Putting love to work
Commentary
Last week we suggested that if Genesis is the account of God's election, then Exodus is the story of God's redemption. Today we take the next step in the unfolding drama: If Moses is the person God uses to redeem, then the sacrifice is the means.
The Passover may be the most deeply rooted of all celebrations among devout Jews. Little wonder. As we see in this text, it is a family celebration. Everyone, including the poorest among the Hebrew people, must be involved in Passover. For this reason, Passover has survived the destruction of tabernacle and temple.
We also note that this chapter, together with 13 and 14, marks a sort of interlude in the deliverance story. After the plagues and before the passage through the Red (Reed) Sea, this becomes a time for pause and quiet reflection on what God is doing. This will be a moment to remember.
In Hebrew thought, remembrance of certain events is more than a recollection of a past occurrence. Because God is involved in Passover in such an awesome way, remembrance of it involves actual reliving of it. Past, present, and future are swallowed up in an actual "now." What God did, does now, and will do in the future.
The link with the sacrifice of Christ is clear. The death of "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29) is also an event that transcends history. We remember it as a real happening in the past; we enter into it as a life-giving meal in the present; we anticipate the day when we will "drink it new" with Christ in the future. There is no before or after. It is all now.
Romans 13:8-14
This reading begins with more of Paul's advice and counsel to the believers in Rome regarding how a Christian is to live in the world. The appeal to love, begun in 12:9, comes to a climax in 13:10 -- "love is the fulfilling of the law."
Much of what Paul urges is not new. The Ten Commandments, cited in 13:9, and the Great Commandment -- "to love your neighbor as yourself" -- are deeply embedded in Hebrew tradition. The difference now is that love should flow out of a joyful response to God's love in Christ, rather than from a sense of duty.
The focus of this lesson, however, is on verses 11-14. The reason a believer should act as Paul has described this life is because of the urgency of the times. This is kairos time, a unique time that will never be again. The "salvation" Paul speaks of is not only personal salvation, but the largest event -- the eschatological act of God, the end of the age. Like the Hebrews in Egypt who were told, "You shall eat (the Passover) hurriedly" (Exodus 12:11), so the believers of the new age are to be on the move, knowing that the time is ripe for God to act.
It was Romans 13:13-14 that brought Augustine to his senses. Having fought against God and his mother's prayers for many years, he came to ask himself, "How long, how long, 'tomorrow, and tomorrow?' Why not now? Why not is there this hour an end to my uncleanness?" (The Confessions of St. Augustine, New York: Pocket Books, 1952, p. 147.) He was at the end of his rope. He had exhausted every avenue of pleasure and found himself lost and confused. Then he read these words: "not in reveling and drunkenness ... Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ ...." He is converted. Out of his experience he comes to see the urgency for both himself and for the world -- the urgency that the Gospel be shared as widely as possible.
As we approach the millennium we will be hearing much speculation about the significance of the year 2000. But for the church every age is a kairos time, every generation a time to be urgent, every place a setting for pressing on with the work of the Gospel.
Matthew 18:15-20
There is broad argument that this text reflects more of the situation of the early church than of the setting in which Jesus worked. While the ideas behind the text may certainly have come from the teaching of Jesus, references to "the church" (vv. 15, 17) speak of a later time, most likely among the first Jewish Christians.
As with the first two lessons, the tone is one of urgency. One does not have forever to make right that which is wrong. The moment of opportunity may pass. The one with whom we have a disagreement may die. Or the conflict may become so deeply rooted that it begs resolution. We are reminded of Jesus' word in the Sermon on the Mount: "Leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother and sister" (Matthew 5:14).
Those who think the church in apostolic times was more kind and loving than the church today are naive. It is no different for them. Conflict needed resolution. A pattern for settling disputes evolved. The steps are clear and logical.
Among some cultures there is a tendency to think that if a conflict or problem is ignored it will go away. More than likely, it will get worse. Because we are sinful there will always be a need for reconciliation. The late Warren Quanbeck found himself engaged in conversation with a woman on an airplane who complained to him about all the hypocrites in the church. "Have you ever been a member of a church, to see what it's like on the inside?" "No, of course not," she replied. To which he said, "It's really much worse than you imagine." Because of the human condition, the work of bringing opposing persons together for forgiveness and renewal is always needed in the church.
As one who spent more than twenty years in the office of bishop I can testify to the usefulness of this passage in settling conflict. To act quickly to settle a disagreement is crucial. But some situations defy easy solution. The wisdom and sound judgment of mature believers will usually suggest a way out. But there are times when we must go all the way to a broad discussion and formal decision by the church, even to the painful point of excommunication. But in all of these attempts at reconciliation the guiding principle must be our Christian understanding of love.
Suggestions For Preaching
Is there a congregation anywhere that does not need to hear a strong message on reconciliation? Simply to ask the questions, "Is there someone with whom you are in conflict? Someone whom you have wronged? Someone who has wronged you?" will evoke in every listener the awareness of conflict that needs to be resolved. To do so means dealing with our pride, our fear, and our doubt. But there is the promise that at the heart of any attempt at reconciliation is the assurance that God in Christ has forgiven us.
The urgency of reconciliation also needs to be stressed. If "every wave of time washes the shore of eternity," we do not have forever to do the kind deed and to make right what is wrong. One lesson I have learned from a lifelong interest in photography is that most choice scenes come by chance, by being at the right place at the right time. One is often tempted to think, "I don't have time to take this shot now. I'll come back later and get it." But conditions inevitably change. One learns to one's chagrin that the same elements are seldom there again. So it is with reconciliation. The time is now.
This may be a good Sunday to accent one of the important roles of a minister, namely that of reconciler. Difficult though it may be, one of the deepest joys of ministry is to be able to bring together warring parties. Your openness to serve in this way may well prompt requests and open new avenues for Gospel ministry.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Exodus 12:1-14
There are thirteen verses of liturgical rubrics in this text enclosing one of abject terror: "For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord" (v. 12).
The Hebrews may not have seen it that way. The children of migrants who had originally arrived in a foreign land under the sponsorship of one of their own, the great Joseph, they had been exploited to the limit. As a majority population, the Egyptians had regarded the Hebrews as "raw material": an endless labor pool vulnerable and readily available to sustain a lifestyle dependent on a system of superiority which protected those of Egyptian blood. The Hebrews were South African Blacks; African Americans; the "Joses" who sleep under freeway overpasses, resting for the day's work in the mansions of Southern California. To them, the death of the Egyptian firstborn was justice at long last.
But with all due apology, we may ask what the Egyptians thought of all this. The answer doesn't require much imagination. For the death of the firstborn -- boy, girl, pup, colt, calf, and gosling -- is not only the loss of the precious: it is an assault on progeny, on lineage, on the perpetuation of the name. If it takes three generations to erase a person's impact, the loss of the firstborn is instant oblivion: consignment to the silence, being left without a trace.
Is it a matter of choosing up sides? That would obviate some of the terror, wouldn't it? If those of us who have had the privilege of the Egyptians could identify with the Hebrews, perhaps we could blend into the celebrating crowds rejoicing in the destruction of our advantage and survive. Or if we were unambiguously Hebrew -- poor, disadvantaged, outcast, persecuted -- we could follow the rubrics of Passover to the letter, secure that the good Lord is destroying our enemies -- or leaving them permanently grieving -- while we finally come into our own.
But it is not so simple. If the one who takes on the privilege is known in throwing them over, the same one must also take responsibility for the fact of continuing oppression, amongst the rich and poor alike. After all, if he makes weal, he also makes woe. And who knows, moment to moment, in which category we will be numbered?
The rituals of Passover may seem like safe harbor. But the screams of the dying firstborn -- person or beast -- break through to announce the continuing presence of death. In such a flood of dread, there is only one hope: that "... the blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you live" (v. 13), more than a sign of the presence of the very one whose gift it is to take up into himself the power of death so that he may be life for each of us.
The Passover may be the most deeply rooted of all celebrations among devout Jews. Little wonder. As we see in this text, it is a family celebration. Everyone, including the poorest among the Hebrew people, must be involved in Passover. For this reason, Passover has survived the destruction of tabernacle and temple.
We also note that this chapter, together with 13 and 14, marks a sort of interlude in the deliverance story. After the plagues and before the passage through the Red (Reed) Sea, this becomes a time for pause and quiet reflection on what God is doing. This will be a moment to remember.
In Hebrew thought, remembrance of certain events is more than a recollection of a past occurrence. Because God is involved in Passover in such an awesome way, remembrance of it involves actual reliving of it. Past, present, and future are swallowed up in an actual "now." What God did, does now, and will do in the future.
The link with the sacrifice of Christ is clear. The death of "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29) is also an event that transcends history. We remember it as a real happening in the past; we enter into it as a life-giving meal in the present; we anticipate the day when we will "drink it new" with Christ in the future. There is no before or after. It is all now.
Romans 13:8-14
This reading begins with more of Paul's advice and counsel to the believers in Rome regarding how a Christian is to live in the world. The appeal to love, begun in 12:9, comes to a climax in 13:10 -- "love is the fulfilling of the law."
Much of what Paul urges is not new. The Ten Commandments, cited in 13:9, and the Great Commandment -- "to love your neighbor as yourself" -- are deeply embedded in Hebrew tradition. The difference now is that love should flow out of a joyful response to God's love in Christ, rather than from a sense of duty.
The focus of this lesson, however, is on verses 11-14. The reason a believer should act as Paul has described this life is because of the urgency of the times. This is kairos time, a unique time that will never be again. The "salvation" Paul speaks of is not only personal salvation, but the largest event -- the eschatological act of God, the end of the age. Like the Hebrews in Egypt who were told, "You shall eat (the Passover) hurriedly" (Exodus 12:11), so the believers of the new age are to be on the move, knowing that the time is ripe for God to act.
It was Romans 13:13-14 that brought Augustine to his senses. Having fought against God and his mother's prayers for many years, he came to ask himself, "How long, how long, 'tomorrow, and tomorrow?' Why not now? Why not is there this hour an end to my uncleanness?" (The Confessions of St. Augustine, New York: Pocket Books, 1952, p. 147.) He was at the end of his rope. He had exhausted every avenue of pleasure and found himself lost and confused. Then he read these words: "not in reveling and drunkenness ... Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ ...." He is converted. Out of his experience he comes to see the urgency for both himself and for the world -- the urgency that the Gospel be shared as widely as possible.
As we approach the millennium we will be hearing much speculation about the significance of the year 2000. But for the church every age is a kairos time, every generation a time to be urgent, every place a setting for pressing on with the work of the Gospel.
Matthew 18:15-20
There is broad argument that this text reflects more of the situation of the early church than of the setting in which Jesus worked. While the ideas behind the text may certainly have come from the teaching of Jesus, references to "the church" (vv. 15, 17) speak of a later time, most likely among the first Jewish Christians.
As with the first two lessons, the tone is one of urgency. One does not have forever to make right that which is wrong. The moment of opportunity may pass. The one with whom we have a disagreement may die. Or the conflict may become so deeply rooted that it begs resolution. We are reminded of Jesus' word in the Sermon on the Mount: "Leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother and sister" (Matthew 5:14).
Those who think the church in apostolic times was more kind and loving than the church today are naive. It is no different for them. Conflict needed resolution. A pattern for settling disputes evolved. The steps are clear and logical.
Among some cultures there is a tendency to think that if a conflict or problem is ignored it will go away. More than likely, it will get worse. Because we are sinful there will always be a need for reconciliation. The late Warren Quanbeck found himself engaged in conversation with a woman on an airplane who complained to him about all the hypocrites in the church. "Have you ever been a member of a church, to see what it's like on the inside?" "No, of course not," she replied. To which he said, "It's really much worse than you imagine." Because of the human condition, the work of bringing opposing persons together for forgiveness and renewal is always needed in the church.
As one who spent more than twenty years in the office of bishop I can testify to the usefulness of this passage in settling conflict. To act quickly to settle a disagreement is crucial. But some situations defy easy solution. The wisdom and sound judgment of mature believers will usually suggest a way out. But there are times when we must go all the way to a broad discussion and formal decision by the church, even to the painful point of excommunication. But in all of these attempts at reconciliation the guiding principle must be our Christian understanding of love.
Suggestions For Preaching
Is there a congregation anywhere that does not need to hear a strong message on reconciliation? Simply to ask the questions, "Is there someone with whom you are in conflict? Someone whom you have wronged? Someone who has wronged you?" will evoke in every listener the awareness of conflict that needs to be resolved. To do so means dealing with our pride, our fear, and our doubt. But there is the promise that at the heart of any attempt at reconciliation is the assurance that God in Christ has forgiven us.
The urgency of reconciliation also needs to be stressed. If "every wave of time washes the shore of eternity," we do not have forever to do the kind deed and to make right what is wrong. One lesson I have learned from a lifelong interest in photography is that most choice scenes come by chance, by being at the right place at the right time. One is often tempted to think, "I don't have time to take this shot now. I'll come back later and get it." But conditions inevitably change. One learns to one's chagrin that the same elements are seldom there again. So it is with reconciliation. The time is now.
This may be a good Sunday to accent one of the important roles of a minister, namely that of reconciler. Difficult though it may be, one of the deepest joys of ministry is to be able to bring together warring parties. Your openness to serve in this way may well prompt requests and open new avenues for Gospel ministry.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Exodus 12:1-14
There are thirteen verses of liturgical rubrics in this text enclosing one of abject terror: "For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord" (v. 12).
The Hebrews may not have seen it that way. The children of migrants who had originally arrived in a foreign land under the sponsorship of one of their own, the great Joseph, they had been exploited to the limit. As a majority population, the Egyptians had regarded the Hebrews as "raw material": an endless labor pool vulnerable and readily available to sustain a lifestyle dependent on a system of superiority which protected those of Egyptian blood. The Hebrews were South African Blacks; African Americans; the "Joses" who sleep under freeway overpasses, resting for the day's work in the mansions of Southern California. To them, the death of the Egyptian firstborn was justice at long last.
But with all due apology, we may ask what the Egyptians thought of all this. The answer doesn't require much imagination. For the death of the firstborn -- boy, girl, pup, colt, calf, and gosling -- is not only the loss of the precious: it is an assault on progeny, on lineage, on the perpetuation of the name. If it takes three generations to erase a person's impact, the loss of the firstborn is instant oblivion: consignment to the silence, being left without a trace.
Is it a matter of choosing up sides? That would obviate some of the terror, wouldn't it? If those of us who have had the privilege of the Egyptians could identify with the Hebrews, perhaps we could blend into the celebrating crowds rejoicing in the destruction of our advantage and survive. Or if we were unambiguously Hebrew -- poor, disadvantaged, outcast, persecuted -- we could follow the rubrics of Passover to the letter, secure that the good Lord is destroying our enemies -- or leaving them permanently grieving -- while we finally come into our own.
But it is not so simple. If the one who takes on the privilege is known in throwing them over, the same one must also take responsibility for the fact of continuing oppression, amongst the rich and poor alike. After all, if he makes weal, he also makes woe. And who knows, moment to moment, in which category we will be numbered?
The rituals of Passover may seem like safe harbor. But the screams of the dying firstborn -- person or beast -- break through to announce the continuing presence of death. In such a flood of dread, there is only one hope: that "... the blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you live" (v. 13), more than a sign of the presence of the very one whose gift it is to take up into himself the power of death so that he may be life for each of us.
