Out With the Old, In With the New
Commentary
Out with the old, and in with the new. That’s easily said, but not so easily done. Yet though we think of ourselves as simple people, we can end up with a lot of clutter. Change is necessary, but that’s not always a comfortable transition to make. It’s hard enough to clean out our closets. But how about our spiritual lives? We accumulate a lot of stuff over the years, not all of it helpful. In this week’s lectionary passages, Samuel grieves over Saul, Paul gets nostalgic about going to heaven when there’s a lot left to do with the Corinthians, and Jesus turns to storytelling in order to illustrate how something new and wonderful is about to happen – if we can get past the old way of thinking.
1 Samuel 15:34--16:13
Sometimes a door closes in our lives. We always want to believe there’s a chance for renewal, restoration, forgiveness granted and received, and just plain old starting over. Earlier Samuel warned the people what having a king like their neighbors would mean. Once he gave in – with God’s urging – to the people’s request, he was all in when it came to Saul.
But it didn’t work out. The particular passage that preceded it makes me uncomfortable anyway. Saul won’t kill the king of the Amelakites, so Samuel ends up hewing him to pieces. I’m not sure I would have obeyed the order myself, but I’m not in the Bible! Anyway, as a result of Saul’s disobedience, Samuel would not see Saul until things began to fall apart. Badly. (That meeting is one of the strangest in scripture. Saul dons a disguise and forces the witch of Endor to summon Samuel from the dead, but if he was expecting good news, he was sadly disappointed).
Instead, Samuel is sent to Bethlehem to anoint one of Jesse’s sons as the new king. Out with the old, but with sadness. In with the new, but with trepidation.
There’s an obvious lesson – Samuel assumes the oldest son, a tall, handsome specimen, is the Lord’s choice, but each of the sons in turn is rejected by the Lord. As it turns out it will be the youngest son, who was not even there, but out doing hard work with the flock. So we can remind folks not to look on the outward appearance as the likeliest choice for a ministry within the church. Or we might point to ourselves and try to convince the congregation that we’re the least likely to end up in the ministry. However, I suspect you’ve used that story over and over again.
The aspect I think I’ll work with is that David was not even in the room when Samuel came calling. This should remind us not to turn to the usual suspects every time there is a new ministry in the church. The usual suspects are often wonderful disciples, doing their tasks well – but there’s no reason not to look outside the congregation and find the best ones for the task. Once the church became legal in the Roman Empire under Constantine the congregations were open to picking folks outside the circle to become their shepherds. Ambrose (330-374) was a governor, and not even a baptized Christian, when he went to Milan to squelch civil unrest caused by a contentious argument about succession to the office after the previous bishop of Milan died. The congregation declared this civil servant as their bishop, which caused Ambrose to flee, but eventually he was persuaded to be baptized, ordained, and consecrated as the new bishop of Milan.
That was certainly a different way to conduct a search process.
2 Corinthians 5:6-10 (11-13) 14-17
There’s a lot to unpack in this particular passage, and it’s rambling enough to remind us that Paul is dictating a letter, thinking aloud as it were, rather than sitting down at the computer to write and rewrite a logical and reasoned theological treatise.
One thing Paul is clear about from the start – when it comes to making a choice about the next, new thing, it’s not always a question of personal preference. It’s what will serve others who are new in the faith.
So often people evaluate a church on the basis of what they get out of it. Are they getting “fed?” by which they often mean, “Are the sermons focusing on other people’s sins?” Just as important, are the sermons not challenging their own presumptions. People want to hear the hymns they like, They want to be served. That’s the whole basis of the society that Paul inhabits, the old way of looking at things. As for himself, Paul is not afraid of martyrdom, because to be away from the body means being with the Lord. But the question is one of service. “So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to be pleasing to him.” So it’s not what can I get out of this God thing – and that, after all, is what competing religions of the time attempted to do – serve up offerings that would please a god who would then take care of the worshipper as a client.
Of course we don’t see this new world clearly – we walk by faith and not by sight – but this calls on us to ignore human categories – when the class-conscious Roman society was built on everyone knowing and remaining in their place. That’s why this new society of rich, poor, male, female, Greek, Hebrew, free, and slave could no longer look at each other from a human point of view. In a world torn apart by war and hatred we have this unwieldly ministry of reconciliation that may make us look unrealistic, unpractical, unpragmatic – it’s what Christ did, and as inadequate as we feel, we are the ambassadors!
Mark 4:26-34
Sometimes I think we’re so used to hearing the parables of Jesus we are like the people he describes who hear, but don’t get it. Let’s look at these two farming parables and try to see what Jesus is really saying. We’re seeing it with the old mindset that we already know what Jesus means, end of story. Actually, it’s ‘start of story.’ Get drawn in, deeper and deeper.
Now I’m a city kid at heart, though I live in the country. I keep bees, and what Jesus describes this farmer describes how I manage hives. Once I get a hive of bees established I leave them alone until the fall, and then check to see if there’s any extra honey for me. And that’s what this farmer does in the first parable (4:26-29). He scatters seed and then he catches up on his sleep while the seed and soil take care of themselves. Only when the grain is ripe does he go out to harvest.
But in the real world, this is crazy. Farmers and gardeners don’t leave well enough. They’re out checking to see how things are going. If there hasn’t been enough rain they water the soil. Folks are out in their gardens weeding and trimming. Those working in orchards trim and prune and graft. Nobody leaves the fields and gardens alone.
Scant decades before Jesus lived, the poet Virgil wrote his Georgics, which is about planting, tending, and harvest. He notes “…the tree that arises from seeds that fell and scattered on the ground develops slowly….its fruit is degenerate, …fit for nothing but for birds to ransack. In every case hard work goes into the task.” (Georgics, translated by David Ferry, p 51)
It’s even crazier with his parable of the mustard seed. Mustard seeds produce plants, bushes – not trees. But this one grows to tremendous size, providing a home for the birds, without the care that goes into producing the huge tomatoes and zucchini and pumpkins that are pretty much inedible but make for a great show at the county and state fair. And it’s all done without any effort.
But like any good parable, it’s not really about the thing it seems to be about. Jesus isn’t saying farmers don’t know how to farm and gardeners don’t know how to garden. A parable is a story about something else. And something else astounding is happening while we aren’t watching. You think those kids aren’t listening, but they are, and the fruit will grow in good season. You think you didn’t make a difference in someone’s life when you gave and you gave, and just because you don’t live to see it doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. And we are witnesses, seeds that are sown, in a society that believes it doesn’t need us, that we’re antiquated, out of step, but it’s not so.
So don’t get rid of the old ways of gardening and replace them with something unrealistic if new. But jump into the work of the kingdom with the expectation that what you see isn’t all there is. There is a loving God who lives and moves and I whom all have their being. Walk by faith, and not just by sight.
1 Samuel 15:34--16:13
Sometimes a door closes in our lives. We always want to believe there’s a chance for renewal, restoration, forgiveness granted and received, and just plain old starting over. Earlier Samuel warned the people what having a king like their neighbors would mean. Once he gave in – with God’s urging – to the people’s request, he was all in when it came to Saul.
But it didn’t work out. The particular passage that preceded it makes me uncomfortable anyway. Saul won’t kill the king of the Amelakites, so Samuel ends up hewing him to pieces. I’m not sure I would have obeyed the order myself, but I’m not in the Bible! Anyway, as a result of Saul’s disobedience, Samuel would not see Saul until things began to fall apart. Badly. (That meeting is one of the strangest in scripture. Saul dons a disguise and forces the witch of Endor to summon Samuel from the dead, but if he was expecting good news, he was sadly disappointed).
Instead, Samuel is sent to Bethlehem to anoint one of Jesse’s sons as the new king. Out with the old, but with sadness. In with the new, but with trepidation.
There’s an obvious lesson – Samuel assumes the oldest son, a tall, handsome specimen, is the Lord’s choice, but each of the sons in turn is rejected by the Lord. As it turns out it will be the youngest son, who was not even there, but out doing hard work with the flock. So we can remind folks not to look on the outward appearance as the likeliest choice for a ministry within the church. Or we might point to ourselves and try to convince the congregation that we’re the least likely to end up in the ministry. However, I suspect you’ve used that story over and over again.
The aspect I think I’ll work with is that David was not even in the room when Samuel came calling. This should remind us not to turn to the usual suspects every time there is a new ministry in the church. The usual suspects are often wonderful disciples, doing their tasks well – but there’s no reason not to look outside the congregation and find the best ones for the task. Once the church became legal in the Roman Empire under Constantine the congregations were open to picking folks outside the circle to become their shepherds. Ambrose (330-374) was a governor, and not even a baptized Christian, when he went to Milan to squelch civil unrest caused by a contentious argument about succession to the office after the previous bishop of Milan died. The congregation declared this civil servant as their bishop, which caused Ambrose to flee, but eventually he was persuaded to be baptized, ordained, and consecrated as the new bishop of Milan.
That was certainly a different way to conduct a search process.
2 Corinthians 5:6-10 (11-13) 14-17
There’s a lot to unpack in this particular passage, and it’s rambling enough to remind us that Paul is dictating a letter, thinking aloud as it were, rather than sitting down at the computer to write and rewrite a logical and reasoned theological treatise.
One thing Paul is clear about from the start – when it comes to making a choice about the next, new thing, it’s not always a question of personal preference. It’s what will serve others who are new in the faith.
So often people evaluate a church on the basis of what they get out of it. Are they getting “fed?” by which they often mean, “Are the sermons focusing on other people’s sins?” Just as important, are the sermons not challenging their own presumptions. People want to hear the hymns they like, They want to be served. That’s the whole basis of the society that Paul inhabits, the old way of looking at things. As for himself, Paul is not afraid of martyrdom, because to be away from the body means being with the Lord. But the question is one of service. “So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to be pleasing to him.” So it’s not what can I get out of this God thing – and that, after all, is what competing religions of the time attempted to do – serve up offerings that would please a god who would then take care of the worshipper as a client.
Of course we don’t see this new world clearly – we walk by faith and not by sight – but this calls on us to ignore human categories – when the class-conscious Roman society was built on everyone knowing and remaining in their place. That’s why this new society of rich, poor, male, female, Greek, Hebrew, free, and slave could no longer look at each other from a human point of view. In a world torn apart by war and hatred we have this unwieldly ministry of reconciliation that may make us look unrealistic, unpractical, unpragmatic – it’s what Christ did, and as inadequate as we feel, we are the ambassadors!
Mark 4:26-34
Sometimes I think we’re so used to hearing the parables of Jesus we are like the people he describes who hear, but don’t get it. Let’s look at these two farming parables and try to see what Jesus is really saying. We’re seeing it with the old mindset that we already know what Jesus means, end of story. Actually, it’s ‘start of story.’ Get drawn in, deeper and deeper.
Now I’m a city kid at heart, though I live in the country. I keep bees, and what Jesus describes this farmer describes how I manage hives. Once I get a hive of bees established I leave them alone until the fall, and then check to see if there’s any extra honey for me. And that’s what this farmer does in the first parable (4:26-29). He scatters seed and then he catches up on his sleep while the seed and soil take care of themselves. Only when the grain is ripe does he go out to harvest.
But in the real world, this is crazy. Farmers and gardeners don’t leave well enough. They’re out checking to see how things are going. If there hasn’t been enough rain they water the soil. Folks are out in their gardens weeding and trimming. Those working in orchards trim and prune and graft. Nobody leaves the fields and gardens alone.
Scant decades before Jesus lived, the poet Virgil wrote his Georgics, which is about planting, tending, and harvest. He notes “…the tree that arises from seeds that fell and scattered on the ground develops slowly….its fruit is degenerate, …fit for nothing but for birds to ransack. In every case hard work goes into the task.” (Georgics, translated by David Ferry, p 51)
It’s even crazier with his parable of the mustard seed. Mustard seeds produce plants, bushes – not trees. But this one grows to tremendous size, providing a home for the birds, without the care that goes into producing the huge tomatoes and zucchini and pumpkins that are pretty much inedible but make for a great show at the county and state fair. And it’s all done without any effort.
But like any good parable, it’s not really about the thing it seems to be about. Jesus isn’t saying farmers don’t know how to farm and gardeners don’t know how to garden. A parable is a story about something else. And something else astounding is happening while we aren’t watching. You think those kids aren’t listening, but they are, and the fruit will grow in good season. You think you didn’t make a difference in someone’s life when you gave and you gave, and just because you don’t live to see it doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. And we are witnesses, seeds that are sown, in a society that believes it doesn’t need us, that we’re antiquated, out of step, but it’s not so.
So don’t get rid of the old ways of gardening and replace them with something unrealistic if new. But jump into the work of the kingdom with the expectation that what you see isn’t all there is. There is a loving God who lives and moves and I whom all have their being. Walk by faith, and not just by sight.
