ was hardly the "glutton and drunkard" his enemies claimed him to be. But such judgments are inevitable when we focus on behavior as a measure of one's faith. Surely there ought to be a connection between the two. But the tendency after a time is to see only the external sign and to forget that God may be deeply at work in a person who shows little such evidence.
For that reason, Christ rejoices in the "infants," the quiet, innocent believers who may not have the right words or actions but who know the hidden wisdom and the deep insights. Every preacher knows them. You didn't notice them when you first arrived in the parish. They didn't stand out from the crowd. But over the months and years you came to learn that these were the truly wise and intelligent ones in the congregation. At the core of their life was that one necessary bit of knowledge -- they knew the Father through the Son.
The last section of this text is often used as a word of encouragement to those who need comfort and consolation. That is surely appropriate. But the words, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart," are also a call to a life of witness and service in the Kingdom. Having been freed from prudish slavery to meaningless convention and having discovered the "secret wisdom" that comes in knowing Christ, citizens of the Kingdom are set free for a life of refreshing liberty. This "yoke" is easy because it does not rest on merit, but on grace and freedom. Whether it be congregation or community, our finest are those who serve because they want to, not because they have to.
After nearly forty years of ministry I am just now moving into the early months of retirement. The demands and expectations of a regular call were important. But I can see more clearly now that deeds were sometimes done for the sake of meeting those demands and expectations, rather than from the sheer freedom and joy of serving others for the sake of Christ. At times I allowed the yoke to become too heavy because I forgot that the yoke was not mine, but Christ's. Our aim, in church and community, should be to serve out of the reservoir of freedom we have in the Gospel of Christ.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Will the curtains of political correctness part at least enough to let the beauties of this story peek through? No doubt, the social expectations of the pleasantly alienated upper middle make Isaac and Rebekah's courtship offensive. But love has been known to claim its own destiny, no matter what the odds. It might even be some fun.
In fact, there are several layers of offense. To begin with, the whole thing is told from a decidedly male perspective. Abraham knows that Isaac needs a wife and sends a trusted manservant off as his procurer. When he brings one home, she comforts Isaac in the death of his mother.
The mythology of love, a nineteenth century western European and American development, adds a second layer: until the wedding night, Rebekah and Isaac are bystanders in what amounts to a business transaction. Their needs, their desires, their fulfillment, their self-images -- all the stuff that has made Oprah, Sally Jesse and the rest of them media millionaires -- don't matter a whistle. In fact, for all of his priority in the story, Isaac doesn't even see her face until they're in his mother's tent for the rites of the first night.
But it's Rebekah who by the standards of the contemporary upwardly mobile is the real victim. Simple property, she is handed off from male to male to male until she finds herself on her back, her biology her destiny.
For all of this, maybe the church -- and the synagogue -- should simply fess up and stop telling such stories. But that would be another injustice, wouldn't it? Rebekah, she who had
enough of a sense of humor to go into the tent with a man named "laughter" and knew a thing or two about promoting a favorite son, would disappear altogether!
No, love has eyes and ears of its own. These two, like countless others in ancient cultures as well as the contemporary two-thirds world, recognized something that sometimes even the culture of the self-made can see: love has a power of its own. So, however reluctantly or cooperatively, they both followed their family's wishes: Isaac waiting, maybe impatiently, maybe his curiosity fighting with his grief over Sarah, while the servant went looking; Rebekah going along, veiling herself according to the rituals of time, entering the tent so that together, she and Isaac would take their place in the genealogy of the nation.
It was one of their grandsons, by that time a palace notable in Egypt, who said to his brothers, "You meant it for evil; God used it for good" (Genesis 50:20). The good Lord has a way of taking what is available, particularly that which we might consider strange or offensive, and using it for a purpose. However difficult it is for us, Rebekah saw it -- and went for it.
The key to a common thread for the day may be in the words of Paul to the Romans: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" With sky rockets and marching bands and brilliant aerial displays fresh in the minds of the congregation, this is a day to remind ourselves that there is room for loud and joyful celebration among the citizens of the Kingdom of God!
Come, celebrate; your banners high unfurling,Your songs and prayers against the darkness hurling.To all the world go out and tell the storyOf Jesus' glory. (Lutheran Book of Worship, #393)
Apparently Christ enjoyed a rousing good time now and then. Though criticized for it by narrow-minded legalists, he enjoyed a wedding and thought it merited a generous supply of the best wine. He welcomed children when others thought they should be "seen but not heard." He accepted sweet perfume that critics said should go to the poor. He enjoyed a good meal with good drink, though some prudish folk interpreted his freedom as the actions of "a glutton and a drunkard." Even on the eve of his crucifixion, he accepted the cheers of those who misunderstood his mission. A libertine? No, not at all. Just one who thought life without times of celebration was sterile and dull.
So let this be a day of celebration. Use the festive spirit of the holiday to accent the joy and delight we have in being "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people" (1 Peter 2:9). The King who reigns over this "holy nation," however, is unique. He is the Suffering King who came to serve. As such, he is our example. Our devotion to nation must be rooted in a willingness to serve others.
Grist For The Mill
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Those who look for a mate have at least two things in mind. First, that the background of the prospective bride or groom will be compatible. But, more importantly, that the spirit of the sought-after-one will be in tune with one's own.
In cultures where the family takes an active role in the choice of a mate, those concerns are shared by parents. So it is no surprise that Abraham and Sarah want their son Isaac to marry someone from their own clan. But what makes this story one of our favored Genesis texts is the attentiveness to the will and guidance of God that surrounds the whole adventure. The servant is not sent to look for just any woman, one who just happens to be charming and beautiful, but one who combines in her person all the characteristics celebrated in the ideal Hebrew wife of Proverbs 31.
When such a woman is found, the whole account takes on an air of celebration. Though Rebekah's family is loathe to see her go, they accept this as the will of God and send her off with blessings and prayers for prosperity. Waiting for her is Isaac. The RSV suggests that he "went out to meditate in the field at the eventide." The NRSV says that he simply "went out in the evening to walk in the field." Whatever he did, it is clear that he is in high expectation and excitement about the woman who will be his bride. And who wouldn't be!
What is most important in this account, however, is the simple, poignant expression in 24:67: "He loved her." In a society where polygamy was common, the evidence from Genesis is that there was never another woman in Isaac's life or another man in Rebekah's life. They had their struggle as we will discover in the text for next Sunday. Yet, they loved until parted by death.
At a Bible camp in my fourteenth year, a counselor suggested to our cabin of young boys that most of us would marry one day and that it was not too early to begin praying for the one who would be our mate. Hundreds of miles away at about the same time a young woman was encouraged to do the same. When we married nearly a decade later, my wife and I had the joy of knowing that it was more than a physical attraction that brought us together. There was a profound sense that this was the will of God.
Of all that we might celebrate on this Sunday, the blessings to society of good marriages, healthy families, and solid friendships should rank high on our list.
Romans 7:15-25a
Many churches include a "Confession of Sins" as a regular part of the Sunday worship service. One such liturgy suggests that "we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves" (Lutheran Book of Worship, p. 56). As a bishop I could always count on two or three letters a year raising serious questions about the appropriateness of those words. The letters were usually written by folks who had experienced a radical conversion or awakening of some kind. "Why do we keep confessing that we are 'in bondage to sin' when we have been set free from such bondage? Why don't we just celebrate the victory of Christ over sin?"
I would usually respond to such letters by explaining the "already/not yet" nature of the Christian life. Yes, the work of Christ is complete. Yes, we are forgiven when we repent. Yes, there is reason to celebrate. Yes, we can shout, "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"
But so long as we live in this world there is also the "not yet" side of Christian experience. We are still "on the way." Like Paul, we are baffled at times by our actions. "I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." Contrary to those who want to evade the thrust of this text by claiming that Paul is referring here to his pre-Christian life, we aver that our experience is exactly that of Paul. Just as he owned his ongoing struggle by claiming to be the "least of the saints" (Ephesians 3:8) and the "foremost of sinners" (1 Timothy 1:15), so we look honestly at our thoughts, words, and deeds, and see an enormous gap between who we would like to be and who we are.
C. S. Lewis framed the question as well as anyone:
... human beings, all over the earth, have this curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way, and can't really get rid of it. ... they don't in fact behave in this way. They know the Law of Nature; they break it. These two facts are the foundation of all clear thinking about ourselves and the universe we live in. (C. S. Lewis, The Case For Christianity; New York: Macmillan Co., 1945, p. 7.)
If this be so, what is there to celebrate? Only one thing: The victory we have in Christ. After an honest look into his soul, where he finds inconsistency, good but broken intentions, and captivity to sin, Paul can only cry out, "Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" There is but one answer: The victory we have in Christ.
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
A traveling evangelist once told me that he didn't mind preaching in a certain community, "but I surely wouldn't want to live there." He was referring, of course, to the legalistic way of life that pervaded in that area. The infighting was intense. Believers were constantly bickering. Those who exercised some liberty in thought or behavior were shunned.
Christ was hardly the "glutton and drunkard" his enemies claimed him to be. But such judgments are inevitable when we focus on behavior as a measure of one's faith. Surely there ought to be a connection between the two. But the tendency after a time is to see only the external sign and to forget that God may be deeply at work in a person who shows little such evidence.
For that reason, Christ rejoices in the "infants," the quiet, innocent believers who may not have the right words or actions but who know the hidden wisdom and the deep insights. Every preacher knows them. You didn't notice them when you first arrived in the parish. They didn't stand out from the crowd. But over the months and years you came to learn that these were the truly wise and intelligent ones in the congregation. At the core of their life was that one necessary bit of knowledge -- they knew the Father through the Son.
The last section of this text is often used as a word of encouragement to those who need comfort and consolation. That is surely appropriate. But the words, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart," are also a call to a life of witness and service in the Kingdom. Having been freed from prudish slavery to meaningless convention and having discovered the "secret wisdom" that comes in knowing Christ, citizens of the Kingdom are set free for a life of refreshing liberty. This "yoke" is easy because it does not rest on merit, but on grace and freedom. Whether it be congregation or community, our finest are those who serve because they want to, not because they have to.
After nearly forty years of ministry I am just now moving into the early months of retirement. The demands and expectations of a regular call were important. But I can see more clearly now that deeds were sometimes done for the sake of meeting those demands and expectations, rather than from the sheer freedom and joy of serving others for the sake of Christ. At times I allowed the yoke to become too heavy because I forgot that the yoke was not mine, but Christ's. Our aim, in church and community, should be to serve out of the reservoir of freedom we have in the Gospel of Christ.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Will the curtains of political correctness part at least enough to let the beauties of this story peek through? No doubt, the social expectations of the pleasantly alienated upper middle make Isaac and Rebekah's courtship offensive. But love has been known to claim its own destiny, no matter what the odds. It might even be some fun.
In fact, there are several layers of offense. To begin with, the whole thing is told from a decidedly male perspective. Abraham knows that Isaac needs a wife and sends a trusted manservant off as his procurer. When he brings one home, she comforts Isaac in the death of his mother.
The mythology of love, a nineteenth century western European and American development, adds a second layer: until the wedding night, Rebekah and Isaac are bystanders in what amounts to a business transaction. Their needs, their desires, their fulfillment, their self-images -- all the stuff that has made Oprah, Sally Jesse and the rest of them media millionaires -- don't matter a whistle. In fact, for all of his priority in the story, Isaac doesn't even see her face until they're in his mother's tent for the rites of the first night.
But it's Rebekah who by the standards of the contemporary upwardly mobile is the real victim. Simple property, she is handed off from male to male to male until she finds herself on her back, her biology her destiny.
For all of this, maybe the church -- and the synagogue -- should simply fess up and stop telling such stories. But that would be another injustice, wouldn't it? Rebekah, she who had
enough of a sense of humor to go into the tent with a man named "laughter" and knew a thing or two about promoting a favorite son, would disappear altogether!
No, love has eyes and ears of its own. These two, like countless others in ancient cultures as well as the contemporary two-thirds world, recognized something that sometimes even the culture of the self-made can see: love has a power of its own. So, however reluctantly or cooperatively, they both followed their family's wishes: Isaac waiting, maybe impatiently, maybe his curiosity fighting with his grief over Sarah, while the servant went looking; Rebekah going along, veiling herself according to the rituals of time, entering the tent so that together, she and Isaac would take their place in the genealogy of the nation.
It was one of their grandsons, by that time a palace notable in Egypt, who said to his brothers, "You meant it for evil; God used it for good" (Genesis 50:20). The good Lord has a way of taking what is available, particularly that which we might consider strange or offensive, and using it for a purpose. However difficult it is for us, Rebekah saw it -- and went for it.
