School days, school days
Commentary
Good old golden rule days. The children will be going back to school this week, if they aren't there already. Yellow school buses reemerge from their hidden garages; crossing guards don their white shoulder belts and pick up their stop signs. Parents stock up on spiral notebooks and highlighter pens, while teachers give themselves bouquets of freshly sharpened No. 2 pencils. You can just smell the chalk in the air.
The lections this week send us back to school. Just in case we've forgotten over the summer, we begin with a review of some basics. Exodus reminds us about ... well, the Exodus. Romans looks back to the time of Moses, too, as it instructs us on the proper meaning of the Ten Commandments, and Matthew teaches us what it means to study together as a community. These three lessons are not just of antiquarian interest, however -- they prepare us to move forward to the next level.
There will be a quiz next time. And the next. And the next.
Exodus 12:1-14
We begin, however, not with the fall semester, but at spring break.
While the Jewish New Year begins in the month of Tishri (which covers September and October), the Jewish liturgical year begins in Nisan (March/April). "This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you" (Exodus 12:2). With the Exodus, each month of the year takes on a number, so that every time the people look at a calendar, they will remember, "This is the Nth month since God redeemed Israel from slavery in Egypt."
The Exodus story interrupts the account of the tenth and final plague (11:1-10; 12:29-32). Not only does this create suspense in the narrative, but it also puts the historical story in a liturgical context, which puts it outside normal history into God's history. The entire section (12:1--15:21) is framed by liturgical material (12:1-27a; 15:1-21), and the two blocks of narrative material (12:29-39 and 13:17--14:29) are themselves encapsulated by liturgy (including the institution of both the Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread). The effect of this combination of story and liturgy is to make God's action in every generation "Exodus-shaped." The Passover ritual doesn't just ward off the tenth plague, but establishes a pattern of redemption for all people.
Not only has the event been given a liturgical cast, the liturgy has shaped the account of the event: The liturgy precedes the account of the event, so that the event itself is liturgy. This is so much the case that history is in some sense obscured by liturgy. There are two views of the Passover to be discerned in this account. In one, God slays the Egyptians, and the blood on the lintels and doorposts is a sign of God's grace in "skipping over" the chosen people (v. 13). In the other view, God comes with a demonic "destroyer" (vv. 22, 23, 27; cf. Genesis 19:13-14; 2 Samuel 24:16; 2 Kings 18:35; 1 Chronicles 21:15), and the blood actually wards off this demon (perhaps following an older shepherds' rite, where the blood was thought to have magical powers). Thus some scholars translate the verb "pass over" as "protect" (as it is used in Isaiah 31:5). But the narrative has no interest in the pre-history of this obviously ancient ritual, only in its future history -- first, the immediate future of Israel's redemption from slavery in Egypt, and secondly, of the future perennial commemoration of the event that continually reshapes present reality for those who remember.
This is the first command of the Law of Moses, given even before Sinai. Its timing corresponds to another major ritual that takes place on the tenth day of another month: The Day of Atonement (12:3; cf. Leviticus 16:29; 23:27). The lamb is taken either from the sheep or the goats (vv. 3, 5); since animals were valuable commodities in that culture, they must be shared with those who cannot afford one of their own (v. 4). As in most sacrifices, the lamb must be without blemish, a year old (v. 5; cf. Leviticus 1:3, 10; 22:17-25; Deuteronomy 15:21; 17:1; Malachi 1:6-8; Numbers 28:3; 29:2). It must be roasted to consume all the life-giving blood that is not used in the ritual (v. 8); in fact it must be consumed completely (vv. 9-10). And it must be eaten in haste (v. 11; some Arabic Jews still observe Passover in this fashion), since there is not time even for dough to rise (v. 8).
The blood of the lamb painted on the lintels and doorposts has symbolic value as the essence of life (Genesis 9:4; Leviticus 17:11, 14). Blood has been a crucial motif in the larger narrative, since Moses shed the blood of an Egyptian in defense of his people (2:11-13); later the blood of circumcision saved his life (4:24-26); a plague of the Nile turning to blood astounded all (7:17-21); and now finally we learn of the plague that will take the blood of Egypt's firstborn. The punishment is harsh, but no harsher than the slavery the Hebrews had been subjected to (symbolized by the bitter herbs, v. 8; cf. 1:14). Ultimately, the plague is given a theological justification: it proves the Lord's superiority to the gods of Egypt (v. 12; there is an ancient tradition that during the plague, the idols of the Egyptians were actually smashed). The political abuse of the Hebrew people was backed by an ideology, which was actually and literally idolatry. The gods of the empire sanctioned the abuse of this people, and it is these gods and their callous worshipers who are ultimately judged.
Romans 13:8-14
The schoolteacher Paul has already asked us to transform our minds: "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God -- what is good and acceptable and perfect" (Romans 12:2). Christians are called to renew and transform their minds; learning about God is presented as a primary task of faith. Only with this correct knowledge can faith be practiced; it is necessary to "discern what is the will of God" according to what has been learned. Now Paul comes full circle, closing out his chapters of exhortation by asking us to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires" (13:14).
To "put on Christ" reflects the actual practice of the early Christians; the baptismal candidate would be given a new white garment as a symbol of the new life in Christ. The expression became quite common (cf. Romans 6:3-4; Galatians 3:27; Colossians 3:8-10; Ephesians 4:22-25; James 1:21; 1 Peter 2:1). Any doubt about the connection to baptism is dispelled by Paul's exhortation to "put on the armor of light"; "light" was another metaphor for baptism (cf. Ephesians 5:8-10, 14; 1 Peter 2:9; 2 Timothy 1:10; Hebrews 6:4). The exhortation to transform one's mind by the teachings of Jesus is a reminder of the pledge to follow Jesus that is made in baptism; the disciple is, if nothing else, a student.
The master of mixed metaphor draws on both baptismal and military imagery, urging the Romans to wear their Lord like a "chain-mail" baptismal gown armor against the insidious desires that flow from the font Paul calls "the flesh" (sarx, cf. ch. 7). By sarx Paul does not mean the physical being as opposed to the spiritual, but that entire pattern of human life that has hardened itself against God. Modern congregations may speak of "sins of the flesh" as if it were a matter of the body and not the spirit. Paul's use of sarx is quite different from this; for him, sarx is everything in the human being that rebels against God. It is the root of idolatry and sin, a malign arrogance that thinks it knows better than the one true teacher (cf. Romans 1:3; 2:28; 3:20; 4:1; 6:19; 7:5, 18, 25; 8:3-9, 12-13; 9:3, 5, 8; 11:14; 13:14). He names some of the symptoms of the sarx (v. 13): reveling, drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness, quarrelling, and jealousy. Drunkenness and sexual sins are given no exalted place in this pantheon; the "flesh" can be manifested just as well in the petty conflicts that rage out of control among us.
To walk in the flesh is to walk in the darkness (v. 12), when the actual time, Christologically speaking, is just before dawn, when "salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers" (v. 11). This could be said by any Christian; of course our time gets shorter as we get older. Paul's language intensifies the thought by drawing on conventions and metaphors associated with apocalyptic thought. He refers not to chronological time, but rather kairos, a special "time" or "season" that is urgent and compelling. The kairos time is metaphorically just before daybreak, as Paul draws in the metaphors of waking/sleeping and darkness/light (cf. 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 24:42-44; 26:45; Mark 13:33-37; Luke 12:35-46; 21:36; Ephesians 5:8-16; 6:18). Paul exhorts the Romans to wakefulness in light of the coming dawn, when his gospel mission will find its completion (cf. Romans 8:18-23; 11:15). Even the vices he warns against are those associated with the darkness; Christians are to learn to walk in the daylight (v. 13).
The Lord Jesus is like a new set of clothes that makes love the fashion (vv. 8-10). Paul has moved from a discussion of literal debt (v. 7) to the metaphorical debt we all owe to God, which is love (v. 8). "For the one who loves has fulfilled the other law" says Paul (this is a more natural reading of the Greek than NRSV), the "other law" being the four commandments that Paul cites in verse 9, which represent the whole of the law of Moses. Love fulfills the entire law, because it encompasses the true meaning and ultimate purpose of the commandments. Again, Paul comes full circle, because the ultimate example, model, and enabler of love is Jesus; once we put him on, we are wearing the coveralls of love.
Matthew 18:15-20
Matthew's school is a bit different from the others, because there is no head of the class in this schoolroom. "But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students" (Matthew 23:8). The disciples are supposed to learn from Jesus alone: "Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah" (23:10). Their subject matter is the kingdom of God (cf. ch. 13).
But even though they are to learn only from Jesus, they themselves, by the end of their training, become, if not teachers and instructors, then scribes: "every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old" (13:52). The purpose of their training is to reduplicate themselves: they "make disciples" by "teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you" (28:19-20). Like their master, they are to gather around themselves students of his teaching. These small teaching communities (as few as two or three, 18:19-20) are crucial in fomenting the "greater righteousness" that Christ taught (5:6, 10; 6:33).
No one is called "teacher," then, not just because Jesus alone deserves that title, but also because the entire community is given the teaching office. They are called to "bind and loose" (16:9; 18:18), which in this context obviously refers to community judgments concerning offenders (vv. 15-17), but the terms are also used in the Jewish rabbinic tradition to signify the entirety of what the law allows and forbids. In other words, to "bind and loose" signifies teaching authority; the disciples are given authority to teach in the tradition of Jesus. No one disciple takes on the role of Jesus; but rather, all together imitate him as teacher. There is in the community no one fount of wisdom who pours knowledge into the heads of fellow disciples, but a round table of scribes who hold the teaching office together.
There is a problem, however, because the schoolroom can become an unruly place under these circumstances. It's one thing for everyone to be teachers at a round table of two or three gathered together, but what happens when the community swells in size? If too many cooks spoil the meal, how many teachers does it take to turn the classroom into cacophony? To put on our baptismal robes at such -- that is, the garment that is the Lord Jesus himself, if Paul is to be trusted -- it must seem that we should indeed be wearing chain mail armor. Or at the least, a good coverall smock, since the children are about to get into a rather messy finger-painting project.
Matthew does not resolve the messiness of a faith where all sit at the feet of Jesus together and attempt to discern the ongoing meaning of his teaching -- debating, disagreeing, and drawing differing conclusions. However, Matthew does make provision for the inevitable conflicts that will arise in even the smallest communities. We are dealing with relationships between "brothers and sisters" (v. 15; the NRSV translation "another member of the church" is interpretively correct but misses the flavor of the kinship language used). As we know, families quarrel, and Matthew depicts the church as a family (12:46-50). What is required is a system for dealing with such quarrels.
Matthew sets forth such a system, which has the advantage of dealing with the petty and the trivial before it escalates into major bitterness among community members. No one is going to call in two or three witnesses for any trivial offense, much less the entire assembly (two or three witnesses was the minimum standard of evidence in Mosaic law, cf. Deuteronomy 19:15). Long before the erring member is expelled from the community ("let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector," v. 17), the community will "regain" the member (v. 15); the church's primary role is to reconcile and not condemn an offender. However, if the offense is serious enough, and the wronged brother or sister wishes to pursue it further, Matthew provides a workable if rigorous implementation of community discipline. It is unfortunate that so few Christians bother to take even the first step Matthew suggests, which would solve about 95 percent of all congregational issues.
Clearly the church is not acting in its own name, but that of its Lord, when the two or three gathered together do their binding and loosing. This may go against the grain of modern individualism, but so much the worse for the modern world. Rather than allowing Christians to walk away from brothers and sisters who prove to be not like-minded, Matthew requires us to engage them, call them into the wider community, and if necessary correct them as a community. It is no less than what Jesus would do. If the church is truly a people called by God to make disciples by teaching what Jesus taught -- if the church is "the body of Christ," to use Pauline language -- then that teaching authority must also recognize Jesus' role as impartial judge (cf. 25:31-46; 28:18).
Application
What have we learned at the blackboard by the end of this period? In the book of Exodus, we learned to celebrate God's saving action in history. From Paul, we learned the ultimate importance of love, and from Matthew, we learned how to do that love within a real flesh-and-blood community.
Are we ready, then, to graduate? The answer must be, "No," simply because this is not the kind of school where you move from grade to grade until you have reached the top. It's more of a one-room schoolhouse, where teachers rotate with the students in a life-long learning project. No one ever gets to leave the school, because no one is ever finished. The celebration is a perpetual one. Love is never finished, but always in progress. The community requires constant attention lest it disintegrate.
What to do? Nothing but smile, put on our Jesus-smocks, and wade into the next activity.
An Alternative Application
Exodus 12:1-14. It may seem that the Passover is an archaic, neglected, and forgotten ritual for Christians, but it is not so. While many Christians celebrate the Passover with Jewish friends, or enact their own version of a Passover meal at a weekday educational event, this is not the extent of the Christian Passover tradition. Passover is not neglected but transformed in Christian tradition, in that it is represented in the liturgies of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, and Easter Day. It is also represented in the Holy Eucharist itself. Maundy Thursday celebrates Jesus' final Passover meal, along with his instruction to his disciples to follow his example in giving themselves for others. Good Friday represents Jesus' sacrifice as the true Passover lamb. The Great Vigil of Easter celebrates God's action in history from the foundation of the world through the deliverance and foundation of the people of Israel to the ultimate fulfillment of God's promise in Jesus Christ. Of course, Easter celebrates the new life given to all the people through the risen Lord. When we meet him in the bread and the cup, we do it not only in remembrance of him, but also through God's entire work in bringing him to us.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 119:33-40
(This is the alternative psalm for Proper 18)
These verses celebrate God's Law, the torah -- a concept that is much richer in Hebrew than in English. The law is not only a useful tool for ordering society, but is in fact a sort of bridge that joins human beings to God. The law is God's graceful accommodation to human weakness. It is the greatest of God's gifts to humanity.
Yet even so, following the law is not always easy. The psalmist asks the Lord for certain gifts that will be useful in this lifelong journey of joyful obedience.
First among them is the gift of understanding (v. 34). It is not enough to simply hear the words of the law: the mind's full faculties must be applied to the task. Second, there is the turning of the heart to God's purposes, rather than selfish gain (v. 36). Obedience is an expression of love toward the lawgiver. Third, there is a turning from temptation (v. 37).
A three-point sermon could emphasize three "turnings": the turning of the mind from shallow certitude to deep understanding; the turning of the heart from selfish desire to God's purposes; and the turning of the will from temptation to obedience.
Note that, for the psalmist, responsibility for the keeping of the law does not rest solely on human beings; God is also a partner in the process. Without God's assistance, in fact, obedience would be impossible.
To illustrate, recall for the congregation the helpful function of air traffic controllers. If an airliner is on a collision course with another plane, the air traffic controller will instantly instruct the pilot to change course, sometimes without telling why. The controller notices on the control tower radar screen that the trajectories are going to cross -- something the pilot may not see. The pilot must trust the controller's view of the situation.
The law warns us when our personal trajectory is on a collision course. Although the purpose of some of God's Laws is not always clear to us from where we sit, we need to trust the one who has a better vantage point.
The lections this week send us back to school. Just in case we've forgotten over the summer, we begin with a review of some basics. Exodus reminds us about ... well, the Exodus. Romans looks back to the time of Moses, too, as it instructs us on the proper meaning of the Ten Commandments, and Matthew teaches us what it means to study together as a community. These three lessons are not just of antiquarian interest, however -- they prepare us to move forward to the next level.
There will be a quiz next time. And the next. And the next.
Exodus 12:1-14
We begin, however, not with the fall semester, but at spring break.
While the Jewish New Year begins in the month of Tishri (which covers September and October), the Jewish liturgical year begins in Nisan (March/April). "This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you" (Exodus 12:2). With the Exodus, each month of the year takes on a number, so that every time the people look at a calendar, they will remember, "This is the Nth month since God redeemed Israel from slavery in Egypt."
The Exodus story interrupts the account of the tenth and final plague (11:1-10; 12:29-32). Not only does this create suspense in the narrative, but it also puts the historical story in a liturgical context, which puts it outside normal history into God's history. The entire section (12:1--15:21) is framed by liturgical material (12:1-27a; 15:1-21), and the two blocks of narrative material (12:29-39 and 13:17--14:29) are themselves encapsulated by liturgy (including the institution of both the Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread). The effect of this combination of story and liturgy is to make God's action in every generation "Exodus-shaped." The Passover ritual doesn't just ward off the tenth plague, but establishes a pattern of redemption for all people.
Not only has the event been given a liturgical cast, the liturgy has shaped the account of the event: The liturgy precedes the account of the event, so that the event itself is liturgy. This is so much the case that history is in some sense obscured by liturgy. There are two views of the Passover to be discerned in this account. In one, God slays the Egyptians, and the blood on the lintels and doorposts is a sign of God's grace in "skipping over" the chosen people (v. 13). In the other view, God comes with a demonic "destroyer" (vv. 22, 23, 27; cf. Genesis 19:13-14; 2 Samuel 24:16; 2 Kings 18:35; 1 Chronicles 21:15), and the blood actually wards off this demon (perhaps following an older shepherds' rite, where the blood was thought to have magical powers). Thus some scholars translate the verb "pass over" as "protect" (as it is used in Isaiah 31:5). But the narrative has no interest in the pre-history of this obviously ancient ritual, only in its future history -- first, the immediate future of Israel's redemption from slavery in Egypt, and secondly, of the future perennial commemoration of the event that continually reshapes present reality for those who remember.
This is the first command of the Law of Moses, given even before Sinai. Its timing corresponds to another major ritual that takes place on the tenth day of another month: The Day of Atonement (12:3; cf. Leviticus 16:29; 23:27). The lamb is taken either from the sheep or the goats (vv. 3, 5); since animals were valuable commodities in that culture, they must be shared with those who cannot afford one of their own (v. 4). As in most sacrifices, the lamb must be without blemish, a year old (v. 5; cf. Leviticus 1:3, 10; 22:17-25; Deuteronomy 15:21; 17:1; Malachi 1:6-8; Numbers 28:3; 29:2). It must be roasted to consume all the life-giving blood that is not used in the ritual (v. 8); in fact it must be consumed completely (vv. 9-10). And it must be eaten in haste (v. 11; some Arabic Jews still observe Passover in this fashion), since there is not time even for dough to rise (v. 8).
The blood of the lamb painted on the lintels and doorposts has symbolic value as the essence of life (Genesis 9:4; Leviticus 17:11, 14). Blood has been a crucial motif in the larger narrative, since Moses shed the blood of an Egyptian in defense of his people (2:11-13); later the blood of circumcision saved his life (4:24-26); a plague of the Nile turning to blood astounded all (7:17-21); and now finally we learn of the plague that will take the blood of Egypt's firstborn. The punishment is harsh, but no harsher than the slavery the Hebrews had been subjected to (symbolized by the bitter herbs, v. 8; cf. 1:14). Ultimately, the plague is given a theological justification: it proves the Lord's superiority to the gods of Egypt (v. 12; there is an ancient tradition that during the plague, the idols of the Egyptians were actually smashed). The political abuse of the Hebrew people was backed by an ideology, which was actually and literally idolatry. The gods of the empire sanctioned the abuse of this people, and it is these gods and their callous worshipers who are ultimately judged.
Romans 13:8-14
The schoolteacher Paul has already asked us to transform our minds: "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God -- what is good and acceptable and perfect" (Romans 12:2). Christians are called to renew and transform their minds; learning about God is presented as a primary task of faith. Only with this correct knowledge can faith be practiced; it is necessary to "discern what is the will of God" according to what has been learned. Now Paul comes full circle, closing out his chapters of exhortation by asking us to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires" (13:14).
To "put on Christ" reflects the actual practice of the early Christians; the baptismal candidate would be given a new white garment as a symbol of the new life in Christ. The expression became quite common (cf. Romans 6:3-4; Galatians 3:27; Colossians 3:8-10; Ephesians 4:22-25; James 1:21; 1 Peter 2:1). Any doubt about the connection to baptism is dispelled by Paul's exhortation to "put on the armor of light"; "light" was another metaphor for baptism (cf. Ephesians 5:8-10, 14; 1 Peter 2:9; 2 Timothy 1:10; Hebrews 6:4). The exhortation to transform one's mind by the teachings of Jesus is a reminder of the pledge to follow Jesus that is made in baptism; the disciple is, if nothing else, a student.
The master of mixed metaphor draws on both baptismal and military imagery, urging the Romans to wear their Lord like a "chain-mail" baptismal gown armor against the insidious desires that flow from the font Paul calls "the flesh" (sarx, cf. ch. 7). By sarx Paul does not mean the physical being as opposed to the spiritual, but that entire pattern of human life that has hardened itself against God. Modern congregations may speak of "sins of the flesh" as if it were a matter of the body and not the spirit. Paul's use of sarx is quite different from this; for him, sarx is everything in the human being that rebels against God. It is the root of idolatry and sin, a malign arrogance that thinks it knows better than the one true teacher (cf. Romans 1:3; 2:28; 3:20; 4:1; 6:19; 7:5, 18, 25; 8:3-9, 12-13; 9:3, 5, 8; 11:14; 13:14). He names some of the symptoms of the sarx (v. 13): reveling, drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness, quarrelling, and jealousy. Drunkenness and sexual sins are given no exalted place in this pantheon; the "flesh" can be manifested just as well in the petty conflicts that rage out of control among us.
To walk in the flesh is to walk in the darkness (v. 12), when the actual time, Christologically speaking, is just before dawn, when "salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers" (v. 11). This could be said by any Christian; of course our time gets shorter as we get older. Paul's language intensifies the thought by drawing on conventions and metaphors associated with apocalyptic thought. He refers not to chronological time, but rather kairos, a special "time" or "season" that is urgent and compelling. The kairos time is metaphorically just before daybreak, as Paul draws in the metaphors of waking/sleeping and darkness/light (cf. 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 24:42-44; 26:45; Mark 13:33-37; Luke 12:35-46; 21:36; Ephesians 5:8-16; 6:18). Paul exhorts the Romans to wakefulness in light of the coming dawn, when his gospel mission will find its completion (cf. Romans 8:18-23; 11:15). Even the vices he warns against are those associated with the darkness; Christians are to learn to walk in the daylight (v. 13).
The Lord Jesus is like a new set of clothes that makes love the fashion (vv. 8-10). Paul has moved from a discussion of literal debt (v. 7) to the metaphorical debt we all owe to God, which is love (v. 8). "For the one who loves has fulfilled the other law" says Paul (this is a more natural reading of the Greek than NRSV), the "other law" being the four commandments that Paul cites in verse 9, which represent the whole of the law of Moses. Love fulfills the entire law, because it encompasses the true meaning and ultimate purpose of the commandments. Again, Paul comes full circle, because the ultimate example, model, and enabler of love is Jesus; once we put him on, we are wearing the coveralls of love.
Matthew 18:15-20
Matthew's school is a bit different from the others, because there is no head of the class in this schoolroom. "But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students" (Matthew 23:8). The disciples are supposed to learn from Jesus alone: "Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah" (23:10). Their subject matter is the kingdom of God (cf. ch. 13).
But even though they are to learn only from Jesus, they themselves, by the end of their training, become, if not teachers and instructors, then scribes: "every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old" (13:52). The purpose of their training is to reduplicate themselves: they "make disciples" by "teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you" (28:19-20). Like their master, they are to gather around themselves students of his teaching. These small teaching communities (as few as two or three, 18:19-20) are crucial in fomenting the "greater righteousness" that Christ taught (5:6, 10; 6:33).
No one is called "teacher," then, not just because Jesus alone deserves that title, but also because the entire community is given the teaching office. They are called to "bind and loose" (16:9; 18:18), which in this context obviously refers to community judgments concerning offenders (vv. 15-17), but the terms are also used in the Jewish rabbinic tradition to signify the entirety of what the law allows and forbids. In other words, to "bind and loose" signifies teaching authority; the disciples are given authority to teach in the tradition of Jesus. No one disciple takes on the role of Jesus; but rather, all together imitate him as teacher. There is in the community no one fount of wisdom who pours knowledge into the heads of fellow disciples, but a round table of scribes who hold the teaching office together.
There is a problem, however, because the schoolroom can become an unruly place under these circumstances. It's one thing for everyone to be teachers at a round table of two or three gathered together, but what happens when the community swells in size? If too many cooks spoil the meal, how many teachers does it take to turn the classroom into cacophony? To put on our baptismal robes at such -- that is, the garment that is the Lord Jesus himself, if Paul is to be trusted -- it must seem that we should indeed be wearing chain mail armor. Or at the least, a good coverall smock, since the children are about to get into a rather messy finger-painting project.
Matthew does not resolve the messiness of a faith where all sit at the feet of Jesus together and attempt to discern the ongoing meaning of his teaching -- debating, disagreeing, and drawing differing conclusions. However, Matthew does make provision for the inevitable conflicts that will arise in even the smallest communities. We are dealing with relationships between "brothers and sisters" (v. 15; the NRSV translation "another member of the church" is interpretively correct but misses the flavor of the kinship language used). As we know, families quarrel, and Matthew depicts the church as a family (12:46-50). What is required is a system for dealing with such quarrels.
Matthew sets forth such a system, which has the advantage of dealing with the petty and the trivial before it escalates into major bitterness among community members. No one is going to call in two or three witnesses for any trivial offense, much less the entire assembly (two or three witnesses was the minimum standard of evidence in Mosaic law, cf. Deuteronomy 19:15). Long before the erring member is expelled from the community ("let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector," v. 17), the community will "regain" the member (v. 15); the church's primary role is to reconcile and not condemn an offender. However, if the offense is serious enough, and the wronged brother or sister wishes to pursue it further, Matthew provides a workable if rigorous implementation of community discipline. It is unfortunate that so few Christians bother to take even the first step Matthew suggests, which would solve about 95 percent of all congregational issues.
Clearly the church is not acting in its own name, but that of its Lord, when the two or three gathered together do their binding and loosing. This may go against the grain of modern individualism, but so much the worse for the modern world. Rather than allowing Christians to walk away from brothers and sisters who prove to be not like-minded, Matthew requires us to engage them, call them into the wider community, and if necessary correct them as a community. It is no less than what Jesus would do. If the church is truly a people called by God to make disciples by teaching what Jesus taught -- if the church is "the body of Christ," to use Pauline language -- then that teaching authority must also recognize Jesus' role as impartial judge (cf. 25:31-46; 28:18).
Application
What have we learned at the blackboard by the end of this period? In the book of Exodus, we learned to celebrate God's saving action in history. From Paul, we learned the ultimate importance of love, and from Matthew, we learned how to do that love within a real flesh-and-blood community.
Are we ready, then, to graduate? The answer must be, "No," simply because this is not the kind of school where you move from grade to grade until you have reached the top. It's more of a one-room schoolhouse, where teachers rotate with the students in a life-long learning project. No one ever gets to leave the school, because no one is ever finished. The celebration is a perpetual one. Love is never finished, but always in progress. The community requires constant attention lest it disintegrate.
What to do? Nothing but smile, put on our Jesus-smocks, and wade into the next activity.
An Alternative Application
Exodus 12:1-14. It may seem that the Passover is an archaic, neglected, and forgotten ritual for Christians, but it is not so. While many Christians celebrate the Passover with Jewish friends, or enact their own version of a Passover meal at a weekday educational event, this is not the extent of the Christian Passover tradition. Passover is not neglected but transformed in Christian tradition, in that it is represented in the liturgies of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, and Easter Day. It is also represented in the Holy Eucharist itself. Maundy Thursday celebrates Jesus' final Passover meal, along with his instruction to his disciples to follow his example in giving themselves for others. Good Friday represents Jesus' sacrifice as the true Passover lamb. The Great Vigil of Easter celebrates God's action in history from the foundation of the world through the deliverance and foundation of the people of Israel to the ultimate fulfillment of God's promise in Jesus Christ. Of course, Easter celebrates the new life given to all the people through the risen Lord. When we meet him in the bread and the cup, we do it not only in remembrance of him, but also through God's entire work in bringing him to us.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 119:33-40
(This is the alternative psalm for Proper 18)
These verses celebrate God's Law, the torah -- a concept that is much richer in Hebrew than in English. The law is not only a useful tool for ordering society, but is in fact a sort of bridge that joins human beings to God. The law is God's graceful accommodation to human weakness. It is the greatest of God's gifts to humanity.
Yet even so, following the law is not always easy. The psalmist asks the Lord for certain gifts that will be useful in this lifelong journey of joyful obedience.
First among them is the gift of understanding (v. 34). It is not enough to simply hear the words of the law: the mind's full faculties must be applied to the task. Second, there is the turning of the heart to God's purposes, rather than selfish gain (v. 36). Obedience is an expression of love toward the lawgiver. Third, there is a turning from temptation (v. 37).
A three-point sermon could emphasize three "turnings": the turning of the mind from shallow certitude to deep understanding; the turning of the heart from selfish desire to God's purposes; and the turning of the will from temptation to obedience.
Note that, for the psalmist, responsibility for the keeping of the law does not rest solely on human beings; God is also a partner in the process. Without God's assistance, in fact, obedience would be impossible.
To illustrate, recall for the congregation the helpful function of air traffic controllers. If an airliner is on a collision course with another plane, the air traffic controller will instantly instruct the pilot to change course, sometimes without telling why. The controller notices on the control tower radar screen that the trajectories are going to cross -- something the pilot may not see. The pilot must trust the controller's view of the situation.
The law warns us when our personal trajectory is on a collision course. Although the purpose of some of God's Laws is not always clear to us from where we sit, we need to trust the one who has a better vantage point.
